#while both have shitty dads who are the root of their problems

[princess-of-the-corner]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C3bAXvhJ2Hm/?igsh=ajlmdmIybDR4Ymx3

YEAH the Shoto-Zuko situation is fascinating. Fire powers, scar on the face caused by a parent, sibling with blue fire who is absolutely unhinged because of parental favoritism, etc.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part Five)

Jacob Black x Fem!Vampire!Swan!Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The bike works for a while, Bella can see Edward; until she gets good at operating the vehicle. After that the danger is gone and so is any version of him.

Jacob and Y/N are hunting Victoria. Charlie is hunting the wolves, who he still believes to be bears, responsible for the killings around town.

Bella’s alone again.

She decides to try something new, to get that rush of adrenaline. Cliff jumping is about as stupid as it is recreational. But Edward is there, begging her not to jump. So she does, anything to make him stay.

———————————————————————

“She’s freezing cold. I can’t touch her.”

“Relax. Human hot box, remember? I hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna have to give her mouth to mouth.”

“Jake,” thwack.

Beyond the voices, Bella can feel pressure. Like someone is pounding on her chest, commanding her heart to beat.

“Come on Bella. Breathe.”

With a sputtering inhale she chokes up the water that invaded her lungs.

“Bella!”

The brunette opens her eyes just in time to see her sister reach for her and then remember her temperature, dropping both hands back to her sides.

“I’m ok,” Bella tells her, through chattering teeth.

“What the hell were you doing?” Y/N demands, tossing a blanket around her shoulders.

Jacob lifts Bella from the sand to lean against him, soaking up his warmth.

“I just wanted to see something.” Bella looks away from Y/N. The venom has eaten away her contacts and she can see her now for what she truly is.

“We’ve gotta get her home.” Jacob says, lifting Bella with ease.

“Your eyes,” Bella tries to warn her.

“It’s ok,” Y/N shakes her head. “Dad’s not home. He’s over at the Clearwater’s.”

“Did something happen?” Bella wonders.

“Harry had a heart attack.” Jacob breathes, the words striking like a hot iron. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bella whispers to no one in particular.

“Let’s go,” Y/N jerks her chin in the direction of the road.

“I’ll run her,” the wolf offers.

“My truck,” Bella pushes feebly against his chest.

“I got it,” Y/N sighs, taking the keys. “You go, keep her warm.”

“On it.” Jacob nods, breaking into a sprint.

Y/N heads back to the truck, opening the door and waiting as it rattles to life. Her fingers curl over the steering wheel harshly, distorting it with the force of her grasp.

The phone buzzes to life in her pocket, not a number she recognizes. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Edward.”

“Edward…” The Y/H/C nearly short circuits.

“Is Bella alright?” He asks immediately.

How did he know? “Now you care what happens to Bella?”

“Y/N please-“

“No,” she cuts him off. “Edward, you left. You left and you didn’t care. I mean where the hell have you been? Where were you while I was here picking up the pieces?”

“I’m sorry.” Edward grovels, the way she had on the front lawn of the Cullen’s home after Bella’s birthday party. “It was a mistake.”

“Your sorry means nothing to me.” Y/N ends the call. Tossing the phone to the passenger seat. Her foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

Arriving home at record speed, she finds a black car in the driveway. Carlisle’s car. Parking the truck, she jots through the front door.

Alice, Jacob and Bella are deep in conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks Alice.

“I had a vision of Bella jumping off a cliff. I didn’t see her get pulled out of the water-“ Alice breaks off. Her eyes fluttering, then she gasps.

“What now?” Jacob runs a hand over his face.

“It’s Edward, he thinks Bella’s dead.” Alice chokes out. “He’s going to the Volturi, he wants to die too.”

“What?” Bella’s entire body lurches forward.

“Rosalie told him why I came here. Then Y/N-“

“You spoke to him?” Bella cuts Alice off. “What did you say?”

“I told him to screw himself. Not kill himself.” Y/N says defensively.

“Y/N!” Bella is hysterical.

She never meant for this to happen. “Tell me where he is and how to get there.”

“What are you gonna do?” Jacob leans in, his fingers closing around her wrist.

“I have to go,” Y/N rolls her eyes at the ridiculous nature of the situation, “save Edward.”

Jacob’s face falls into a scowl, “no, no way in hell.”

“Jake-“

“The Volturi, isn’t that some kind of vampire judge and jury situation? The ones you’re so afraid of that you can’t even tell Charlie what happened to you?” Jacob can put up with a lot, and he has. But this…

“Jacob, I know that this sucks.” Y/N pulls him away from Alice and Bella for a shred of privacy. “But it’s my fault. I have to make it right.”

“Stop blaming yourself for his shitty decisions!” Jacob roars, “it’s not your fault that he left, it’s not your fault that he didn’t come back and it’s not your fault that you told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Y/N takes step back, “please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?” Jake snarls, closing the distance between them. “Tell you the truth?”

“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.” Y/N pleads, allowing his fingers to sear her skin.

“If you die…” he strokes her jaw reverently, “I’ll kill you.”

“I love you so much,” she turns into his palm and presses gentle kisses there.

Jacob lets his hand fall away as they break apart. “What do you want me to tell Charlie?”

“Last minute girls trip or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“How long will you be gone?” Jacob wants to say it back. That he loves her.

Y/N looks to Alice.

“Three days, round trip.” The pixie tells them.

Bella has already gone up to pack.

“Perfect,” Jacob acknowledges. Keeping the words to himself.

———————————————————————

The plan ride to Italy is tense. Bella hardly sleeps, she is a nervous wreck.

Alice is flooded with vision after vision as she watches Edward and the Volturi’s decisions.

Y/N plucks anxiously at the wolf charm on her wrist.

The car Alice steals is a beautiful canary yellow color. It shifts gears like butter and glides over the road.

“The Volturi refused him.” Alice says, surprise and relief in her voice.

“Should you be driving?” Y/N wonders, there’s no way she can concentrate with the future flashing before her eyes.

“You can channel for me” Alice offers. There is no time to stop.

Y/N closes her eyes, willing the visions to come to her. “He’s waiting until noon, when the sun’s at it’s highest. Then he’s going to reveal himself to the humans.”

“Alice, you gotta hurry up.” Bella pleads, tugging at the roots of her hair.

“Bella,” Alice coos, “breathe.”

Y/N opens her mind, but Edward is decided, so nothing changes. Until something unexpected appears.

Jacob. He’s seated on their living room couch, shooting the breeze with Charlie. Clearly waiting for something as his eyes flicker to the clock repeatedly. Her, Y/N realizes, he’s waiting for her.

“What did you see?”

“It wasn’t Edward, don’t worry.” Y/N drawls. Just her letting down the most important person in her life…again.

The crowd surrounding Volterra is massive, Alice cuts through as much as she can with the stolen Porsche, but eventually Bella has to make a run for it. To the clock tower at the center of the festival before Edward exposes himself in the sunlight. She is the only one Edward can’t see coming.

“So, what now?” Y/N demands.

“What did you see?” Alice asks instead.

“Doesn’t matter.” The Y/H/C shakes her head. “We can’t just sit here-“

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Alice steals a glance at her. “Jacob?”

“Does he always look so miserable in your visions,” she wonders.

“I can’t see him.” The other vampires admits, “the wolves are a blind spot.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Alice’s brows furrow, the visions are back in her own head. “We have to go.”

The two of them weave through the festival, skin covered from the sun that shines bright overhead. Finally taking shelter in a door off the alley way.

“Come on guys,” Alice pulls the scarf from her head as they enter. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

The ‘guys’ in question have glowing red eyes, their diet is strictly human blood.

Bella is against the wall, with Edward between her and the two men wearing black cloaks.

“No we certainly wouldn’t.” The shorter blonde man purrs. “Aro requests your presence.”

“Bella,” Edward addresses her, “why don’t you go back out and enjoy the festival?”

“All of you,” the larger man clarifies.

A third vampire joins them, a girl with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Aro sent me to see what’s taking so long.”

“So no festival?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“I’m afraid not.” The girl gives her a tight lipped grin. “Right this way.”

The four of them are led down a long corridor to a stair case, then to an elevator.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

Edward’s eyes, dark with thirst, cut to Y/N. Bella tucked securely beneath his arm.

‘Sorry,’ she mentally shoots back.

He turns his gaze ahead as the elevator doors open onto a checkered marble floor. The ceilings are high, adorned with paintings that put the Sistine chapel to shame.

“Don’t be afraid,” Edward whispers to Bella.

“Are you?” Bella stares up at him.

“No,” he lies.

They land at double doors, pushed open to reveal three more men, seated in high back chairs that resemble thrones.

The one in the center moves to stand, the other brunette and blonde vampires can’t be bothered.

“What a happy surprise!” The man rejoices, “Bella is alive after all. And you’ve brought a friend.”

“I’m just here for moral support.” Y/N explains, jerking her thumb at Bella, “she’s my sister.”

Aro looks her over, “welcome…”

“Y/N,” she introduces herself.

Aro steps forward then, taking Edward’s hand from Bella’s into his own.

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with a single touch.” Edward tells them.

“You are quite a soul reader yourself Edward. Although you can’t hear Bella’s thoughts.” Aro remarks, “would you do me the honor?” He extends a hand to Bella.

Warily she steps forward, allowing him to encase her hand with both of his.

“How strange,” Aro pulls away after a moment. “I see nothing. I wonder if…let us see if she is immune to all our powers, Jane.”

“No,” Edward protests, jumping in front of Bella.

“Pain,” the blonde girl murmurs, a satisfied smirk spreading across her features as Edward falls to the ground. He writhes silently at Bella’s feet.

“Stop! Please.” Bella yells, “stop hurting him.”

Aro watches her in fascination, allowing the torture to continue for a moment. “Jane.”

“Master?” The girl says.

Edward relaxes with a grunt.

“Go ahead my darling,” Aro motions to Bella.

“This might hurt just a little,” Jane warns.

But Bella feels nothing.

“Remarkable.” Aro marvels, “she confounds us all. So, what do we do with you now?”

“She knows too much, she’s a liability.” The blonde man on the right croons, from his chair.

“That’s true.” Aro replies, “Felix.”

“No,” Edward flips Bella behind him, having read his thoughts.

Alice seen Aro’s decision to have Bella killed.

And Y/N catches on quickly enough. Stepping in front of her sister.

Alice is restrained by the short blonde haired guard and Edward is wrestling with the larger vampire, which eventually leaves Edward on the ground.

Y/N’s never engaged in combat, but fight or flight is still a thing. She’s stronger and faster than anyone in the room, perks of being a newborn. She uses it to her advantage.

Fending off every attack the guard throws at her. But she is wreckless, untrained in her youth. Eventually she is restrained, with a hand at her throat.

The exchange gives Edward enough time to recover, he comes back swinging. For Bella. Anything for her.

Felix is strong. Edward is going to lose and her sister is going to die.

Y/N does the only thing she can do, “pain.”

The large man twists inhumanly at the crippling pain coursing through him.

Aro’s mouth sits slightly agape, watching in wonder as Edward returns to his feet.

“Call him off and I’ll stop,” Y/N jerks her chin toward Felix.

“Let us discuss this in a civilized manner.” Aro tries to defuse the situation.

“Tell your men to stop trying to kill my sister,” Y/N tosses the guard’s hand from her neck. “Then we discuss.”

“Felix, stand down.” Aro orders.

Y/N releases the man from her clutches, hearing him struggle to regain composure.

“You have the most peculiar scent.” Aro comments, “come.” He holds a hand out, “let me see.”

Y/N steps toward him, allowing his palm to rest under hers.

His eyes fall closed as he weaves through the facets of her memories. From birth to death and after life. “Ahh,” Aro coos.

Y/N resists the urge to pull away.

“Your gift is…untouched.” The things she could do, if only- “I can teach you.”

“Let my sister go,” Y/N repeats.

“So young, so much control.” Aro remarks. “To have resisted her blood twice within the first year. You are magnificent.” He smiles, drunk on the idea of harnessing the power she possesses. “You could join us.”

“I have someone waiting for me.” Y/N declines the offer.

“The child of the moon.” Aro recalls the boy from her mind. Dark hair, bright smile, “you love him impossibly so, against everything in your nature. It makes my heart ache.”

“Consorting with a werewolf?” Caius rushes to his feet. “Our sworn enemy?”

“This is different brother,” Aro stops him. If only he earns the young vampire’s trust, all that power will be his. “They have no qualms with us, nor each other. Misfortune has befallen them, much like our young friends Bella and Edward. This is a sadness.”

“You already know what you’re going to do, Aro. Let us be done with this.” Marcus motions dismissively.

“If only it were your intention to change her.” Aro addresses Edward now.

“Bella will be one of us.” Alice interrupts, “I’ve seen it. I’ll change her myself.”

Aro steps away from Y/N, to where Alice stands. Whatever she shows him must be proof enough. They’re free to go. For now.

———————————————————————-

The plane ride home is awkward. Both better and worse that the flight there.

“Thank you, for what you did.” Edward breaks the silence, as Bella sleeps peacefully against his shoulder. “Only it wasn’t smart. Aro has taken interest now, he’ll try to win you over.”

“Better men have tried.” Y/N turns her nose up at the idea, and him.

“I’m not going to push for your forgiveness. Or hers.” He looks over at Bella, “I’m going to earn it.”

“Sure.” The Y/H/C crosses her arms, “holding my breath.”

“Good thing you don’t need air.” Edward cracks a smile.

“Can you not pick my brain right now? I need to think.” Y/N tries to refocus. “Alone.”

“Jacob will forgive you.” Edward ignores her comment.

“Jacob always forgives me.” She whispers, “I want to deserve it this time.”

Edward nods in understanding. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

If he hears anything else he doesn’t comment on it. Falling into a comfortable silence.

Y/N is largely on autopilot until they make it home.

Charlie rushes out onto the porch at the sound of a car engine. “There you are.”

“Hi, Dad.” Y/N steps up to hug him.

Charlie kisses the top of her head, returning the embrace. “Jacob said it was a girls trip.” He’s not thrilled to see Edward.

“It was supposed to be,” Y/N pulls away. “He surprised us.”

“She does look better though, doesn’t she?” Charlie notes, seeing Bella.

“Yeah,” as much as Y/N hates to admit it, she agrees.

“Go on. He’s been waiting for ya.” Charlie nods toward the house. “I’m gonna have a word with Edward.”

“Ok,” Y/N takes the stairs two at a time. “Don’t be too hard on him though.” She calls after her father. “He’s been through hell too.”

Charlie squints at her, hoping she will elaborate but knowing she won’t.

“Honey, I’m home.” Y/N sings into the living room.

Jacob doesn’t say a word. Just makes his way to her and wraps her up in his arms. Inhaling the scent at the crook of her neck, deeply. “Never thought I’d miss your stink.”

Y/N takes a whiff of her own. “The wet dog and earthy tones are starting to smell like home.”

“Yeah.” He feels it too.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs against his shoulder.

“Sounds like a loaded question already.” Jacob can hear it in her voice.

“How much of you staying here is because of the imprint? How much of it is your soul needing mine? And how much of it is just Jake?”

“I guess I-“ he breaks off. “I’ll never really know for sure. But I think the Jacob I’ve been my whole life would stay. Imprint Jacob would have no choice but to please you. And my soul just wants to be close to yours, anyway it can.”

“Do you ever wish you could un-imprint?” If that’s even a word. “I hate the thought of you chipping away parts of yourself…to please me.”

Jacob nuzzles her forehead with his own. “I’m lucky that I got to imprint on someone who loves me. Someone I didn’t have to change for. Being with you is easy, like breathing.”

“I want to give you more than I take.” Y/N tells him.

“I can feel you,” heart and soul, “how much you love me.”

“You can,” the vampire tenses, “feel me?”

“I know how guilty you feel for leaving, how scared you are that you’ll have to do it again.” Jacob places her hand over his heart. “I’ll wait.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she argues. “You’re already giving away too much.”

“Stop beating yourself up. I can handle you. Have little faith.”

“I have faith in you.” That was never the problem.

“Give yourself some credit too.” He taps her chin, “quit brooding.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Jacob holds Y/N at arms length, “now tell me everything. What’d I miss on the trip of a lifetime?”

“Well Alice stole a car.” She starts with the fun part. “Porsche I think, crazy fast. You would’ve loved it.”

———————————————————————-

The night they return from Italy, Bella insists that her mortality be put up for a vote. The Cullens gather around the staircase in their home, calling for Y/N and Jacob as well.

“You are part of this family, Y/N.” Carlisle rests a hand on her shoulder. “Jacob is your mate. Bella is your sister. You have a say in this.”

Jacob votes no.

Y/N votes not to vote. Only expressing her opinion based on her own experience. “I know what it feels like to have your choices taken away. I won’t do it to you.”

Life goes on. Y/N visits the reservation often. Like Jacob promised, everyone is coming around.

Graduation is right around the corner. Bella is waiting until after to become a vampire. Hoping it’ll be easier on Charlie.

He’s definitely not going to let it go a second time. He’ll demand answers that they won’t be able to give. They’ll have to leave. All of them.

Billy can see how much Y/N is wrestling with the decision. “In your heart you know that this is the best thing for everyone. Why are you hellbent on torturing yourself?”

“I’m not,” she shakes her head.

“You and Jake will get each other through.” Billy isn’t worried about that.

“What about my Dad?” He’ll be devastated.

Billy sighs, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What’d you want me to say kid?”

“Give me another choice.” She covers his fingers with her own.

“You having a pity party without me?” Jacob catches them, leaning heavily against the doorframe of his childhood kitchen.

“You were sleeping.” Y/N sniffs, breaking away from Billy. “I made you breakfast. Pancakes, French toast, eggs, bacon, sausage and-“

“And?” Jacob perks up.

“Chocolate chips muffins for dessert.”

“You’re trying to butter me up, huh?” Jacob grins, making his way to the breakfast table. “It’s working. Just give it to me straight.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Billy excuses himself.

“The Cullens are having a graduation party for Bella.” Y/N watches the wolf take a bit of food from each dish.

“Just Bella?” Jacob arches a brow.

She huffs, reaching into her bag for the formal invite.

‘Congrats Grad!’

‘Please join us to celebrate, Alice, Jasper, Bella, Edward, Y/N and Jacob.’

‘R.S.V.P. To Alice or Esme Cullen.’

“Wow,” Jacob takes it all in. “They shouldn’t have.”

“They gave them to half of Forks high school.” Y/N explains, “most of my senior class remembers you as my hot boyfriend from a different school.”

“I am your hot boyfriend from a different school.” There is no denying it.

Y/N bites her lip. “They gave me a handful of invites for you too. If you want…”

“Really trying to push the whole ‘happy family’ agenda.” Jacob takes the stack of envelopes.

“It’ll only get worse if we indulge them.”

“In a few months they’ll be the only people we know.” Jacob reminds her. “Should probably get used to it.”

Y/N nods, turning her gaze out the window. “The younger we start out in a new place the longer we get to stay.”

“So high school again.” Jacob laughs humorlessly. “Can’t wait.”

“I want to stay in Forks.” Y/N forces out the words. “I want to stay with my Dad.”

“Baby,” Jacob breathes. That’s one thing he can’t give her.

“But it doesn’t matter what I want. Bella has to turn. We have to move on.” Y/N squares her shoulders. “Just let me sulk a little.”

“Sulk away, beautiful.” Jacob takes a bite of scrambled eggs. “Just pass the salt first.”

Series Taglist: @remembered-license @itscheybaby

Part 6

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.3

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,074

Notes: Sorry I took so long! I had to split this update into several parts because I ended up typing out over 6,000 words so another part will be posted in a couple days hopefully I can fix my laptop by then.

Date Posted: 9/4/2021

“Share the heat,” Hoseok complained, tugging the blanket from my cocooned form.

October ‘s days were chilly but as soon as the sun set, it was freezing. I was propped up on the couch, surrounded by pillows and a king sized blanket tucked around me. Mom sat on the recliner to my left, the reason behind my assortment of pillows, and Hoseok was shoving his way into the occupied seat on my right. Well, my legs were occupying it.

“There’s a while couch right there ass hat.” I whined as he lifted my legs and placed them on his lap. This wasn’t so bad- he was warm- but the sibling bond between us made sure to complain.

“I don’t want to sit next to dad, he’s way too excited over the game.” Hobi pulled out his phone and scrolled aimlessly.

“When’s Namjoon gonna be here? His team is kicking ass.`` Dad was lively when it came to soccer. It was cute though and I loved how animated he’d get with each goal. But the kicker is that he and Namjoon rooted for other teams. Hobi, Jin, and I all sided with dad on the sports front but Joonie picked a shitty team that’s been coming up in the last couple of years. Maybe the heart attack he nearly gave dad ten years ago was worth it- if the pride in my dad’s eyes were anything to go by.

Joonie was our wild card, he seemed to pick the most difficult path just because he liked the challenge. He’d always do the opposite of what we expected, whether it was the sudden law school decision or boycotting Christmas one year. But today was probably the most surprising.

Jungkook apparently wasn’t a sports fan until this season started, my dad’s enthusiasm rubbed off onto him and now it was funny to see him white-knuckling a sprite over a bad call. Taehyung was taking a nap upstairs and mom was idly reading some seedy romance novel if the blush on her face was anything to go by. Well it was probably the shirtless man emblazoned on the cover that truly gave it away.

Hobi sighed and tossed his phone over onto the side table, he closed his eyes and melodramatically threw his arm over his face as he rested against the back of the loveseat. I rolled my eyes, “what’s it now buttercup?”

He huffed at my nickname, “Jimin isn’t responding.” He dropped his arm to pout at me as if I could help the situation at all.

“You know he’s probably working right now?” I nudged his arm with one of my feet.

His pout turned into a full blown frown as he made puppy eyes at me. “Yeah but that doesn’t mean i can’t miss him.”

“OH, so you’re going to finally admit that you’re dating him?” The delighted smile that ripped it’s way across my face made the frown completely fall off of his.

“Oh shit.”

His shock made me full bellied laugh, “Mom! Hobi finally sa-”

“Shut up! You tricked me!” he hissed as he covered my mouth, I smiled evilly as I licked the back of his hand to deter him.

“The baby.” Jungkook snapped, ripping Hobi's hand off my face. How did he manage to get across the room so quickly? Beyond me. There was a cloudy sort of anger in his face, one where he knew he shouldn’t be angry but couldn’t help it.

“Kookie, I'm fine.” I reached up to hold his wrist as he let go of Hobi's hand. He looked down on me tersely, his eyes colder than usual.

“Hoseok, how many times do your mother and I have to say to be gentler with your sister? You two are honestly getting too old for this.” Dad scolded, his hand on Hobi’s shoulder. I could see him curling into himself and suddenly I felt small.

“Dad, I'm okay, Hoseok and I were just playing. You know he’d never hurt me or the baby.`` I let go of Jungkook's wrist and tried to sit myself up more. It was hard this late into the pregnancy.

“You need to be more careful too, you’re way too rowdy these days.” he chastised me and I could feel the anger at being talked down to. I’m not a child anymore.

“No, this is my baby and my body, I get to decide when it’s too rowdy. We weren’t wrestling or fighting and I could easily breathe. We were doing nothing wrong, why are you acting like this?” My tone was cold and I forced myself up into a standing position. Jungkook stepped away from the couch so i could have enough room.

“y/n baby, you know i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-” i cut him off; i was fuming.

“Well you did. You basically said that either my big brother is going to hurt me or that I'm incapable of judging how much energy I can exert. We’re all adults in this room, why did you two have to intervene?” my glare turned to Jungkook, he hardened his gaze.

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“No more baby excuses,” I cut him off. “I know he’s fine, he’s twisting and kicking just as he’s always been.”

“The baby’s hormones are-”

“Stop Jungkook.” I held up a hand, the anger bubbling up to the surface. I needed to cool down before I lashed out. I could feel the heat coursing through my arms and filling my chest.

“No, Y/n he’s right I didn't notice it till you stood up but the baby’s hormones have gotten really strong all of a sudden.” Hoseok chimed in. still seated, he reached out and touched my stomach. Mom crossed the room and shoved her way through Jungkook and dad to kneel in front of my stomach, accessing my state.

“What? What does that mean?” I cradled my bump, the fear seeping into my words. He felt normal there, my doctor told me if anything were to feel wrong then to trust my instincts and immediately go to the hospital. But this was different, nothing felt wrong.

Taehyung thundered down the stairs, “Y/n? What’s going on down here? I can smell the stress from upstairs,” he took a backseat to the worry on my mind.

“Is something wrong with him? Nothing feels wrong.” I turned to Jungkook, the worry overpowering the shame of the argument we had just had. He was the first to notice so maybe he knew what was wrong.

“I was wrong, holy shit, we should make a doctor’s appointment.” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed, he jumped up and held me at arms length by the shoulders. He looked down to my stomach with a shocked expression.

“Honey, get the keys we’re going to the hospital.” mom barked out. I didn’t even notice her leaving the huddle but she was back at the recliner as she tugged on some tennis shoes.

“No! It's okay! The pheromones are showing that she’s okay too.” Jungkook finally spoke up, he threw an arm around me and pointed at the baby.

“She?” The confusion in my father’s voice was only a mirror to the rest of the room.

“Yeah, the pheromones got so strong because there’s two.” Hobi explained as he crossed the room and relieved mom of her purse. He placed a calming hand on her shoulders. Shoulders that seemed to be leveled with her ears with the abrupt stress.

“You mean twins? It's a bit late to find that out don’t you think?” she all but hissed at her third son. Mom was visibly anxious right now, something I had never seen before. She was usually so calm and cheerful around us.

“Mom, you’ve said it yourself, y/n is bigger than most pregnancies.”

“I mean yeah but we’ve gone to the doctor twenty times over the summer and I think he’d find another baby in there.” I chimed in, coming to mom’s other side. I think it helped with calming her down because her shoulders lowered a bit.

“I can smell both, I can smell her all of a sudden alongside him.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around me, his head burrowing into my shoulder. His grip on me was tighter than usual.

“But Tae that doesn’t make sense.” I turned in his grasp, facing the snow leopard hybrid, my disbelief written across my face.

“He’s had a very strong scent and a very strong heartbeat, maybe he just masked hers.” Jungkook stepped into my bubble once again. He was on the other side of Tae but seemed to block off any others from joining in the clique.

“But the ultrasounds only show one baby.” I reasoned out, my right hand reaching behind me to rest on my mother’s shoulder. Accepting there was a second was terrifying, I was barely holding myself together for the one pregnancy. Adding on another? Was I eating enough? Taking enough precautions? Maybe dad was right in intervening today.

“Back in the day they couldn’t find Seokjin’s penis and told us we’d be having a girl. It was a bit of a shock when he came out.” Dad. Of course, I've heard this story before, ultrasounds weren’t always perfect.

“What should i do?” I was scared and it was evident in the shake of my voice, Taehyung only hugged me harder.

“Hey guys, what's going on here?” Namjoon’s voice shattered the tension of the room. Seeing him and the dark haired male next to him gave me a chance to breathe.

Hoseok flitted across the room, his excitement at seeing our older brother evident in the wagging of his feather duster of a tail. “Joon, you're going to be an aunt and an uncle.”

“What?”

“Hobi that’s not how it works and you know it.” Mom chastised with a small shake of her head. Hoseok was a blessing to us all when tensions were high. “Who’s this?”

Namjoon seemed to freeze up a bit before throwing an arm around the guy hovering behind him a bit. Said man flushed lightly at the attention turning to him and in the soft light of the living room I could barely make out a pair of silky black ears atop his head. “This is Min Yoongi, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I sputtered out, breaking the moment of silence that enveloped the living room. I could see dad from my peripheral making his way to the doorway with a smile.

“Yeah, problem?” Joonie’s eyes were narrowed at me but eased up at the grin I was sporting.

Pulling away from Taehyung a bit, I sneered at Hobi. “Hoseok- he told us about his boyfriend before you could. How does that feel?”

Hoseok groaned before stomping over to me to grind out: “Oh my god you're annoying and technically i said it first.”

“But you didn’t tell mom and dad.” I taunted, the faux misery on my brother’s face would fuel me for months. Taehyung sat on the loveseat behind him and tugged at the hem of my shirt for me to join him.

“They’ve met Jimin before though and according to you i’m not subtle.” Hobi argued, his hand on his hip. Jungkook followed Tae and I down to the seat and I was wedged between the two with my legs in Kook’s lap. He gently rubbed circles into my swollen ankles as Hobi and I glared at each other.

“Anyway, what's this about me being an aunt now?” Joonie interrupted the stare down with Yoongi by his side, our parents must have finally let them out of their interrogation.

“These three are suddenly claiming I'm pregnant with twins.” I explained with a flick of my wrist, the stress of the situation (that was only a few minutes ago) seemed as if it were twelve years in the past.

“Um, I can smell two scents too.” Yoongi’s soft spoken words brought back the fear.

“Holy shit, mom! What am I supposed to do? Should we go to the hospital?” I tried to push myself up into a sitting position but Taehyung held me gently to his chest.

“The babies are happy, I don't think they’re in danger. “He hummed softly into my ear. I could feel the sincerity behind his words. He rubbed a hand up my arm gently and started to purr. An attempt to ease my anxiety.

“Danger or not- we still need to confirm if there are actually twins. That’s a nightmare in itself. That’s double of everything I was sort of ready for. Wait, what if I give birth prematurely- don’t twins come early?” there was panic rising in my chest.

“Mom and Dad went to their room, they’re recovering from the unexpected news but Y/n it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the doctor’s tomorrow, together,” Hoseok reminded me, he softly ruffled my hair as he leaned down to kiss the top of my forehead. Still I looked around the room for my mother. The one who holds all the answers to my pregnancy fears. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, all stood above us three, all showing a different expression. Namjoon looked apprehensive, which was normal for him. Hoseok looked as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. Yoongi thought he looked stunned, his eyes blown wide.

“Hobi you’re banned from my ultrasound appointments. You almost broke the equipment.” I reminded him with a forced smile. I could still feel the panic but it was ebbing away. I wasn’t dying, I was safe. The babies were safe. Everything will be okay.

“That’s so rude, I apologized and everything.” he crossed his arms, generously taking the bait. Knowing that Joonie would laugh at his expense.

“We’ll go with you, we haven’t been able to go since Hoseok has been.” Taehyung declared, way too happy for me to decline, and I smiled softly at him. I was held up against his torso, his head just a few inches above my own. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead against my own.

“You’re going to scent mark my sister in front of me?” Namjoon sputtered indignantly, causing Tae to freeze all of a sudden.

“Namjoon, that’s not scent marking.” Hoseok laughed and shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“Actually, we feline hybrids scent mark like that instead of that mess you canine hybrids do. I scent marked Namjoon earlier in the same way.” Yoongi crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at Tae. I was a bit shocked to say the least.

Hoseok had explained it to me when we were younger, scent marking was a hybrid instinct, and it had two different connotations. There was a familial way and a romantic way to cover another person in their pheromones. Hoseok would hug us and hold our hands growing up to rub just enough of himself on us to comfort himself that we were his family. Especially when we were younger and playing with larger groups of children or when there was a big event. The familial way would only last a few hours and was more of a comforting thing for family and very close friends to help with bonding.

Hoseok had explained the more romantic way was to imbue another’s scent for a much longer time and it was done by stimulation to the scent glands which meant that they would lick each other’s scent glands. He had been tomato red explaining this to me when he had found another hybrid’s scent on me that was much stronger than his own. When I explained that I was just playing with a hybrid at recess and they hugged me he seemed to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

Taehyung was staring up at Namjoon with an indecipherable expression. The massage on my ankles had stopped at Namjoon's exclamation and my glance at Jungkook showed him to be in the same emotionless stare down but instead he was staring down Yoongi. He knew too, but why hadn’t he told me?

“She’s part of our pack, of course I would scent her.” Taehyung had no emotions in his words, the monotonous response seemed to aggravate my brother.

“Wait,” I held my hand up to the seething man before turning to his boyfriend. “I’m confused. Hobi said that licking my neck would be romantic scent marking and hugging was familial scent marking. Which would this be?”

My question caused all four hybrids to freeze up, Hobi’s face once again lighting up in embarrassment.

“Uh, he said that? Well, uh, that’s wrong.” Yoongi forced out, his face turning a light shade of pink.

“Hybrids themselves decide what the type of scent marking it is when they release the pheromones, and there’s a lot of different meanings that could exist. Typically a more familial scenting would be a hug- so that part is right- but also kissing the top of your head could work. Licking your scent glands isn’t a romantic way for scent marking, it’s more sexual.” Yoongi's face almost matched Hoseok’s at this point. “Romantically speaking there’s a lot of ways you can scent someone- like rubbing your necks against each other which is common amongst the canine hybrids. For us feline hybrids we rub our faces against the person, like he had done to you. The pheromones typically let us know, but he’s not releasing heavy enough pheromones for us other hybrids to notice, but rubbing his face against yours is claiming you as his in feline standards.”

“Oh,” I could feel the hybrid underneath me tense up as Yoongi's explanation came to an end. I glanced up at him to see him still staring down my brothers.

“I’m still a little confused but thank you Yoongi. Namjoon, Hoseok, I’ll take it from here, I don't need you hovering over us for this conversation. In fact, I think I'll take this conversation elsewhere, you three have fun watching the game. Joonie, dad recorded this and last week’s matches for you.” I worked my way into a standing position with Taehyung’s help and made my way to the stairs, both Taehyung and Jungkook glued to my sides.

“It was really nice meeting you Yoongi,” I smiled at him and waved my goodbyes as I made my way up. We made our way into my room, the two hovering in the doorway. Just like I had met them. I took a deep breath and settled onto the bed.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

10.

you’re both so lame

Bakugou Katsuki was roughly 16 when he realized the stakes to be the best, the top, the number one hero. It was more than having a strong quirk, physical strength, keen observational skills, smarts, or being brave – it was all these things he realized that he lacked something more. He realized that you had to have heart, compassion, something he sorely lacked.

After all, what good is a hero working for himself and not for others?

Failing his Provisional License Exam made him realize that, putting up with shitty Half-and-Half.

He could be the hero he wanted to be, but that'd put him in leagues of Endeavor, and there was no way he wanted to wind up as shitty as that old fart.

He was lacking, but he just didn't know where. No, he knew where he lacked but just didn't know how to consider them.

He wanted to be more, bigger - become a better version of himself.

Considering his shitty self, however, that seemed like a laughable and farfetched idea.

“Are you stupid or something?”

He looked up at the figure who stopped in front of him under the pouring rain, meeting your gaze - surprised, annoyed, angry, and worried, all at once. Too lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that it had rained and that he was soaking.

Grabbing his hand, you forced him to his feet. “Come on, get under here.” Once under the umbrella, you practically shove it in his hand, letting him hold because he was taller. Slipping your bag in front of you, you rummaged through your things for a handkerchief. Once finding it, you wiped his wet face, grumbling under your breath. “Seriously, if you want to be number one, we can’t have you getting sick on me.”

At the sound of your voice, your mothering, he slowly came to. “Sorry,” was the most intelligent thing he could think of saying to you. Going back on your words, he found his voice again. "you remembered."

Rolling your eyes, you poked between his brows. "How could I not? It was all you could talk about." Shaking your head, now that his face was dry, you began to walk, he followed. “So, where’re ya headed?”

“Home.”

“Really? School break?”

It still surprises him at how easy it is to speak to you now, even after everything. And he means everything. It amazes him how natural it was to talk to you, how at ease he feels.

“Something like that.”

Humming, the two of you make your way through the wet road, waiting by the crosswalk as cars pass by, the light overhead blaring red. “Well, you’re lucky I’m heading home. I’ll just drop you off first, okay?”

Once the light blinks green, the two of you began to walk with the crowd.

Shrugging, he adjusts his hold on the umbrella, slipping his free hand into his pocket. “Yeah, alright.”

You said nothing else, and walked on, the falling rain filling in the noise.

In turn, Bakugou had little else to say with his mind riddled with his thoughts filled with insecurities and fears regarding the path he wants for himself.

At 16, he realized now how quirks were nothing more than an added bonus, they could either make or break you, depending on its usage. Like you said in middle school, there’ll always be other quirks better than yours, and nobody would give a damn about how you well you did in junior high when you get to the real world. UA was such an eye-opener. That, and you and Deku.

Now, as he turned to you, watching you hum a tune under your breath as you skipped happily on the wet ground, carmine eyes softened as he realized just how much he wanted to be someone’s hero.

“For what it’s worth…I’m working my way to the top.”

Blinking, you turned to face him, the corners of your lips lifting. “Yeah?”

Nodding, he regarded you in kind regards, feeling the darkness seep away just by the curve of your lips, the warmth in your eyes. “Had a few speed bumps to get through, first.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Exhaling, sharply, he tilts a bit, careful to not bring the umbrella with him lest he gets you wet. “…exhausting, but no way am I fucking giving in that easy.”

“Glad to hear that then.”

At 16, he remembered that one thing he wished for the moment he got his quirk, the one person who mattered the most to him, the other person who helped propel him to the top, he finally remembered what he had to do.

Finally smiling, the best he could do anyway, you rolled your eyes at him, playfully punching his chest. “There’s the fucker, I know.”

Being friends with someone like Midoriya Izuku is both a blessing and a curse – one, you have this sweet cinnamon roll, whose life goal was to be the best hero at his own pace whilst ensuring that people are safe and sound; then, there’s the fact that he’s disturbingly perceptive and dangerously analytical. For short, he can read you like a book.

Since you were younger, Izuku knew of your crush on Bakugou.

He was actually rooting for both of you to end up together, which was only solidified during the ‘proposal’. Dear God, that was so long ago!

Even when the blond boy turned out to be a shithead, lording over with his overgrown pride, Izuku was there to assure you that your crush is valid and that there's almost something good underneath Kacchan's pride. 

One Valentine’s day, sophomore year of middle school to be exact, with some push from your green-haired best friend, you were planning on giving Bakugou Katsuki Valentine’s chocolates. The idea intimidated you to no end, but it was a step. Your mother had helped you make them, all while teasing you throughout the process. Your dad had cried the whole time, whilst your grandparents drank tea to the tune of his wails.

You had given some pieces to Izuku, who enjoyed them much to your relief. So now, the only problem was actually giving them to the blond boy.

“B-Bakugou-kun!” a girly voiced called out, startled, you hid, back against the wall. “I-I made you chocolates! T-These are for you!”

It didn't help that you were not the only one who harbored a crush on him, in fact, half the population liked him, you had a lot of competition. Izuku would say that you had a leg against the rest, just because you were childhood friends. (To which you'd roll your eyes on because it was so fucking cliche)

"HAH?"

"Um, um...I was hoping to give them to you! A-Also, I-I...like you! Please go out with me-"

"Like I'd go out with an extra like you," he cuts her off harshly, sadistically. "none of you are fit for someone like me." There was a whimper, followed by a dark chuckle. "And you have the gall to actually hand me these? You must be outta your mind. Double, if you think I'd ever want to be found dating an extra like you."

Though they weren't directed at you, every word said sent a painful jab to your heart, loosening the grip on your chocolates.

You should have known better that Bakugou wasn’t one for Valentine's Day, he’d either snub the gifts, burst them to bits, or pass them to his ‘friends’. Today was no different. Braving a look, you saw as he harshly took the chocolate off the girl's hands and blew them to bits, his 'friends' laughing behind him while the girl stared in horror before running off crying.

Had that been you, it could've been worst.

Bakugou Katsuki could care less about feelings or liking someone, he cared for nothing but himself.

So, instead, you gave them to Izuku, meaning he got two chocolates for Valentine’s Day.

"EH!? (Nickname), what happened!?" seeing the look in your eyes, Izuku was by your side.

“Sorry, Izuku, I couldn’t do it.” you murmur, defeatedly.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

You could only exhale, limply leaning against him. Still worried, he wraps an around your shoulders, squeezing comfortably. Seeing the chocolate in your best friend's hands, you felt the burn in your eyes, the squeeze in your chest, remembering all that time you spent working on it only to go to waste. In a way, it was metaphorically like dealing with your feelings, this stupid one-sided crush.

“Honestly? I’m tired of this stupid crush.”

Numbness washed over you, crawling over your nerves.

Seeing the weariness in your eyes, Izuku relents his words and works on a smile. “I-I’ll give you double for White Day!”

Smiling weakly, you replied. “Thanks, Izuku, I look forward to it.”

(Unbeknownst to the both of you, a blond teen listened in, hands balled into fists, sparks going off, before stomping away angrily.)

“Um, Aizawa-sensei, is there a reason why we’re doing night classes?”

Lazily glancing at Jirou, seeing her in gear like the rest of her classmates, who seemed tired and confused for being in the gym at 09:06 in the evening.

“Since you’ll be heroes soon, you have to keep in mind that you work around the clock. Meaning, there’s a chance that you’re more likely to work day shifts or night shifts.” His students shifted, reacting to his words.

“Well, that’s true.” Satou nods, arms crossed against his massive chest.

“Well, I work better at night, since I love to sleep in~” Kaminari says, grinning ear to ear.

“Tokoyami-chan, wouldn't you be better suited for the night?” Asui asked Tokoyami, who nodded once.

“Yes, as Dark Shadow and I have been making progress.”

“That being said, we’re only doing these night classes at random, to properly prepare yourselves. With that in mind, I’ve called for help with these classes.”

The class gasped in unison, half were excited, half were in awe. After all, it’s not every day you get outside help. Who knows who they'll meet?

As if being summoned, two figures appeared from the shadows, both sporting ninja-like costumes and donning masks - a sly kitsune on the small female, and a stoic angry-looking fox on the tall male. Together, the two bowed - holding their fists in their palms - at Aizawa, then at the class.

Standing straight, they began to take off their masks, lowering their hoods.

Midoriya and Bakugou gasped, immediately recognizing the two whose eyes glinting a dangerous yellow.

“They are from the Yoruichi dojo, they’re trained and proficient in combat, especially at night. We'll be under their care.”

“E-EH?”

"Hold up!"

“Isn’t that Midoriya and Bakugou’s childhood friend?”

You waved a two-fingered salute, rather nonchalantly. “Yo!”

“(Nickname)!” Izuku called to you, excitedly, his shock wearing off.

“What are you doing here?” Bakugou shouted, still in shock.

Tutting you folded your arms against your chest, fixing a dull look towards your childhood friends. “Weren’t you listening? Or were your explosions too loud that you’ve gone deaf?” those words were specifically directed towards Bakugou, who yelled incoherent words at you. Turning your head away, avoiding his yells, you stuck your tongue out childishly.

Beside you, your grandfather stoically took in the group before him, before his eyes fell on green and blond. “So, this is the two of you donning your heroics? Not too shabby.” Says your grandfather, the two boys stood straighter, much to the shock of their classmates, especially for Bakugou.

“Shihan!” Bakugou and Midoriya say in unison.

“Ah, the two of them straightened up!”

“Even Bakugou!”

“Just who is this old man?”

"He's the head of the Yuroichi clan," Aizawa said, hands still in his pocket. "a retired underground hero who's trained countless heroes, mastered the art of stealth and even earned the respect of several Yakuza clans for his many feats. He is simply called Shihan." Scratching at his cheek, he added. "Even I trained under him."

"That's an impressive track record," remarked Yaoyorozu, Todoroki nods beside her. "Countless heroes have been under his wing, he must be that impressive."

"Y-Yakuza clans!?" shrieked Urakaka.

"An experienced underground hero to help us further enhance our skills, as expected of UA!" Iida praised, hands moving animatedly, his classmates were careful not to get hit by them.

"He even trained Aizawa-sensei, that's so cool!" Kirishima comments, fists bumping producing a satisfying 'clack' sound.

“But, 'Shihan'? Isn’t that just a title?” Mashirao asked, confused. Beside him, Mezuo shrugged.

“Well, you get to know his name only if you’ve rightfully earned it.” You tell them, dangling against the banister, legs swinging.

...

...

...

“What the hell?”

“When did she get there!?”

Giggling, you drop to the ground soundlessly, landing next to Izuku to hug his arm. Shooting the blond a look, you playfully kicked his boots.

"(N-Nickname)!"

“Granddaughter,” called your old man, arms folded behind his back. “get over here.”

“Yes~” taking a step back from your friends, you flipped backward to your grandfather, landing easily into a seating pose, yellow eyes alight with mischief.

“W-Wait, sensei, you said that we’d have to train against them right?”

“Correct. The Yuroichi clan is the best martial artist you’ll find, but you won’t hear squat of them in the real world because of how good they keep their façade.” At that, you winked at your (still) gaping best friends. “That being said, within this class, you’ll see exactly how you’ll fare in the real world especially at night.”

Impassively staring out, your grandfather continued to stare down at the students of Class 2-A, his yellow eyes gleaning on each one of them whilst you rocked in place beside him.

“You may have had your work studies, internship, and last year's fiasco cut out for you, but that's still a fraction of what's to be expected of you as heroes." Some of the group fell silent at the mention of their freshmen year, a lot of things happened to them that forced them all to grow up too fast.

"Yuroichi,” Aizawa turns to you - cutting everyone's thought process, bringing them to now, you blink. “you can start out by picking the person you’d like to go against.”

Humming, you gave the class a good look, yellow eyes dancing from person to person. Izuku's detailed analysis flowed in your head, regarding each of his classmates.

Eventually, you chose Ochako, because you had been told that she’s one of the best combatants in class. Also, she had a rather interesting quirk you'd like to see with up close.

"I won't go easy on you, (Name)-chan!" the brunette says to you, fists clenched against her chest.

Nodding, the two of you walk forward to the mat, Class 2-A stood in line to watch from the side.

“Good luck, Ochako-chan! Gero~”

"Ochako-chan, let's go!!!"

“Go kick some butt, Uraraka!”

“This’ll be good! Some girl on girl action!” someone said, which was met with an angry bark and explosion soon after.

“Take your position,” says Aizawa. “everyone, keep your eyes on the two.” Lifting his hands in the air, readying. “Begin.”

Just as his hands slapped against each other, the slap resounding throughout the gym, you had Ochako pinned down to the ground, both her palms open and outstretched away from each other.

“What!?”

“What the hell?”

“She’s too fast!”

From his spot, your grandfather scoffed angrily, unimpressed. "Granddaughter, don't show off."

Smiling cheekily, you released the brunette and walked back to your position. "Yes, yes. Sorry~" came your breezy reply, to which he rolled his eyes at. Turning to Ochako, you offered a peace sign in apology. Rolling her shoulders, her eyes remained wide in confusion at how fast it all went down.

Aizawa, unfazed by how fast things were going, stood idle. "Alright, we'll try again. This time, play fair." He says to you, mostly. Eyes flashing red in warning, causing chills to run down your spine, your expression sours a bit.

This time though, as you both circled the training mat and settled into positions, you took a deep inhale, eyes closing. As you exhaled, your eyes slowly peeled open and revealed (e/c), much to the confusion of many - save for your grandfather, Aizawa, and your best friends.

"Begin."

Ochako struck first, coming at you with her hands open to take you down, but you managed to dodge easily in time, rolling on her back to land on your feet. Striking for her head, she easily deflected your attack and grabbed your arm. Anticipating this, you twisted your whole body, causing her to lose balance and trip. 

"Uwa!"

"That was so cool!"

"GO KICK HER ASS, URARAKA!"

While the class cheered, as the fight went on, two boys were especially keyed on the fight between the two females, taking note of your eyes.

Surging towards you, trying to get at you again, you stood your ground and waited. When she was within reach, you easily slipped your arm in hers and twirled around, as though you were doing the rodeo, and tossed her. Disoriented, she quickly got back to her wits, throwing punches your way, which you parried off quickly. And with your attacks, she easily dispatched your chances.

It was a rather even match.

"Wow, they're amazing..." commented Sato under his breath.

"I keep forgetting how good Uraraka is in terms of close combat." Sero seconds, just as Ochako aptly deflects your kicks.

"Yeah, but have you seen Yuroichi?" Throughout the fight, you ensured to knock away Ochako's hands - removing all chances of her using her quirk, cutting all her openings, and slipping through her defenses. "Damn, since's good."

Ochako grabbed hold of your arm, and you let her. Feeling weightless a playful smile plasters on your lips, much to her confusion, before you grabbed at her arms, throwing yourself back and using gravity to your advantage, maneuvering with her weight until you kicked her by the backs of her knees. Once again, the brunette found herself pinned to the ground. "And, dead."

"Alright, Yoruichi wins."

A series of cheers echoed behind you.

Grinning, you got off Ochako - who immediately released her quirk, and helped her up. "Thanks for the fight, Ochako~"

Despite being bruised all over, she mirrors your grin. "My pleasure, (Name)-chan! You're so cool!"

"Not as cool as you were!" you swayed a little, finding your footing. "Man, your quirk is no joke."

"Now, can anyone tell me what happened?" Aizawa turned to the class expectantly.

For a moment, there was silence, before Sero spoke up.

"Um, Yuroichi moved too fast?"

"And?"

"She...well, she shifted her fighting style time to time." Mashirao added, his tail noticeable shaking excitedly.

"Oh yeah! That!" Kirishima blinked, like he had a light bulb moment, hammering a fist into his open palm. "It's like one of those characters in those fighting games!" Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari nodding in agreement.

"And because of Uraraka's fighting style, she had to be the antithesis of her to catch her off-guard." Todoroki supplemented.

Aizawa nodded - save for Kirishima's comment, at every comment. "Anything else to add?"

"She was studying Uraraka," muttered Katsuki, arms crossed against his chest. "from the moment she chose her to the moment she stepped in the mat."

"Also, with her quirk allowed her to predict exactly how she'll attack." Izuku seconds in, remembering your eyes flashing quickly from (e/c) to yellow. "However, she only used it when it suited her."

Narrowing your eyes at your childhood friends, you called out. "Hey, that's cheating! The two of you know too much!"

"No, that's true." Aizawa pointedly ignores your complaints, nodding at the two.

Grumbling under your breath, Ochako could only give you a laugh before handing you a towel. Nodding in thanks, you dropped to the ground, sitting.

"Alright, so now, you've just paid witness to what you're up against. Next, we're going to test the rest of you. Shihan," Aizawa turned to your grandfather "I believe you've made a decision?"

Your grandfather grunted. "Yes." he nods, turning to the shorter man, shoulders relaxing. "Standard Rabbit Hole exercise."

Pursuing your lips at your grandfather's words, eyes widening slightly, you hummed afterward. "Heh, okay~"

"What does that mean?" a confused Asui asked, poking at her cheek. "Gero?"

"I believe it's an exercise where a whole group is to capture one chosen person. It's a common stealth exercise that the military uses." Yaoyoruzu explained kindly.

"You heard him, your objective is to capture Yuroichi."

Half the class blinked in disbelief, eyes wide like saucers.

"Wait, all of us?"

"All of you." Shihan confirmed with a small smirk, one that sent chills down the students' spines. Aizawa mirrors his mentor's smirk, albeit it was a smaller and softer-looking one.

"The person to catch her gets a free lunch stub for a week."

Mirroring your grandfather's smirk, you hopped to your feet. "Well, this'll be fun."

When you were younger and when your quirk first started to appear, it was rather unpleasant. Because first of all, you had your first period. You honestly thought you were going to die then and there had your mom and grandmother not been there to guide you. Second, straight after your period, you were overwhelmed by senses you started feeling - smell, sight, hearing, taste. It was all too much that you puked, nearly passing out on the spot.

It took you a while to get used to it, scared shitless at how much you could feel and sense things, and especially how more alert you these were happening at night.

At the time, Izuku was wildly concerned about how you've been losing sleep. You didn't have the heart to tell him about your quirk just yet, fearful of the power you had and how alienated Izuku would feel.

You were ever grateful to have such an amazing family to walk you through your quirk, the family's secretive history, and being a hero in your own way.

Since you were younger, you had joked that your family might have been descendants to ninjas, something your grandfather had yet to confirm or not. (Judging his dealings with Yakuza, you'd bet it was true)

Training hadn't been easy over the years since you were expected to master a great deal of martial arts. Some years later, you were forced to go through rigorous training to heighten your senses, learning when to turn them on or off. From your grandmother, you had learned to preserve energy and make use of them any time during day time, just remembering its drawback.

Quirks were always an added bonus, something that just made you special than the average man. Yet, quirks don't make you.

You learned that from your two best friends - Izuku, quirkless at birth, but proved that even without a quirk, you could still be a hero; and then Bakugou, though was gifted with an amazing quirk, if you had a shitty attitude, you were basically nothing without it.

Yellow eyes gleamed under the light, a glint of mischief playing through that mirrored the mask in your hand.

At the age of 14, you finally mastered your senses, allowing them to come on its full potential once it was dusk. Per family tradition, you were given a mask - one that helped protect you and leave enemies unaware of you using your quirk.

Now, at 17, you were seeing your quirk - quirks, as a whole - with a new set of eyes.

Donning the mask on, a loud blaring alarm rang out, signifying the start of the exercise.

The fox was ready to play.

20 against 1 should be an intimidating feat, but you, it felt strangely exciting. That, or maybe it was the warrior in you. These kinds of things were exciting in a way. This play of cat and mouse - well, rabbit, the thrill of the chase, stealth, saboteur, ambush - you could feel your blood tingle in glee.

The object was simple: one of the twenty students had to find and capture you. Should be easy, considering they had really strong quirks and experience you sorely lacked.

But as a Yuroichi, you were always taught never to underestimate your enemy and to always make use of your environment as much as you should use your quirk, they always helped to your advantage.

5 minutes in and you were caught in what seemed to be a crossfire of students, all deadset on capturing you - for their grade or that week's worth of free lunch. Frankly, having everyone come at you all at once was adorable, yet, it was rather fool-hardy.

It made them all the more reckless.

Grunting, you felt the echolocation sound back to you, giving you an idea of the area around you and the number of students in the way. Mapping your way, you avoided grabbing hands (appendages, tapes, and acid, oh my), hopping from one's shoulder to one's head, until your foot met the wall. Kicking yourself off, you were sent back, hands grabbing a ledge before using your weight to drop the ladder a few inches.

Hanging upside down, you lazily eyed the two heroes before you who individually kinda reminded you of grapes and banana.

"We got her!"

"That lunch is mine!"

Carefully coursing through the two, whisking through the grape boy’s balls, until you were in front of them, hands moved at lightning speed striking their abdomen, sides, and inner biceps, leaving them paralyzed and down.

"I-I can't move...?" Satou flexed his fingers but to no avail.

"GAH! Bested!" Mineta's balls fall to the ground, no longer sticking and rolling off like a ball.

Sensing someone behind you, you threw yourself forward, ice barely kissing the tips of your sandaled feet, barreling on the ground before crouching.

"Mineta, Satou! Are you okay?"

"How and why are you down?"

"S-She did something to us...!"

Mismatched eyes watched you coolly, you didn't let up, stance readying. 

You felt a rush of lighting behind you, followed by iron-clad soles hopping wall to wall. Seeing the mismatched teen's shifted posture, you smirked beneath your mask. Just as hands touched your head, you grabbed hold of his wrist, striking your knuckled index finger on his arms, before tossing him to the mismatched teen, his eyes widening at the incoming body.

"(NAME)!" an explosion sounded off.

As smoke filled the area, you stilled a moment, grunting lowly before turning on your heel and rushing the opposite direction. Hopping off the ground, you leaped building to building, not stopping once even as heroes followed after your trail.

Turning on your heel, eyeing the remaining heroes, you gave a two-fingered salute before falling backward. In midair, you twirled around, dodging an incoming combo move by Ochako and Sero, using the latter's body to cushion your fall, Ochako knocked out next to him.

Suddenly, you found yourself in some open area, with the remaining class surrounding you. Beneath the mask, you were smiling - almost madly, like the fox.

Easing into a stance, you all but raised a hand, flexing your index forward as if to say, 'come at me'.

And then it all came in a blur.

Attacks came left and right, but you were in tune with your senses enough to avoid each hit that came. You moved like water, fluidly, unyielding, splashing coolly on to the other even though the hit wasn't yours.

With your whimsical and unpredictable fighting style, it made it difficult for the class to know how you'd approach each of them, using their confusion to your advantage. Moves quick as lightning struck through through the bodies, but not enough to kill just enough to bruise and leave a mark. Adrenaline spiked through your veins, making you feel alive as your body danced with quick, harried moves. Not a single wasted hit. Carefully dodged attacks. Perfectly executed moves.

You were listening. Listening to everything, commanded only by your drive to fight. It was in the family and your blood was singing with every move. Hearing. Reacting. As your grandfather had said, you had to be one with the creatures and dance the night away.

Despite being unable to use his other arm, Izuku readily deflected your attacks with Black Whip working on trying to catch you off your feet. What he forgot was how much you knew him, how much you had helped him with his Shoot Style, and just how much you had predicted his actions. Letting Black Whip capture you, you allowed yourself to be swung around. Reaching Izuku, you took advantage of the proximity and wrapped your legs around his torso, thumb, and index finger pressed together jabbed at his elbows. For extra measure, you pressed at his inner arms.

Swinging your form back, yellow eyes fell on mint and blond who were fast approaching, hopping off your now paralyzed best friend.

A great leap over, you appeared between the two powerhouses. Grabbing their wrists, you forcefully tugged, switching sides and throwing them off, before kicking down to their ankles up to their torsos. Angered, Katsuki lifted a hand, to blast you away. Apparently, Todoroki thought of the same thing. Thankfully you ducked in time, but not enough time for the boys to realize their actions, and a loud explosion sounded off. The two were incapacitated from the blast meter...and anyone caught near it.

You landed soundlessly in front of them all, a few scratches on your costume but your fox mask still smiling.

Thirty minutes later, twenty students were down, half were paralyzed, unable to move their limbs, and had to be helped up by a fellow classmate, and half had bruises on their bodies.  A smirking Shihan greeted them, next to an impassive Aizawa, eyes glinting with a strange glee. 

"All twenty of you failed to capture Yuroichi," it was a simple statement, but man did it hurt their ego. First day of sophomore year and already they failed. "I'm not going to mince on you one by one, we can do that tomorrow. For now, tell me where you went wrong."

Grunting, the group looked at each other before it was Jiro who spoke first. "W-We were caught off guard...?"

"Correct."

"Yuroichi was too skilled." Mezo added, holding on to one of his arms.

"That's debatable, as you all should be, too, considering what you've been through in your first year. Anything else?"

Whilst the class were discussing amongst themselves, you walked towards your grandfather, his eyes regarding you with a soft, praising mien. He didn't say it, but the look in his eyes was the highest form of praise you'll get from him. Also, he handed you a bottle of water. Gleefully, you took off your mask, grinning toothily to your old man. Rolling his eyes, he ruffled at your sweaty hair.

"She fought dirty," came Katsuki's loud statement, glaring daggers at your smiling form, a bottle of water halfway through your mouth. You offered a peace sign, chugging at your drink greedily. "she's well-adept in close-ranged combat, especially because she knows all forms of martial arts and used it to her advantage and throw the lot of us off."

Izuku turned to his friend, eyes shining, as though he took his analysis right off his head.

"Furthermore, she used the situation to her advantage." Tokoyami's voice was loud and clear, Dark Shadow - a little worst for wear, nodded beside him. 

"Explain."

"She's well acquainted with the night, similar to my quirk, to which she uses her full potential and take us out whilst we are unaware of her capabilities as a fighter."

"A bit of stretch, but more or less right on the money." says your grandfather, nodding at Tokoyami. "Though, a few of you did give her a run for her money."

About to protest, you recalled Todoroki's ice, Katsuki's forwardness, Izuku's many quirks with One for All, and even Hagakure and Uraraka's teamwork, shoulders shrugging as you nodded once.

"It just goes to show that some of you may have underestimated Yoruichi for the mere fact that she has a latent quirk, too bad. Lest you all forget what happened when you all dealt with Togata Mirio last year?"

Your ears perked at that, remembering Izuku talking a mile about this amazing senior of his.

"Just because someone lacks in one aspect, doesn't mean they can't compensate elsewhere. Today's exercise shows that some of you are still leagues away from fully realizing that, and some of you are yet to be a testament of being more than your quirks. You all failed today. But make no mistake, there'll be brighter days to come. Or evening."

Aizawa's roundabout way of comfort did its job, easing the moods of his students. It was easy to find how he's such an amazing father figure to the class and yourself.

"Yuroichi-san, you were so cool!"

"Ne, ne, can you tell us more of your quirk?"

“More importantly, what the hell did you do?”

"You're seriously like that one character in those video games!"

"Can you do other stuff, too?"

Suddenly, the class was on you, questions were thrown left and right - it was making you a bit dizzy. Despite their injuries, they never looked so alive. You take a cautionary step back.

“Yes, please! (Nickname), please tell us!” Izuku asked eyes lit with life, his fingers making writing gestures.

“Yeah, Mineta and Satou were fine moments ago, then they’re not!”

"Hey, don't forget about Aoyama and Kaminari!"

"Tokoyami, too! I thought they'd be toe-to-toe at least."

"Oi, give her some fucking room to breath, stupid extras!" yelled Bakugou, hands sparking in warning.

Finishing your drink, you smiled at your explosive friend in thanks. "Well, my quirk's called 'The Night One', which means that I have the senses and abilities of nocturnal animals." Some nod at that, some try to digest the information. Giggling, you continue. "It basically means that I can see like an owl, hear like a bat, move like a cat, smell like a raccoon, and the like. It's major drawback though is that I get really sleepy in the morning and dehydrated."

"Why dehydrated?"

"Well, nocturnal animals are known to move better because there's no sun and it's easier for water balance to keep the body going. In the morning, all my water reserve's used up and I constantly have to keep myself hydrated to move."

"That makes sense," comments Mezuo, Koda nodding next to him.

Somewhere, Kaminari's and Ashido's head were spinning from the mini-Biology session.

“And as for what I did to some of you lot, it’s called ‘Chi-blocking’,” you explained simply, earning mix reactions – some were intrigued, some were confused, and some seemed perplexed. “In simpler terms, hitting your pressure points." Bringing your hand up, balling them into fists but curling index finger inward exposing the second joint, your thumb then locked in behind it to support the new position. You strike at nothing, just showing how you did what you did. "Which means that by blocking these areas, I’m also blocking out your quirks. After all, my quirk’s not that great, so I’d have to compensate greatly in martial arts.”

“That was a mouthful, foolish girl.”

Rolling your eyes at your grandfather, you flipped back to return to his side.

"She's practically a ninja at this point," nods Mashirao.

"Right, right, right!?" Hagakure says excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Eh, maybe. But again, my quirk's not that impressive."

"Nonsense, your quirk's plenty amazing, (Nickname)!" says your best friend, ever so ready to assure you, eyes bright. "It's perfect for any stealth mission!"

Katsuki nods, shooting you a look. "What Deku said. Don't sell yourself short, (Name)."

Your best friends' words made you smile the most, you duck your head into your scarf-hood to hide a dopey grin. "Dorks."

"Alright, that concludes tonight's lesson. Your classes have been adjusted. Get some rest."

"Ah, geez! Would you look at the time!"

Time check: It was now 02:32 am. To you, that's practically noontime.

“Oh," you say mostly to yourself, catching the attention of your two best friends, who turned to you. "and this might be probably too late to tell you guys now, but I’ve been transferred to UA, specifically in the Heroics Department…specifically in 2-A. Your class.”

Your parents were pro-heroes alright but were good at keeping a low profile and keeping a front. Many of their friends - the Bakugous and Midoriyas, especially, were led to believe that your father worked as an IT specialist while your mother was a customer support supervisor. It was a good alibi, especially considering that they were night shift jobs.

You could understand why your grandfather, parents, and Aizawa-san, chose to remain under the spotlight to save lives. You realize that it was rather half-assed of you to throw away their legacy, despite the fact that they were okay with whatever you wanted to do with your life so long as you were happy.

But you wanted to do more. You wanted to make them proud.

"This was more or less a formal introduction."

Their eyes bulged as your words began to sink in.

"I'll be in your care now~"

“…WHAT!?”

Name: (Name) Yuroichi

Quirk: The Night One | A quirk that grants the user the abilities and skills of every nocturnal creature, heightening their senses, abilities, and more but only at night. Because of its nocturnal nature, the user is rather restless and dehydrated during day time.

Power: 4/5

Speed: 5/5

Technique: 5/5

Intelligence: 4/5

Martial Arts: 10/5

Life at UA was…interesting. Much more interesting than how Izuku put it.

As much as you hated to leave your old school, your club, and your grandfather, you knew that it wouldn’t be fair to just hide away forever. You wanted to make something of yourself, regardless if it meant a shitload of challenges.

Thankfully, you had your best friends to keep you on your toes, making your transition to UA quite smooth.

Oh, and there was also the class, who readily took you in.

You found yourself getting along with Tokoyami, because like you, he worked well at night, and Ojiro, because he was a martial artist like you. Shoji was also an interesting character, as was Todoroki. Koda was someone you adored because he could get all the animals - especially the nocturnal ones you've been so fond of. Mostly, you hung with the boys, never really getting over your boyishness. But, you did enjoy Ochako’s company. And then there was Jirou, whom you shared a similar interest in a certain music genre. Momo made you feel like a cheap peasant, undeserving of her presence and grace. The rest of the girls were too girly for your taste but were nice enough.

Hitoshi - who had been placed in Class 2-B, was someone you'd considered a good friend. After all, you did help train him. He seemed to see you in the same regard. At times, when both of you were free or there'd be joint classes, he'd spar with you.

The struggle though was keeping up, now that you’ve mastered the way to balance out your energy. With enough water intake, you were up and about, allowing you some rest at night. Still, it was difficult to stay awake during classes. Thankfully, your teachers understood and allowed you to sleep in, your classmates – Izuku, mostly – had notes ready for you when you woke up.

After years of public school, you felt rather out of place in a prestigious school such as UA. It had a sort of elitist feel to it, especially since practically everyone was working their way to be a hero. Or a side-kick. Or a something. But, then again, it was just like every high school. You were going to make the most out of it.

“Why’re you still working, anyway? Isn’t your family loaded or something?”  Katsuki asked with a frown, fingers wrapped around his drink.

(E/c) eyes narrowed down at the blond.

“What, so I’ll mooch off them like you? Fat chance.”

Summer break finally came, you miraculously survived a semester at UA and were allowed to go home for your short vacation.

But first, you had a shift to cover.

Your two friends decided to tag along since all three of you were going to spend your breaks at Mustafu anyway.

“But didn’t your parents leave you money?” Izuku's bright green eyes turned to you, head tilted slightly.

True. A fat sum of money was left under your name when your parents died, waiting for your perusal.

“Yeah. But I just want to work, yanno?”

Truth was, working was supposed to be a distraction to help you cope with your parents’ death. After all, you had lost your closest confidant - Izuku, busy with One for All, and Bakugou had been a dead fuck at the time, they were all you had. You may have your grandparents, but it was just different when it was your parents who knew you best and all. When they died, a part of you died as well. You were left hollow, numb.

But now, things were...things were great.

"And besides, I donated some cash to my old school, specifically my old club." It kinda hurt to mention your old club, because you really enjoyed your time there and everyone was welcoming and warm (even though some gave you the stink eye because you were your grandfather's granddaughter). "They need it more than I do. I just had to make it Anonymous though."

"I'm sorry you had to leave your old club, (Nickname)."

Waving it off, you replied. "Nah, they'll be fine. Besides, they've always been plenty strong on their own." Humming in though, you shrugged then. "It does suck that it means I won't have to spar much though."

"You spar plenty in UA anyway," Katsuki scoffed, running a hand through his hair. Izuku nods furiously at this.

"You'll give Gunhead a run for this money at this rate!"

Since your transfer you were fast becoming the top (female) combatant in the class - maybe even your whole year! It also included the fact that you've had martial arts awards under your name and a family name as a sort of branding.

"Well, yeah. That, and I don't have to pretend I'm quirkless anymore." 

Both your friends reacted to that, mulling at your words. The word 'quirkless' cutting deep for both of them - all three of you, but you're all way past it now considering the path you've all decided to walk on.

"But it is nice to know that I'm free to exercise what I can do to the best of my abilities." You flex out your hands, turn them up, and gazing at your open palm, closing them to a fist.

"That's the spirit, (Nickname)!"

"Just don't let it go to your head."

"What, like you?"

"At least I'm strong."

"Fuck you, I'm plenty strong on my own, too." Turning on your heel, intent on returning to the counter. "Don't forget who beat your ass without having to use their quirk, asshole."

Katsuki sputtered on his drink, its contents flying everything much to your chagrin and joy. You couldn't help snickering.

Izuku could only laugh at you both, hashing out words at each other - words that weren't full of venom of hate, all in good fun, and just full of youthful energy. Somewhere, your manager eyed the two of you worryingly, especially at the language spewing out of your mouths.

The two stayed until the end of your shift, the three of you walking home comfortably under the night sky. Just like old times.

When you participated in your first Sports Festival, it was during a high time when you had mastered using half the energy reserve for the daytime. Coursing through so many obstacles was not an easy feat, especially when it was a hot morning and you were losing water in your system fast. Conserving energy for a nocturnal quirk user was not easy, after all.

Countless water bottles were finished in record time, boosting your system for the remaining games.

It was only during the semi-finals (yes, for some reason you made it that far) that your body finally gave out.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, only for them to snap shut at the bright fluorescent light above you, you groaned weakly. Fabric conditioner, soft pillows, fresh-smelling sheets, - you were at the clinic. The smell was almost too much. There was an aftertaste at the back of your mouth, but couldn't put a name on what it was exactly.

"Did I lose...?" you slurred, body heavy, your mind in a haze.

Trying to recall your fight, a slight frown fixed itself on your face. Everything that happened came out blank, your mind seemingly wanting you to shut down. Then, something soft nudged between your brows, as though to smooth it out. Blinking, you realized that it was someone's thumb. Once the frown eased off, the hand hung there, unsure what to do with it, before tucking strands of wayward hair away from your face.

Slowly, everything came into focus. "Katsuki..."

"That was quite the fight you had there," he comments, voice tight. You hum, things slowly returning to mind.

"He overloaded my senses," you remember, shuddering at the memory. You had been up against a Tech Support student, who was armed with all sorts of knick-knacks. "it was horrible."

"Yeah, it was." He grumbled in response.

The student you were up against armed himself with all sorts of knick-knacks to disarm anyone, and since your quirk gave you finely tuned senses, he thought you were the perfect candidate to test out his latest works. When it happened, small sparks were dangerously coming out of Katsuki's hands. He half-tempted to jump in then and there, but couldn't out of respect for you. Izuku had to hold him back, but even he was frustrated at how one-sided the fight had seemed. The memory of you falling on your knees, senses overstimulated by the Tech student who proudly advertised his knick-knacks to spectating companies, much like Hatsume Mei's a year back, sent him roiling. But then, you had used a tactic he and Izuku never saw you do before, you took off your jacket - to which, Mineta and Kaminari excitedly watched - and wrapped it around your head, leaving you blind. The Tech Support had tried to overstimulate your senses again, but with scaringly fast reflexes, you got to him, beat him to a pulp, and knocked him out for good. "But I'm proud of you for winning that bout."

Turning to your side, you worked on a smile. "Thanks," but did you really win? You did pass out after all. Maybe it ended in a draw? "where's Izuku?" you asked instead, in the end caring very little about your match.

"Probably preparing for his match," he replied, relaxing in his seat. "He's up against Monoma."

Ah, him.

"That would've been interesting to see."

"Like Deku would lose."

"Exactly."

Yawning, you rubbed at your eyes, realizing just how heavy your body feels, how you felt tingly all over.

"How are you feeling?" the concern was thick in his voice.

"Heavy." You reply, nosing your pillow. "Tired. Weak. Irritable? Hungry."

Unable to help himself, he laughs. 

At the sound of his laugh, a sleepy smile broke into your face. Reaching out a hand, you took his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze. 

Unsurprisingly, his hand was much larger than yours but ever so gentle and warm to the touch. Much to your surprise, however, his hand was actually softer than it looked - despite having to blow up every goddamn time. Also, it had a sweet scent coming off of it, like burnt sugar. Nitroglycerin sweat.

"'anks for checkin' up on me, for being here..."

As much as he can, Bakugou tried not to implode then and there. His chest though? It was pounding, madly.

So instead, he held your hand tighter.

The next few minutes were filled with a gentle rumble coming from the ongoing fight, both of you were wondering how it went because it's your broccoli boy, some yelling from outside (to which he had half a mind to yell to keep their voices down), their voices softly discussing each other's earlier matches, some pointers, and Bakugou's upcoming fight.

"...Do you know who you're up against?"

"Dunno, don't care."

"Liarrrrrrrrrrrr." you dug your thumb nail into his skin, teasingly.

He barely flinched, face smug. "So what? I'll win either way."

"You are so full of shit, you know that?" Gone was the animosity and venom in those words, enough to crack a grin on the blond's face.

"At least I didn't puke all over the stadium."

"Exaggerating my case makes you look bad, just so you know." With your free hand, you weakly punched him. He caught your hand and tucked it back to your side.

His other hand holding yours the whole time.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, the door creaked open to reveal your green-haired best friend, tired-looking yet standing tall. Victorious.

"Hey, 'zuku..." you called out weakly. "Congrats."

The green-haired teen offered a small smile in return. "Hey, (Nickname), how are you feeling?"

"Better now that my boys are here," you chuckle, feeling tiredness creeping. "didja win?"

Nodding, your friend turned to the blond. "Kacchan, it's time for you to prepare."

Bakugou blinked, eyes dropping. Smiling sleepily, you tug your joined hands, carmine meeting (e/c), a happy sigh leaving your lips. "Go win some...Katsuki...'kay?"

Exhaling softly, eyelids falling close with lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks, your hold loosening in his, carmine eyes took in your sleeping frame. He stayed a few minutes, just watching you sleep. Just as he stood, he remembered your joined hands.

Unable to help himself, he raised them to his lips, kissing the back of your hand, your knuckles, and fingers.

The door shut behind him as he walked on, his best friend walking behind him. If Izuku made mention of the fact that both of you held hands, realizing that it had been like that long before he came to fetch his best friend, or that he purposedly walked out when you fell into a slumber, he made no mention of it.

In February, you got word of your grandmother had finally come home. Excitedly, as you were granted a leave, you merrily walked on the snowy streets, practically skipping out of UA.

"Where has she been all this time?" Katsuki asked next to you, hands in his pocket. He was insistent on walking you to the station. Izuku had "other things to do", the little sneaky shit.

"Things." You reply, cryptically.

"Things." He repeated, dumbly.

"Like I'd tell you, dork." you roll your eyes at him, the snow falling all around. "And don't worry, even Izuku has no idea where my granny's been."

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, his eyes settled on you, his jacket - that he lent you a few days back, because you're so reckless under the snow and 'how could an idiot forget their own fucking jacket?' - dwarfing your frame. 

The relationship between the two of you was a hot topic amongst students in UA. Everyone knew that you were childhood friends who had a rift and rocky relationship growing up, but now, everyone saw that something had changed. Mostly, people noted how Bakugou was especially towards you.

There was no name, no label, no nothing yet - Izuku sometimes felt like knocking both your heads together in frustration - it felt rather nice to just be in his presence and bask in this wonderful feeling. And whenever he can, he'd purposedly leave you two when you were lounging, studying, or keep people away from intervening between your supposed moment.

"How long you gonna be out?"

"Hm, two days tops. Granny brought some treats with her and I've been meaning to spar with her." you continue trekking, humming happily under your breath.

"How come I've never seen her?"

"Oh, you have. Both of you. It's just that she likes to be in the background."

He tries to think back to his childhood, trying to remember the times he spent at your place, trying to remember, but the longer he tried to ransack his memory, the more he was left with nothing. And that led him to a snowball pelted to his face.

"OI!" your laugh resounds as his rage fuels up to melt the snow.

"Bet you were trying to nail down, weren't you?"

"I can't help it! I don't remember her!"

Scoffing, you throw another snowball, which he melts easily with his quirk. "It's okay. I mean, what's to remember about you anyway? You were loud, so full of shit, a tiny, whiny, demon. The complete opposite of sweet little Izuku- hey!"

Out of nowhere, snow pelts you in the head. Katsuki smirks at you, happy to get back at you.

"Katsuki, you fucking ass!"

He sneered, bending over to build snowball and throws them. With your quirk, you easily dodge. "Fucking cheat!"

"Don't be a sore loser, Katsuki!"

Squeals and laughter fill the sidewalk, passersby avoiding the mini-snowball war between two teens lest. 

"Alright, alright, I jest! Come on!"

Catching his breath, the blond wipes his mouth with the back of his gloves. "You fucking started it."

"Don't act like you didn't have fun, Katsuki."

He liked the way his name came out of your mouth. There was just something about it that made it more special, and really acknowledge that it was his name. It was different when his parents say it.

His name means ‘victory’ and it might as well be one whenever you say his name.

"By the way," you call, cutting him off his reverie. "don't forget to ring your parents time to time, yeah?"

"Where is this coming from?"

You shrug easily adjusting your backpack strap and shaking the snow off your hair, leaving it frazzled. "All this talk about my granny made me think of families, mine, Izuku, yours." Hastily, you run a hand through it.

"My folks are fine."

"True," the train station came to view, snow continuing to fall down the sleepy city "but that doesn't mean you should stop checking up on them."

His nose scrunches, uncomfortable with the topic of coddling. "Do you talk to them?"

"Duh, what do you think?" you gave him a look, almost offended. "I talk to Auntie Inko, too. Not just my grandpa, you know."

The fact that you take the time to talk to Izuku's mom and his parents spoke plenty, seeing how fond the adults were of you. He could imagine just how close the lot of you were, remembering the many dinners you three have had and the holiday visits. Also, there was the fact that you were an orphan. 

As much as he hated his old hag nagging at him, his father's needless coddling - he was lucky to have parents like them. You didn't have that anymore.

Grumbling, he complies. "Fucking fine."

Reaching a crosswalk, the two of you stop at red, cars whisking through. Despite being damp from the top up, his quirk helped warm him just a bit. He'd have to hurry back to the dorms lest he catches a cold. The fact that he was with you, however, that made him warm - fuzzy, annoyingly warm that he could feel from his head to his toes. When the light flashed green, the two of you walk.

"You've changed." you say, he turns to find you staring at him in awe, surprise, pride in your eyes. “What are you up to?”

He feels his blood rushing to his cheeks, feels something catch in his throat, feels a flutter in his belly.

“Small things. Little things. Anything for a chance at redemption.”

“…a chance at redemption.” you repeat, testing the words.

He sighed, eyes forward. “For you, Deku, and myself.”

Bakugou Katsuki truly has grown so much since you last saw him. It made you proud, so fucking proud.

Weirded out by your silence, he turns to you, about to berate, only to freeze at the way you were glowing at him, for him.

It was reminiscent of the one he remembered from his childhood. That silly girl with dirt on her hands and fingers, leaves on her (h/c) hair, holding his hand with a flower ring she made for him. It was the one smile he could never forget, treasured, and one he'd never thought to be at the receiving end ever again.

“You’re so lame, you know that?” Sputtering, you didn’t give him a chance to explain himself before tossing him something. “Here,”

Although caught off-guard, he catches it easily. Way too easily.

Asshole.

He didn’t have to ask to know what it was, cheeks warming and reddening.

“Happy Valentine’s Katsuki~” giving him a two-fingered salute, you walked into the train station, smiling silly to yourself.

“O-Oi!”

Looking over your shoulder, (e/c) eyes blinking curiously at him, he could very well see your cheeks were just as red.

“…expect double- no, triple on White Day!”

Snorting, the silly smile returned, only, it was aimed at him. Surprised, but honored.

“Lame ass.”

Izuku was in the common area, furiously checking up new hero updates on his phone, a bag of chocolates shaped like All Might you had given earlier half-finished, a cup of hot cocoa sitting next to it when the front door slammed open.

“Oi, Deku!”

“Ah? Kacchan?”

The blond teen walked towards him, noticeably wet and red in the face.

Once he stood in front of him, he seemed to deflate. Scratching the back of his neck, chin tucked in, his actions very uncharacteristic of the loudmouth he’s used to making the green-haired teen worry.

"Kacchan?"

“…w-what does (Name) like?”

"Eh?"

His eyes caught on something on Kacchan's pocket, chocolates. Not just any chocolates, those were your chocolates!

Unable to help himself, Izuku combusted then and there – finally, his ship was coming to life!

[end]

masterlist

[feuqueerfire]

Characters Who Stayed With Me After The Show

I've been realizing just how much of an impact characters have in terms of me enjoying a show.

If a show has a tight script, great acting, beautiful visuals, I will enjoy it and be glad I watched it but usually I don’t think about it later or want to rewatch.

However, a show that's mediocre in other areas can really be elevated if they have strong characters - and even if it's a really shitty show, I'll still end up thinking about the characters and their perils afterward.

Anyway, here we go, in a somewhat ordered list, characters who have stuck with me after finishing shows:

Pat and Pran - Bad buddy: Do I even need to say anything? Took a seemingly simple script and plot but the acting and characters made it something real and beautiful. They feel like real people who exists and it makes you really root for them. Had me opening up AO3 after a long while just to spend more time with the characters. Had me writing fic again to explore the characters. A sizeable portion of my day is spent thinking up post-canon headcanons for them because they seem so real and true.

Zhou Shu Yi and Gao Shi De - We Best Love 1, 2: I find these two so magnetic! I don't rate either season super high because I had problems with the side characters, illogical plot, etc. but I rewatched it regardless just because of how I'm drawn to the characters. Again, characters who feel like they could exist - minus some Really contrived jumps in logic.

Woo Tae Kyung, Noh Shin Woo, Shin Da On - Light On Me: The way they made me care about a love triangle?! And root for every person in it to be the best version of themselves and grow and receive love?! I empathized with all of them and really wanted the best for them.

Pete, Kao (and the Cool Gang and Pete’s dad) - KMA/Dark Blue Kiss: There are inconsistencies between the shows but I still liked the characters, even while I disliked them (oh, do I have a bone to pick with Pete). Maybe it's because in Dark Blue Kiss it's both an established relationship and established friend group that makes the characters feel palpable? Also, Pete’s dad was so great! Pete’s dad isn’t just passively or begrudgingly accepting of Pete’s sexuality; rather he is an avid supporter of Pete’s choice to date who he wants and to pursue his own goals. He is involved in Pete’s life and cares for him, like with giving him the condom, and is proud of him regardless of his sexuality or excellence in school

Mark Lee, Ou Wen, An na - Love Is Science?: I LOVE THIS LITTLE FAMILY SO MUCH T.T found family arrow shot right to heart

There are other characters I sometimes think of:

Tang Yi from History 3: Trapped (if he was just a little sluttier he would’ve made the list for sure)

Gene from Lovely Writer (very friend shaped, makes me want to root for him, he seemed so human. I could follow his train of thought, something I feel like is rare with how inconsistent/illogical many characters are)

Ram and King from My Engineer (okay this isn’t really characters themselves but more like the real people and their discussion in their Youtube reaction videos About the characters)

Fighter and Tutor from WHY R U? (another that’s the relationship stood out to me more than the individuals)

It's not that I loved each character specifically, but enjoyed the characterization - I liked the way these characters were created and who they were made to be

[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : the heart’s warmth and the body’s flames.

> Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@bruised-cherry��� sent a letter : ❝Hiya, Nikki! Can I request a one-shot(if you're down) where Todoroki and Bakugou's(poly relationship) s/o got into a little argument with each other and now their s/o is rejecting them and ignoring them. Since it's summer, TodoBaku turned off the air conditioning, AC, etc, knowing their s/o would need them soon. And just, kinky, dirty ass s m U t :) (and lana spelled backwards if you're down with that, if not that's cool). Sorry I'm a kinky hoe 👉😅👈❞

Author’s letter :

❝ dear bruised-cherry,

first and foremost, i would like to apologize for taking so long to write your promised letter! nonetheless, i had a lot of fun writing it, hopefully it will reach your expectations!! it’s 4:05am as i am writing this and my brain is unable to write proper words i’m sorry—

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

Genre : Pure smut, angst if you squint.

Warnings : Cursing, sex, vaginal sex, blow-job, cunnilingus, anal sex, daddy kink. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.)

Word count : 5.8K.

This day seemed to counterbalance the already established rules of time and space, you were secretly convinced that minutes were hours and each time you would lay your eyes upon any item with the sole purpose of indicating the current hour, you felt as if time had stopped. It was a long, long day. Truthfully, you wished you could have had the opportunity to meet someone whose quirk was time control to ask them to skip the remaining hours of the day.

The root of the problem was deeply imbedded with the increasing attacks committed by the villains in town, you were on a mission with both Bakugou and Todoroki- a clear lack of communication and coordination signed a burning defeat for the three of you. A mission built and perfected during several months had just blown into pieces, your efforts, tears, blood and energy were the combustibles to the pain fueled by this defeat. Each one of you attempted to exude this loss in your own way while making your way back home. Todoroki, sat on the passenger seat, found the cure to his own inner built-up anger by digging his pearly whites into the flesh of his thumb while observing the passing scenery before his eyes. Bakugou, unexpectedly, made a martyr of the steering wheel by squeezing the non-existent life out of it, causing his fingers to turn white in the process. You, on the other one hand, kept on reminiscing the earlier events of today, your mind roaming over and over again to find what went wrong, you weren’t exactly angry : disappointed in yourself was a more precise way to describe the matter.

The silence was deafening, almost agonizing. Truthfully, silence was even more intimidating than noise- a noisy ride would have included the repertoire of Bakugou’s insults flowing freely from his mouth, it was expected. But silence, on Bakugou’s end, echoed to a level of anger rarely ever reached, metaphorically speaking, Katsuki was a living and breathing ticking bomb at this very moment.

The sound of the car door smashing broke the silence as you arrived home, Bakugou was already inside, his hands shoved in his pockets as expected. You freed a sigh you ignored you were holding from your lips, an early sign that you knew there was little to no seconds left on the ticking bomb. Todoroki sent an apologetic glance in your way, you knew he didn’t mean no harm, if anything, it was a silent sign to encourage you before facing the aftermath caused by the explosion of the bomb.

Flower vases left shattered on the floor, a door handle scarred by the scorching hot imprints of Bakugou’s unforgiving hold and a continuous flow of insults as background noise- those were the said aftermath of the explosion. Bakugou’s body language radiated off pure anger, like you or Todoroki had barely seen before, his rage was exuding from the pores of his palms through a dangerous marriage of small explosions and smoke. He was roaming back and forth in the living room, his stare was focused on the explosions emanating from his hands as a way to convince himself that the more explosions would be set free, the less he would feel angry.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck… Goddamnit, fuck! What the fuck went wrong, hah?! We planned this shit entirely, from start to fucking finish. What the fuck went wrong?! You tell me instead of staring at me, do fucking something for once! » The words echoed and morphed into a roar sent directly your way, anger lacing his every word.

« Bakugou, don’t say things you don’t mean. » Todoroki stated, the pseudo comfort embedded in his voice radically clashed with the heat of Bakugou’s words.

« Don’t say shit I don’t mean? Who the fuck are you to tell others what to do when you couldn’t even do shit when we were facing those bastards?! You didn’t do shit, you fucking left us on our own and arrived at the very last second. So tell me, give me one good fucking reason as to why I should take shit from you! Fucking say it to my face, because I’m dying to know what’s your excuse. » The sounds of Bakugou’s explosions slowly adopted the structure of a crescendo, but Todoroki remained unfazed, his facial expression didn’t betray his pseudo serenity. « I was evacuating the civilians, you knew that, I don’t understand why you act so confused. We prepared this plan together, the three of us, you knew what my role was. »

You were stuck in the middle of a battlefield, torn between two sides but the tragic twist of this scene was that you couldn’t find the strength to defend one of them. You needed to remain objective and impartial, something obviously easier said than done. Your eyes darted from one figure to another each time you heard the sound of either Todoroki or Bakugou’s words, truthfully, you felt paralyzed under the lack of options in this crucial situation- on one hand, Katsuki was nothing short of acerbic when anger consumed him, on the other one hand, Shouto’s calm attitude hid a dangerous amount of anger building inside of him ready to explode if Bakugou’s venom stung too hard to Todoroki’s liking.

« Oh yeah, yeah. You were on you own, hah? Evacuating civilians and shit, am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you when Y/N were busting our fucking asses out there to take down those bastards? You’re trying to play it solo like your old man? You know what, the more I think about it, the more you start to act like him-… »

« Katsuki! That’s enough, shut up! »

It was your turn to let anger lace your words in such a way that they developed their own toxins, purposefully made to sting Bakugou hard enough to cut his rambling. Endeavor was a touchy topic to Shouto, and as soon as Katsuki pronounced the words ‘old man’, a hint of flames appeared on Todoroki’s collarbone- it was only a matter of second before an inferno invaded the living room.

« You never know when to stop, do you? Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this is? You, Bakugou, you should know out of all people that his father his a sensitive topic, and yet you let your anger get the best of you every damn time. Todoroki, were you really ready to blast your flames at him? Aren’t the both of your grown men, or am I mistaken? How disappointing, how fucking disappointing. » You dropped every last ounce of energy in your tirade, every last bit of emotion in the process too. You felt so numb, deprived from your own vigor.

Both Todoroki and Bakugou’s eyes fell on you as soon as your roaring words broke their mutual verbal assaults, their mouths were set agape- they did have words on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t find the strength to give life to them. There it was again, the deafening and agonizing silence.

You couldn’t bare standing in the same vicinity as them, disappointment clouded your vision and the more you looked at them, the more your vision became foggy- but it still remained unclear as to whether it was due to the disappointment or the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Without wasting yet another second, you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room, giving yourself some privacy to wipe away your tears.

Downstairs, the silence was still suffocating both Bakugou and Todoroki, their stare were still laying upon the spot where you used to be just a few seconds earlier, they just hadn’t processed your sudden disappearance. They blinked once, then twice, and a third time to make sure they weren’t dreaming and once they were convinced it was very much real, they looked at each other and sighed as if they were, too, deprived of their own energy.

« Bak-… Katsuki, it was my mistake to threaten you with my flames, I apologize. » Todoroki’s tone was soft in comparison to his last statement, a sense of compassion replaced the anger laced in his words.

« I shouldn’t have talked about your shitty dad. » A sentence, which, in Bakugou’s vocabulary echoed to an apology, but with the cruel exception of the forbidden word which begins with an ’s’ and ends with ‘-orry’.

« I assume Y/N is not going to talk to us for a while, and, don’t take it personally but her presence is very much needed. » Bakugou frowned as Todoroki’s words connected to his eardrums, needless to say, he knew he was right but didn’t care enough to admit it and grant him this silent victory.

« I might have an idea, half-and-half, use your shitty quirk to lower the temperature of the house, you know how much she fucking hates cold temperatures. That’s gonna make her move her ass out of the bedroom. » Todoroki only quirked his eyebrows in response while Bakugou was adorning his most victorious grin, he knew this plan meant an automatic win- both of them could handle cold temperatures thanks to their quirks, you on the other one hand, were more fond of warmer temperatures.

Todoroki sighed, perhaps already regretting his choice to follow Bakugou’s antics, but if it meant that he had to play dirty to get you, he was ready to deem himself as the dirtier player in the game. Soon enough, a frigid fog invaded mercilessly the first floor, and your bedroom was the first victim of the unforgiving coldness. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a series of crushing defeats on your end : seeking warmth underneath your blankets? Didn’t work. Blow air on your hands? A total fail. Looking through your boyfriends’ closets to find one of their thick hoodies and wear it? Not the solution you needed to cure the problem.

You were running out of solutions, and that’s when your unconsciousness crept in and murmured suave temptations to your ear : the welcoming warmth of Bakugou and Todoroki’s bodies, their arms wrapped around you like a human cocoon to protect you from the cold temperature. It sounded like a dream, and you had the means to make it real- but at what cost? You roamed around the room, not only to create body warmth by moving, but also to accelerate the train of your thoughts. What was more important? Freezing yourself to death with your pride as an inexistent shield from the cold, or embrace the agonizingly tempting warmth radiating from both of your boyfriends?

The answer to your rhetorical question manifested itself rather quickly- in the blink of an eye, you had already wrapped your hand around the doorknob and raced downstairs towards the personifications of your very own personal heaters under Shouto’s puzzled expression and, in contrast, Katsuki’s triumphing grin.

« Hah? Have you finally decided to show up, princess? » Anyone could have noticed the more-than-obvious obnoxious tone dripping from Bakugou’s words, he glanced over at Todoroki who grinned at him in response, silently thanking him.

« Just keep me warm. » You found a perfect spot right between Katsuki and Shouto on the couch, your knees were brought to your chest, your arms were encompassing your legs- if anything, you were pretty close to looking like a sphere, but you were ready to contort yourself in any position to gather some precious warmth. Eventually, you let out a silent sigh as soon as you felt their respective warmth hit the surface of your skin as a sign of satisfaction.

« I think you forgot the magic word, love. » Shouto teased, his warm index gracing the cold flesh on your shoulder, such a tease.

« Ugh, fine! Keep me warm, please. » You emphasized the pleading word, just enough to make them grin even wider in victory.

« ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it, princess? » You couldn’t exactly tell if you hated or were absolutely enamored with the teasing tone of his voice, but once thing was certain- the grin plastered upon his face was a thing of beauty.

Bakugou, as expected of him, took the lead, or rather, sent a silent challenge in Todoroki’s way which dared him to take the upper hand of the situation. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a lion-like manner, ready to protect what’s his, with the help of his strength you were now sitting on his lap. The grip around your frame didn’t move one bit, not only did he want to provide you as much warmth as his quirk allowed, but he also wanted to maintain control. Your head was laying upon the surface of his shoulder, your face was facing Todoroki who admired you as if he had witnessed the renaissance of Venus under your traits.

« I will help you feel a bit more warm, alright, love? » You hummed in response to Todoroki’s one-sided interrogation.

Another source of warmth was more than welcome. Thus, Shouto wasted no time and placed his hand upon the surface of your cheek, daring to cross Bakugou’s self-claimed territory in the process without any ounce of shame. The amount of space between the two of you had dangerously reduced until totally disappearing which cleared Todoroki’s path on his way to show you just how much he could warm you up. His lids fluttered shut in anticipation, and there it was, the oh so fabulous source of warmth- he planted his lips on yours in perfect harmony. After all, a promise was a promise, correct? Regardless of how it’s executed, correct? That was exactly Shouto’s mindset as his tongue grazed your bottom lip to beg for access to the inside of your mouth, a wish quickly granted which allowed him to spread the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth as his pink muscle met yours which only announced the beginning of the dance of pleasure. Your actions corresponded to his, and his initiatives echoed to yours— soon enough, your tongues were melting in each other’s touch. As much as he wanted to keep this going forever, the way you grabbed his wrist was an indicator that you were starting to lack oxygen. Of course he ended the kiss, but not before he dug his teeth into your lower lip to which you responded with a semi silent whimper.

Bakugou observed the scene from the side with the same smirk gracing his facial features, he would be the worst liar on Earth if he were to say that seeing your mouths collide in harmony wasn’t the epitome of poetry in motion. But who was he to let Shouto get the best of you? Who was he to let Shouto make you whimper first? He craved, no, he needed to make you melt under his touch.

« Want us to make you feel hot, princess? Be careful what you wish for. » This sentence was his final warning before flipping you over on your back, offering him the best position to physically tale the upper hand under Shouto’s amused stare. You looked so pure and yet so sinful at once, a paradox which drove of them crazy as they imagined the most unholy deeds they were going to do to you. Katsuki’s index hooked the fabric of your hoodie (more like his, but it’s just a slight detail which turnt him on even more) before to pull it over your head.

Oh, and what a gorgeous sight to behold— your naked upper body, in all its glory, a body worthy of the most descriptive pages of a novel. He couldn’t help but snicker at the ethereal scenery before his eyes, he knew he was going to devour you and make you his, no matter what.

« Don’t give me those eyes, woman, I fucking told you I was gonna make you feel real hot. You won’t need this shitty hoodie to keep you warm. »

The assault was given once his pearly whites dug into the soft flesh of your neck, reflex kicked, you titled your head to the side to give him more room to play with. It was a succession of biting, licking, biting again until your skin adopted a purplish tone which echoed to a mark of both domination and belonging. Of course, you belonged to him… And Todoroki. Once he was satisfied with his artwork, he licked the abused flesh one last time before smirking to himself as a sign of victory.

You couldn’t expect Todoroki to be left out of the party, after all, you did belong to him too. He pushed Bakugou to the side just enough to bask in the glory of your half-naked form. The gleam in his eyes reflected nothing but pure adoration, he was torn between the will to worship each inch of your body and the tempting option to make your legs weak until you can’t form proper words anymore. Oh, well, both were bound to happen.

« Oi! If you wanna touch her, don’t fucking push me! » Bakugou’s rambling was cut short as soon as Todoroki’s lips crashed on his, the blonde eye’s widened in surprise but he eventually allowed himself to crave to the passion.

« I don’t need your permission to touch what’s mine. » Todoroki whispered against the flesh of your breasts, emphasizing the very last word strategically.

The sight of your hardened nipples caused him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation, just a way to warm up his lips before devouring your flesh. Todoroki wasted no time and took this opportunity to let his tongue grace your left bud, the motions were repetitive and hypnotizing— from circular motions right around your nipple, from vertical licks to sucking motions, each deed was designed for your own pleasure while your whimpers falling free from your lips and the hand stuck at the root of his hair encouraged his actions. Your whimpers were cut short once Bakugou’s lips found yours and dragged you in a tongue-led kiss, and to no one’s surprise, you followed his already established rhythm, but goodness, it was deliciously intoxicating, letting you crave for more. And somehow, the sound of your hushed whimpers created an even more attractive melody.

Now, it was Todoroki’s turn to take advantage of the vacant place left by Bakugou who was now bent on your side which meant that your whole body to discover for the umpteenth time. A trail of kisses left from the valley of your breasts to your lower belly indicated which dangerous way Shouto was bound to take. He took a glance at the liplock share with Katsuki who offered you no rest no matter if you craved for oxygen or not, the same amused grin still plastered upon his facial features, and augmented the temperature just a bit more.

His finger drew an invisible line along the edge of your underwear, a pre-meditated deed which only announced in advance what he was bound to do, he was just one step closer to make your legs crumble under his touch. In a swift motion, fueled by his own personal hunger to satisfy his fantasies, Todoroki got rid of your pants and he could already discern the wet patch adorning the cotton surface of your underwear, what a sight to see. A new trail of kiss was left upon your skin by Shouto, this time, he focused on the inside of your thighs and followed a vertical pattern until reaching the climax of his journey : your already dripping heat.

« Are you already this wet for us, love? How kind of you. » The amused tone which embedded his voice hid a hidden sinful tone, such a contrast, but only Bakugou and you could catch the double-tone.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, mimicked Todoroki’s earlier antics (only to outdo him, his own ego was his sole motivation) and made a victim of your breasts. One lovebite on your neck wasn’t enough, he craved to make you his even more, on every inch of your body. This thought was the reason behind his will to bite the generous flesh of your left breast, which clearly isn’t abused enough to his liking. And so it began once more— biting, licking, biting once more just hard enough to make you whimper in response, suck on your flesh until it becomes purple and has his name written all over it. From the love bite, Katsuki kissed his way until your nipple, the motions of his mouth were strategically chosen to make pure sounds of pleasure fall free from mouth mouth, while his thumb and index were twisting your nipple while following the circular motions of his tongue. The harsh grasp you held onto his blonde hair was only one of the first hints that you were on your way to reach a state of pure bliss, the moans echoing in his head were his favorite hint though.

The sensation of a sharp lick across the fabric of your underwear awakened a new whimper on your end, this time, it was higher which only echoed to a higher level of pleasure. Todoroki’s lips curved into a grin at the sound of it, what a marvel to hear. The fabric which separated your core from Shouto’s lips was seen as a taunt to the latter, but fret not, said taunt was quickly taken care of as soon as he got rid of your underwear, throwing them who-knows-where in the room.

And so the temperature augmented yet again— an experimental lick caused you to bite your lower lip to refrain any moan to escape from your mouth as you closed your eyes in anticipation for pure bliss. Your reaction was the best indicator to Shouto who had found yet another motivation to make you come undone— getting to hear your agonizingly breathtaking whimpers and moans fall in cascade from your lips. Your core was wet, much to Todoroki’s delight, and he could almost hear you calling his name, begging him to eat you as if you were his last dinner on Earth.

His mouth married the shape of your core, his tongue danced beautifully against your folds as if your core had been specifically created to welcome the wonders of his mouth. The licks left by his pink muscle were executed differently in several ways— vertical licks, circular shapes, he based his actions on the sound of your shameless moans and whimpers to predict his next move.

« Shouto, S-Shouto! » Your first begging, which didn’t go unnoticed to both of the protagonists of your very own pleasure.

« So eager, aren’t you, love? » He kissed these words into your skin, words embedded with adoration and love in the process.

Well, there was someone whose name hadn’t been begged, and truth be told, it was getting on his nerves. How dare Shouto have the honor of being begged and not him? Oh, well, he was about to change that right away.

« Open wide, princess, I’ll give you something to fucking beg about. » The same usual smirk accompanied his words, he already knew what was bound to happen, and the knew what effect it would leave on you.

By the time you were busy with Shouto, Bakugou had already taken care of his own clothing by… taking everything off. Isn’t it easier that way? His genetically given large hand stroked tentatively his length, just enough to cause a layer of pre-cum to cover his tip, once he was satisfied with the result, he wasted no time to shove his entire member in your mouth in a swift motion. The warmth of your lips was the most delicate welcome he could’ve asked for, regardless if you were to choke or not, he’d find a way to make you beg his name until it becomes the only thing you’re able to say. Your throat grazed the sensitive tip of his grit, earning you a hushed grunt as a reaction which was a rarity coming from Bakugou. Both of his hands held a harsh grip on your hair, and he used said grip as a level of pressure to thrust himself into your mouth under the mesmerizing sounds of your choked whimpers. It was a scenery of beauty, he was the sole holder of all your attention— you were looking at him through your lashes with pleading eyes, silently begging him to keep going until you were to choke on his member. A silent sign he didn’t miss, he knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Eventually, Shouto complied to your begs, you wanted more? Oh, you were bound to get more, more precisely, you were bound to have exactly what you deserved. Todoroki and tease were very close to being synonymous, hence why he purposefully used the pad of his thumb to create circulate motions on your sweet bundle of nerves which was the key to make you come undone, and, of course, two of his fingers which had already found a shelter inside your folds while pumping in and out, over and over again, until bringing you to the brim of ecstasy.

Under this new pressure, the need to express your pleasure through moans was almost impossible given the fact that each sound coming out of your mouth was rendered hushed by Bakugou’s length. Your wrapped your hand around his phallus to not only catch some cruelly needed oxygen but also set free all the sounds of pleasure trapped inside you, as soon as your mouth was set free, a pure sound of bliss fell free from your lips. A sound so sinful and addicting at once that both Bakugou and Todoroki couldn’t help but repeat said sound in their head over and over again.

« Oi, princess, I didn’t fucking tell you to stop so keep sucking until I say otherwise, did you fucking get that? » It was a one-sided question, your answer wouldn’t matter anyway.

And there he went again, shoving his member inside your mouth as Bakugou began chasing his own pleasure— if he was careful enough, he could picture the shape of heaven when his lids fluttered shut. This time, his thrusts were harsher, clearly designed to attain his climax. But he wasn’t the only one who was close to reach the seventh sky— the addition of Shouto’s fingers pumping in and out, the oh so right pressure on your sweet of nerves and the precise licks left on your wet folds was nothing short of divine, that divine that it was going to make you reach your orgasm sooner than you thought.

Reflex kicked, your grip on Shouto’s hair became gradually tighter as you felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more until it became out of your control, you rolled your eyes back in ecstasy and the pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes were now rolling down the surface of your cheeks. Through choked sounds, you encouraged Shouto to keep going and going until you could touch heaven by the tip of your fingers. And then heaven came to you, the liberating sensation of floating on a cloud overwhelmed you as you reached your orgasm, manifesting the pure sounds of bliss through the hushed sounds caused by Bakugou’s intrusive length.

« You’re such a good girl, love, you came undone for us. Such a good girl… » The end of his sentence was whispered in marvel against your core, it was a sight he could never get bored of.

His tongue found once more its way to your folds, licking each and every drop of your juices to satisfy his own pleasure. Your taste was his favorite, it was addicting as hell, so addicting that before to swallow said juices, he would always make a mental note of how your cum feels on his tastebuds.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, god-fucking-damnit! » Bakugou’s grunts followed the structure of a crescendo, he threw his head back in pure pleasure— he was so close, so fucking close, he wanted to reach the seventh sky as well.

Todoroki grabbed him by the nape of his neck, his fingers digging right in Katsuki’s flesh, and planted his lips still coated with your juices right upon his. Bakugou could taste your sweet nectar on Shouto’s lips, and perhaps it was the last thing necessary for him to come undone— your taste always had the ability to bring him over the edge, and once more, this time was no exception. Bakugou groaned against Shouto’s lips before breaking the contact between them to share a pure sound of ecstasy of his own and eventually, come undone right in your mouth. A string of the blonde’s cum dripped down from the corner of your mouth, and observing you use your tongue to collect the remaining cum on your chin made Bakugou if he wasn’t going to come undone twice in a row at the sight of this.

« Come on, love, we’re not done yet. » This was the final chapter of all of Shouto’s fantasies, a chapter which was finally bound to take form.

Todoroki snaked his arms around your form to place you right on his lap, once the position was comfortable for the both of you, he placed his length right against your twitching core which was already begging for him to fill you.

« Please, j-just fuck me already… Please… » Another auditive wonder— the sound of you begging was worthy of the most beautiful symphony.

« You asked so nicely, love, who am I to refuse? » A rhetorical question, as expected of Shouto when he led the teasing game.

Shouto filled you instantly, shoving his entire length inside you which caused the unexpected appearance of a moan which you could hardly suppress even by biting your lower lip. An initiative quickly ended by Bakugou’s intervention who tilted your head just enough so he could plant a rough kiss upon your lips in order to prevent you from hushing those sounds of pleasure any longer.

« Don’t be fucking shy, let us hear what you gotta’ say, baby girl. » You looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes, you knew that you were not going to be able to suppress or refrain any of your moans or whimpers, you knew you were bound to become a vocal mess.

Shouto’s hands held a strong grip on your waist, so strong that the tip of his fingers turnt white under the pressure. His rhythm was frantic from the beginning, using the combination of his hips bucking upwards and his arms wrapped around your middle to clash against his testicles. You had the best spot to hear up close and personal the ravishing sounds of bliss coming out of Shouto’s mouth like a broken record. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as a desperate cry for support as his hips were pounding deep inside you until reaching your cervix.

Behind you, Bakugou had already made sure to wet his fingers to prep you. Prep you for what exactly? Oh, well, we all know Bakugou doesn’t handle well being left alone, especially when Todoroki has the advantage of him. The tip of his fingers brushed against your rectum until two of them entered your second hole, he expected this reaction but your moans were ethereal, especially when he was the cause of them. His fingers pumped into your rectum just enough for you to get used to the stretch and to the knew (and double) sensation.

« Be a good fucking girl for daddy and let him fuck you from behind, yeah? » He studied your facial expression and the irregular pattern of your breaths to know whether or not you were fond of his new antics, to which you confirmed his doubts by whispering an almost inaudible « Y-Yes, daddy… »

Nonetheless, the elongated moan you let out in his favor once his fingers reached a bit deeper in your rectum was enough for him to get the clue and replace the feeling of his index and middle finger with the width of his length. A pure sound of pleasure with his name written all over it, if you were to ask Bakugou, he would tell you right away that this is what heaven felt like.

« I-I’m going to cum, I can’t-… » Shouto’s hot breath crashed against your equally as hot skin, it became impossible for him to suppress his grunts any longer.

Bakugou mirrored his pace which had suddenly quickened under the pressure erupting in his lower belly, he could already touch the clouds of the seventh sky, and you were the key to unlocking the divine skies of heaven.

« Fuck… Fuck, I’m close too. » Their grunts matched in unison under the melody of your repetitive moans caused by the double pressure.

With one last thrust from both protagonist, you felt two rushes of hot liquids invade your insides as a moan signed their orgasm. That was it, they came undone and touched heaven as they came inside of you, all the pent up pressure in their abdomen had been set free for your greatest pleasure. You rolled your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, oxygen had become a rarity under the frantic thrusts of the two newfound victims of passion. Once your lungs felt full again, you released an elongated sigh which drained all of your strength in the process.

Bakugou pulled out first, causing you to whimper at the sudden sensation of vacuity replacing the ever so addictive sensation of being filled by the man who held the keys to your heart. As he pulled out, his arms snaked around your middle and he dragged you with him, hot breaths crashing against your blazing skin. Katsuki put your head over his chest while you mustered up the last bits of vigor you could invoke to find shelter in his comforting embrace.

As soon as Shouto evened his breathing pattern, he felt the urge to join you and Katsuki— laying by your side, his arms draped over your waist, he felt at peace with the two most important people in his life, the true definition of perfection to him. Silence came back again, but this time it was comforting, a silence which held all the fierceness of your feelings for one another. A few kisses were planted here and there on your skin as a silent way to show gratitude, but all three of you were absolutely drained because of passion.

« If you’re still feeling cold, I know a fucking way or two to fix this shitty problem, princess. »

[maxwell-grant]

Charlie Chan. Who is fascinating, because he was created explictly to be an anti-Yellow Peril character. Unlike most Chinese characters of the time, he's both intelligent, physically capable, and unambiguously heroic. In the novels, he's simultaneously proud of being Chinese AND proud of being an American citizen. He gives orders and instructions to white people, and the narrative treats this as perfectly normal and acceptable. There's a bit in the first book, when an attempt to trap the..(1/2)

(cont'd)There's a bit in the first book where an attempt to trap the protagonist fails, because a message supposedly from Charlie clearly isn't because Charlie's English isn't broken, it's like poetry. Etc. The movies made him more stereotypical, & played by white actors in yellowface, but still, he's a heroic Chinese man, who is as capable and patriotic as any white man. Nowadays, he's thought of as racist caricature. Which he is, but still, it makes one think.

I'm not nearly as acquainted with Charlie Chan as you are (and I definitely suspected he was less racist in the original books because that's nearly always the norm when it comes to pulp characters) but yeah, that "Which he is" is forever going to be the most unfortunate and saddest part of it all when it comes to Charlie Chan. For all the virtues that can be bestowed on Charlie Chan, for everything great that the character had going for him and inspired, the fact that the least offensive image of the character I could find to put here for illustration's sake is from the Hanna-Barbera cartoon kinda exemplifies the big elephant in the room when it comes to Charlie.

Charlie Chan is a great example of two things: One is the way progress is never a fixed quantity and often what was progressive and forward-thinking in it's time can become something outdated and backwards and downright offensive given enough time, and the 2nd is my constant stressing that this is all the more incentive to reclaim the pulps and either highlight or fix aspects of them, instead of dismissing every aspect of them based on the preconception that everything about it's history is unforgivably bigoted and must be handled with the nuance of a sledgehammer.

I stress time and time again the need to highlight and understand the prejudices that went into pulps, because either ignoring them or wielding them as a weapon to attack them does no favors to anyone. The pulps weren't exceptionally bigoted - look at literally any medium in it's time period and you'll find bigotry and prejudice and hatred - and they were exceptional in the number of POC heroes and heroines. Pulps were a medium of experimentation and cheap entertainment that gave way to much, much more varied kinds of protagonists than were permitted in films, serials, novels, comics and radio serials of the day. Imagine if no one was allowed to bring up and discuss superheroes without mentioning the Superman Slap-a-Jap posters or the Captain Marvel story so horrifingly racist it was recounted by an American ambassador after it deeply offended a friend's son and a major influence on the 1950s anti-comic trials. "Pulp fiction had deeply, unforgivingly racist depictions that deserve intense scrutiny and cannot be ignored" and "Pulp fiction was significantly ahead of every other medium at the time in regards to authors and editors striving to publish stories about heroic POCs, this cannot be dismissed and is something that needs to be perpetuated" are not exclusive facts. "A product of it's time" is not an excuse and never was, but it's a fact nevertheless.

Every time someone speaks favorably of Charlie Chan in any capacity, they have to start with a long preface of everything positive that the character had going for him. Yes, he's a deliberate subversion of the Yellow Peril, he's a heroic protagonist, he's plump and good-natured and humorous but far from a joke, he's friendly and pleasant and well-educated and wise, he's a good dad and family man and a terrifically sharp detective who's so good at his job he gets called to solve crimes all over the world, and none of these traits are apparent to people who have to google the character and repeteadly see a white man in awful make-up into every single image of the character, who watch the movies and cringe at the broken English. It's hardly relevant in the face of all the Asian-American critics who acknowledge the character's virtues but rightfully point out that this fortune-cookie spouting caricature, acting subservient to whites and whose virtues are based around his proximity to a white American ideal, doesn't represent them and they shouldn't pretend it does.

Which isn't to say that to like Charlie Chan is "wrong", a lot of East Asians love Charlie and the character's obviously got fans in Asian Americans. It's a complicated subject and I obviously cannot begin to vouch in a subject so heavily based around perceptions I cannot experience. And I deeply detest the idea of speaking for others on their particular experiences on this kind of matter, which is something Americans do a lot everytime they talk about representation in media.

So instead, I'm going to tackle this on a roundabout manner by going on an unrelated tangent to bring up an example of representation that isn't quite representative of what it's supposed to be, has a lot of issues that have been dissected by critics among the people it was supposed to represent, and none of that stopped the character from being popular and beloved and from being claimed anyway. And it's a Brazilian fighting game character, which means it's completely within my ballpark.

Yeah, obviously Blanka doesn't look like anyone who lives in Brazil (whatever resemblance he bears to redheaded jungle protectors of Brazilian folklore is purely accidental). Obviously neither Jimmy nor Blanka are Brazilian names or even exist in the Portuguese lexicon. Obviously there are issues in Street Fighter's approach to representation across the board, sure, and I'd actually say Laura is much worse than Blanka in that regard (again, my opinion, obviously not universal), but the fact remains that Blanka is and has always been pretty controversial. Obviously there's Brazilians who took offense to Blanka and they weren't wrong to do so, and I obviously do not speak for everyone here, that goes without saying.

Obviously the idea that Brazil's major representative in a global cast of characters, the first big name Brazilian character in videogames, is going to be a freakish jungle monster who roars and bites faces has problems, as is the fact that all the others get to be regular people representing fighting styles from their countries while Blanka doesn't. None of the Brazilian SF characters represent Capoeira, which is kinda shitty to be honest. And there's a whole stereotype of Brazil as a backwards land of beasts and savages that Blanka's creation played into. There's no shortage of ground to criticize Blanka's representation and Ono actually apologized in an interview once, but then he learned one teensy little thing:

Street Fighter is very popular on Brazil. Would you like to leave a message to the fans from there?

"Ono: Yes, I'm aware. At the time of Street Fighter II a lot of the arcade machines produced went there, so I knew we had lots of fans there. A message to Brazilians, well, I'd like to apologize. I know Blanka's a weird character and I don't want any Brazilian to feel uncomfortable with that.

When Blanka was conceived, we knew there were forests in Brazil, and so we thought he could look like that. I was actually kinda nervous knowing I'd meet Brazilian journalists. Still, this is the first Street Fighter in ten years, so we'd like all fans to play, including Brazilians, which are many.

Thanks. Well, but you should know that Brazilians love Blanka

"Ono: Ah, good! I was scared of getting beat up if I ever went to São Paulo! (laughs)"

(That's from a 2012 tv special called The Greatest Brazilian of All Time where over a million viewers voted to elect whoever they wanted, and Blanka was going to win. He was polling ahead of Aryton Senna and PELÉ, fucking Pelé, yes this happened. He wasn't even disqualified for being a cartoon character, it was an open poll, he was disqualified due to canon stating he had been born in Thailand, which I think may have been retconned since then. Again, A MILLION BRAZILLIANS voted for this contest, and Blanka was going to win.)

Blanka is great and sweet and lovable, he made the best out of the incredible shitty hands fate dealt him and became a cool and strong green man who shoots lightning and flies, a self-taught warrior who rides whales and planes to fighting tournaments, and he loves his mom and friends and kicks ass and after he's done he dances in joy and gives the kids of his village piggyback rides, and Brazil loves him. He doesn't represent any existing person or fighting style, he's rooted in a negative stereotype and incorrect assumptions, he's not even really Brazilian, and he's our boy and nobody can take him away from us.

No criticism of Blanka, no matter how in-depth or even right it is, is ever going to affect that, because regardless of what was wrong or misguided and offensive about him, we claimed him and loved him so throughly that Capcom kept playing up Brazilian representation in every subsequent game post Alpha, and because of Blanka's impact and reception in such a big game, Brazilian characters have become a staple of fighting games, and that's how we got much more diverse representatives in those games. Fighting games have more Brazilian representation than LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE on media not produced here. It started as BAD representation, with way less thought put into it than Charlie Chan, and it still mattered to a lot of Brazilians who reclaimed it and made it better than it was ever intended to be, and as a response to it, it gradually became better. 

Progress is not a fixed quantity, it's an uphill battle, and it's not unwinnable. Everything's gotta start somewhere.

The Good Asian is a ongoing comic that I think does the best job I've seen yet of handling an Asian American detective protagonist, which is not really a high bar in the first place, and more to the point, The Good Asian illustrates the 2nd part: the reclaiming. The Good Asian deals a lot with the realities that a 1930s Asian-American detective would run into, the strained circumstances and relationships between said character and the world around him, because it's born from an author who took a look at Charlie Chan and Mr Moto and the like and recognized the potential in those stories that could not be fulfilled in it's time period by the people writing said stories. 

The Good Asian pays little reverence to Charlie Chan, but it acknowledges that it cannot exist without Charlie Chan, and it reclaims the Charlie Chan premise at the hands of someone more adequately equipped to tell a gripping story that goes places none of Charlie's contemporaries would ever go. Regardless of how good or bad of representation Charlie Chan was, Charlie Chan mattered and was beloved and inspired a better example for others to improve on or rebel against.

I desperately wish that I could google Charlie Chan without having to look at a guy in yellowface, and the ONLY way that's going to happen is if the character ever gets meaningfully brought back and reclaimed for good by people who can meaningfully tackle the character and present him as he should have always been presented.

And then, I imagine it would be a lot easier to show people on how swell Charlie really is. A true, positive role model and hero, who no longer has to look like a gross cartoon to be able to exist at all. Who can finally be what he was always meant to be, and always was deep down.

[st4rlabsforever]

plant dads sam and bucky fic that absolutely no one asked for. you can read this as a one-shot but it’s part of a longer thing i’ll post on ao3 only when it’s complete. if you’re curious, this is what the pothos (heart-shaped leaves) looks like. the other plant is a crimson queen hoya. reposting for the evening crowd :)

It starts with a couple of houseplants in the corner of his living room. Sam doesn’t even notice them at first, nondescript as they are, hanging from one of the windows behind his couch. One of them has long, heart-shaped leaves with splashes of white over them while the other has waxy green leaves with white accents around the edges.

Huh.

He doesn’t think much of it initially – assumes Sarah wanted to liven up the space – but then he finds Bucky honest-to-god humming to himself one morning while tending to the plants with a bright blue watering can.

“So you’re a horticulturist now, huh?” Sam asks.

Bucky turns around with a little ‘oh’ under his breath and sleep still weighing heavy on his eyes. Sam tries not to pay attention to how cute he looks with his hair all sleep-tousled and unkempt.

“I like ‘em,” Bucky says softly. “Sarah said I could set up by the windows.”

“This a new thing?” Sam asks, feeling the heart-shaped leaves between the pads of his fingers. The plants are honestly a nice touch. “I didn’t know you were into houseplants.”

Bucky shrugs. “I had a lot of time in Wakanda. New hobbies, you know? Didn’t have much time in New York, but I figured now’s as good a time as any.”

There’s no trace of a frown or scowl or glare in the lines of Bucky’s face. This, combined with how soft he looks in his sweats and ratty t-shirt, makes it impossible to ignore just how young and unguarded Bucky is here. In Louisiana. In Sam’s home. It’s hard for Sam not to be struck by the domesticity of it all.

The thing is, though, that it’s such a far cry from normal that Sam’s really not sure how to process it. On the surface, he’s glad Bucky’s managed to carve out a slice of happiness for himself – the guy deserves it after all he’s been through. It’s just that this burgeoning friendship with Bucky is another thing to add to the list of sudden changes in his life that threatens to wash over him like a yawning tide.

And it’s taken Sam a minute to realize it, but he’s not the kind of person who necessarily does well with change. He’d been running through the motions after he’d lost Riley. Sure, he’d rolled with the punches just fine when Steve had come calling for help, running from HYDRA, then the U.S. government, even fighting for the fate of the universe, but he’d just been trading one problem for another. The Paul & Darlene for his wings, the failing family business for his fugitive status, not to mention his deteriorating relationship with Sarah and the boys for an intergalactic war with Thanos.

Nothing had been easy once he’d settled back down in Delacroix, but they’d been steady, is the thing. He’d had his contract with the Air Force and he’d known what he’d had to do to get the business back on its feet. It’d been a shitty hand he and Sarah had been dealt – had been for as long as they’d been alive – but Sam had been present. Finally with the resolve to deal with his issues head-on and prove to Sarah that he wouldn’t be disappearing again.

And then Germany happened. Madripoor, Riga, New York.

In the heat of battle, with the adrenaline pumping and the cameras rolling, it’d been easy to step fully into the title that came with the shield. Afterwards, though? When the celebrations are over and the high wears off, he’s left feeling jittery and uncertain. It’s not only the gaze of an entire country bearing down upon him, but the fear that he’s falling into old ways again. That whatever the stars and stripes have on the horizon for him will break this tenuous peace he finally has in Delacroix.

It occurs to him that maybe he deserves to have his cake and eat it, too. Just this once. He wonders what happiness would look like. How it would feel to successfully juggle his duties as Captain America with his commitments to his community and family. Maybe even start a family of his own one day.

And of course, there’s Bucky. Their friendship is undeniably different after the trials of the past month – the good kind of different. Yet it’s something precious that Sam can privately admit to himself he doesn’t want to lose, and in that sense it’s just another new thing he’s got to learn to navigate around.

For now, though, he can enjoy this quiet moment with Bucky when there’s no one but family around to scrutinize their every movement.

“You know,” Sam says lightly, “I’ve always wanted some houseplants. Seemed like the adult thing to do.” It’d never been possible before, what with him running from war to battle to catastrophe, but maybe now is as good a time as any for a fresh start.

Bucky’s eyes light up like a pair of firecrackers, bright and eager and excited, and it leaves Sam reeling in the humanity of it. He’s not sure there’s anyone alive right now who’s ever seen Bucky like this.

“Here,” Bucky says, pulling a pair of small garden shears out of God knows where and beginning to cut up a vine on the heart-shaped plant. “This one’s called a pothos. Marble queen pothos.”

He holds up one of the cuttings for Sam to inspect. “See the little green nub on the stem?”

Sam dutifully moves in closer for a better look.

“That’s a node. As long as you’ve got one of ‘em on a cutting, it’ll grow a brand new plant from there.”

“Huh. That’s neat.”

“The white marbling is actually a genetic mutation,” Bucky continues. His voice is raspy from sleep, and him being a geek about plants of all things shouldn’t be so endearing, but it is. “So you need to have the white streaks over the node if you want the marbling to continue.”

“What’re these little growths next to the node?” Sam asks.

“Oh,” Bucky says with a little huff of excitement. “Those are aerial roots. In the wild, the plants use ‘em to anchor to trees and grow above the tree cover, but in soil they’ll just become the new root system for the cutting.”

“Man, what the hell,” Sam says, laughing.

“What?”

“How is this the first I’m learning of your green thumb?”

“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me,” Bucky says, but there’s no heat behind it. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve had time for hobbies since getting de-iced.”

Sam snorts. That was the truth, wasn’t it?

“Can you get the potting mix?” Bucky asks. “I put it in the storage closet.”

He’s already puttering around with an old takeout container while Sam heads over to get the soil. It should probably be a little more jarring to Sam that Bucky’s only been here for a week and he’s already populated the little closet with an array of gardening tools. There’s the bag of potting mix, a sack of dusty white pebbles labeled ‘horticultural perlite’, more pruning shears, and a large assortment of plastic and clay pots. When had Bucky even had the time to get all of this?

He returns with the mix and wordlessly passes it to Bucky, who fills in the plastic container with the soil, sticks the little cuttings right in, and hands the whole thing over to Sam.

“It’s yours,” Bucky says with an air of satisfaction. “Once the cuttings begin to root, they’ll grow new leaves. You just gotta keep the soil moist for the first couple of weeks.”

“You know I don't know the first thing about plants, right?” Sam says, amused.

“That’s what you’ve got me for.” Bucky flashes him a blinding grin. It’s the kind of declaration that should feel more significant than it actually does in the moment.

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you’ve got south-facing windows, more like. Can’t really get this in New York without all the high rises blocking out the sun.”

Right. Sam enjoys city life as much as the next guy, but nothing beats the full warmth of the Louisiana sun.

“I’d water them every other day to start, and we can adjust from there,” Bucky says, nodding at the new plant in Sam’s hands.

We. Sam can’t say he’s as enthusiastic as Bucky about growing houseplants from scratch, but he does like the idea of the two of them having a project that’s just for them. And there’s something just a little poetic about spawning new life from practically nothing. A new beginning to go along with their new friendship – this new chapter of both of their lives. Sam could get behind that. He sets a reminder on his phone so he doesn’t forget to water the pothos.

[smp-live]

Was scrolling through c!Wilbur crit blogs again and it got me thinking about why exactly I argue in favour of him so much so here’s a random ramble (that got long) about it:

Most c!Wilbur critics (at least, in the tag, not directly post-lore stream. The ones that do actual analysis on him) are like... really reasonable about it, actually, lmao. Like it’s mostly just calling him a bad person because of power hunger/manipulation/being a bad dad/whatever else. (Not talking about antis. I mean people who are really critical of him, but recognize that he’s a well-crafted character with nuance.)

Which I agree with! I consider myself an apologist, my writing and analysis leans really sympathetic, and I still agree that he’s a shitty rat bastard that I would run far away from irl. Even at the beginning of the story, he’s very morally grey, sometimes using underhanded persuasion tactics, doing ehh things like stealing, and it only gets worse from there.

But on the other hand, he’s... not that bad. Like I saw one person say about c!Dream, “My reaction to most critique of him is... so what?” and that’s how I feel about c!Wilbur, I suppose. Yeah, he tried to rig an election - but it was a last-ditch effort at not going full dictator, he didn’t follow through, and later on he - in part - decided to blow it up because they couldn’t get it back while being democratic. And yeah, he manipulated people - all in all, it wasn’t really really bad things, mostly to paint himself in a better light because of his insecurities, and people sometimes fall into manipulative language without even outwardly realizing that it’s a shitty thing to do. Of course, that shows a bigger underlying problem in their mindset and the way they interpret relationships and possession, but then that’s a different discussion - and definitely one that applies to c!Wilbur.

(Not saying he doesn’t ever intentionally manipulate people. I think that a. sometimes it might be accidental, (”If you wanna be President you’re gonna have to get on my good side,” mans was Not thinking straight,) and b. other times he falls into old habits/coping mechanisms that happen to be manipulation, (Tommy at Las Nevadas.) Other than the election and maybe some times in the early founding of L’Manberg, I can’t think of any moments where I’m like, “Yeah, he is Purposefully Manipulating here.” And even then, it just doesn’t strike me as a terrible thing. People manipulate, it’s a thing they do. That’s it. A morally grey action.)

And I think the majority of the reason I make more posts painting him in a positive light and don’t really discuss my critique of him is because it feels like the fandom has an overwhelming bias of hatred/crit, even if a lot of that isn’t, y’know, proper analysis of his character. I instinctively want to balance it out for this character I love/relate to, because a lot of what I see straight-up ignores the lighter side of his moral-greyness.

Like, a while back, I posted a couple clips from late-election arc, of Wilbur talking about how he feels about Fundy siding with Quackity and against him. And the way I initially saw it while watching was, “Okay. He feels betrayed by his son who disagrees with his politics - and thus, him as a person, because your politics are a reflection of your identity, especially in Wilbur’s mind - and it’s perfectly understandable that he’d want to vent about that in private to a close friend. On the other hand, he should be able to recognize that Fundy’s allowed to be his own person and shouldn’t be babied. Fundy is in the right, here, but Wilbur’s feelings shouldn’t be dismissed.”

But then 90% of the tags were just straight-up hate for c!Wilbur, going as far as to say that he should die again. (And this was after we found out how bad the afterlife was for him.) That fucking floored me. I just couldn’t understand how they took this nuanced character aching for ‘the son he knew’ back (hm. very similar to c!Phil, actually) and turned it into ‘wow. This suicidal man sucks and should maybe die.’ I was so close to making a post defending him before realizing - I was letting fandom bias against a character push me further onto the sympathetic side.

And that’s such a fuckin’ weird thing to have happen, because you’d think that exposure to negativity about a character would make you feel more negative about them? But without fail, every time I scroll through the crit tag, or read a critical post about c!Wilbur/L’Manberg, I maybe lean a bit more towards that side for a few hours before swinging back hard onto the apologist side. Because a lot of the critique, to me, is really just, “so what?” after I let it stew a bit.

Then there’s the whole mental health issue. Obviously it doesn’t excuse the shit he did - I know people who have been in the middle of breakdowns and the stuff they say still fucking hurts, even if they didn’t truly mean it. But recognizing that he needs help? That for pretty much all his time on-screen, he was depressed and paranoid, which obviously affects the way he acts? That’s obvious. And were he in the position to get professional help - which he deserves - everything would be much better off. That’s the root of my apologism, I think: He deserves to get better. He’s not inherently evil, or bad, just a fucked up little man who’s ruined his own life and needs help. I want to see him, specifically him, get better.

Narratively, his punishment has been extreme and disproportionate. Every mistake, every choice - good or bad - has led to suffering, on his part. Start a fun little rebellion, maybe to gain some power? War and betrayal. Declare an election to consolidate said power? Lose, and get exiled. Blow up a nation? Die, and even in the afterlife, he can't catch a break. Purely as a sympathetic human, it feels like he deserves to rest. Deserves to heal.

But even medicated and less anxious, or going to therapy for his neuroticism and depression, or whatever, he still would be quite morally grey. A lot of his manipulation, his power hunger, comes from this neuroticism; from needing to feel safe and needed, (just like Quackity.) Not all of it, though. He’d still have his unhealthy ideals about relationships and possession, for example. Less prominent, sure, but still there. Some people, I feel, discount how tied up with his mental illness it is, while others don’t really recognize that it’s also a personality problem. Like, changing those beliefs is changing part of who he fundamentally is, as a person.

Actually, I think the c!Wilbur apologist community, in general, tends to scapegoat his mental illness a little too much? Not in that we explain his actions with it or ask people not to villainize it, (although sometimes I feel that what we call villainizing mental illness is a bit excessive, but it’s not my place to talk about that as someone who doesn’t really relate to Pogtopia!Wilbur,) but in that we use it in discussions a lot. Which is fair, because it permeates every single aspect of his character, but even without it he’d have toxic traits? Like his possessiveness is not purely a byproduct of his mental illness, imo. Nor is his treatment of Fundy. It’s amplified by it, surely, but that little seed of it is there in the first place. Just as c!Dream’s abuse needs to be addressed as a central part of his character, c!Wilbur’s possessiveness does too - and also outside of the context of their mental health, because they’re both brought on by an internal personality flaw, some fucked-up belief, if that makes sense.

As I said before: c!Wilbur is a mess of a human being that I would hate if I actually met. (irl I would’ve been a SWAG supporter, based on policies, but since this is fiction, I was POG.) But because he’s a character, that flies out the window, and I can love him - not even just as a character, in the sense that I appreciate he’s well-crafted, but in terms of personality and all that shit, while recognizing he’s a kinda crappy guy. Because he’s a character. That’s the fun of it.

[meyeselph]

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

--

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

--

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

--

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

--

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

--

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

[swimfuel]

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

[the-highs-lows]

I love how a lot of our men now want to be hugged up in a relationship while a lot of our women have now embraced their inner player (of course due to history) lol the weird thing is, those same men are still judging our women. Only now it’s bc the women aren’t doing what they want them to do 🤣🤣🤣

In short, women are tired of being used, fucked over, manipulated, played, etc bc men are hurt or just simply misguided. Men are tired of the same, but have much less patience than women. We again have women (in music which DOES drive our culture as well as reality tv) who empower female sexuality while now introducing the idea of treating men how they way they treat women and guess what? Women agree!! Lol

I know we don’t all go through the same things, but absent or just plain shitty fathers were a major thing in our community for at least 20 maybe more years. That fact has had an effect of both our men AND women. I feel that this is why our relationship is like this. Our women don’t know what it’s like to be loved, taken care of, protected by a man. Watch our mothers be the “strong black woman” which becomes their feminine example or training of what a woman is and her role in the family dynamic. Our men don’t know what loving, treating a woman with respect looks like (in certain situations). They don’t have a masculine example or knowledge of what a man is or his role in the family dynamic. Usually with both, they find outside examples (if the home can’t cut it) and are shaped by those examples. The saddest part is, most our people don’t want to get those issues resolved, which turns into a path of hurting others. (Creating a cycle)

Now of course at the same time, our love is flourishing. We’re building and maintaining families and our lives together. It’s beautiful, but not the only reality. Both of our men and women need to address the root problems in our community that have lead us to this point. I know it’s a lot due to us trying to figure out so many other things outside of us, but it needs to be done. We’re at war and we will lose if we don’t acknowledge, understand and fix US first.

Idk if any of this will make sense to anyone, but I hope somebody gets the point I’m trying to make. As someone who grew up without my Dad being present who grew up without his Dad present to now raising a son without his Dad, I see first hand how it effects us both. We can’t win the war fighting each other over bs.

[techmomma]

More thoughts on the unnamed brothers:

They’re the result of shitty behaviour being rewarded. The “boys will be boys” mentality, coupled on top of coming from a pretty terrible family and a father who really couldn’t give a shit about any of his kids. The tragedy sort of being that TB and his sister realized this; the two brothers essentially fell within acceptable boundaries of praise from their father and so never really had reason to go “oh, hey, maybe I shouldn’t keep chasing a pipe dream trying to get love from a man who’s incapable of it.” They’ve never stopped chasing it, even long after their father died.

Twins, can’t decide if they’re younger or older than TB yet.

They had tremendous opportunities that TB never got. While it was their sister who provided the opportunity, marrying a wealthy man, the two brothers were clearly favored over TB, being masculine, more like their father, pushy, homophobic—y’know the traits that stuffy old rich white guys like. They got full rides through university, TB was given a sum of money and told to make something with it.

They coasted along while TB clawed his way up. They’ll tell you they pulled themselves up by their bootstraps but it’s mostly a lie; they entered a few fraternities and got to know the right people and from there, they were pretty much set. Now they’re probably the owners of a very lucrative business without having ever really worked and are waiting for the other to die so they can take full ownership and get all the money, ever, because that’ll make dad love them.

TB’s sister (the oldest sibling, regardless of the placement of the brothers) favored TB and adored him, because of how shitty he got treated. The two brothers never really understood why, so to them, all they really saw was their sister loving their brother more than them (and, well, it was kinda true. Virgie did love TB more than them.) This has fueled a deep-rooted jealousy of what TB had with their sister; they’ve never really had a close bond like that, with anyone. Not even each other, as twins. There’s a deep bitterness within them.

They probably ended up with a bunch of the family heirlooms and things from their parents, which TB hates them for. Possibly their sister too, which REALLY burns TB up.

Did NOT age as well as TB, even if they end up being younger than him.

In shitty families, you often see the kids go one of two ways: they’ll become rhymes of their parents, perpetrating the same cycles and problems, or they’ll reject their upbringing, to become different (though, sometimes, falling into similar pitfalls). TB and his sister rejected their upbringing. The twins became their father. Both are really sort of a tragedy.

They’ve probably both had a string of divorces and extramarital affairs, and had plenty of access to drugs and illicit materials. Also probably why they haven’t aged as gracefully.

Never rejected TB for being gay, technically. But they definitely make uh, off-color jokes about said sexuality and gender that don’t bear repeating and make TB want to drown himself in the mashed potatoes at dinner.

Don’t understand why TB never wanted his kid or grandkid to know them much, clearly they would be great uncles. Thinks TB should get the stick out of his ass and let them be part of their family’s lives (they should not).

Deep down, under the twenty miles of hate and instinct to kill them the moment he gets the chance, if TB really gave it more thought, he’d probably pity them. TB, for as dysfunctional and emotionally crippled as his family is, still has love and some iota of fulfillment with his grandson. He’s quite certain his brothers’ lives, for as successful as they’ve looked, are entirely hollow, and they haven’t felt truely loved since their mother died. What a miserable existence.

But that instinct to strangle them both the moment he gets his chance is real strong.

[blee-bleep]

Though I disagree vehemently about your take I'm also very curious of your arguments for why you think Akko is such a bad character?

Anon, you have no idea what you just fucking asked of me. Time for a review! This is going to be hella’ long. 

Vanilla Character that insists that she has personality

So the one thing I’m going to start off with is; The Relatable/Vanilla Protagonist Syndrome. This is the syndrome that is used for most main characters in order to have a clean-slate character that is basically the audience in order to promote the world-building in the series by having them absolutely no clue of what is the world around them. That is what Akko exactly is, and that is what Trigger abuses her out of. 

Little Witch Academia is an anime that focuses solely on world-building, so much so that they’re willing to pile over their characters in order to show what magic can do. 

(And apparently for Trigger, world-building also means learning who the author of a 200-yo Twilight spinoff book is and who was Holbrooke’s dad)

But the point is, the anime is a pile of boring trash fire that focuses on world-building, even from its original exposition of the OVA. It uses the pattern of ‘theme/problem of the week’ in half of the series with arcs going nowhere for a while and suddenly rushes an epiphany in the last few episodes. *cough ep 15*

The point with world-building serialization is that it needs a way to be promoted, and what way for it to promote is to get Akko to fuck around with it. As her job as the protag, that’s exactly what she does for more than half of the series. She’s like a stretchy character that is carried by the plot with gross insistence from the show that she has character (which is being stubborn and clumsy that is written off as ‘passionate’).

What’s worse is Trigger has all these ideas yet none of them are polished to its fullest (like the political divide between witches and modern government) or is overlapped by some bullshit to add because Japan. (seriously, a hunting-themed episode with cool lore, and yet a third of the episode is all about robots and building it? What the fuck?)

See, that’s why I think Akko is a horribly written character, not her character itself (if that were the case then I would’ve ditched the show the first episode) but because how she’s executed with it for the show. She’s constantly pulled by different bullshit the show comes up and makes her pull the answers the episode needs out of thin fucking air just because the writers said ‘fuck you’ to development and that they need to end the problem at some point right?

If characters can’t be tied correctly to the worldbuilding then there’s a chance that the character themselves would break, because it just can’t often work with what you’ve already placed in the previous episodes you’ve set up in the first place. Arcs overlap with each other and LWA doesn’t do shit for that until it needs a banging climax. 

Akko is constantly renewed and she learns nothing from what she learned (or at least hints of it), except for the metamorphosis bullshit and Shiny Rod. Which brings me to my next point on why Akko is such a horrible character.

Shiny Rod is a Leech

This thing is basically the plot device that Akko is so tied to. If there’s ever an episode where it solely focuses on Akko herself, it’s often related to either Shiny Rod or Chariot du Nord, which is the shittiest way to limit a character with so much exposition with everything the series has thrown at her. The only other way the series doesn’t do this to her is Diana in episode 12, but it isn’t even focused on her, it’s focused on the cabbage and her Draco Malfoy syndrome.

Anyways, were an episode be connected to Akko in some way, it’s always limiting to her duty as the holder of the Shiny Rod and the occasional situation from Chariot. Not from her friends, who she clearly relates to and has more history with, but with the Shiny Rod and Chariot.

The series lazily signs this as Akko’s resolution to her character by the last episode (FUCK THAT) and does nothing else with her relationship with other characters outside of Diana and Chariot. Honestly, you’d expect that after going through Sucy’s mind and visiting Lotte’s hometown, she would’ve grown as a better character and more than being a two-dimensional ‘chosen-one’ character who only gets an episode if it focuses on the plot-device that pulled her in the magical world in the first place. 

But no, Trigger is still insisting pies, weird shops, and other boring stuff needs to be shown for the series to make it interesting, and dumps the idea to the next. An arc is never properly made for all the shit they let Akko go through because the series is so fast-paced in the wrong places. And when it does focus on what is important (more important than finding about Nightfall’s author), it’s usually done spontaneously thus eliminating the suppose suspense that the single important thing is supposed to do *I HATE EPISODE 15 WHAT THE FUCK*

The point is, Akko is just a ‘believing heart’. A holder of Shiny Rod, who managed to get under Chariot without her knowing. It’s like she’s Midoriya (My Hero Academia) but much watered down and if you take that away from her, she has nothing, when out of all the stuff she could’ve had.

What LWA’s writers hadn’t realized is that what they actually wrote for Akko is what could’ve been her focus but Trigger insists for the world-building theme is that Akko’s arc should only come in the climax and the filler episodes are for her friends because you know, it won’t be more interesting that way and now they have a main protagonist that’s actually interesting beyond their design and suppose-personality. 

Thus I’m next to my last bullshit:

Akko, the Wasted Potential™

I recently rewatched Citrus lately, and though the show is much narrow than LWA’s world of magic, I realized what actually makes it better than it in ways that the latter fails. And it’s their protagonist.

I know you guys will trash about Yuzu being a simp and all, and I absolutely agree with that, but what makes Yuzu better than Akko is not because she’s more down-to-earth, but she has a three-dimensional mindset, a mindset which is the very thing kept away from Akko. 

While Yuzu may not have been pushed into a world of magic by the neck and gets dragged by the plot as violently as Akko (and the two very different themes of the two shows of course), but if you pull those away, their passion are nearly built the same. What differs them both is that Yuzu actually acts out what she needs to do and builds a steady relationship with the other characters around her, even if it’s very subtle and small. (Like, Harumin being her wicked hot sidekick? God yes, top-tier Gyaru)

Akko, on the other hand, literally goes into one of her best friend’s mind in a poison-induced coma and gets shoved into her other best friend’s culture by visiting her hometown. You might think she’d grow from that and realize what it takes to be a better character, right? WRONG.

Of course, Trigger uses these things as filler episodes and nothing more. It doesn’t reflect on Akko’s character because she’s not allowed to think like it should. Though the show would insist she has personality, it does the opposite when Akko’s only character is only used as ‘believing heart’ for the Shiny Rod and nothing much else, because the only times when they do get her a new attitude is dropped off right after.

It would’ve been cool if they dropped the world-building theme for a bit and focus on how they should make the characters much more interesting than having their personalities as the root problems of episodes. 

When I first watched LWA, I had so much more expectation for the characters themselves, especially Amanda O’Neill after her introduction in episode 3. But came episode 5 and then she… didn’t really matter that much despite being in half of the episode. And she didn’t have another one not until 11 episodes later. Imagine making and hyping up such a unique character and barely giving her screentime of three episodes! That’s one of the grossest things you can do in baiting lesbians, Trigger! 

And it doesn’t stop at Amanda; it applies to almost every other character. Chariot is the pink-print disappointment of a hyped character that didn’t have enough time. She’s a plot-device character that everyone was anticipating but she’s barely given the after of a shitty episode 14 (that has another completely different problem altogether). Episode 15 was literally the worst you could’ve done to make a twist because a) the development leading to that revelation was undercooked, and especially shitty because the show basically used Croix as a plot device, b) it’s done nearly towards the end of the series so the timing for her hype was weirdly placed, and c) Chariot’s personality from that episode is being used repeatedly just to let Akko become a sitting duck. 

So yeah, Trigger was so focused on the concept of world-building and making magic look as interesting as possible that the idea that maybe the characters would flat-out look bleak was not in their cone of vision. Akko was fundamentally a boring protagonist because she keeps getting pulled apart and has not ingrained anything in that, and to rub salt into the wound, she becomes so used to it that when Croix set her up with the Wagandea trap, Chariot has to intervene and at the cost of her flight powers, which does not help their characters one bit.

Akko is a shitty protagonist Trigger shredded apart just for their sake of world-building and she has learned nothing from what the show has thrown at her because the writers didn’t think she needed it, because, in the first place, it’s not about her. It’s about the Shiny Rod and completing Chariot’s story (which is half-assed in its own way). Lord knows how they botched her to the point she’s blank. She’s nothing more than a ‘believing heart’ and if Trigger just keeps there, that’s forever what she is. And that, in itself, is why I think Akko is a horrible character.

[randomidiocyncrazies]

i know you like them both so yunichika and oda/aoki for the ship ask

thank you for giving me a chance to gush about these kids!!! they’re precious.... this got pretty long so imma put it under a cut

YuniChika, the main boys of 2.43:

• when or if I started shipping it:

tbh i didn’t really ship them when i read the first book... they’re the kind of pairing that i can see people shipping and i think it’s cute, but i’m not super invested in them as a romantic pairing. I think i was more sold about them as a ship in the second book, but i can’t quite remember if there was a specific moment that made me change my mind, or if it was a gradual process

• my thoughts:

i think the anime definitely played up the tension between them (allll the blushes lol), but i’m glad people are enjoying the YuniChika content XD they’re pretty cute!

also, i think they balance each other well and spur each other to become better—Yuni and Chika are both self-centered(?) in very different ways: Yuni lacks drive because he mostly wanted to please people so they’ll like him, while Chika has the opposite problem in that he acts like he doesn’t care what people think of him. 

but now Yuni is able to take a stand for his interest in volleyball and for Chika, and while Chika doesn’t really soften and still has a problem with not realizing how harsh he could be, he’s more willing to communicate his thoughts.

• what makes me happy about them:

boys reuniting! relearning how to have a relationship with one another! learning from past mistakes and trying to be better people together! HELL YEAH

• what makes me sad about them:

boys, please use your words to communicate with each other...

also, from Yuni’s perspective, it’s kinda sad when someone you used to know really well comes back into your life, but they’ve changed so much that they are essentially a different person... but of course they have a new opportunity to become closer now 😉 so i’m not that sad about it

• things done in art/fic that annoys me:

... there are fanworks for them????????? 

(on a more serious note, erasing their flaws to make them more likable... please don’t make Chika ‘secretly nice’ or whatever, the kid is blunt as hell, and not realizing how his words affect others is his biggest flaw. on the other hand, Yuni can still be a little spineless at times, and sometimes his priorities are. questionable.)

• things I look for in art/fic:

hm, i’d like a future fic about them as professional players! i think their inclination is to stick together (they’re a package deal!) but it’d be super interesting to read something where they’re on rival teams years down the line

EDIT: haha Chika actually transferred to Keisei High School after their first Spring Tournament, so he and Yuni have faced each other as rivals since then (2.43 next 4years). they’re go to the same university and are on the same team now though!

• who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

uh i don’t really have specific people for this, but Chika would probably have to be with someone who understands his love of volleyball (like Oda, but if Oda wasn’t their team captain and thus too much of a dad friend to qualify as a romantic interest), and someone who can inspire Yuni would be good for him

also, i know who i’d NOT be comfy about: the first book (and anime i guess) had this weird tension between Itoko and Yuni, COUSINS who BASICALLY GREW UP TOGETHER. i think(?) their weird whatever was mostly dropped in the 2nd book and wasn’t really made explicit, but like. what the hell. (i have no idea what happens beyond the 2nd book.)

• my happily ever after for them:

the YuniChika in college arc is being serialized rn, so in a way that’s already fulfilled? (i have NO idea what’s going on tho) 

in general i just hope they can play volleyball together until one or both decide not to, for whatever reason, and that they stay in each other’s lives and support each other even after they’ve retired from competitive volleyball. i think with Yuni’s personality he could be a good coach after getting more experience, and Chika... he’s really valuable as a strategist, but I think he’d always be a little brusque, so he’s respected but hard to bond with if he does take on coaching?

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity?

bold of you to assume Chika even cares about sex

anyway, they don’t go to movies for a romantic date night, they go watch volleyball matches. sometimes this backfires when Chika gets too frustrated at bad plays tho

and of course i will never pass up an opportunity to talk about Oda/Aoki, the main guys of my heart (my OTP for this series tbh):

• when or if I started shipping it:

they pinged on my radar when they were bickering in Ibara’s chapter, but i wasn’t super duper invested... and then I got to The Dog’s Perspective and the Giraffe’s Perspective (specifically The Kick™) and oh god i’ve never fallen so fast

• my thoughts: 

GOD WOW Aoki really loves Oda... even though objectively Oda’s height prevents him from being a super ace, he is the coolest, strongest super ace to Aoki. i think it’s beautiful that someone can see you as your best self even when you’re feeling shitty about yourself. Aoki knows that objectively Oda faces a lot of obstacles, and wants to support him as best as he can—not out of pity (pity would’ve burned out long ago), but because he really respects Oda’s passion and drive.

also, these two have unaddressed issues that they should talk about! Oda, i know you feel inferior but you are so much better than you think you are. please accept that Aoki really does respect you, and that you are worthy of it (or like, you don’t have to be ‘’’worthy’’’’ or ‘’’’’’deserving’’’’’’’’’’ of it, because it is Aoki’s choice to support you and play volleyball with you!!! it’s not something you gotta earn, it’s something freely and happily given to you)

(ahhhhhh i die when i think of them)

• what makes me happy about them: 

gosh i love their dynamic SO MUCH! Oda is exactly my type of character (passionate, determined, knowing that he can never be the best at what he’s passionate about due to factors he cannot control, trying to be kind and gracious but struggling with feelings of inferiority and jealousy, thinks of himself as a selfish person, a supporting character...) and Aoki’s devotion is really touching. 

again: even when you feel like crap about yourself, there’s someone out there who thinks you’re the best thing that happened to them.

there’s also the fact that Oda thinks the world of Aoki as well (to the point of feeling inferior, which is like... c’mon Oda :/ you are better than you think you are!) he trusts Aoki a lot, despite knowing his willingness to engage in, uh, underhanded methods

• what makes me sad about them: 

it’s their last year together, and they’d be approaching a new phase of their lives in different places... although Aoki offered to lower his rankings so they’d go to the same university, realistically they’ll go to different colleges, and most likely end up in different prefectures. (like, not only do i think it’s a Terrible Idea to give up your dream school so that you could stay with someone else, there is no way Oda would accept the offer without being crushed by guilt. something like that would actually ruin their relationship, which i think Aoki knows as well.)

there’s also a lot left unsaid between them at this point and i just want them to lay everything out between them and move forward together

• things done in art/fic that annoys me: 

the fact that there’s NONE >:[ what does a gal have to do to get some content for them???????

• things I look for in art/fic: 

at this point anything is fine.... it’s a desert out there and i’m dying

more specifically i’m Extremely Down for a get together fic; i personally only see them getting together after high school, at least several months (or even longer) studying in different prefectures and no longer able to see each other every day. (i mean... absence makes the heart grow fonder right?)

i’d also love to see Oda using Aoki’s first name, considering Aoki calls him “Shin” and all. Oda managing to surprise/fluster Aoki would be nice too.

EDIT: they’re both in the Kansai region (2.43 next 4years prologue). Oda’s revealed to be studying in Osaka, and assuming Aoki got into KyoDai, they should be around 2 hours away from each other by train? so visiting each other over short breaks would be cute! also, apparently Oda took a gap year before going to Osaka (2.43 next 4years Ch 1.2), so something set during that time would also be awesome :V

• who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

hm... if i had to imagine people well-suited to them, i’d say Aoki’s type is people who are straightforwardly passionate about their interests (Oda hooked him with his unbridled love of volleyball way back in their first year of high school after all), and I think Oda probably needs someone who is willing to indulge him a little (like Chika he can be pretty dang determined about what he wants, though without the single-minded intensity at the expense of everything else)

... this is just a roundabout way of saying i think they’re ideal for each other, especially if they resolve the problem of hiding things from the other

• my happily ever after for them: 

they get careers/hobbies they enjoy, and get a place together as boyfriends/husbands. no i will not hear any criticism of this idea

i can see Aoki working in the private sector (this guy is fine with ‘joking’ about blackmail after all!) after getting his law degree. this is super self-indulgent, but given his penchant of rooting for passionate but objectively disadvantaged entities, i think it’d be pretty awesome if he works for a smaller company that truly believes in their work, instead of working at a big firm pulling in big bucks.

while I’m not sure what Oda is canonically studying, I can see him going into sports education or sports therapy—i think he’d be really good at nurturing the talents of other athletes, and he’s good at rallying the team (Aoki pretty much says he’s the heart of the team in the epilogue of the first book, though Aoki’s kiiinda biased lol). i think it’d be really cute if Oda coaches a grade school team!

neither plays volleyball competitively after high school, but sometimes they watch matches for fun (esp if their ex-teammates are playing). Oda also makes Aoki come to his students’ matches if he doesn’t have work

EDIT: apparently Oda continues competing as a wing spiker in college, playing in Kaisai’s 2nd Collegiate Division (2.43 next 4years Ch 1.2)—Aoki probably watches his matches, even when he’s busy (and Oda probably chides him for neglecting his work, but they both know Aoki can manage his workload).

• what is their favorite non-sexual activity?

hm... idk, i think they’re the kind of couple who are cool with just chilling with each other doing their own work. like, Oda planning strategies for the kids he’s coaching while Aoki reads next to him, occasionally glancing over to make comments, stuff like that

also since Oda says they mostly talked about volleyball during high school, I can kinda see them finding something new they both enjoy after they get together? Maybe shounen manga, for something fun