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havocdream · 27 days

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Unheard and Unseen - Ten

Summary: With a message to the people of Thandaria, and a speech to a selected group of congress people, Vintra Selana shows her quality as a Galactic Senator. The Bad Batch prepare for departure, and Hunter makes one last action as Vintra's bodyguard.

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: Political speeches | Anti-war stances | Very slight descriptions of a weapon | Some explicit descriptions of war violence | Descriptions of human pain

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter nine -> Sunrays of blood

Masterlist

A world alive

Year 7.556 CRC, sixth month, thirtieth day.

Official speech of the Senator of Ederon Vintra Selana to the people of the planet Thandaria, Helcander System.

When an earthquake strikes the earth, nature sends a message of feeling ready for a new cycle. The extensive study of our soil over millennia has allowed us to understand these phenomena as releases of energy, accommodation of resources and, above all, opportunity for life. The movement of energy in our worlds is a reminder that they are alive. And that, therefore, life is possible.

When an earthquake strikes a civilization, nature sends a message to make us feel inferior to its power. Open ground destroys crops, necessary for life; vulnerable infrastructure threatens safety when the earth on which it stands shakes, and life as we know it disappears, as we must face a different terrain, with cracks in places where a park, a fountain, or a beautiful meadow once stood, where the reflection of sunlight on the green grass provided a warm, homey feeling. I am sure that what you see around right now has been enough to fill your hearts and minds with dread, or to feel abandoned and hopeless to trust again in what the future holds.

Our worlds are constantly shaken by events that rearrange our foundations, undo our plans and destroy our lives. Whether it is an earthquake, a debt, an illness or the death of someone close to us, we are exposed to this fear on many fronts. Thandaria suffered, for the first time in twenty years, a natural catastrophe of enormous magnitude, which has left the lives of over two hundred million citizens paralyzed in financial, commercial, social and, most importantly, personal sectors. The tally of lives lost is rising every second to numbers never before reached, the infrastructure equivalent to one hundred and thirty million jobs is unrecoverable, and the food of the entire population has been affected by the devastation of major agricultural fields. It is safe to say that the state of Thandaria falls within the definition of crisis, and my administration, in collaboration with the governing offices of the other planets in the Helcander System, will treat it as such.

On a much smaller scale than your situation, the last month I have been confronted with a type of fear that I thought I had forgotten. Losing one's life has always been one of the greatest fears of living beings. After millennia of existence, death is a natural phenomenon in every race that we still do not know how to master. But, despite always lurking around me, and ultimately being inevitable, I have counted on several teams that have made me feel safe and have protected me from all danger. Whether it be our honorable ederian guards, the competent Coruscant guard, or our brave clone troopers drawn from the very front lines, there has been someone by my side to ensure my protection. Not even in the leanest of times have I been abandoned.

As someone who has faced crippling darkness and knows how comforting it is to have such protection, it is impossible for me not to understand to a certain degree what you must be feeling right now, citizens of Thandaria. And to you I must make an outrageous request, in this hour of most desperate need. Please trust me. I do not plan to leave you alone, nor to ignore your problems to attend to my own. Let me be the hand that protects you, and gives you back your life, on whatever scale I can. I cannot promise you a cessation of natural disasters, but I can assure you that you will not be left without help when they strike.

Together with my team, we have passed a planetary bill for the Helcander System, aimed at alleviating the situation in Thandaria. We have suspended private projects in Ederon, Yuren and Vancron to redirect funds to the prompt relief of Thandaria. I urge citizens of neighboring planets to support the fundraising program so that we do not have to turn to the Banking Clan and acquire more debt than this Republic can afford because of the war. I have approached government charities to arrange an urgent donation, and the rest of the local governments in the Helcander System have made it a priority to allocate and distribute homes and jobs to any thandarian who wish to start regaining their lives as soon as possible. Our economic projections give us an estimated three to six years of full recovery.

Thandaria, I do not wish for us to work to put this tragedy behind us, but to carry it into our future as a reminder of the community we have created in Helcander, and the possibility of a galaxy united and focused on supporting its citizens. May you remember the power of your rulers, and the duty our positions demand in being of service to you. My goal is not only to give you back what you have materially lost, but to show each other that, by surviving the shocks of our worlds, we are able to rise and continue our fights.

The government of Helcander relies on its citizens, so it is only natural that you rely on it when you need it. And I know I didn't become a senator because I have something special or different from you. Which means that the resilience that lives in me lives in you, too. Neither in the Senate, nor in the broken land of Thandaria, will the forces that attack us be able to bring us down. For alone we have never been, and good has always prevailed.

I must remind you that the soil of Thandaria has made it known that it is alive, and that more life is possible. Let us bury our dead, offer them respect and memory, and thank them for their brave and high sacrifice, which I hope to repay by protecting the lives they have left behind, or the legacy I will not let be lost. Let us lift and rebuild your fallen world, Thandaria, now stronger than before. Let us acknowledge the helping hands, and not forget what we feel today. For tomorrow it may be someone else, someone who will surely need us.

For seven years I have worked to make sure that no one in our beloved System is left behind, and that the resources we possess reach everyone. It is time to demonstrate to you and the galaxy that a community that supports each other can overcome every crisis that comes its way, and that everyone's well-being is also our own.

I conclude by extending my admiration to the people of Thandaria, who, in waiting for help, have not hesitated to help each other to salvage what they can, and have even begun to work on their own recovery with their own hands. I have seen them take care of their children, their orphans, their animals, their plants.... Their elderly, their sick, their wounded. You have embraced the most important thing in your world: yourselves. And amid all this adversity, your messages of support and concern for me after my attack have touched my heart immensely. Your kind heart, which leads you to care about someone else during such a scenario, cannot be overlooked.

Thandaria, you inspire me. Your generosity is noted, and I will use all the power that resides in me as your senator to ease your pain and fear. And I promise you that together we will overcome this catastrophe.

It was beginning to get frustrating for Hunter that, despite taking step after step, he was going nowhere. The situation was the same: that was his last day as Vintra Selana's bodyguard. Which would be good, except that the mission didn't feel finished. The Senator of Ederon had just exposed to the press suggestions about the possible orchestrator of her attacks. A spotlight had been shone on Vice Admiral Stass, which, in many cases, would spark a direct war until a head rolled. How could he leave when the worst was just beginning?

And another question was forming more strongly alongside his growing concern: why did he care so much? Their mission was officially successful, they’d found the person responsible for the senator's attacks and now the rest could be handled by her network. They could stop wasting their time protecting a public figure and get back to their real work. Everything would go back to the way they knew it.

So why didn't he feel at ease?

“What are you doing?” the manly, gruff, unmistakable voice of Crosshair caught his attention. He was on his way to rest and had caught him midway through his intense internal debate, in the hallway outside the senator's apartment.

He had yet to tell his brothers that they’d been relieved of their services with the ederian, and would soon be reassigned back to the front lines, as usual. Partly because Hunter still had trouble with believing that the mission was really over.

“Do you think our job is done?” asked the defective unit sergeant. Maybe it was a burden he felt being the squad leader, maybe the rest of his brothers believed there was nothing more to do on Coruscant.

“You mean here? Of course not,” grumbled Crosshair, who pulled out a wooden toothpick and, as he leaned against the wall beside the door, placed it between his teeth. “No, in any case, we've earned a longer stay thanks to recent events... we were facing a shadow before, I'm afraid a Vice Admiral is worse,” commented the younger brother, not being of much help to the elder. Hunter folded his arms and sighed.

“Well, you're wrong. The senator has released us from duty, we return to the front tomorrow,” Hunter's words caused Crosshair to stop moving the wooden stick between his teeth, surprised at the news. “According to her, it's her way of paying us back after threatening us,” Hunter positioned himself in front of his brother, attentive to his opinion. Crosshair's right eyebrow was raised, intrigued, for of all the things he expected from Vintra Selana, that wasn't on his list. And he had a very long one already made.

“If a threat was what it took to get her to get rid of us, we would’ve provoked her from before we landed,” but Hunter denied.

“No, she said she owed us for saving her from the explosive and for discovering Stass,” Crosshair narrowed his eyes at Hunter's hesitant and frustrated look, for he’d been noticing for a while now that something was making him uneasy about the senator. It seemed that the ederian was spending a lot of time in his head, and it was never good when something dwelt too long in the sergeant's mind.

Hunter was an expert at tracking. His heightened senses made him probably the most lethal soldier in the army. Every living thing emitted electromagnetic waves thanks to its brain activity, which Hunter had been created to be able to detect. And, if combined with body odor and the sounds of breathing or heartbeat, he could decipher the deepest intentions of any enemy that hovered near him long enough.

If his mind was overly entertained with chasing trails that led him nowhere, it meant they were standing in a wasteland under a moonless night, impossible to distinguish who was watching them from the darkness around them, helpless against the blaster mouths aimed at them. If Vintra Selana was beginning to occupy Hunter's mind too much, it was because she emitted such strong frequencies, but impossible for him to discern or track. And if he didn't end up understanding those frequencies, it was impossible to know if the job was really finished.

“Well, then why do you seem to doubt it so much? If she says she doesn't need us anymore, then there's no reason for us to still be here,” Crosshair replied, his words sounding logical, entirely coherent. Hunter had no problem with seeing the reason in them. The problem was that he didn't care.

“Cross, she basically kicked us out because she feels guilty,” he tried to justify. Crosshair shrugged.

“And she should. I appreciate that her conscience won't leave her alone after what she did, and that she's facing the consequences of her actions,” Crosshair pressed his reasons to ease his brother's discontent, but didn't seem to succeed by the sergeant's even more conflicted look.

“If guilt’s the reason her decision’s right, then mine should be taken into account as well,” he proposed, and from his look Crosshair understood that that was a revelation just as startling to Hunter as it was to him. What was he talking about? “Look, imagine if the Vice Admiral were us...don't you think the scenario looks like Plan 72?” Crosshair was quick to recognize the pattern: distracting attack, enemy attention focused elsewhere except on the central target. Hunter softened his gaze as an idea crossed his mind. “If in three days a report appeared all over the news that the senator was killed, wouldn't it cross your mind that we could’ve prevented it? We know who’s responsible, we understand his strategy and we create and execute our plans based on that, in our own way,” Crosshair pondered what Hunter was trying to say, unable to ignore the valid point his brother was making. “I don't think I'd be able to explain to Ederon, and the rest of the planets in the Helcander System, why we left after discovering her killer... it’d seem as if we ran away from danger,” the indignation and offense that came from his throat as he uttered those words was enough to convey them to the sniper. Running away was worse than an insult and being linked to that action was worse than a failed mission for the bad batch. “Isn't it supposed to be our fucking job to assure civilians that we're protecting them? If we leave her in the middle of this mess it's almost the same as telling the entire Helcander System to fuck themselves,” and while the sergeant was entitled to ask all those questions, and have his doubts, for Crosshair the scenario looked different. If that was the senator's decision, no tongue in the galaxy could contradict it.

“You're starting to sound like her,” the platinum-haired clone pointed out, for Hunter's way of speaking was a bit different. Worrying about their role in the Republic or to an entire System wasn’t part of the way they operated and analyzed. They almost never projected their contributions as a squadron to general levels, they always acted for the good of those directly affected on the planet or sector they were sent to. It was as if he now understood that he was fighting for something more, and that protecting Senator Selana was protecting something much bigger than just a Coruscant politician.

Hunter let out a sharp sigh.

“I just don't like the idea of being pulled out of a hostile zone, especially when we're the only ones who can get the job done right,” the relaxed shoulders of the clone with the skull tattoo implied surrender. Even if everyone agreed with him, it was of no use if the mission was already over. He was surrendering to the idea of living with that burden, for there was no way to get rid of the uneasiness that leaving left him. It didn't matter if Vintra Selana died in a week or fifty years, Hunter feared that, by leaving, her death would be his responsibility.

“Hunter, so what do you want to do? The only one who can change things is the senator, and it seems she doesn't intend to... like it or not, our orders are to get the hell out of here,” seeing that his words elicited a defiant look in the sergeant, Crosshair looked at him more seriously. “And this is one of those orders you can't disobey,” he clarified as he tapped the sergeant's chest with his index finger. Hunter drew his lips in a grin.

“Now you sound like a reg commander,” was the last thing he said as his brother entered the apartment amid annoyed grunts.

But Hunter recognized the truth in Crosshair’s words, if they were sent to any other planet, their duty was to go to the aid of whoever needed it. Unlike millions of people in the galaxy, Vintra Selana was protected by the Coruscant guard, her few guards, and her huge information network.

Unfortunately, Hunter would have to live with the guilt. For, without being able to explain why, he knew that without them she wouldn’t survive that bill.

Vintra had tried to give in to sleep, she believed that the tiredness she felt and the sadness in her chest would slowly guide her into a world of silence and cozy darkness. But her conscience seemed to become her greatest enemy in those moments, and the restlessness of having to take advantage of every possible second to work forced her to get out of her comfortable bed and sacrifice more for the citizens, as if she had them all there in her room and was ashamed to go to rest while many of them were struggling that very night for a place to sleep or a bread for dinner. Who did she think she was to enjoy her privileges when others trusted her to help them?

In addition, a dread began to replace sleep with anxiety, and it wasn't long before Vintra thought it impossible to try to sleep again. The sergeant's warning a few hours ago, about the possibility that Vice Admiral Stass wasn’t working alone, and the whole strategy of directing her attention to him was only a distraction from the real danger that would strike from behind. And the thought that, when that happened, the sergeant would no longer be with her to protect her.

She kept telling herself over and over again that just because they were watching Stass didn't mean they had their guard down on the other fronts. After all, there were many more people in the galaxy who wanted to get rid of her, so even if they focused their attention on the Vice Admiral, it didn't mean she was unprotected. If someone else attacked her, they’d be able to foresee it.

If she repeated it to herself often enough, maybe she’d manage to believe it.

She read mail after mail and report after report with that same phrase in her head. She drafted letters and responded to reports and those words wouldn’t leave her mind. The night hours were even overshadowed by the presence of the murky mantra that Vintra kept repeating to herself, but until the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the far edges of the planet, she understood that it was in vain. She’d have to live with that fear.

However, when the shadows of the waning night still reigned in her room, a report digitally stamped with the words “confidential” stopped all the junk gears in her head and left only the vital ones running. It was a message from her network of informants, an urgent one.

It was written in code, since the galactic network was not necessarily reliable, even on an encrypted computer like hers. The symbols presented in the report were understood only by a small group of people chosen by Vintra Selana, whom they must’ve known personally. It was a system of letters invented by Mavan, which changed with each month and of which only two physical copies were made in the entire galaxy. One was held by Vintra, and the other by Ederon's elite information team.

What she was about to read was information that no one, not even the Chancellor, knew about.

Just as she suspected, it was an information update on the unknown outpost discovered on Druad, which followed the report she had received earlier in the week. What she read next alarmed her greatly.

Her contacts inside the planet tried to assess the location again but suffered the disadvantage that this time there appeared to be people inside, who opened fire and killed several of the scouts. Two managed to escape to report what they discovered and added that the operation they observed involved the possible extraction of thusten through illegal means, possibly related to smuggling. The report concluded with a notification that they had begun identification of those responsible for the operation. Upon completion, Vintra deleted the file.

It didn’t sound good. Vintra was aware that thusten smuggling existed, but it originated external to the System, for no one was so far-fetched as to risk entering a planet where hostile fire was always raining down. For a criminal, the risks of getting hold of the metal were less if they attacked separatist ships that left the planet with it. So, to know that someone had managed to set up a complete outpost to load thusten and export it by containers of their own, was a sign of something really dirty behind it.

First, because Druad was always blocked by Separatist and Republic forces around the planet. There were daily negotiations between the two sides to allow specific ships to pass through, so that the opposing side wouldn’t shoot them down. These were mostly civilian supplies, but more than once each side opened fire to send more troops and ammunition to the planet, so the battle of Druad began long before even entering its exosphere. It was impossible to enter the planet undetected. So, it could be two scenarios: One, they were stealing ships to infiltrate. Two, someone was giving them passage.

Second, there were no reports yet of thusten extraction by the Separatist Systems or the Republic, so they either didn't know or were hiding it. If they didn't know about it, it was a serious case, because it could imply that there were more extraction cases on the planet that no one knew about yet; someone was taking advantage of the fight for the thusten and all the clones and civilians died for a metal that a third party had already taken from there. On the other hand, if they were hiding it, it was a worse case, because it meant that someone was willing to make deals with criminals to use the war, and the murder of millions, as a mere distraction to appropriate the metal. The ceasefire in Druad was more necessary than ever.

The senator would love to be able to assess the place on her own, but she knew it was impossible. Druad was by far the worst front in the war at the time. Going into that place was insane, and even the clone troopers knew it.

But that didn't take away from Vintra's need to want to go, as she knew she required more evidence about the planet's scenarios to speak to the Senate about them, as everything was more convincing if they heard it from someone who’d seen it in person. Also, because, as the planet's chief spokesperson, she felt a responsibility for them to see it firsthand. She had to talk to them face to face to hear their needs and fears and be better able to convey them to the Senate. But she couldn't do that, because the journey was increasingly terrifying and unsettling. And impossible to survive. She needed an absurd kind of preparation, a security that not even the clones protecting her those days could provide.

Or could they?

“Senator?” the sergeant's voice, accompanied by three knocks on her door, made her jump from her seat. Her room was already bathed in warm rays of light, time had slipped away from her with her mind so focused on the recent news. “The construction crew will begin installing your blinds.”

It had been a busy day, typical of the last breath of the laboring week. Hundreds of meetings with some of her staff had piled up to attend to the needs of the Helcander System, in addition to reviewing her vote on dozens of other bills that were still pending in the Senate. She spent the entire morning on calls with senators explaining the point of their bills, hoping to convince her to grant them her support.

And while Vintra could do two things at once, on this occasion she seemed distracted from the present. Her gaze fixed elsewhere as she listened to important words from congressmen preoccupied with their own bills. Her heart was restless, as if instead of an organ the only thing inhabiting her was a balloon filled with air that inflated and deflated to replace something real and vital. Her legs and hands moved with a certain desperation, as if she were waiting for something.

Hunter, of course, didn’t let that attitude pass. He knew the senator was uneasy about something, probably the annoying noise of the construction crew installing the protective curtains from the other side of the glass windows. Perhaps it was the feeling of vertigo she imagined as she watched them dangle from the building on ropes nine floors above the ground. Or maybe it was the nerves of knowing she’d be without her security team that had protected her so well in the past few days.

Or maybe it was something else, some news from her information network about Druad or Ederon. Hunter reminded himself that Vintra Selana was a Galactic Senator, and he’d seen her deal with more frustrating situations, make decisions that pushed her beyond her own limits. She’d only just learned that the person who had saved her from killing herself was now seeking to take it upon himself to finish what he’d once prevented.

She must’ve had bigger concerns than dispatching her security team. Perhaps it was he who was projecting his own fears onto the senator's insecure behaviors.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve heard your concerns and opinions, rest assured that I’ll keep them in mind whenever I evaluate alternatives so that my bill doesn’t intervene with these disquietudes,” the senator's melodious and gentle voice echoed back into the venue after several minutes, in which different senators laid out all the reasons why they were still withholding their vote regarding the Druad ceasefire bill. Vintra had organized a meeting with thirty representatives, hoping to turn her situation around and regain the twenty votes she’d lost the day before, in addition to those that her opposition had taken advantage of in gaining after the closing of the Senate Building and the postponement of the general assembly.

In the background, the hammering of metal against metal and the sizzle of welding should’ve made the senator's voice seem drowned out, vulnerable and even at a disadvantage. Instead, she sounded like the lead voice of an aggressive symphony chorus. Rather than sounding uncomfortable from the inconvenient external noise, it was as if the rumbling on the walls gave her words an authoritative and fierce effect. Like thunderclaps of anger venting to the sound of a cruel goddess' voice.

“I’m aware that Senators Carsen, Liepin, and Farwan have spoken with you as well, about ways in which in exchange for your votes you’d get benefits from the profits of business done with the thusten, as well as royalties for your contribution to the metal industry, which could boost the economy of the Systems you represent, and even secure you all one more term in office among your constituents,” Vintra leaned back on her comfortable gray meeting couch, rested her right arm on the surface of the backrest, and her other hand on her left thigh. In the long black dress, tight to her slender and curvaceous body, she looked elegant and majestic, like the mistress of all opinion and truth when she took that pose. The white, elbow-length sleeves, which opened from her elbows and fell like dancing veils on the skin of her arms to her knees, counterbalanced the touch of the dress with a pure and solemn one, which dominated over all black hidden and conspiratorial intentions with white justice and gentleness.

“As well as votes for our bills,” added one of the senators at the meeting, whose name Hunter couldn’t remember at all. He was a tarsunt, representing the Suntilla System. Vintra raised an eyebrow and pointed her hand at the senator, as if conceding another point in favor of her opposition.

“Yes, you’d be very well spoiled in exchange for a mere vote,” she remarked amid faint derisive laughter. “So, in essence, I should offer you something even greater or beneficial to win your support, right?” the senators turned to look at each other, almost with excited and triumphant expressions, as if what they’d waited for months was finally arriving at their doorstep. An offer from Vintra Selana. “I'm not offering you a shit.”

Almost as if the construction team knew what those words implied, the noise of their work was interrupted at that moment. An eerie silence intruded as the main character in the meeting. Vintra even noticed that she could let it settle on the senators' minds and chests for a moment, so it’d made their postures and countenances uncomfortable. She kept her sly smile, she knew it’d add to the uncertainty of her colleagues, and even provoke annoyance and anger. She needed to unsettle them.

“Why should I offer you anything in return for your support against a massacre? It seems to me that I’d be spoiling your interests as political leaders, and I’d give the opportunity to my opponents to believe that they can keep offering more and more benefits in exchange for you turning your vote again... I don't have time for these fuck-arounds, dear colleagues,” her smile disappeared, and her cheerful amethyst gaze turned into bloody wine. The nervousness that gnawed at her was replaced by fury, she felt she’d turn into a flame of fire if she didn’t stop, for the idea of having to beg for votes was already beginning to tire and sicken her. Innocents were dying, and those scoundrels were so used to demanding something for themselves that they allowed such barbarities for the sake of making some profit. “Why should you vote for the cease-fire in Druad? I want you to remember your own history, the roots from which your freedom and autonomy as a race comes. Have you not asked yourselves what’s your reason for standing every day in front of all your people? Is there not an ounce of honor towards the sacrifice of thousands of years of evolution and effort with which you want to contribute to history?

All of you here share the same origin: you come from conquered planets. Millennia ago, the Republic fought against your ancestors, seeking expansion and sovereignty over the thousands of planets that were added to the galactic map, and millions of your planet’s resources were appropriated until they disappeared. Wasn't the magalyte a precious stone of Macrasia, valued as the jewel of the gods and whose excavation was forbidden by the ancestral civilization? Eirena, surely you remember that the Republic didn’t care much for the cultural weight of that jewel, now scattered in the galaxy and only accessible to nobles or aristocrats with enough capital to pay for it as an accessory, unable to comprehend what for some was an empyrean gift.

And maybe the Republic was right, it was just a beautiful and scarce stone, maybe they did them a favor. But what about the xidonite, Lauxander? Three centuries of slavery the arxains suffered at the hands of the nobles of the neighboring planet Nereirea for the precious mineral. Rumor had it that it was the best conductor of heat at the time, and the Republic gladly fought for your people’s freedom in exchange for being granted authority over the xidonite. Didn't they abandon your people halfway through the war, when it was discovered that the ore's lifespan was only three years? It took nearly five hundred years before Arxana, at its moment of extreme crisis, developed a method to extend the effective time of the material and could offer it to the Republic in exchange for on-planet investment.

I could mention cases about each of your Systems, but I think I’ve managed to remind you of them, haven't I? Now, I must ask you, are we not fortunate that we didn’t live in those times? It’s thanks to those sacrifices that our planets now enjoy excellent exuberance, but there’s such a difference in the conditions of today and before that we seem to have moved away from the true value that the purchase of our planets meant at the time.

But Druad? Before our eyes we have a similar case. The opposition has been showered with arguments attempting to convince you that the drulium appropriation is in Druad's best interest in terms of its socio-economic growth projections. Based on what I ask? They seemed to be fine without the Republic, and have made it clear that they don't intend to exchange anything but tourist asylum, because... how could they contribute to our great intergalactic network?

The rulers of Druad were wise to analyze the possibility of becoming involved in a larger machine, for they realized that they’d be a tiny part of an immense whole. As a planet dependent only on its star material, when it was exhausted, they'd be mere puppets of more powerful planets. Were you not excited about what kind of gifts I’d offer you? Were you not already willing to sell your own autonomy to someone who could pay you well? Or worse, would you hesitate to give me your vote if, thanks to my network, I threatened to expose confidential information about your Systems? Or secrets of yours?

Druad wants no part of this, it’d be their end. And the fact that this Republic, and you Galactic Senators, find the idea that the Separatists want drulium more abhorrent than the fact that we’re murdering millions of innocents in the name of self-defense, is to go back thousands of years in our quest for a just and benevolent democratic system. And to still doubt how to exercise your vote, when you’ve descended from a history like Druad's, is an insult to your ancestors.

Remember that you haven’t achieved your landscapes of today thanks to the help of the Republic, but despite it. Your riches were drained, who knows if today your worlds would be almost as powerful as Chandrila or Corellia. Or if they'd be home to so much life capable of reproducing several beings fit to become Jedi. And Druad will no longer be, thanks to the destruction the violent response with which we have “protected” their lands. Whether it was the Republic's intention or not, the reality is that, instead of improving the planet, the numbers and reports show only destruction. Isn't it enough? Shouldn't we open a channel of negotiation, for the sake of the druadan?

We have the evidence that Druad never wanted to be part of our political network, also that the Republic took advantage of the convenient death of the regents, who refused to collaborate, to impose a government alien to the natives of the planet, and on top of that without their consent. All this time, our government has been part of a not even subtle plan to take the drulium from them, we’d continue to support this violation of the law if it weren’t for the Jedi Order discovering a copy of the autonomy treaty, does that tell you nothing of what you refrain from supporting? A foul game has been played under our noses, and I’m not willing to turn my eyes away.

No, I offer you nothing to make you do the right thing, senators. I remind you of where you come from, and I dare you to turn your eyes with what’s now taking place in front of you.”

The morale of those present in each hologram fell to the foundations of the crest of corpses upon which they posed. Senator Selana's words had them projected there, with thousands of characters beneath their feet with their gazes set upon them. It was easy to forget a history they were never a part of in the flesh, but it didn't take them long to project a different world against the current landscape when Vintra Selana spoke with that sharp and direct intonation. It was also not hard to see their disadvantage when they saw her with such might, as one of the most powerful politicians in the Republic thanks to her world’s own resources and history, despite also possessing a past of slavery and exploitation.

Vintra didn’t soften her countenance, and didn’t pretend to regret any words. She looked at those present with disapproval and accusation. And, when she saw in their faces that there was still hesitation, she leaned across the table and displayed a lurid hologram.

Images of the exact moments when civilians were being hit by Republic missiles, Separatist tanks crushing druadan bodies and animals still alive, children and old people screaming in horror as their bodies were reached by explosion fire. Civilians with skin diseases from the gases and chemicals used to fight the enemy, corpses of malnourished people, animals incinerated and on the verge of collapse from the pain of their mutilated bodies. Screams, tears, blood, organs, vomit, and death. So much death that Vintra made sure that there wouldn’t be a day that the senators present weren’t reminded of such horrors.

For the first time in his life, Hunter felt an inexplicable sense of defeat. As if after long days of siege, his ammunition had run out, and his brothers defeated. As if he was the only one left, surrounded by a burning field and by an enemy army that ordered him to kneel and raise his hands if he wished to preserve his insignificant life. As if the future outlook was black, far from a life devised long ago, which he faced with his head down and his strength exhausted.

He could say that he’d seen everything on the front lines, which was no lie. And of course, there were such scenes on every planet to which they were sent. But Druad's case was different for many reasons.

He hadn’t confessed it to the senator, for he knew that it wasn’t his place to give political opinions openly. Besides, he wasn't sure if a clone should be meddling in issues like Druad's. But it was unavoidable how he felt. He was against military occupation on a planet with no Senate representation and such a high level of hostility that they hadn’t yet been sent to the planet because the Operation Center considered it too unsafe to send such a valuable squadron.

It wasn’t news to the soldier platoons how aggressive the battlefield was on Druad, and every time one was sent, it was almost like receiving a final death sentence. No squad returned alive, and almost all the ammunition needed elsewhere was sent as a priority to the battalions in Druad. The horrors of those trenches were only told through rumors, based on short transmissions that managed to be sent from the planet, known for not having proper communication channels. The few details of their descriptions, accompanied by the obvious massacre of soldiers who were sent away and never returned, fed the imagination of what was being experienced.

And, if soldiers trained and willing to die for a Republic were wiped out in that way, he didn’t dare to imagine children, animals or any other being foreign to any kind of war violence, receiving the same fire as they did. It was an act beyond outrageous and monstrous. Senator Selana was absolutely right to demand a ceasefire.

Contrary to the afterglow of the previous day, the rays of a sun that was already lost behind the most distant buildings in sight painted the sky a tender pink, like faint vestiges of an ancient and past fierce bloodbath. With that scene, which evoked a fading feeling of a great event, Hunter finally received the report of their next mission.

Kashyyyk, the home planet of the Wookies.

It almost seemed ironic. At last, they were assigned to a planet they wanted so much to visit, to test their ability of the language of the admirable creatures, to learn their culture and to fight with them against their enemies; but even that wasn’t able to erase from his chest the cold feeling of leaving the senator behind. Hunter knew it was wrong to depart if he wasn't excited to get on the road at once to his next destination. Especially if it was Kashyyyk.

“Sir?” he was snapped out of his mind by the Coruscant guard in front of him. He’d forgotten the reason he had gone to open the door of the senator's apartment. It was more than obvious that he needed to get some rest at once.

“Yes, you sure it has the specs I gave you?” he replied after shaking his head and taking the package handed to him by the clone. The latter sneered, indignant that a defective clone would get authoritative with him. Hunter was in no mood to make a scene.

“Of course I am,” his tone almost drove him out of his mind, but he restrained himself with all his might and just dismissed the soldier so he could go back inside. The senator had just finished letting out a long sigh as she lounged gracelessly on her S-shaped couch. She’d worn her hair down all day, but now it looked tousled and worn, as if from it she drew all the energy to endure hours of meetings without stopping to talk or discuss extensive topics of great importance to an entire population.

Hunter approached her and noticed her consumed. Her eyelids were throbbing shut from how hard she was pushing herself; her chest was rising with such size in search of air as if she’d just swum miles against an aggressive current, and her pulse was on the verge of a heart attack. He didn't think there was anything more important right now to her safety than her rest, and he had to make sure he left her in good hands, so he had to finally get her to sleep.

“Senator,” he said after making sure Vintra relaxed to normal pulse and breathing. He spoke softly, as he also didn't want to exalt her now that all her vital signs were beginning to slow down. Vintra slowly opened her eyes, which bore straight into the clone's golden orbs, as if they unconsciously knew the place they wished to land, without needing direction or help.

Vintra smiled.

“Ah, yes. Have you received your next mission yet?” she straightened into the seat and settled herself to better address the sergeant, who was positioned standing next to the couch. She noticed he was holding a package, perhaps necessary for his trip to the assigned planet.

Hunter tensed his jaw, no emotion or relief showing in his expression. “Yes, we'll leave as soon as the boys finish loading their gear,” as those words flooded the air, a fleeting emptiness shot through both of their stomachs, like a spear of ice cutting and piercing. Vintra forced a smile. It didn't take Hunter long to notice it, he was too experienced to notice false expressions. He'd noticed that same grimace on the senator the first time they'd met. Except, this time, there was no rejection.

“Nice, well...I thank you very much for your services. I know we got off on the wrong foot...and it stayed that way, truth be told, but I'm grateful for your performance, sergeant. For the last time, I'm alive because of you, and that's all that’ll matter when I have to weigh in on you and your squadron,” she spoke, in what Hunter tried to interpret as a farewell.

He looked at her for a few seconds and contemplated her day-to-day life from now on. Would her guards really be prepared to monitor her safety? How would they know if her food wasn't poisoned? How would they be aware of spy droids? Would she remember the choreographed sniper escape they’d practiced the first night? How well would they check that the filtered air in the apartment was free of toxins?

He didn't know from where or why such a need to protect her had arisen, but now it seemed to be in control of him. Perhaps he’d been captivated by the way she worked. Ruthless, but on the right side. He still felt repulsed by her threats and dirty plays, but he couldn't deny that it was intriguing to see her wield such power to obtain something that, for him, was ultimately good: Druad's liberation.

There was something about her and the way she spoke and believed in such absurd ideals that whispered in the farthest part of his brain how important she was to the galaxy. He wished to see more of her, the way she managed to turn her situations around and was interested in the people she represented.

He remembered that she was still the senator who condemned the use of clones as an army and that probably if she won her bill, she’d proceed to propose the entire dismantling of the military. But now he understood better who she was, and the reasons she might have for advocating such an idea. He still thought war was inevitable and necessary. But not in Druad; and, in those moments, that was what Vintra Selana was trying to accomplish.

“You know, when you lost Senator Haan's twenty votes, I thought it’d be a more complicated situation for you,” he changed the subject, unwilling to say goodbye to her until the last second when Tech would inform him that everything was ready for their departure. Besides, the senator was still awake, and, at that moment, raising one of her brown eyebrows in some disbelief. “But in one afternoon you got thirty,” he applauded, though it didn't seem that Vintra received it as a compliment.

“Sergeant, I spent an entire night researching the history of hundreds of planets, looking for those that shared similarities with Druad's case, and on top of that going over hundreds of plenaries and bills from so many senators with malleable character but honorers of their word and good causes.... I needed these votes because I plan to get thirty more tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that until I get to the next plenary with a battalion I feel confident with,” she expounded fervently, incredulous that the sergeant believed she’d gotten all that support by sheer luck. If only it were that simple. “Your brother, Tech, helped me quite a bit. I think I'll miss him the most.”

It shouldn't surprise him, Tech had been intrigued and admired by the senator all along, unbiased about her and even willing to be of any help he could to her bill. He was glad to hear that she appreciated her brother's efforts, and to know that Tech had been able to accomplish what he’d set out to do.

However, he was disappointed to hear that, because even though he was the one who’d saved her life, she wouldn’t miss him as much as the one who’d helped her get thirty votes on her bill. It was just natural; he already knew that Vintra Selana put that fight above her own life. But he still couldn't shake the disappointment of the revelation.

“Hmm, you'll have to rest for that, senator. Your brain holds out to a certain limit, and you've passed it long ago,” the clone suggested in a dragging voice, tired as well, as if trying to pass the feeling on to her. Vintra's eyelids drooped, and he could tell she was having trouble keeping them open. But, even looking like that, she closed her eyes and shook her head decisively.

“If I could, I would, sergeant. But how can I afford such a luxury? Right now, parents in Druad are finding the corpses of their children. Children of their parents. Entire families are wiped out, legacies lost, and entire ecosystems destroyed. In Thandaria, they’re still digging through the rubble in search of trapped people, without rest and food... I—”

Vintra opened her eyes and found the clone squatting a few inches away to her left, his gaze below hers, and suggesting truce. It was the last time they’d see each other, so this time he wasn't going to order her anything or let her impose her wishes with threats or idiocy. That's why he was bending down to her height, to ask her for a last requisition. Vintra looked at him in surprise, her heart quickening its pace at finding him so close without having realized he had moved. And the way he looked at her, tired too after all that mission in which he almost gave his life for her, made her feel that they were on the same square of the board.

It had been a tremendous adventure for both of them.

“Resting is also taking care of your people,” he spoke in a patient, gentle voice. It was the first time Vintra had heard him in that tone, and it sent a sense of security and care that she soon felt absent. In a couple of hours, she’d lose that forever. “The last thing your security team needs in the middle of an attack is for your body to collapse from exhaustion,” she laughed at the scenario, not taking it seriously. “We've put an incredible amount of effort into protecting you, too much for you to perish due to your lack of cooperation.”

Vintra couldn't help but chuckle with light laughter, thanks to the tone in which Hunter was chiding her. She found it funny that the sergeant was too tired to invest energy in disdainfully complaining to her about her uncooperativeness. It was their least aggressive argument.

“You, sergeant, have really taught me that everything can be a safety issue,” her eyes closed heavily, but Vintra forced herself to open them again. “You could make an excellent life insurance salesman,” but she only heard the clone's weary sigh.

“Do you know how snow wolves hunt?” he asked, in a low tone of voice, just for her to hear, and as if he wanted to be careful not to startle her if she raised it any higher. Vintra looked into each of his honey orbs, then shook her head. “When they find a horde, they keep their distance while they inspect it, looking for any animals weaker than the rest, either by age or physical condition. The horde becomes desperate when the wolves don't leave after a long time, and panic eventually forces it to flee. In the chaos, the wolves have already chosen a target and begin their pursuit. Even if the prey is faster, if it is weakened the wolves must only increase that condition. They take turns leading the charge, bite the prey on their paws, assault and terrify it, they can do it for miles if necessary. The prey, after running and being wounded, unable to stop to regain strength for a moment, becomes so weak that the wolves manage to kill it,” he explained, and his words managed to make Vintra's hair stand on end as she placed her face on that of a helpless animal, and Stass's on that of a huge snow wolf. A lump formed in her throat, which she struggled to swallow in an attempt to push away the discomfort. “Just because others are protecting you, doesn't mean you don't have to do your part. It's your life that's at risk,” he pointed out in rhyme of a phrase she’d said to him the day before about being thankful for her life. Vintra instantly remembered that conversation and her own words. “Right now, you are the ideal prey at the perfect time.”

Vintra felt in danger at the frightening thought of not having enough energy to run from Stass's clutches. What if having her in veil was also part of his plan?

“I need you to rest, please,” blurted the soft voice of the sergeant in front of her, who closed his eyes as he blinked, and took a while until he reopened them. Vintra swallowed saliva and furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

Hunter noticed the fear that invaded her body, as if she didn’t want to enter the uncertainty of the darkness of a deep sleep. He’d seen it on the hostile front, for different reasons. The fear of bodily deceleration after shocking events, of letting one's guard down. Many developed the ability to sleep with one eye open, and others lost their wits completely.

He had no doubt that Vintra Selana had terrifying dreams, but she had to take the risk to gain some rest. In any case, these were dangers beyond Hunter’s reach. It was up to her to face them alone.

Vintra sealed her eyelids and sighed heavily. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she allowed her exhaustion to take full control of her body. Hunter felt relieved that she was yielding to his request, and it’d give him some peace of mind to know that, when she woke up without them as bodyguards, she’d at least be lucid enough to face any danger with strength.

“Very well. I give you my vote,” Vintra's neck lost strength, and the slight nod that almost sent her forward towards the sergeant forced her to stay awake a while longer. Hunter smiled slightly in amusement at the sight of her, and without taking his gaze from her began to open the package he still held in his hands.

Vintra massaged the back of her neck as she listened to the sound the sergeant made as he opened the package. Her eyes remained closed.

“I apologize for the delay, we had to order a special one for you,” the sergeant said, which got Vintra's attention and made her open her eyes again. In front of her laid a small sized blaster, barely the length of the clone's hand. Vintra looked at him in surprise, then at the blaster. “There aren't many of this size with enough stun power to be effective, so Tech worked on its modifications. You can easily hide it under your robes. It has no live fire and will only be useful to you if your attacker is within two meters, so you'll only use it when you have no other choice,” he explained, rather patiently and almost kindly.

The device was a little larger than Vintra's hand, and the grip was slim, so she could cover it with all her fingers. It was silver, and written on one side were his initials. It almost looked like a toy.

Vintra blinked several times, like mental slaps, to make sure that what she saw wasn’t unreal. That was the first time she’d reach out for a gun in ten years, when her own fingers pulled the trigger of a gun pointed inside her head, which Vice Admiral Stass had deflected just at the last second to manage to save her life.

“This is the last thing I can offer you as a safety measure, and I really hope you never have to use it,” Hunter said, and pointed to a small switch on the side of the gun, at the top of the handle. “That's the safety, always keep it in that position, unless you must shoo—”

After noticing Vintra's lower lip tremble, and the corners of her eyes flood with tears, the last thing Hunter thought would happen was for Senator Selana to throw herself at him and wrap him in a disconsolate, trembling embrace. Light sobs burst in his ear as Vintra clung tighter and tighter to him, and it took Hunter a couple of seconds to take in the reaction of the most powerful ederian in the galaxy.

“Thank you, sergeant,” she said in delicate whispers with moist intonations. He wasn't sure what exactly she was thanking him for, whether for saving her life in the Senate, swallowing her threats, offering her a blaster capable of only stunning... or all together.

And he recognized the scent of fear she was giving off at that moment, too. The senator had a bold way of trying to regain her honor, as she faced a war without her best shields, something that terrified her, but she’d rather make amends for her abuse of power than watch over her own life. Hunter still saw it as a lousy decision, but he also respected the ederian's intentions.

And because he couldn't help but feel concern for her, his arms were quick to wrap around her as well in a farewell embrace, which conveyed a sense of protection to Vintra that made her shed more fearful tears of what her future might bring.

But they both knew one thing, and it was that Vintra Selana wasn’t a woman of weak will or character. They both feared for her life, but even if she was defeated, they knew that she wouldn’t go down without putting up a good fight, and that with her life or her death she’d be sure to raise a wave of resistance and chaos so that the druadan would survive another day. That woman wasn’t easy to bring down.

“You'll be fine, senator.”

The Havoc Marauder's hatch closed behind the sergeant of the clone squadron that inhabited it, and the sound of the engine and impulse charge for the jump into hyperspace made their departure from the great planet of Coruscant, Capital of the Galaxy, more real than ever.

“All set for takeoff.”

Tech announced from the pilot's seat. He heard him discuss with Wrecker and Crosshair additional configurations for their landing on Kashyyyk, but his voice was drowned out as Hunter advanced into the ship's interior in search of glorious repose. Not only physically, for he was enveloped by a terrible feeling of emptiness that he couldn’t remedy with anything.

Once in his bunk, despite being in a comfortable and familiar environment for him, it took him a while to follow the invisible trail that would slowly lead him to the bewildering black hole of rest. In his mind, there were more active currents, stinging at the edges of his head with voltages in the form of purple eyes and long dresses. He was too tired to fight his own mind according to the course it wished to take, but there were routes that wouldn't let him sleep either.

They had spent five days on Coruscant assigned to the care of a senator, and he had to admit that it hadn’t been as he had expected it to be. Of all the things he imagined they’d see as soon as they landed on the capital planet, very few had come true.

Being in charge of a politician, in the sergeant's head, would’ve meant encountering resistance from her to their security measures, which had happened, but also being dragged to fake public meetings that’d push campaigns for useless bills, long days in which they’d witness injustices in which they’d have no authority to raise their voice, constant meetings full of stupid talk baptized as arguments about war, economy and society. He really expected to encounter every scene that would explain the inequalities and irregularities in the planets to which they were sent.

On many of them, they had problems completing missions safely because of the lack of supplements for them, for civilians and for native soldiers. In many other cases, the evacuation process was complicated by political issues and many citizens died due to the inefficiency of their government. In others, senators forced workers not to vacate plants even though they were in the field of fire, because of contracts that determined the economy on which thousands depended. And in others, the answers from their representatives never reached the most remote places, as if they weren’t interested in the problems of the most vulnerable.

Not to mention their own experiences, where requesting equipment or instructions was only a success on planets of high political interest, such as Geonosis or Ryloth. But there were cases where getting the necessary permissions was bogged down in discussions in the Senate war committees, where senators influenced and gave the go-ahead according to particular interest in the bills they were fighting for, or simple revenge against a rival. Actions that citizens without resources paid for to the extent of even costing them their own lives.

But that wasn’t what had happened when accompanying Senator Selana for so many days. The only thing they had seen her do was work. Meetings in which she discussed real issues in the System she represented, court hearings regarding the violation of a treaty of independence, hours without rest in which she read reports of catastrophes on planets outside her direct jurisdiction, and in which she wrote reports on suggestions for ways to support to provide financial assistance from her office’s reserved funds or to motivate her own System to collaborate with donations.

Hunter had seen it all firsthand, and still found it hard to believe that Vintra actually worked hard for the welfare and service of the Republic. It implied that what he criticized so much might not be due to the processes in politics, and it made him uncomfortable to think about the alternatives of those responsible for so much injustice.

What if they were the ones to blame, as the senator criticized so much? The plans they followed, the places they attacked, the orders the rest of the regs obeyed. Or maybe it really was the higher ups in the Republic, people like Vice Admiral Stass or those who had violated the Druad autonomy treaty and killed so many druadan for the thusten.

If that was the case, he had to admit that the battle arena on Coruscant was terrifying. Distinguishing friend from foe was impossible, relying on contacts and resources, such as the senator's network, were key to survival. Threats were never visible, and a single handshake could seal the fate of thousands and the work of months of a group seeking justice. It wasn’t as simple as shooting the opponent, since on Coruscant they were untouchable.

Moreover, Hunter would know if the senator's concern for the least heard was only a facade. But it wasn't, for every meeting she approached she did it with her full attention and dedication, and didn't rush anyone else to resolve something that fell within her responsibility. Every aspect of Druad's case was worked on by herself. She was putting her own life on the line to attend to that bill herself.

It wasn’t what he had expected to find, and he had to admit that perhaps he misjudged her. There was still much to learn about her, and now more than ever he was eager to know why she was so interested in a planet outside her responsibility. Was there something at stake for her, perhaps Druad's favor over free routes for her information network, or to gain power in some way? But if not, why was she doing it? What was so appealing about risking her life and fighting against the current in the galaxy's deadliest snake pit?

Hunter didn't know if he really wanted to know the answer. He found himself hesitant because it could imply that maybe, at the end of it all, he’d be right all along and she was just a corrupt politician; she had already let him down once, even if the reason they were leaving was precisely because she was trying to right that wrong. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to be wrong about her either, otherwise he’d be closer to admitting that, maybe, he liked her a little.

As soon as the Bad Batch made the jump to hyperspace and Coruscant was left a million miles behind him, Hunter couldn't help but think that for all that Vintra Selana was, he was sure that he had never met anyone like her before.

aaaaand that's it!!! For part one, of course :)

Thank you so much if you've get until here! I really really appreciate the time and effort you put in keeping up with this story. We have finally finished starting our engines. And, same kind of note I wrote in the prelude, I want to update some of the heads up concerning what's coming.

I still have many plots up my sleeve, the darkest ones are still on hold to debut. Some have been mentioned already, and I wanted to drop an easter egg in this one but just couldn't find where. I'm really excited to get there.

Also, there are still some characters that haven't showed up yet, like Vintra's main oppositor: Senator Carsen. Remember the name ;) And there weren't many references to the clone wars in this first part… well, that's gonna change in this second part.

As for the second part, I need to tell you something. First, it's gonna be a little bit larger than the first one, maybe five more chapters. It's an intense drama, I'm trying to make it feel really desperate and that everyone has a hard time, the characters, the readers and, well, me too! The main stage's gonna be the Supreme Court, there are gonna be a lot of antagonists annnnnd Vintra will have to fight with all her might to survive this new challenge.

Now, second, look… I really wanted to finish this first part because I'm about to enter in my work and my personal life a period that needs my entire attention. So, I'm not gonna be able to translate or edit anything properly, or I'm gonna delay so much in updates in the middle of a new part and I don't want that, I prefer to stop here when it has this feeling that a chapter's over, like if a first season is over, and then come back with regular updates and all that. How much? Well, I need two months :S Around the middle of November I promise I'll surprise you with an update and the start of the next part! Also because there's gonna be a timeskip in the story, conveniently of two months as well. So by doing this we'll all feel really the amount of time Vintra's gonna be gone from our lives, and also Hunter!

I also want to focus on reading more fics in this time, especially senator-clone centeres so I'm careful not to write something that's already been thought. If you have some recommendations, please please let me know about them!

With that said, I must thank you again for the support of this story. I'm really happy someone wanted to click on it and keep reading what I had the need to write, and I told myself at the beginning "don't worry if nobody reads, comment or leaves kudos, you're doing it for yourself as well" but I can't deny how excting it is to read your comments and see the number of kudos increasing, or the reblogs in tumblr and likes. The mentions in posts recommending this story and the small interactions with other authors! I'm really grateful for this experience, and I can't wait to come back to this!

Thank you, really, for everything!! And me and Vintra will see you in two months!!

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kaylagraypa · 3 months

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youtube

For many years I did not feel safe inside of myself. Inside felt scary, intrusive thoughts popping up at any time, out of the blue and in any place, and about the scariest things. Anxiety builds within anticipation of a new, terrifying thought.

I became scared of the outside world. For everything seemed to become a new scary thing. This looming feeling my world could be turned upside down any moment, and many times it had. This feeling that anything can become terrifying often leads to avoidance, the shrinking of our world and decreased quality of life.

OCD targets the things you value the most . OCD can turn a source of comfort into anxiety. Something healthy can turn unhealthy something once joyous can become frightening. This is how OCD can grow, this is how OCD can progress and make our worlds smaller.

I think more research needs to be done, more and awareness about OCD and trauma. OCD can be traumatizing to relationships. It can be traumatizing to the feeling of connection with others. It can be traumatizing to the point where you don't even know yourself or what you could be capable of and questioning that every day. The level of unease we walk around with can be and is traumatizing and it's not often recognized enough for those with OCD.

So what can we do?The brain has the ability to change there's something called neuroplasticity which is the brain's ability to create new neural pathways and patterns.Through repetition new patterns can be made and old patterns can be let go of. It can take a long time and lot of hard uncomfortable work to be able to rewire these neural pathways, but it can be done. ERP therapy can help your brain to realize there is a different way to relate and respond to triggers. This is writing a new story for yourself.

You don't always have to guard yourself. You are safe. You don't always have to mentally or physically guard yourself. can slow down, you don't have to keep busy. You don't have to run anymore. You don't have to guard yourself against every intrusive thought or trigger. You are safe inside. You are safe even if intrusive thoughts pop up. You don't have to live in shame and guilt and hide from others anymore. You don't have to brace for the next triggering thing. You are safe inside yourself and you are safe in the world. There is a light, a goodness and purity inside you that OCD cannot touch. No intrusive thought can dampen, tarnish or put out the light that is your truest form.

Resources

OCD

International OCD Foundation

International OCD Foundation | Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) (iocdf.org)

Elsevier - OCD therapy retrains the brain

Access remains the most serious barrier to cardiac rehabilitation. (elsevier.com)

Alegra Kastens NY Therapist - Instagram resources

Alegra Kastens | NY Therapist | OCD Specialist | OCD doesn’t just impact a person mentally. It can greatly impact someone physically. The mind and the body are connected ♾️ . It’s not “all… | Instagram

Alegra Kastens | NY Therapist | OCD Specialist | I have “big T” trauma and my OCD was 1000x more traumatic and life-threatening. I have “big T” trauma that stems from compulsions I did… | Instagram

Alegra Kastens | NY Therapist | OCD Specialist | Avoiding what reminds you of painful OCD experiences can be a trauma response 😮‍💨I don’t use the world trauma lightly. . When I say… | Instagram

Book

Relationship OCD by Sheva Rajaee

Relationship OCD: A CBT-Based Guide to Move Beyond Obsessive Doubt, Anxiety, and Fear of Commitment in Romantic Relationships - Kindle edition by Rajaee, Sheva. Health, Fitness & Dieting Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Neuroplasticity

What Is Neuroplasticity? How It Works (clevelandclinic.org)

Neuroplasticity | Psychology Today United Kingdom

#ocd recovery #ocd #mental health awareness #mental helath #mental health #ocd awareness #actually ocd #harm ocd #youtube #saftey #mental health resources #ocd intrusive thoughts #intrusive thoughts #intrusive images #intrusive thinking #Youtube

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govindhtech · 1 year

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Latest options for generative AI app creators

Generative AI is no longer a buzzword or “tech for tech’s sake.” Today, small and large companies across industries are using generative AI to create value for their employees and consumers. This has led to new methods including quick engineering, retrieval augmented generation, and fine-tuning to help enterprises use generative AI for their particular use cases and data. Innovation occurs along the value chain, from new foundation models and GPUs to unique applications of extant capabilities like vector similarity search and MLOps for generative AI. These fast expanding methods and technology will help enterprises improve generative AI application efficiency, accuracy, and safety. That means everyone can be more productive and creative!

Generative AI inspires new audiences to work on AI initiatives. Software developers who once thought AI and machine learning were for data scientists are selecting, customizing, evaluating, and deploying foundation models. Also, many company leaders feel a feeling of urgency to ramp up on AI technology to better grasp the opportunities, limitations, and hazards. This growth in addressable audiences excites Microsoft Azure and drives us to offer more integrated and personalized experiences that make responsible AI accessible to all skillsets. It also reminds us to invest in education so that all our clients can safely and ethically benefit from generative AI, regardless of their AI journey.

This month’s interesting news focuses on giving developers and data science teams more generative AI model options and application customization freedom. In the spirit of education, check out these core learning resources:

For Business leaders

AI Success Foundation: A Leader’s Guide: Learn from Microsoft, our customers and partners, industry analysts, and AI leaders to help your company succeed in AI transformation.

Change your business with Microsoft AI: This 1.5-hour learning route gives business leaders the skills and resources to implement AI. It examines responsible AI project planning, strategy, and scale.

Career Essentials in Generative AI: This 4-hour course covers AI fundamentals, generative AI capabilities, how to use it in your daily work, and responsible AI.

For builders

Introduction to generative AI: This 1-hour course explains LLMs, Azure OpenAI Service, and responsible AI solution planning.

Start Building AI Plugins With Semantic Kernel: Beginners will learn about Microsoft’s open-source orchestrator, Semantic Kernel, prompts, semantic functions, and vector databases in this 1-hour session.

Working with Azure Machine Learning generative AI models: In this 1-hour intermediate session, you’ll learn about the Transformer architecture and how to fine-tune a foundation model using Azure Machine Learning’s model catalog.

New, strong speech and vision foundation models in Azure AI

Azure are always searching for methods to help machine learning professionals and developers find, tweak, and integrate huge pre-trained AI models. A common hub for exploring Hugging Face, Meta, and Azure OpenAI Service foundation models was launched in May as a public preview. In another milestone, the Azure AI model library released a variety of new open-source vision models for image classification, object recognition, and picture segmentation this month. These models let developers simply add sophisticated, pre-trained vision models to their apps for predictive maintenance, smart retail store solutions, autonomous vehicles, and other computer vision situations.

Azure announced in July that Azure AI services would include OpenAI’s Whisper concept.Azure launched Whisper in Azure OpenAI Service and Azure AI Speech in public preview this month. Whisper transcribes audio in 57 languages. The foundation model can translate all those languages to English and provide transcripts with improved readability, complementing Azure AI strengths. Customers may quickly and accurately transcribe huge amounts of audio content using Whisper and the Azure AI Speech batch transcription API. We hope customers will use Whisper to make information more accessible.

Apply code-first experiences and model monitoring for generative AI to application development

MLOps for LLMs, or “LLMOps,” will help enterprises realize the full promise of generative AI as adoption accelerates and develops. At Microsoft Build 2023, we announced quick flow features in Azure Machine Learning to create, experiment, evaluate, and deploy LLM processes faster. This month, we previewed a code-first prompt flow experience in our SDK, CLI, and VS Code extension. Generative AI teams may now more easily use quick testing, optimization, and version control to move from ideation through experimentation to production-ready systems.

Deploying your LLM application in production isn’t the end. Data and user behavior can affect your application over time, resulting in obsolete AI systems that hurt business outcomes and put enterprises at regulatory and reputational risk. Azure Machine Learning previews model monitoring for generative AI applications this month. Users may now collect production data, analyze key safety, quality, and token usage metrics recurringly, receive crucial issue warnings, and view the results on a beautiful dashboard.

Enterprise search is changing with Azure Cognitive Search and Azure OpenAI Service

Microsoft Bing is changing how people find relevant web content. Bing will now intelligently evaluate your question and find the finest solutions from around the internet instead of displaying a long list of links. Additionally, the search engine provides clear, concise information with trustworthy data source connections. This search experience change simplifies and speeds up internet browsing.

If organizations could search, navigate, and analyze internal data as easily and efficiently, it would alter them. This new paradigm would let employees quickly access company knowledge and leverage enterprise data. This is Retrieval Augmented Generation architecture. With Azure Cognitive Search and Azure OpenAI Service, enterprises can streamline this experience.

Improve generative AI using Hybrid Retrieval and Semantic Ranking

Microsoft found that a combination of the following search techniques creates the most effective retrieval engine for most customer scenarios, especially in the context of generative AI, after extensive testing on representative customer indexes and popular academic benchmarks:

Chopping long content

Combining BM25 and vector search for hybrid retrieval

Activating semantic ranking

Developers of generative AI apps could try hybrid retrieval and reranking algorithms to improve results and please users.

Azure Cosmos DB vector search boosts Azure OpenAI Service application efficiency

Azure added sample code to their documentation and tutorials to help users understand Azure Cosmos DB and Azure OpenAI Service’s potential. Azure Cosmos DB vector search lets you maintain long-term memory and chat history in Azure OpenAI apps, enhancing user experience and LLM solution quality. Vector search lets you token-efficiently query the most appropriate context to personalize Azure OpenAI prompts. Storing vector embeddings with data in an integrated system reduces data synchronization and speeds AI app development.

#govindhtech #technology #technews #news #ai #microsoft azure #machine learning #llm

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chrisadew · 2 years

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Chiron & healing ❤️‍🩹

Chiron in our charts shows our pain points; the things that have or continue to wound us, but also allow us to heal ourselves and others. With Chiron, the healing never really ends. My original posts are up on my Instagram (@chrisadew) and include videos. Check it out if you feel like it ✨

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Healing with Chiron in Aries: the wound of self

♈️ Wounds =

Issues around independence or taking charge, lack of faith in your ability to lead; excessively impulsive, defensive and selfish tendencies, or constantly serving others before yourself. Seeing yourself through the eyes of others. Fear of following the things that ignite passion in you.

♈️ How to heal =

Start by learning to trust your instincts; take initiative and volunteer to be first sometimes. Act based on your constructive self interests. “I gotta put me first” is valid, because nothing should be at the expense of your well-being. Do things that have nothing to do with anyone else, things that honestly make you happy, light you up and nurture you. Your gift is showing others that harmony starts with being fair to yourself.

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Healing with Chiron in Taurus: the wound of loss

♉️ Wounds =

Issues around stability and sensuality, not knowing where you stand or not recognising your value. Fear of not having access to resources or a tangible foundation. Stubbornly holding on to things you’ve outgrown out of a fear of lack.

♉️ How to heal =

Start by fully committing to the things you already have by showing appreciation. Appraise them and be willing to let them go if necessary. Learn to cultivate patience by taking on something that takes time to grow - i.e. making investments into things that you really want. Think about what your value system is or what you want it to be. Think about the things that make you feel worthy, things that require steady growth and accumulation over time. Things that regularly engage and stimulate your senses. Your gift is the ability to create on your own that which was not given to you.

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Healing with Chiron in Gemini: the wound of intelligence

♊️ Wounds =

Issues with communicating or expressing your thoughts and knowledge; denying your curiosity or ignoring the facts in favour of 'being right'. Taking life too seriously or entertaining gossip. Fear of being wrong or not being heard.

♊️ How to heal =

Start by writing down or recording your own thoughts and using that to plan out what you want to express. Journaling can be therapeutic too. Practice speaking up and put yourself in places where you feel comfortable raising your voice. Seek out people who respect you and value what it is that you have to say. You can say what’s on your mind! Your gift is showing others how healthy communication opens the door to new ideas and experiences.

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Healing with Chiron in Cancer: the wound of family

♋️ Wounds =

Issues around emotional openness, feeling closed off or blocked, like you don’t belong or finding it difficult to connect with those you consider family. Feeling neglected or instinctively responding with excessive self-preservation and hiding your feelings. Fear of truly letting people in.

♋️ How to heal =

Start by learning to sit with your emotions and center them. Write them down to help you process them. Use your favourite memories to put you in a good mood and remind you of what you need to feel nurtured and protected. Make new memories with purpose. Connect with positive influences that make you feel safe enough to be vulnerable and help stabilise your emotional state. Above all, don’t deny your intuition - work with it. Your gift is showing others how to accept the dimensions within moods and feelings without judgement.

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Healing with Chiron in Leo: the wound of talent

♌️ Wounds =

Issues around attention or recognition; fear of pride and being seen as self-centered. Being made to feel like you’re not special. Seeking validation in the wrong places.

♌️ How to heal =

Start by figuring out what it is that you’re good at and love to do. Use that to start your own passion project as a way of taking the spotlight and feeding your creativity. Don’t be afraid to show it off, whatever it is. Putting yourself out there builds up your courage! Nobody else can do what you do like you. Your gift is showing others how following your heart brings you strength.

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Healing with Chiron in Virgo: the wound of perfection

♍️ Wounds =

Issues surrounding not feeling like you’re good enough; fear of being wrong, inadequate or ineffective. Overly critical (self and others), or paying attention to the wrong things. Putting your dreams on hold to take care of others; overworking yourself.

♍️ How to heal =

Start by releasing the idea of ‘perfection’; whose standards are you living by? It should be yours and nobody else’s. Do the thing that you want to do for you…just do it! The more you do, the more the anxiety around it is released. You are not responsible for the chaos. Pick up what’s yours and yours alone. There’s evidence all around you of how good you already are, don’t discount that, no matter how small, no matter how many times you may have had to reconstruct it. Your gift is showing others how to refine and build on practical wisdom.

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Healing with Chiron in Libra: the wound of relationships

♎️ Wounds =

Issues surrounding partnerships, relationships, collaboration or compromise. Giving too much where your needs aren’t being met or excessive self-centeredness. Resisting compromise in extremes, one-sided thinking or misdirected anger and passive aggression. Fear of accepting and honouring your wants and needs.

♎️ How to heal =

Start by acknowledging that while not everything should be done alone, you are your own person and worthy of reciprocity. It’s okay to invite people in and compromise, but before you do - analyse whether it’s a good match for you. There should be no imbalances. Ask for help, work with a partner, but honouring your self-identity also means clearly communicating who’s supposed to be giving what, so that things remain equal and fair. Your gift is showing others that cultivating win-win situations is possible.

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Healing with Chiron in Scorpio: the wound of depth

♏️ Wounds =

Issues around intimacy, being vulnerable with others, deep hurts and traumas; secretly taking intense measures against the people in your life to counteract feelings of distrust or holding on to meaningless grudges. Fear of powerlessness.

♏️ How to heal =

Start by asking yourself: what are you afraid of? Acknowledge that true vulnerability has its benefits. Get invested in something that requires an exchange of resources as a way of letting go of what keeps you feeling heavy. Commit to a process that takes time, but produces an outcome that makes you feel powerful in the end; get comfortable with accepting support from others and trusting them. Your gift is showing others that you can transform and develop through focus.

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Healing with chiron in Sagittarius: the wound of belief

♐️ Wounds =

Issues with limiting beliefs, fear of experiences outside your comfort zone, or taking on the truths of others as your own. Being too blunt and relying on logic over your higher mind or faith.

♐️ How to heal =

Start by assessing yourself; what is your truth? What do you believe? Break free from the indoctrination that keeps you stuck. Don’t be afraid to experience new things, environments and new journeys that give you a sense of your truth. Develop your own morals, ideals and philosophies by asking yourself honest questions. Acknowledge alternative perspectives without diminishing your own. Your gift is showing others how to expand beyond what you’ve been taught.

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Healing with Chiron in Capricorn: the wound of accomplishment

♑️ Wounds =

Issues with authority, challenge and success; feeling burdened (and resentful) with responsibility. Focusing too much on the past. Feeling like you have to ‘control’ your emotions. Fear of not meeting your potential.

♑️ How to heal =

Start by defining what success looks like to you. Make small goals and take the steps needed to achieve them. Align yourself with people that have the kind of reputation you aspire to, personally and professionally. There’s nothing wrong with letting people take care of you sometimes. Do not mistake taking on the responsibility of others as your purpose. 'Can' does not mean 'should'. Everything doesn’t have to fall on your shoulders alone. Your purpose is your purpose. Your gift is showing others how to keep the promises they make to themselves.

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Healing with Chiron in Aquarius: the wound of belonging

♒️ Wounds =

Issues with fitting in and feeling included or accepted. Distancing yourself on purpose or inflated self-importance. Seeking approval in groups that don’t understand you to begin with. Fear of alienation and being seen as ‘weird’.

♒️ How to heal =

Don’t be afraid to do things differently and on your own terms. Start by embracing your quirkiness and people will gravitate towards you. If you’re not feeling represented in the group you’re in, start your own! Seek out others with similar ideologies. The more you experiment, the more confidence has the potential to grow. You have a lot to offer and that doesn’t change based on the opinions of other people. Your gift is showing others what’s possible by being your authentic self.

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Healing with Chiron in Pisces: the wound of trust

♓️ Wounds =

Issues with selflessness, being taken advantage of or feeling misunderstood; not believing your dreams are attainable. Overindulgence in fantasy and escapism as self undoing, avoiding reality; fear of suffering.

♓️ How to heal =

Start by assessing whether what you do in the here and now supports what you want and truly desire. If not, take action on it! Denying your dreams does not serve you. Like Virgo, you are not responsible for everyone or everything. Express yourself through creation; this helps channel what you’re feeling or sensing to make it a tangible reality and avoid feeling disconnected. Trust yourself and surrender; letting go is not giving up. Your gift is showing people that if you can dream it, you can be it.

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furiousgoldfish · 2 years

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Being betrayed by your first ever bond in your childhood (be it parents, caretakers, friends, peers or relationship) puts you in a horrible psychological position, because after experiencing that, your instincts, and your learned experience will constantly clash with each other.

As humans, our instincts and desires are to bond with each other in order to be safe, connected, feel valuable, worthy, loved, taken care of. We generally feel better in a group of people we trust to do us no harm, who keep us company, fulfill our social needs, and will readily aid us in the times of trouble. This, historically, was the safest and the best way for our species to survive, we rely on each other to keep resources available, and to take care of our needs.

However, if your first experience with close bonds came with trauma, exploitation, abuse, betrayal, pain, danger, or something as extreme as being pushed into a suicidal state or close to death, your learned experience is now that bonding with others is highly dangerous, painful, terrifying and extremely risky activity. After this, your brain will keep reminding you during any kind of bonding, that you’re taking a huge risk, and will keep triggering you to the past events and how badly they damaged you, in order to keep you well aware of what could happen if you make yourself vulnerable like this again.

And so you end up in a constant conflict with your own needs and learned experience. You will still long for closeness, maybe even more than a regular person because your social needs have never been fulfilled even slightly, you’re drowning in yearning for something as simple as conversation and approval, being seen as worthy and valuable, the very basics of human connection. But you’re stopped, at your every step, by your learned experience of how risky, terrifying, and potentially deadly would it be, to actually be close to another human being.

And abuse then just builds up more burden on top of that foundation. It’s not enough you have to constantly struggle with avoiding people and wanting to be close, no, you’re also feeling guilty and ashamed, for being betrayed and abused, for how society sees you after that, for feeling the desire for intimacy, for longing to be close even though it hurt you. Abuse will also teach you that it’s your fault you got abused in the first place, so now you feel like external circumstances are internal, and it was something you did in a context of a close relationship that caused you this pain. So instead of avoiding close relationships, you reach for them and them over-focus on your own faults within, trying to locate what in your behaviour is causing others to hurt you so badly. You automatically take responsibility for everything that happens within a close bond, so you take responsibility for the abuser’s actions too, and become unable to view them critically, to condemn them, to put the blame on them for it.

Society will almost always point at you as the problem - diagnose you with ‘trust issues’, or ‘victim mentality’, and will tell you to forgive and open yourself up to love again, (or even worse, claim that you already are loved, but apparently you don’t feel it in any way), causing you to again, keep finding the faults within yourself, and never look for them externally.

Having your instincts tell you that something is dangerous and risky, after you’ve been betrayed horribly and put in an awful state by it in the past, is not ‘having trust issues’. Your ‘mentality’ cannot make anyone abuse you. Love is not something that does absolutely nothing for you and fails to protect you from pain at any point in your life. If you had to fight for yourself alone, unprotected, vulnerable and devastated, and nobody ever stood up for you or helped you, then you can correctly conclude that you were not loved. Love would stand up for you.

None of these are claims you should be forced to defend yourself from, yet this is where the conversation goes, to over-focusing on whatever the victim could have done wrong, and never placing any blame to external circumstances (such as, abusers having access to children). There’s a reason why we, as a society, know not do to fucked up things to children. There’s a reason why it’s different when it’s a child, to when it’s an adult. An adult who has managed to secure enough close bonds with others, will not be crushed by just one betrayal. A child, who is dependent on keeping a bond to survive, who has not yet learned the safe way to develop closeness with others, who is open to any bond they could possibly form, in hope of safer survival, will psychologically be turned against their own instincts, and grow to fight with themselves, and struggle to develop safe bonds, for most or all of their life.

#child abuse #safe bonding #abusive parents #psychological abuse #how betrayal in childhood affects development #abusive relationships #toxic relationships #child abuse setting up children to enter and stay in toxic relationships #toxic #toxic guilt #i feel like i managed to peel off all of the layers of shame guilt and self blamee #and now i'm left just with instincts vs learned experience #instincts want to bond and experience says it's going to kill me if i do

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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taoreta

— The world is in ruins, but there’s beauty in everything. Shouto is reminded of that when he crosses paths with a survivor who kisses him at the first meeting. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, apocalypse!au, cursing, violence, first time writing fight scenes, death, angst, fluff, blood, gore, vomit, & kinks (sexual frustration, hairpulling, biting, marking, scratching, desperation, breeding)

word count: 18,119

a/n: so the thing about apocalypse aus I found out is that the world building is so fucking fun that I forgot that this was an nsfw thing........ so I sincerely apologize if this feels rushed I tried to make this feel solid but like with enough world building to satisfy me. anyways, this is for the bnharem collab, you know the drill. this was not edited at all im so sorry.

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The world was in chaos.

Or well, it once was but still a hundred years after what could only be described as an apocalypse; well, there was still an apocalypse.

Many years ago, well before Todoroki Shouto could remember, quite frankly well before he was alive there had been the introduction of something within the human genome. It was a mutation of sorts, a new gene that allowed individuals to unlock and evolve into these powerful beings that for years longer people used to write about.

People who could breathe fire, emit ice, and fly through the sky! For years it had been a glorious step forward for humankind, a hopeful promise that maybe things would be better — that all things would end better. If Shouto looked hard enough he could still see scattered newspapers in the abandoned streets; nearly destroyed papers from well before any of his parents or grandparents were born indicating the glory days of quirks.

But what was once thought to be a step forward in human evolution ended with a sickening twist.

Those with quirks went on rampages the moment they turned twenty-five, slaughtering and killing everyone in their path. Their mind overtaken by their quirks with the single thought and decision to kill everyone who dared to stop them, who were weaker than them. It must have been terrifying back then, to be so meek, powerless, and afraid seeing people you had once cheered on in acceptance and grace kill off the population in the millions.

Humankind could never survive this.

Those gifted with such powerful feats were granted the ability to live on as immortals, that is until humanity decades later learned it was not true immortality. It was a mere obstruction that was solved when the quirk-given was killed by man. Other than that… they lived on, and on, and on. The false immortality yet another edge against humanity.

People with quirks — better known as the Taoreta today — were the modern-day zombies except there was no rise of the dead, no mass groups of people who craved your flesh and your blood.

No.

They were once users with quirks who appeared just like normal people, sure some of them had distinct quirk features, but for the most part, unless they were distinctly different you couldn’t tell until it was too late.

Todoroki Shouto was different though.

He was apart of the few lasting survival groups in Japan, in the world.

His group was called Yuuei, a collective group of nearly two hundred people who occupied a deserted boarding school entitled U.A. They were apart of the population that was considered to be quirkless, and well, no one had been born with a quirk within this base yet.

This boarding school, but what Shouto had been able to piece together after spending his entire livelihood in the confines of the barbed wired, specially scented gates they lived in. The Gladiolus flower was the worlds saving grace.

By planting these flowers among bases and fragrancing them along borders and barriers, your area was both ignored by those with quirks or smelled so disgusting to those with quirks they would never dare cross. Of course, this wasn’t always true — Shouto had seen too many times the few outliers of this truth stumble towards the base.

Eyes power-hungry, quirks blaring a kilometer away and that horrific silence before a battle. These monstrous onslaughts had decimated his entire bloodline, leaving him only by himself with his friends and chosen family. Everyone had still thought him lucky, he was born around the same time as twenty other babies. His entire life he had grown up in an environment where he always had someone to play with, to learn with, to practice with.

Children were forced to grow up fast in this time and age, no longer was the world of coddling and gentle love. If you loved your children you would teach them how to be resourceful, teach them how to fight, how to kill. By the time you turned fifteen within Yuuei, you were expected to pitch in to survive. Formal classroom education continued on all the way until you were eighteen, but it was known that everyone needed to maintain some sort of educational standard so that Yuuei would never fall internally.

Everyone had a part to play, a piece to do in order to keep things running smoothly.

There were the low-risk jobs within Yuuei starting with the janitors. They were in charge of making sure the school grounds and indoors remained safe and tidy. They applied the Gladiolus flower extract to the gates daily during the fall and winter as the flowers died out by then. It was an easier job, one that was given more to the young children and the elders who could no longer do much else.

Then there were the chefs. They were in charge of the grand garden the community had created many decades ago. They harvested and cooked plenty of vegetables throughout the year, always managing to make just enough so that no one went hungry or starving for more than a day. As recently as thirty years ago, they had introduced their form of animal raising too. Mostly raising and killing deer that had stumbled within their main gates.

Then there was the government. The main part of the government consisted of three people — the president, the vice president, and the one training to one day become president. They took these jobs seriously, meeting every day to see what the community’s latest problems were, discussing to the hundreds of civilians working within this base to make sure civil conflict never broke out. There was also a council made of one member of each residing family member — Shouto remembers that it was his mother who was apart of the council when she was alive… he had assumed this role after she tragically passed, but it was not his only job.

Then there were the educators. These were the ones who dedicated their lives to learning and studying everything they could within their limited, never truly evolving standards so that each younger generation could have a solid foundation within this new world. Shouto remembered how Fuyumi had been so excited to finally reach the end of her second year as a teacher, her eyes delightfully hopeful, ever so clear and bright despite the life they lead.

You could never forget the engineers and the mechanics here — after all, they held one if not the most important job. They were the reason why there was still energy and electricity running through the base, why running water was able to be used by members twice a month, why truly life on base hadn’t erupted into a complete dystopia, and of course, keeping the seekers and the medics alive.

Medics were a given. They were the true saving grace of the camp, Shouto thought so at least. They healed physical injuries, as there were always plenty of those, and they smoothed over mental trauma which was prevalent in every corner of this base. Without medics, they would have never survived this long. Shouto still frequents them aplenty, his trauma from the death of his family still weighing heavily on his chest, his lips always dry and cracked when he remembered how his older brother Natsuo had been ecstatic to join the medical line. He was so big and intimidating in size many had always questioned why he wasn’t a seeker, but Shouto knew his brother had the kindest heart, he wasn’t a fighter unless he had to be.

And finally, there were the seekers. Seekers were by far the most pivotal, most dangerous, and least rewarding role within the base. Twice to three times a week, seekers were to leave the base and go out and search for survivors, resources, anything that may be useful. While for the past hundred years that people have resided in U.A. the local town had been their saving grace, always relying on the abandoned town for their needs, but they had cleared it years ago. Now seekers went out further to get items, all while still doing their basic patrols, and of course fighting off any Taoreta. When they weren’t out running around the country, they were doing patrols around the base to ensure they were always safe. This is the job Shouto has — a job that most of his friends held too. His father and Touya had also held this job long ago, but he had never been able to accomplish a successful run with them…

No… he had to block out that memory.

“Oi, Todoroki!” a voice clipped through his headspace, and Shouto looked away from the cabinet he was once rummaging through. “Get your head outta your ass and do something already, dammit.”

He turned to look at Bakugou who was as grimy and dirty as he was, only that his bag was full of crap and Shouto’s only had dust. Shouto nodded, an apology leaving his lips when his eyes returning back to the already pillaged cabinets and scoured what he could, collecting what he thought to be useful for the base.

It took fifteen minutes for Bakugou and Shouto to pillage all the abandoned homes on this street, they were a great duo together, often working together due to their abrasive and deadly styles and intellect on the field. They had a kill list of three Taoreta together, and an individual score of one on their own, it didn’t seem like much, but coming from people who held no power over these god-like humans, it was incredible. Most people never survived more than one attack from the Taoreta.

But it wasn’t anything to be relieved over, especially not when each survived victory landed them both in hospice care for months.

“Sector five has been cleared,” Shouto spoke into his telecom the moment Bakugou and he emerged from the final house, his eyes glancing at the setting sun in worry. “How’s everyone else doing? Sun setting.”

“We’re all on the car already, waiting on you guys!” came Midoriya’s instant reply.

“This is all your fault,” Bakugou grumbled bitterly while the two of them turned on their heel and began running towards the car they had taken here. “Last as always!”

“We had the most houses to loot, Bakugou, it’s a given,” was Shouto’s easy response, not at all affected by the huffing annoyance of his friend while they reached the car.

Easy and grateful smiles were exchanged between the six seekers when Shouto and Bakugou rejoined the group, a whole day of running this block had left them with zero casualties. On top of all this, they all had full bags of taken items; Shouto considered it a tremendous victory.

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“And what are we checking in today, Todoroki-kun?” Iida asked while Shouto dumped his bag onto the table.

“Toilet paper, paper rolls, canned peaches, flour, rice, medication formula for birth control, expired condoms, and some water,” Shouto listed off, pulling out the items one by one to the nodding Iida.

Iida was a member of the council, and also a seeker much like Shouto was. He was objectively the fastest seeker they had, often clearing out entire rows of houses in half the time it took everyone else. Iida was someone Shouto appreciated very much in this doomful life, a clear leader, and a promising candidate for the presidency one day.

“Oh! The canned peaches could make an excellent addition to Momo’s birthday coming up soon! Kirishima-kun and Sato-kun hit the jackpot with sugar yesterday! This would be a great celebration!” Iida announced, partitioning the different items into different baskets, each one placed into appropriate bins. Shouto remained silent, but he nodded his head, a tired sigh pushing through his lungs while Iida finished putting away his found items. “Momo will also be glad to finally have this formula in her hands, she’s been trying so hard at cracking the code for birth control! But alright! Now for checking in weapons, what do you have for me?”

Shouto’s hands immediately moved to the holsters strapped to his legs.

By being born into this madness, he was never given the right to using any of the guns they held. Guns and ammunition were scarce to come by, they were even more scarce than some of the items they were consistently running out of. When they turned eighteen, each member was given three bullets to attempt to sink it into a target 100 meters away, sink two bullets in, and you were given the right to carry a gun, miss and you wouldn’t.

Of Shouto’s graduating class of forty-one students, only three of them were granted that ability — and two of them weren’t even seekers.

Shouto handed over the knives he had strapped to his muscled thighs, the katana that was strapped to his back, and the brass knuckles that sat on his fists. He remained silent while handing over the fire and ice bombs he had managed to perfect under his parent’s original formulas. He never understood why he wasn’t allowed to keep those bombs, he was the only one who ever checked them out after all, but again, civil disputes could occur at any time, and if the seekers had weapons the rest of the base would be doomed.

“Everything’s accounted for, Iida?” Shouto asked watching while Iida placed everything away.

“Yes!” Iida confirmed, a smile on his face while his hands placed onto his hips with confidence. “Go and get dinner and take a shower!”

Shouto smiled softly. If there was one good thing about being a seeker that wasn’t just experiencing the outside world, it definitely was the fact that being a seeker meant you got to shower more regularly than everyone else.

Dinner was plain as always, a bowl of rice, a slice of deer meat, and an egg. There were a lot of hens here.

Shouto sat with his friends while he ate, quietly adding on to conversations, contradicting his friends whenever he could. It was the little things in life that kept him going honestly, and little things were having Bakugou trying to reach across the dining tables to strangle him while Midoriya and Kirishima intervened. It never failed to make him smile.

“What’s your new schedule for the week, Todoroki?” Kirishima asked, his head dodging Bakugou’s flying elbow with a sharklike grin.

Kirishima was an odd person within this base, he had sharp teeth that reminded everyone of a shark — most people had always assumed it was a side effect of a quirk that had been hidden for ages, but it turned out that while humans evolved quirks for the worse, they were evolving still. Shouto’s own naturally bicolored hair was a testament to that.

“I go on runs Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday,” Shouto spoke with food chipmunked into his cheek. “Council meets on Tuesday, Thursday as always, so I have patrol at night those days. Weapon checkout and morning patrol Monday. Saturday’s my day off.”

“Oh, nice! Looks like all of us have Wednesday and Friday together!” Kirishima cheered, his arms finally letting go of Bakugou who had… calmed down. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a good stash and other sur— OW!”

Kirishima’s eyes narrowed onto Bakugou who had deliberately slammed an elbow into his ribcage, but his face softened at the thought of the word he was going to say.

Shouto smiled softly, his head shaking despite it all and he stood up.

“I’m going to go and shower, one of the floors gave through today so I’m a bit exhausted,” Shouto explained, gathering the reusable plate, cup, and chopsticks he had assigned to him. He would scrap any residual food off it and wash it tomorrow — about twenty years ago the mechanics had managed to figure out a reusable and self-cleaning water system used to wash dishes. It was a game-changer for this community.

The echoing goodnights followed after Shouto while he left the dining hall, his hands fisted into his pockets while he climbed the ten flights of stairs to get to his room’s floor.

U.A.’s building was very unique by the looks of it, even for its time when it was first built. It was created with four separate towers, each tower connected with a single walkway to its adjacent tower. From a ways back it looked like an H — at least to Shouto it did. It was to Shouto’s understanding that each tower was designated for different professions for the once Taoreta thriving society. One tower was for hero-in-training students, one tower for general students, one tower for support students, and one tower for business students — at least that was what was understood by the textbooks found in these old classrooms. Of the four towers, only the support student tower was uninhabited because there were always modifications and major systems running there and they needed all the room.

Shouto, along with most of his friends, resided in the hero-in-training tower. Because he had once had such a large family his room — something that was greatly unappreciated by the other members of the community — Shouto had to climb all the way to the top of the building.

No one else resided on this floor with him, which was often nice because it had once meant he and his family could do whatever they wished. But with their passing, it was so lonely, so offputting that Shouto only returned to his room to sleep and that was it.

The shower was comforting tonight, the gentle smell of the soap drafting off his body along with thick suds eased him. His shower lasted only a whooping two minutes; they had been taught how to efficiently shower, wasted water was always a downfall. Even with the major technological advances they made, running water was still a problem they had yet to solve. His dirty grimy skin that hadn’t showered in three days sang in relief with the dirt gone; his last seek was that many days ago after all.

With a towel around his waist, he walked back to his room, the suffocating darkness strangling him when he stepped into the room. Shouto paid no attention to the way his skin crawled in loneliness, his attention focused on placing the toothpaste pill on his tongue and grimacing at the sharp, minty taste. It seemed that Mei was messing around with the flavors again.

Finally satisfied with his clean-smelling breath, Shouto wasted no time in crawling into his bed, his eyes concentrated on his journal that read practically what was the same thing it always said every day he wrote an entry into it (the medics said that these entries were healthy for his mental wellbeing):

September 16, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. I’m not feeling any different from the day before, but I am looking forward to celebrating Yaoyorozu’s birthday this coming Saturday. It won’t be any different from last year, but it should be fun.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

It took some time, but eventually sleep consumed Shouto, his mind restless despite his slumber.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Shouto paused when the blood on the door handle easily transferred onto his fingers. He pressed his fingers to his palm, the padding on the fingerless glove shining dully with the slick of blood across the material. He could only make one conclusion from this: it was recent.

“I just made contact with fresh blood,” Shouto spoke into the radio system, his eyes concentrated on the door he was supposed to enter through. “I’m going in, if I don’t respond in five minutes, assume the worst and leave.”

“If it’s an injured Taoreta—” Bakugou warned, his voice the first to respond over the com system, but Shouto already knew what his best partner would say to this.

“Can’t have me having all the glory, I know. Besides, I don’t think it’s a Taoreta, there’s no major damage anywhere and well… if it’s injured there should be some fight scene.”

Shouto’s lips tugged into a small smile when Bakugou began to argue back about how he noticed there was no major destruction around this part of the block, and he dropped his scavenger bag onto the floor. If this was a survivor there was no saying if they were good or bad, and well, Shouto wasn’t about to fight a bad one with 10 kilograms on his back.

The door creaked loudly when he entered, his hand pulling out the hunting knife he had. The other day his typical go-to katana had been broken during a brief battle between a weak Taoreta and a veteran seeker. It had been a hard loss, Shouto wouldn’t lie, but it was manageable because his knives had been salvaged.

He crept in silently, the soles of his combat boots nearly silent against the floor while he walked in, his concentrated on the scene around him, all senses on high alert due to the insane anxiety from this all. His eyes dragged across every crook and nanny of the entrance room, not quite sure what to expected from this until he saw something ruby red smudged on the floor.

With a small nod to himself, Shouto proceeded forward, following the light trail of blood until he stopped into a room where the trail ended and no one was. He frowned looking around the abandoned room, old and long faded drawings covered the walls, the bed hastily made, and crayons scattered on the floor.

Maybe the person had already left, he thought glancing down at the crayons figuring that they would be good to take back. But the moment that he turned to face the door, was when he finally saw someone, and it was a good thing too because he ducked out of the way of a quick, most definitely life ending swing of a bat that held multiple nails in it.

Shouto’s eyes were wide while he dodged and weaved out of the way of the swinging bat, strong elbows bashing into his ribs, and the occasional nail tearing into his skin. He could barely focus on his attacker, his concentration heavy on the way that this person was tirelessly fighting for their life despite the exhaustion in their bones.

He weaved and dodged the flying wood, cursing at the way it nicked his skin in multiple places, and how their foot slammed into his stomach. It knocked the wind out of Shouto as he fell onto the floor, the wild look in their eyes as the bat arched downward only to miss him, embedding into the floor. Shouto took that as an initiative to slam his foot onto the hilt of the bat, the weapon clanging onto the floor while he tackled his attacker onto the floor.

“Let go!” you shrieked, your eyes in a panic while you attempted to twist your body out from under Shouto. “I’m not going to let you fucking kill me, you stupid fucking Taoreta!”

Now that bothered Shouto.

“I’m not some damn Taoreta!” Shouto spat back, his eyes narrowing down onto how you were struggling against his hold. Blood was dried and matted onto your forehead, dirt, grime, and soot-covered every exposed millimeter of your body, and blood-soaked your arm.

With that simple sentence, Shouto watched in almost confused annoyance when you snapped up to look at him. Your hair was matted, it was obvious that while you weren’t horrendously smelly, you hadn’t bathed in days. Your lips were cracked and pale, and your eyes looked so scared, lost, and still… excited? The tears that poured down your face highlighted the clearer skin that was covered by the dirt.

“Are you okay? You’re smiling pretty weir— mmph?!”

Shouto’s words were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. It wasn’t often that Shouto froze, and honestly, he could count the number of times he had been frozen to the core, but with this desperate, longing kiss on his lips that exploded fire onto his cheeks, he was unable to move. He was only able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focus on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose.

His eyes blinked rapidly while you pulled away from him, a starstruck look on your face.

“It’s… it’s been a year since I’ve seen anyone who wasn’t a Taoreta,” you awe, fingers pressing onto his cheeks in an attempt to make sure this was actually real. “Are you real? You’re real right? Please don’t tell me you’re—”

“TODOROKI, ARE YOU ALIVE!” a voice bellowed, the door being kicked open, and both Shouto and you looked at the entrance of the room to see Bakugou standing there with his weapons drawn, teeth bared in a silent cry of war.

Shouto didn’t know what to do, feeling as if the world’s gravity was crushing onto him while he gathered the confused, appalled look in Bakugou’s eyes while he looked down onto the interesting position he was in. You, on the other hand, felt more tears forming in your eyes at the sight of yet another survivor.

“The fuck you playing hooky for?!” Bakugou yelled, his face contorted with disgust and something unreadable when staring at the position the two of you were in. “Who the fuck is this?!”

Shouto remained speechless, his mind still stuck on the fact that you had kissed him like separated lovers and not the strangers that you were. Worse off he was caught in an embarrassing position by Bakugou of all places who was quite frankly the meanest guard dog they had. You weren’t given a second to speak, to try to clarify who you were and why you were here because Bakugou clicked everything together far faster than you could defend yourself.

“Don’t tell me this is a fucking Taoreta with a damn love quirk!” Bakugou snapped, grabbing Shouto by the collar and throwing him off you.

Your eyes widened in a panic, the sickening sound of unsheathing steel ringing venomously in your ears while Bakugou drew dual arming swords. You scrambled backward immediately, hands finding the hilt of your bat and spinning up to your feet in a readying position. Like hell you were going to be murdered.

“Bakugou, stop!” Shouto yelled, pushing himself up onto his feet while the blond-haired man shot forward at you.

He cursed annoyedly, unable to intercept or intervene Bakugou’s explosive fighting style with just his knives. But he also realized that you weren’t failing at keeping Bakugou away with just a bat in the small room. Swings of steel and wood whistled in the air while the two of you went at it, useless battle soaked insults being thrown left and right while Shouto could only watch as the swords embedded into the bat, and then into a wall.

Shouto acted quickly, his arms circling under Bakugou’s armpits, his hands locking around his head and yanking him away.

“She’s not a damn Taoreta, she’s a survivor!” Shouto yelled again, both of them stumbling backward and landing on the floor while you remained frozen by the wall. Both the weapons stable in the wall despite the horror of what could have been the end of your life.

“How the fuck would you know that?! She could be brainwashing you for all we know!” Bakugou yelled, his body twisting and turning, trying to get out the larger mans hold. “Slimy little shit got you didn’t she?!”

“I’m not a Taoreta!”

“She’s not a Taoreta!”

You and Shouto yelled in synch, your fingers thrusting up to your eyes. “Do you see my sclera?! They’re not fucking red!”

The two men froze in their struggles to get the other to obey their commands, both raising their attention to you, shocked by what you said.

“What do you mean?” Shouto asked, his arms still holding Bakugou in place, his eyes landing on you confused.

You, on the other hand, froze. Your eyes blinked owlishly, fingers curling into a weak fist and placing onto your stomach, “Have you guys never noticed? Taoreta always has their scleras turn red and they grow darker with prolonged quirk use… that’s how you know how strong and how long they’ve been around. The stronger they are, the redder the sclera.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, his body twisting against Shouto, but Shouto was too busy thinking about what you said, his mind sucked into his memories of that fateful night. “Bastard, I’m not gonna attack her! Let me fucking go already, dammit!”

Shouto let go immediately, watching as his friend rolled over onto his knees and stood up without a single hitch. Bakugou yanked his swords from the wall letting your bat fall onto the floor with a loud crash. His eyes burned into you, watching you with a borderline sneer until he walked away.

“Figure out what the fuck we’re doing with her, five minutes until we have to leave,” was the only thing Bakugou uttered before leaving the building.

“What to do with me?” you echoed, your fingers twitching down towards your bat. “Don’t tell me the first people I find in a year are cannibals!”

Shouto’s face twists while looking up at you, your hands once again grabbing your bat raising it up in an act of self-defense; agony and disbelief overflowing in your face. It was bleeding obvious now that you had been alone for ages, the already emotional polar ends of yourself revealed to Shouto even before he knew your name.

“You need to calm down, we’re not cannibals, Bakugou literally walked away. If we were, you would have been dead already,” Shouto reasoned, his hands held up in a signal of surrender while he stood. His words were calm and steady, his “We’re a part of a surviving group, and we have a base up on the mountain north from here. You’re the tenth person we’ve found out here, and if you would like, we can offer you a place.”

“How can I trust you? You could be some cult group for all I know! Using me as some breeding whore to bring the second coming of the taoreta!” you panicked, your eyes wild with the fabricated lies you were drawing in your mind. “I don’t have the hips to have a child! I won’t bear your dumb cult a child!”

Shouto blinked, a low headache forming behind his eyes while he looked at your heaving form. He studied you closer now, your bat was frozen in place while you stared back. Your cheeks were sunken from lack of nutrients, your lips pale and cracked, and your eyes (once you ignored the savage glint to it) were like glass. You were not okay, even if you had managed to fight both Bakugou and him, there was no doubting that you hadn’t eaten in days.

Shouto sucked in his cheeks, by the looks of it you were running on pure adrenaline at this point — not actual energy.

“Meet back at the car in five,” Kirishima’s voice rang in the headset, and Shouto’s mouth pursed.

“We’re not cannibals, or a cult, or whatever weird groups of people you’ve run into. We’re just… people trying to live to see the next day. Come with us, or not, I can’t convince you, but we have shelter... food, water, showers. If you want, we can be a place for you to stay, if you want.” Shouto speaks softly, his hands are lowered at his waist, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat to you. It didn’t matter to him if you went with them — you were just a stranger after all — but he wouldn’t feel right letting you go without trying to save you.

You hesitate, your eyes looking down at your feet while you contemplate. He remains quiet, the voices of his friends ringing in his ears while they communicate on their way back to the car. But finally, he saw something that confirmed he would take you back by force.

Blood dripped down your leg and fingertips, seeping into your clothes, staining the floor.

“I don’t want to die,” you confess, your voice small and scared. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“I promise you won’t be alone; you won’t die on my watch… but you’re hurt,” Shouto reasoned, his body instinctually moving closer to you. You pressed against the back of the wall, the aggression in your body long having died out. “We can heal you, and if you don’t feel safe you’re welcome to leave—” his eyes hold yours, and he swears the world stills at this moment, he can hear nothing but your hammering heart and his own, “I promise you.”

You would later claim that you gave in because you were injured and exhausted, but your hand reached out with a tremble and took his steady one. It was weird, feeling his hand in yours, so calloused and worn. Even if all you felt were his fingers, this was the first time in forever since you had human contact. Despite everything going on, the own swinging egos in your mind that screamed at you to kill him or to kiss him more, sudden ease came over you. You didn’t trust him, you couldn’t — you weren’t that big of an idiot — but his dual colored eyes held yours steadily, warmly, safely and the only thing you could do was agree with him. Despite being brought up on one principle, one defining law, you broke it when it came down to this stranger before you.

No matter what happens, never trust anyone.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto, by the way,” Shouto finally introduced himself, his words breaking the silence that had fallen over the both of you while he guided you out of the house. “I’m apart of a surviving group called Yuuei, and we’ve been around for about a hundred years.”

“Y/l/n y/n,” you return with a grimace.

When was the last time you ever had to introduce yourself before? You had no memories of the last time you had to tell someone your name. His face lifted into a gentle smile, one that you couldn’t see as anything but being polite before he turned and began walking. His strides were long but quick, far outpacing you despite the obvious worry to your bleeding wounds.

You had been attacked earlier by some dying taoreta, and even with its dying breath, it was otherworldly powerful. The person who had nearly managed to slay the taoreta had been decapitated when you had accidentally stumbled on the screeching monster. Its fingers were blades made from its bones, and it had stabbed you before you could even fight back. The taoreta had destroyed the machete you had used as your main weapon, the splintering metal being what ended up killing the savage monster.

A ragged breath escaped you in the realization that you had survived that.

There was no stopping the onslaught of tears and sobs that ripped through your throat while Shouto pulled you after him. The stabbing blistering pain in your side and arm was throbbing while you tried to keep up. You had survived, the pain an undeniable testament to that, the bat dragging against the floor a reminder that you weren’t done just yet. Shouto’s eyes grazed over you, and you were grateful he didn’t say anything while you continued to cry, emotions, and relief washing over you.

Shouto’s face remained neutral if a little bit uncomfortable while he dragged you back to the car, his voice low and quiet while he informed the rest of his group that he wasn’t coming back alone.

Still, it was to no surprise that the moment Shouto stopped in front of the car four of the five others were on edge, looking down at his crying companion.

Midoriya, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Iida stood on the trunk of the car, their weapons were drawn towards you; hesitation and concern heavy in their eyes. Bakugou, who was driving the car, couldn’t even be bothered to look at you — after all, he had already okayed you. Well, Shouto thought he had okayed you, he wasn’t exactly clear on things like that. Besides, it wasn’t as if they came across many survivors to okay in the first place.

“Who is this?” Iida asked first, his eyes unwavering while you rubbed streaks of blood onto your face. “Is she dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t have brought her back if she was,” Shouto lifted an eyebrow, unamused with the stiffness in all their postures. “We disagreed earlier, but she thought I was a taoreta at first glance, it’s all good now.”

“And she’s okay now? She’s bleeding like a fuckton,” Kaminari squeaked, his fingers thrusting out to your blood-soaked clothes.

Honestly, it surprised Shouto just how weird his group of friends were. They were all unbelievably strong, each possessing the ability to have already successfully killed one taoreta, yet they were cowering in fear over you.

“Does she come from a group? Is she being followed?” Kirishima cautiously asked, his eyes leaving your body to scour the surrounding buildings. “Is she sick?”

Shouto looked behind him, his eyes taking in your paling and sullen form, you looked terrible.

Pressing his hand to your forehead, he felt your temperature with both his left and right side.

“No fever, but she’s bleeding obviously. I’m not sure if she obtained any injuries from fighting Bakugou or me,” Shouto explained clearly, only being able to answer one of those questions for you. “I can’t say if there’s a group around — or if she’s with one, but she said she’s been alone for a year.” His calculating gaze met the stubborn stares of his friends who could only stare at you, and a rush of annoyance flooded him while he ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t have time to argue though, the suns setting and we need to get back to base.”

“Put this on her,” Midoriya was the first to pull back, something that did not come as a surprise to Shouto, and he threw a bandana he typically wore around his wrist at Shouto. “If she’s not being followed, at the very least we can prevent her from relaying how she got to base.”

Shouto nodded, moving quickly to tie the green fabric around your eyes and piling you onto the trunk. Midoriya moved into the car with your new addition and sat next to Bakugou who floored the pedal and took off into the mountain.

UA truly was a blessing of a fort, not only was is incredibly huge, but it had natural barriers to act in their favor. And Shouto relaxed on the bed of the truck, his head pressing against the cold plastic, a hand resting on the items he had recovered for the day, and the other one still holding onto yours.

He tried to ignore the way they continued to stare at you in distrust despite having all your weapons inside the car so that he could sleep, but eventually, he gave up. His eyes continuing to glare back at his friends until they dropped their gaze on you. He knew you weren’t a threat, and like hell he was going to let them treat you like one.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

When the bandana-blindfold came off your eyes, your hand in Shouto’s began to sweat profusely. Your wounds had stopped bleeding thanks to the green-haired boy’s ministrations, but you definitely felt lethargic from the loss of blood.

Blinking rapidly, you looked around, freezing when you saw that the group of six men had expanded to much larger numbers of only men. Breeding cult, your mind hissed and you felt your hands twitch, a nervous thought to grab the weapons you no longer had.

“You’re scaring her!” a voice yelled, and your head snapped towards a voice you couldn’t see. “Who wants to wake up to a sea of scraggly, ugly men?”

Your jaw slacked when you saw a pink-skinned woman shove her way through the crowd to stand before you. No way in hell was she not a taoreta!

“Hi! My name is Ashido Mina, and I know what you’re thinking,” she spoke, her arms crossing against her chest while a prideful smirk spread across her face. “How is she so hot?”

Maybe if it had been a day where you weren’t half dead, lacking a needed amount of blood, and much more in control of your emotions, you wouldn’t have burst out in laughter. Your dirty fingers pressed onto your mouth while you tried to play off your peals of laughter to no success.

“Oh, I like this one already,” Mina grinned, her hands pressing onto the edge of the truck to look at you closer. “However, my skin is pink because of a dying accident gone wrong when I was a child. It was as permanent as permanent can get so… please don’t think I’m a taoreta!”

You nodded your head, your body wincing with the stabbing pain, and Shouto was quick to notice that you were still in pain.

“Mina, can we walk and talk?” Shouto asked, his hand pressing to your spine in order to get you to start moving, even without permission to do so. “Y/l/n has three wounds that need to be tended to; she already lost a lot of blood. You can do your welcoming thing and interrogation while she gets patched up by Shuzenji.”

Mina pouted; a sound of discontent with the arising situation, but she nodded. Shouto’s lips pressed into a thin-lipped smile, and with Mina’s help, they guided you off the car and onwards towards the infirmary.

“I’m not going to be killed, am I?” you ask, knowing it was far too late for your cold feet to be kicking in. “I never thought I’d be killed by humans.”

“God, no! Shuzenji is the best medic in the world, hands down. She’s gonna patch ya up, and I’ll talk with you while she does that, and then we’ll find out our best course of action afterward!” Mina exclaimed, her hand repositioning your weak arm around her shoulder. “I swear it won’t be that hard!”

True to her word, you were not killed.

In fact, the only scary thing you were met with was an angry, just woken up from her slumber, elder woman. After she had yelled at the crowd of men who had followed after you to leave you alone given that you were her patient, she had taken you inside with Mina. But you had panicked when she tried to get Shouto to step away, your hand which had not separated from his since the moment you had left the house unwilling to let go of him. So, he was permitted to stay.

You sat on an old infirmary bed, your pinky still touching Shouto’s while Shuzenji — nicknamed Recovery Girl by the surviving group — tended to your wounds. You answered a whole lot of questions from Mina while trying not to let your pain bleed into your voice.

You told them your birthday, your age, the last time you were sick, how long you’ve been alone (you couldn’t say why you were alone), and how you got those injuries of yours.

They had been impressed with your confession that it was from killing a taoreta, even a critically injured one was monstrously powerful after all, and Shouto would argue the ones on the brink of death were stronger than when fully healed. Mina, however, was a great conversationalist and did exceptionally well at making you feel comfortable despite everything.

They took your height, weight, blood type, and hell, Recovery Girl even tested your blood for infections you might have not known you had. She was a medical genius — a true benefit to being in this base. Despite her previous anger, she ended up being a very sweet woman, caring and charming while she fixed you up — cleaning and bandaging your wounds before leaving by giving you a homemade sweet and an orange to eat.

“Alrighty, y/n-chan,” Mina chirped, her hands pulling out a clipboard which seemed to come out from nowhere while she scribbled things down with a series of successive nods. “You have checked out perfectly in our first-day system, of course for you to be implemented in our system — should you want to do that — there will be voting on Thursday! Well, tomorrow really! In the meantime for tonight we would have to find you somewhere to sleep…” her voice trailed off while she contemplated your options. You continued to stare up at her with unknowing confused eyes, trying your best to keep the storming anxiety in your stomach at bay. “We have a few rooms that are open, but… no offense we can’t trust you yet, so we’ll have to put you somewhere with someone. I can ask Tsuyu?”

“She can stay with me,” Shouto spoke, his face expressionless, but his eyes soft. “I have one of the biggest rooms; it’s not that big a deal.”

Your anxiety lessened while you looked over at Shouto, unable to keep yourself from staring at him. Mina had no objections to this, a grateful smile falling over her features while she nodded, “Okay! I’ll send up a clean change of clothes if you need any? I have quite a lot.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

“If she showers, you won’t be able to tonight. Mei destroyed a pipe by accident while trying to create a useable water source — it worked for two hours before breaking, so I think Yuuei will have constant running water by Momo’s birthday!” Mina chirped, her hands pressing the clipboard to her stomach. “But you’re good to go! Please still be mindful of any diseases though, just because you were cleared of the basic ones doesn’t mean you’re clean.”

You nodded watching as she too left you alone with Shouto.

“My room is on the fourteenth floor, do you think you can handle walking up that many flights of stairs?” Shouto asked, his hand steadying you while you slid onto your feet.

Despite everything, you were already feeling better. Your head while feeling a bit light was nothing compared to the groggy headache you had once had.

“I might need some help, but I think… I think, for now, I should be okay,” you inform Shouto, and he nods in understanding.

So the two of you in a weird silence, eventually made your way up to his floor, your body shaking by the time you walked onto the floor, but your hand never leaving his. He showed you the room the two of you would be in, and true to his word, it was large. There were two tatami mats, one by a window, and the other by the door. Random items littered the walls and the floors, most of which were toys and things to pass time with, but it was so unnaturally domestic to you, you didn’t know how to react. It was now that he let go of your hand altogether (an action that made you realize just how touch-deprived you’d been), leaving you to take in the state of his room while he walked around.

“You… you don’t have to give up your shower for me,” you spoke while watching Shouto rummage through his things, procuring a dry and clean towel for you. “I haven’t showered in some time, and I don’t want to make you be in your dirt for longer than needed.”

Shouto looked at you, his head tilting slightly before he shook his head. He walked over to you with his shower things, handing over the shampoo, conditioner, and soap. “You need to clean up because you have wounds, I’m fine. Besides… you stink more than me anyway.”

The truth to his words made your cheeks burn, but there was no judgment in his eyes while he leaned against the wall. You stood there by him unable to think of anything to say until Mina’s fist knocked against the opened door.

“Here are your clothes! Some PJs and extra clothes! I didn’t know if you had any extra clean clothes or your size but with your measurements, I took a wild guess. I hope they fit! I took the liberty of bringing you what I could spare!”

“There are way more clothes than that,” Shouto commented, his eyes judging the pink-skinned girl.

“Sorry that I’m assigned to clothes and have to follow code!” Mina huffed, her cheeks brightening with embarrassment before she stuck out her tongue and ran away leaving both of you alone once again. With the clean set of clothes and the ability to finally fo what you must, you asked where the shower was, and Shouto brought you to where the shower was located on the floor.

You hated to admit it, but you were sincerely grateful he let you shower. Your fingers worked out the many day’s old dirt from your hair, the soap sudding against your skin while you scrubbed weeks old layers from your skin until it throbbed in its rawness. You left the shower with a wince from your now healing wounds, but feeling a sense of freshness you hadn’t known in a while.

The PJs you were given were just a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, something you were grateful for, especially as the material was soft and warm against your cold skin. When you pushed into the room, you noticed that Shouto was sitting on the mat nearest to the door — leaving you with the one by the window.

A small lamp was by Shouto, and you couldn’t tell what he was writing while you piled onto your tatami, your fingers immediately grabbing the blankets that sat at the end of the mat before pulling it over your body. You stared at Shouto in silence, unable to simply fall asleep, your thoughts much too fascinated with him. Why had he done this all? You had attacked him and his friend; yet here he was, doing much more than what you could have ever asked from him.

“Will I fit in?” you ask quietly, your eyes concentrating up onto the ceiling. “Will I be voted out?”

There was a prolonged silence, a bit too long for your own liking while serious doubts threaded into your pool of anxiety.

“You’ll fit in,” Shouto spoke, his words clear and confident. “I promised you’d be okay, didn’t I?”

Your head nods, although you are unsure whether or not he saw you doing so.

“So it’s always perfect in here? There isn’t… there isn’t any dangerous taoreta lurking around, is there?”

“No,” Shouto softly says, and you turn your head, your wet hair pressing onto your cheek while watching as he puts a journal down. “To both questions. We’re human, drama and issues always arise, but things always end up okay. UA is also on a mountain surrounded by woods, most taoreta don’t bother making their way up here, especially since we have traps up. But dangerous ones tend to appear during rainy days — especially during winter.”

“Why’s that?” you ask in a small, small voice. It was fall right now after all.

Shouto met your gaze, his eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t read, but thoughts that screamed that he was unsure whether he should tell you. Was there a reason to make you worry right now?

“During the winter we don’t have any protection. We have Gladiolus flowers planted all around the mountain just to keep taoreta away, and while they die during the fall, they’re still not decayed entirely so… they’re still useful. We can only use Gladiolus oil on the barrier of UA during the winter, meaning that taoreta can climb the hill and find us if they’re lucky enough. But when it rains, the oils washed off, and with the Gladiolus all dead, we’re exposed.” he explains to you in earnest and you nod numbly, your heart already hammering away.

You wished you had known that months ago…

“You okay?”

The tears in your eyes refused to stop falling down your face while horror consumed your bones. One year alone, countless nights spent in fear that someone would discover you while you were asleep, and hatred for the world burned in every cell of your body pouring over as bitter, useless tears while you gasped for air.

“W-Will you… can you hold my hand?” you gasped, your body burning in your embarrassment and fear. “I can’t stop thinking that I’m… am I safe?”

You couldn’t see anything, the tears in your eyes blinding you completely.

It had been such a hard, difficult, death-defying day and you were finally processing it all.

A hand held onto yours mid muffled sob, and comfort washed over you slightly but not enough.

You would fall asleep shortly afterward, your body rattled with your hiccuping sobs, and your face puffy and swollen from your tears. Shouto could only stare at your slumbering form, the tension, and anxiety heavy on your face despite passing on to the land of dreams. With a soft ache in his heart for you, he turned off the light, his hand still in yours, his tatami mat pressed next to yours.

And as sleep consumed him too, his journal which was the most unique entry he’s written since his adolescence rang clearly in his head:

September 20, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. Today was different, something new happened today. I found a survivor who tried to kill me, her name is y/l/n y/n. I don’t know much about her, but she’s different. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I hope she’ll be happy.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

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It was Momo’s birthday today.

It was also the fourth day since you had entered the base, and with your entrance, things had become different around UA. During the first morning, people had hung on your every word, blatantly fascinated with you even if they were a bit apprehensive. The council also allowed you to stay, which had left you an emotional mess.

With you being new and injured, it was proclaimed that you could have a week to rest and adjust to the society found within the barriers of the old school. You were to be placed with the janitors the moment your allowed rest was over. You were given clothes, plates and utensils, and bathroom items, all of which you took with a watery smile.

As for your living situation, you were to stay with Shouto until he thought it was best that you left. It wasn’t something you were against at all — right now he was the only person you sincerely trusted and got along with. Shouto also did not mind, in fact he rather enjoyed having someone else fill the emptiness of his room.

Overall, it was going well, but the most important thing was happening today.

You would be put into a group of Shouto’s closest and best friends.

He had briefly explained to you who they all were because you had asked the night before, your stomach twisting in thought that maybe they wouldn’t like you.

But with Momo turning twenty, Shouto immediately warned you the type of party it was going to be. With the mass majority of their friends being seekers and therefore getting to claim first dibs on items, alcohol and weed were going to be used.

So there you stood three hours into a pretty fun party, your nose twitching at the nasty but sweet smell of marijuana and the bittersweet smell of alcohol on all of their breaths. You stood by the group of girls watching as Momo bashfully chugged a bottle of wine with the dignity of an extremely classy person and not the trashiness that was actually true of this all.

Your hand waved in front of you, once again denying the joint that was being passed around and the bottle of liquor trying to be handed to you. Recovery Girl had appeared before you earlier today while you were exploring the campus only to warn you what would happen should you participate in these actions while healing still. To say the least you wouldn’t even tempt the idea.

“So how is Mr. Todoroki?” Mina asked, her arm slumping over your shoulder while she chugged her bottle of who knows what. “Didya know he was the only one no one could ever get to date!?”

Your brows furrowed while you continued to try to find Shouto yourself. He had sort of left you alone and your anxiety always bayed with him in sight.

“We all dated around the circle of friends,” a girl with the palest skin you’ve ever seen before — Hagakure — explained. “The only one none of us could crack was Todoroki-kun, which lemme tell you seemed much more possible than Bakugou!”

You recognized and was able to put a face to the name Bakugou, but that information didn’t really surprise you. In your old group, it wasn’t that much different. There wasn’t anything to help you meet anyone, and so dating was something you did with everyone in your age group. But Shouto seemed very sweet, a genuinely good person that had you unbelieving of him never having dated.

“He’s still never had his first kiss!” Uraraka, a girl with a permanent blush on her face even without liquor in her blood, slurred with a wink. “Most girls just make him so nervous.”

Never… he’s never had his first kiss?! You took his first kiss?!

“Fucking shit!” you exclaimed, your hands pressing to your cheeks while you shook your head, your heart hammering away while you stepped away from the group of girls whose attention was captured by a frog impersonation by Tsuyu.

Shame and guilt sat heavy in your stomach and you walked away, the memory of you first meeting with Shouto replaying over and over in your head. You wanted to go sleep now, your heart hammering in your cheeks in past embarrassment for your actions. It had just been so long since you had seen a friendly face, and you had gotten overexcited.

Shouto, who had been slowly sipping from his cup of sake, saw your retreating form and instantly downed the rest of his sweet liquor. He had been pleased you had gotten along with his group of friends, most especially the girls. Through the past four days he had tried to introduce you to them all so that this party wouldn’t overwhelm you, and seeing that you had managed to stay in a conversation with them without him being there seemed like a positive improvement to him.

That is until you turned on your heel and walked away from the group, your eyes glass, and your steps quick.

He followed you out of the gym which is where they had all been in, his hands shoving into his pockets while he waited for you to turn around. But it seemed that you were deep in thought because you didn’t even seem to detect his presence. So, he opened his mouth, his lips quirking upward in amusement.

“Are you going back to the room?”

“Shit!” you jumped, your eyes wide and nearly crazed while you turned towards him, but a wave of regret his your face and Shouto knew you overexerted your injury. “Sorry, Shouto, I didn’t see… I didn’t hear you there.”

“Are you going back to the room?” he asked again, his head tilting in curiosity.

You nodded your head, your smile soft, “I was really tired, and I didn’t want to drag you away from your friend’s party. Don’t worry about me, you can stay, I’ll be fine!”

Shouto shook his head, moving so that he was standing right next to you, “It’s getting late and I’m seeking tomorrow. I have to rest, can’t do my job correctly while fighting a hangover.”

“It would really suck to know that you died on the job, I can’t imagine what I would do with all that space you would leave for me,” you tease, your smile small while he rolls his eyes.

“We’ve known each other four days and you’re already trying to kill me off? That’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?” Shouto asks, his hand sticking out for you to hold on to should you want to, and you do without question. It was a habit the both of you had quickly formed within four days, but it wasn’t going to die anytime soon, not with the night terrors you had at least.

“It’s the perks of being my friend,” you insist, your head nodding in finality, and Shouto begins to walk. You follow him swiftly and surely, but the same thoughts that plagued your mind began to resurface in your temporary silence. “Was I your first kiss?”

Shouto looked down at you, his eyes unable to be read by you, but the slight perk in his mouth let you know that he was amused and not offended.

“Why do you want to know?”

You sigh, your thoughts falling onto the giggling group of girls before.

“Well, your friends said you were the only one who never…”

“Yes?”

“Never took their advances, and they all said they haven’t kissed you before!”

Shouto opens the door to the building, letting you in. “You were my first kiss.”

You shudder, the horror of a story that would be with him for the rest of his life. An injured lunatic laying one on him without a second thought.

“Why was I your first kiss?” you ask, unsure as to why you were so curious about needing this information from Shouto.

“Because I never dated anyone before,” Shouto simply stated, his hands holding yours gently while you climbed the stairs that still winded you by the tenth flight.

“But why?” you find yourself pestering for more, your thoughts unable to figure out why he wouldn’t. There was no denying that he was incredibly handsome, stupidly so — even you had to admit that from the first glance you had of him. The girls also saw that — it was very obvious, so what was missing?

He was silent for some time, and it was something that you had already grown used to. His pauses happened when he didn��t have a clear thought, and while it didn’t happen often, it was enough for you to have already picked up on.

“During my school years I was more focused on other things,” Shouto confessed, pausing on a stair to allow you to gain your breath. “Something happened with my family and it took a lot of my time and energy away.”

While you knew that his family wasn’t in the picture anymore, you had no idea what had happened to them. You contemplated asking about it or not, your teeth tearing into your bottom lip while he stared down at you. The question was evident on your face though, most definitely screaming on top of your lungs despite you not uttering a single word.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet, sorry,” Shouto confessed, and you nodded your head, you understood the feeling.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about my story too, one day we’ll both be ready, right?” you asked, your feet already making its way up the staircase even before he did.

Shouto smiled just the tiniest bit broken, and he nodded his head, continuing up the stairs after you with a sense of relief rushing through him

“Of course.”

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“Oh my god, it’s freezing.”

“I told you it was going to be cold, its November!”

You pressed the winter coat to your body even tighter, somehow you wanted the threads to become even closer than a second skin.

It had been two months since you had managed to find yourself in the same area as Todoroki Shouto, and so far, not a single day went by where you regretted it. Hell, even the wounds on your body had become purpling scars and eventually disappeared altogether. In two months the two of you had become quick and strikingly close friends, the both of you naturally growing closer due to sharing and living in the same quarters.

All in all the relationship sprouted between the two of you was genuine and different from other relationships in the base.

While most of each other’s past was still relatively unknown, both of your abilities to open up about what had happened in the past faulty and fell flat more often than not. It was honestly weird just how unable you both were able to talk about your past: the mile-long stare in your eyes, the tears, the anxiety-ridden dreams. Shouto had no idea that he still screamed for his family at night before you moved in, and you had no doubt that you would wake up shrieking.

Of course, these terrors had subsided by a landslide the second you both decided to try something new out: holding hands at night had become sleeping side by side. It was definitely a weird new inclusion by both of your standards. Most mornings you woke up utterly tangled in each other’s limbs, the person who woke up first being the one in charge of detangling and denying that they had become that entangled. But hey, that’s sort of what happened when both he and you were desperately trying to deny the softly burning embers of a beginning relationship.

But how could you begin to forget that you had been integrated into the Yuuei community very quickly, and nicely at that? After Momo’s birthday, you managed to earn a spot in the girl group, most meals having them coming to find you and sit with you. That was something you appreciated especially on the days that Shouto wasn’t on base. Even the guys who had once been wary of you entering their car had accepted you wholeheartedly. Although you hated being a janitor, you had to admit it was the only job you were capable of handling at the time.

You weren’t handy with machines to be an engineer, the only first aid you knew wasn’t even good enough to land you as medical assistance, your education wasn’t anywhere near as thorough as the one implemented here, and your cooking skills were subpar. In all actuality, you longed to be a seeker, but the outdoors were still something you weren’t ready for.

Shouto and you had learned that old habits died hard, and well, until you were ready to be a team player and no longer thought about your survival and your survival only, you would remain in your janitor position.

But you found yourself climbing onto the rooftop floor with Shouto for one reason and one reason only.

Despite his lavish education growing up, he had stupidly asked you what the hell a constellation was.

While you hadn’t known that there was a difference between a meteoroid and an asteroid, you were pleasantly surprised and leagues excited at finally being an expert on something that he wasn’t. Stars and constellations had been your only guides and stories for quite a while after all.

But with Shouto’s judgmental eyes on you, and the shifting of your weight to keep warm, you tilted your head back to look up at the painted night sky.

“Not all of us are abnormally super-weirdo hot all the time,” you accused, the fur lining of the jacket pressing onto your cold lips. The jacket had been a gift from Shouto, a clothing item that had somehow survived being eaten by moths that he had presented to you on your first month anniversary of being on UA.

“That just sounds like you’re jealous,” Shouto countered, his body moving to stand next to yours. He was in a light sweater and regular clothes, you had no idea how he wasn’t cold at this point. But you chose to ignore it, your lips pouting while the both of you sank to the ground, the soft blanket beneath you doing little to cushion your head against the concrete roof. “So… which constellations are in the sky right now?”

“Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Cetus, Hydrus, Phoenix, Pisces, Sculptor, and Tucana,” you listed without a hitch, the names meaning nothing to Shouto but didn’t stop the impressed look on his face.

“Do they had stories behind them?” he asked, his warm breath misting in the air while you adjusted closer to his left side, your frozen hand held tightly by his warm one. He shifted his gaze back down to you, his eyes focused on your wandering ones that drank in the beautiful night sky.

“Only the best stories,” you grinned, your attention shifting over to Shouto while a glint sparked in your eye. “They’re a bit western and a lot of years old if you want to hear them?”

Shouto nodded his head. There wasn’t anything more than he would like to do except be by your side and just listen to you talk and talk, especially if that meant you would forget what you were saying or your instructional material would become a sidetracked rant that he would listen to with clear fascination and teasing intrigue.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start with Andromeda!” you nodded your head, your finger thrusting towards the masses of stars that Shouto had no ability to piece together to become the young woman who was sacrificed to the Cetus.

Still, he pretended he could see the constellation because you wouldn’t begin any tale without making sure he could point them out. But there was no denying that he was baffled and in love with every part of your stories. It really wasn’t the fact that the stories were interesting to him, as a matter of fact, Shouto was rather bored with the dramatic Greecian tales for the constellations in the sky, but it was you that made it interesting.

Even with your hand in his, your arms threw around animatedly as part of your dramatic reenactment of these tales and myths. Your passions being felt without mistake while you taught Shouto about the night sky.

No matter how passionate you were about teaching Shouto about the constellations, the cold won out, in the end, sending the both of you back into the room before you could explain the story you knew about Tucana.

“Did you learn anything new tonight?” you asked, your body curled up into the blankets of your tatami, waiting for Shouto to finish his journal to come and provide you extra warmth.

“I guess I did,” Shouto confirmed, his head nodding while he continued to scribble down his thoughts. But there was something to his tone that you found suspicious, your eyebrows narrowing when you saw the slight crease in his cheeks from the smile on his face.

“Why you smiling like that for!” you whine, your cocooned legs thrashing in your childish tantrum. “Was there something on my face the entire time?”

“There was something on your face the entire time, but it wasn’t anything embarrassing,” Shouto promised, his hands gathering his journal, light, and pencil and putting them aside before coming to lay beside you, his body pressed behind yours, his warmth already sinking through your blankets.

“That’s what you said when I had a sticker on my forehead for an entire day,” you pout, your eyes already feeling heavy with his warmth pressed against you.

“You were cute,” he admitted, his voice that was heavy with exhaustion tickling the exposed skin of your neck. He closed his eyes, allowing for sleep to consume him while he uttered his last words of the day. “I don’t care for stars and such… but if you’re gonna do stuff like that… who knows, maybe I’ll grow to love them.”

His words sank a hot stone in your stomach, and the goosebumps and butterflies that raised against your entire body refused to subside until you finally managed to fall asleep yourself, one final thought passing through your swollen bitten lips. “You can’t just stuff like that and expect me to not have feelings...”

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March was the first month of spring, and while you had survived a full winter without a taoreta attack at UA there was no denying that you felt like you had gotten away easy. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was heightened today before Shouto had left for his typical job as a seeker. You had barely managed to wake up that morning to see him off, but the moment he had left, you were unable to stay asleep, a pit of worry growing cancerously in your stomach.

You spent the rest of your morning tidying up the room, cleaning and organizing the “chaos” of the room because there wasn’t anything better you could do until on your day off.

As a matter of fact, you went on to join Mina at her checkout position today. The pink-skinned girl had recently begun to wear a horned headband which really pulled together the taoreta vibe she already gave off, but she was nice to distract yourself with while a haunted feeling gloomed over you the entire day. She had talked through your fear, pinning your anxiety on your recently admitted to affections towards Shouto and noot wanting him to be injured while on his job. You had agreed it was most likely that but even as the day continued you couldn’t tear your gaze from the entrance.

But as Mina was cleaning off a weapon that had been used yesterday she froze.

You looked up at her, your eyes studying the way that her hand pressed into the radio that was placed in her ear, relaying a message you only wished you could hear.

“How far away?!” Mina yelled into the system, her body moving to grab another radio set. “How many were hurt?!”

Just like that, a nausea heavy anxiety rocketed through your body, your limbs trembling while Mina seemed to keep her own panic under control.

“Medics,” MIna yelled into the com system, her voice projecting all over the school grounds. “Come in medics, this is Mina. Report to the main gates immediately. We have an incoming group of four hurt seekers from a taoreta attack. I repeat we have an incoming group of four hurt seekers. Three are minimal, one is critical. Ready blood type O immediately.”

Your skin crawled at that information, Shouto was the only one with blood type O going out today.

He wasn’t the critically hurt one, you thought, watching as a crowd of medics rushed to the gate, no doubt readying to take the critical patient to Recovery Girl the moment the car crashed through campus. But as the car you knew as the same one that brought you here slammed to a stop by the entrance, nausea hit you when you saw that it was Kirishima and Iida who were driving.

Three slightly bleeding friends of yours were pulled from the truck and you felt the world go silent when none of them were Shouto. The screams and shouts of medical instructions went unheard by you when you saw Shouto’s bloody, torn up body being transported onto a gurney, a bloodline immediately hooked as they ran away.

You couldn’t hear anything or see anything but the sunken dip in Shouto’s cheeks.

Was he going to live?

You weren’t even aware of your own hyperventilation until Mina shoved you onto the floor, her golden-yellow eyes wide with worry and distress for you, but her words remained deaf on your ears, unable to pierce the stress ringing in your ears.

Was he going to leave you too?

Shouto’s eyelids felt heavier than lead when he finally woke up.

The bright white light of the hospital room almost blinding him while he groaned. What had happened?

A fuzzy memory of running into a taoreta with savage storm powers replayed in his head. He had almost sacrificed himself to save the group, the damn monster had the strength of Hercules and slashing wind that he cut Shouto up on numerous occasions. He had sworn he had gone under multiple times, but each time it felt like there was something stopping him, keeping him from leaving.

He wouldn’t have minded leaving, there wasn’t much here, to begin with. At least not after the demise of his entire family.

“So you’re finally away, Todoroki,” a gentle withered voice intercepted his thoughts, and Shouto turned his head with a pained grimace to see Recovery Girl checking his vitals. “I’m glad to see that you’re conscious of whats going on. You’ve woken up multiple times already but would seize before passing out.”

“Am I... am I alive?” Shouto asked, his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth.

A folder of papers crashed against his already throbbing head, and Shouto cursed while Recovery Girl fumed. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m kicking the bucket any time soon!”

Despite the pain, Shouto smiled softly, his head nodding in understanding.

“Besides, if you died I would have personally prayed for your soul because it looked like y/n-chan would have appeared on death’s door herself to bring you back,” she mused, her gloved finger pointing at your passed out figure on the other side of the bed.

Shouto’s eyes widened at the sight of you, something warm curling in his stomach seeing you there. But he frowned at the way your face was exhausted and thinner from the last time he had seen you.

“How long was I—?”

“A bit longer than two weeks.”

Holy shit that was a long time.

“We almost lost you a few times, but for some reason you always did better when she was holding your hand… it’s weird, but it worked — saved your life even. You owe that girl a big thank you, she’s done a lot.”

Shouto nodded numbly, his mind moving faster than he cared for while Recovery Girl finished her tendings to him before eventually leaving him alone. He had done better when you held his hand…

He looked down at his wrapped arms, now beyond grateful that they had been stockpiled on medical supplies because had they not they would have most likely decided saving him was a waste of resources. His hand moved to rest on your propped elbow, but the moment he touched your skin, your head popped up.

Shouto stared at you, and you stared back.

Bloodshot exhausted eyes meeting sullen ones, and Shouto barely had time to smile before tears sprung into your eyes.

“You almost died,” came a bitter hello, and it shocked Shouto. He hadn’t expected such a cold greeting from you. “Y-You promised you wouldn’t get hurt on these expeditions.”

You knew promises like that one were childish — it was a promise that couldn’t be kept in this society, but it was one he had still made to me.

“I promised I wouldn’t die,” Shouto countered, his hands pulling to rest on his lap, knowing that having contact with you was probably what wasn’t needed at the moment. “I didn’t, by the way.”

“You died three times while they were saving you!” you spat, angry heavy tears rolling down your cheeks. “You died and all I could do was watch! You l-lied!”

Shouto wasn’t sure how to react, on one hand he wanted to snap back at you, his own frustrations at you just not being happy to see him awake and functional made him upset because he was beyond relieved to see you here, but on the other hand, he wondered why you were so shaken at this “lie.”

“Why does it matter if I lied?” Shouto whispered, his attempt to keep his voice from showing any signs of anger passing. “It wasn’t something I did out of self-sacrifice, but because it’s what the group needed.”

You remained silent, your nostrils flaring with your uncovered emotions and thoughts, but Shouto wanted to know your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings. Despite the lengths the both of you had made in understanding each other, there was still so much hidden from both of your pasts, the thought of hurting so much more when being honest about them prohibiting the both of you from sharing.

“Y/n… come one, speak to me…”

“My parents said the exact same thing before they died,” you spoke with emotions tight in your throat. Your tongue passed your lips in an anxious matter, and you shook your head. “My group was murdered by taoreta a year before you met me. I had been sick at the time… the flu had gotten to me, so I was always left alone at our base while they all went out hunting. It was my family and twenty others… I had… I had a bad feeling the morning they died, but no one believed me because I was sick. I made them promise they’d come back alive, and they did! But while they always returned a bit after dusk, no one ever showed up.” Shouto’s stomach curled, already guessing the rest of your story, but there was no need to guess, you were finishing the tale that still haunted your life. “The next morning I was essentially fine, so I packed up my things and went to search for them. My group always left a rock trail to get back… I was going to follow the trail to find them. And I did find them… but… they were all dead. I saw my mom's torso here, my dad's head there. I couldn’t even recognize anyone's bodies, but the smell… I still smell it at night sometimes… rotting flesh and the whimpers of one of my friends who was still dying when I got there!”

The tears on your cheeks rolled down unashamedly, but your body shook with emotions, your breathing shallow and sparse, most definitely not intaking the needed amount of oxygen you needed. But with this insight, so many things made sense to Shouto. Weird personality traits of yours for the first time having reason for their rhyme.

“I don’t want to be told you’ll be okay and find you dead one day… you were dead and I thought… it felt like I was back there again! I haven’t been there since January and… god, Shouto, I can’t have you dying like that!”

His heart hurt for you, and his eyes found yours again.

“I lost my family eight years ago,” Shouto confessed, his hand stretching out for you to take, and he relaxed when you accepted his offer. “My father and oldest brother had found a group of survivors who were harboring a taoreta who was only twenty-four at the time. We didn’t know they were a taoreta, and we didn’t know that they were turning twenty-five the next day. My family brought them back to base and took them into our room because we had the largest one. I was with… I was with Midoriya, Bakugou, and Kirishima that day, the four of us had decided that we were going to camp out on the track… I didn’t get to even say goodbye to anyone. The next morning there was an explosion in the cafeteria and my family along with the surviving group and taoreta had been killed. It was… horrible… and even though it was years ago, I still feel like it was yesterday. It could have been me there with them — and I felt… I felt like for the longest time that I should have died with them…”

“Shouto,” you whispered, your tears no longer angry but so sad for the man you had fallen for. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Shouto smiled painfully, his shoulders shrugging while he exhaled, tears trailing down his face while a weird sense of relief washed over him. “It’s okay. It’s hard and all, but it’s comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one fucked over by a taoreta.”

Your eyes softened and a snort left your nose while you shook your head, “I think we’ve all been fucked over by them, wouldn’t you agree?”

There was an agreeing noise that passed Shouto’s lips that died as quickly as it had started when your lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, not quite a kiss, but close enough to a kiss that had skyrocketed his heart rate.

“I’m glad you’re still alive though, Shouto,” you whisper, pulling away from him, your lips forever imprinted onto his skin. “I don’t think I would be able to live in that big old room all by myself.”

Shouto cleared his throat, his eyes glinting everso mischievously, “I definitely would had stuck around to haunt you.”

He wouldn’t confess to it at this moment, but his heart definitely skipped a beat at the sight of your glowing smile, and the laugh that escaped your lips.

“I’m sure you would’ve.”

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It was raining.

The chaos of the outside world had once again found its way into Yuuei’s safezone, and everything was going to shit. You had woken up to the sound of rain, your body curled onto Shouto’s and your mind not thinking much of the pittering rain that fell from the sky. You were content in his warm embrace, just grateful to have more time with the sleeping man. It had taken him five months to fully recover from his attack, and he had just recently resumed his job as a seeker two months ago.

Right now it was December, it had been past a full year since your arrival here, and you definitely were content here.

Your relationship with Shouto has definitely become… muddied in the past few months. Kisses had been exchanged on multiple occasions, the both of you practically acting like a couple despite not having coined your relationship. Despite the both of you coming clean with your past, there was still hesitation to make things official, with both of you not wanting to hear that either one of you had died (you had become a seeker during his time of recovery just so you could get him more shower times, plus you missed scavenging in the outdoors). Secret kisses were exchanged between you like blackmarket deals, but still the hesitant riding heavy in both your bones prevented anything from happening.

But that was okay for now, as long as you were the only one Todoroki Shouto was kissing, you were okay with that. Burying your nose into his chest, you allowed for sleep to consume you into its clutches. Today was both your days off after all.

Seconds before sleep could reclaim you, a long three part bell was heard that instantly had both you and Shouto rocketing upward. A long bell was a part of the warning system, and each part meant something.

One long ring was a storm.

Two long rings was a group of survivors.

Three long rings was a taoreta.

Both you and Shouto scurried to your feet, throwing on the first set of clothes you could find, and desperately putting on your shoes while your heart hammered. You hadn’t fought a taoreta since the year before, and with the explosion outside you could only begin to imagine what this was going to mean for you all.

“Y/n!” Shouto called for you while you pulled on your jacket. You looked at him, your hands mid-pulling your hair out of your face. “Come back alive.”

You didn’t say anything, his clothes and shoes already on; ready to go out and fight. But in a kiss akin to that of your first one, he pressed his lips against yours in a heated, fervor passion. An action that spoke of desperation between two lovers who longed to see the next day, and you heard it loud and clear.

Survive.

It was an order, it was a promise.

He left before you, and you soon followed after. The weight of the future falling heavily on your shoulders, but a personal fury to survive pushing you through.

It was a long and a hard battle.

The taoreta had blade wings and mowed down everything in its path. Bodies littered the floor around you, your body in pain and sore while the taoreta lay twitching on the roof of one of the pillars of the campus building. In what was considered to be a lucky shot, you had managed to pierce a major artery of the taoreta with a gun you had taken from a fallen member and he was now bleeding out.

There were multiple cuts all over your body, the slices from the knives doing nothing but harm to your body while you collapsed on the roof, your breathing heavy and your body exhausted underneath the pittering rain. You overlooked the tower, down at the people below and gave a thumbs up, signaling he was dead.

A silent scream of victory came from the surviving members of Yuuei, no one able to actual muster a sound of victory because defeat still stung with every bleeding cut on their bodies. But this wasn’t your job anymore, a successive three short rings alerted the medics that it was their turn to work, and you hobbled down from the roof back to your room.

Your hair was plastered to your face, bloodied water dripping after you while you returned to the room, and you stood at the door unable to walk in until you saw Shouto.

It felt like you were standing there forever, your eyes focusing on the stairway in hopes of seeing the red and white haired boy emerge from a lower floor to you. And finally, finally he appeared.

There was a cut on his face, a bandaid on his chest, and you realized that he had been treated before coming up. He stared at you from the distance, both your bodies frozen with adrenaline induced joy.

But it was over just as fast, Shouto ran towards you, and there was nothing for you to do except leap into his arms, and press your lips against his. Shouto’s words of gratitude for seeing you alive were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. His tongue curled and moved against yours, his hands moving frantically against your back in this desperate, longing kiss that exploded fire onto his cheeks and loins. But unlike the first kiss ever exchanged between the two of you he was able to move. He was able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focusing on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose while he entered the room, the door slamming closed behind him.

His lips are passionate against yours, your jaw drops and your mind spins from the intensity he was returning into the kiss. Your gasping moans stir him on as his hands grasp your ass without fear, your body melting into his grasp while he continues to strive ahead, and your hips in their glee of both being alive and knowing what is happening ground against his crotch. Your breathing is uneven, your feelings and nerves overload as you put in the same amount of intensive passion into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, allowing for your tongue to invade into his mouth while your hands manage to pull his shirt from his body, throwing it who knows where.

A low mewl escapes your mouth when your fingers trail down his rippling muscles, the curves of his muscles and the scars on his body making you shake with anticipation. While you busied yourself with memorizing his body with your hands, his hands trail down your legs, softly trailing the underside of your thighs. The sensation of his hot fingers against the wet jeans sent shivers down your spine as your hips swivel against his, a desperate attempt to feel more from him. You hummed in increasing excitement when he cursed your name, the growing bulge in his pants making you sing to the heavens.

Tongues once more crash in the middle, neither one of you entirely dominating the other in this passionate affair. Moans escape your mouth as he lowers to the ground, pressing your back against the tatami. Your fingers fisted into his hair, his hips grinding down into your heated, desperate core. Synchronized groans are exchanged in this slowly maddening exchange, his body very receptive to the hair-pulling.

His hands trailed down onto the swell of your breasts, squeezing firmly around your soft and tender flesh, and you arch into his hands. His tongue furthers into your mouth in your brief distraction, and he trails his tongue everywhere in your mouth, letting nothing go untouched until you were unable to do anything but expel hot, passionate breaths with just the slightest bit of a whine. Your increasingly satisfied moans make him chuckle. You watch with heavy lids as he pulls away, his face deliriously close to your own as you pant.

From this distance, you can see the fire burning in his eyes. A sight that makes you shiver with growing need, but the thought disappears when his mouth attaches onto your neck. His canines sink deeply into your skin catching you entirely off guard in this desperate claim, but you rewarded his actions by screaming his name, the feeling of his hot tongue soothing the burning flesh too sweet and wanton. It’s a new sensation and one that you rather liked seeing that your hips buck up against his; your body craving more friction.

His canines continue tracing against your skin, biting and marking you more and more with the increased vocal praises pouring from your lips. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp while Shouto hastily removes your wet clothes from your overheating body, the cold air hitting you, but goes ignored because he presses back down against you, his mouth recapturing yours, and your nipples pebbling with his chest against yours.

The two of you are lost in the kiss, your lips pressing and pulling against the other in a desperate act, your fingers burying crescents into his skin all while your clothes still continue to be stripped from both of your bodies until theres nothing between you but a flimsy set of underwear.

Your nostrils flare as you pull away, a need for air too much for you to continue your kissing endeavors, but as he now remains in just his boxers, your breathing nearly stops while you take in his form to the maximum.

You really were fucking lucky…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases you, and he captures your lips with his own again.

You gasp sharply at the feeling of his heated toned body pressing against your cold yet flushed skin. Your hands sliding down his muscular back were intoxicated with the way his body felt, an overwhelming need to get more from him was undeniable.

“I don’t need a picture of something that I can have every day,” you shudder as his fingers graze the pool of heat in your panties.

“Oh really? Everyday?”

“You think I — oh shit — you think I can’t?!”

You watch as he chuckles against your skin, his fingers trailing over the curves of your breast and into the valley between them before rutting his cock against the place you needed him most right now. “So you just want me for my dick? Nothing else?” he asks you, his cock rubbing against your panties applying a dizzying pressure against your pooling heat.

“I want you, all of you,” you confess, unable to even kid around with the need between your legs being as strong as it was while your hips pathetically grind into his fingers. He chuckles as he pushes your thighs up, and pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, his finger teasing your building heat.

“Such decisive words from a girl who just wanted to kiss me with no relationship in mind,” he mutters sinking two fingers into your unsuspecting heat.

The helpless and needy scream that pours from your mouth interrupts your denial makes him laugh.

“Tell me, y/n,” he says as his fingers slowly pump within you.

Slowly.

Teasingly.

“Do you want my dick in you?”

Your harsh pants keep you from speaking as Shouto increases his speed. His fingers curling within your walls stretching you out in a thigh shaking way. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re vastly affected by his intruding fingers, your body violently trembling with his curled appendages, your mind unable to form sentences because god how was he doing that with his fingers?!

“Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, oh my god Shouto!” you shriek as your hips slam against his fingers with every crashing movement.

“How about dating me? You think you’ll finally let me be your boyfriend?” he muses as his teeth come to bite against your exposed nipples, relishing in the way your head nods pathetically, so desperate for him to do moore. The neverending noises of approval expelling from your mouth only grow when his tongue flicks your nipple. Your fingers digging into his shoulders in wild approval. “Are you going to try and find someone else?”

“No! I just want you, Shouto! P-Please fuck me!” you beg as you try squirming away from his fingers. Your fingers scratching their way down his back, leaving bleeding marks on him in attempt to get him to do more to you. You watch in growing glee and excitement as he slips off your underwear, and his cock spreads completely against your dripping cunt.

A satisfied and slightly horrified moan escapes your mouth at the sight of him carding his cock between your folds. His fingers remove from your sopping wet cunt as he licks you clean from his fingers. “Maybe I’ll have some dessert later,” he wickedly grins as he slowly fists himself. “Now lay back and legs out.”

He accentuates every word, and you feel yourself heeding his command. Your hands quickly gather your thighs in your hand, and you stretch backward as you watch him draw near your spread legs. The tip of his hard cock teasing your entrance.

“Fuck me already!” you whine as he continues to only coat his cock with your juices, uncaring of both of your throbbing sexes.

He looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he shrugs.

“Sure.”

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock completely into your awaiting cunt without mercy. His girth stretching you out in an unimaginable way. Stretching you out in ways you were not prepared for, your back arching off the mat in your silent scream. Your walls rippled as they attempted to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, absurdly unprepared for his cock in you as your body trembles as Shouto leans forward.

His own head is buried within your neck, his breathing trying to reign back in.

“Shit, princess,” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is obviously affected by the tightness of you around him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You mewl as the painful throb in your pussy lulls and you writhe your hips against him, “Please do something, fuck me right. Please fuck me.”

Shouto smirks, small and knowing, and rightfully so as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, his hand pressing against your thighs and you can only watch with your face buried into his neck he begins slamming into you. Your hips move in time with his.

Both of you desperate under your nearing orgasms and this heightened state of pleasure brought by the desperation of this fuck. You had both survived the attack, something that the both of you had been so scared of eventually happening given your records, but you had lived. You had lived and became insanely horny at the first sight of Shouto.

His hands gripped your hands while he pounded into you. His grip nearly cracks your hands as he slams his body faster against yours, stretching you out with every move, and by god does he know how to use his cock that dragged against your spongey puffy walls. His hands shift as they drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this difference stretches you out in unimaginable ways.

His hips crashing into yours is mind jolting, and your cries only fuel him on.

Your body feels as if it is turning into jelly as he shifts your two legs over his shoulders. His cock bottoming out into you making your back arch off the mattress as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit. You suppress a wail as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights onto your puffy nerve. Your pussy is clamping down on his hammering cock, not at all slowing him down, and yet he still grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure silences as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Over and over.

Again and again.

Harder and harder.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and crashes down hard against your g-spot.

“Shouto!!!” you scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His alias a prayer on your lips as he continues fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the mattress, your screams muffled through a kiss as you wrap your arms around him. Even though your legs were on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allows Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your body bouncing with every single slam. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa – fuuuuck, baby do that again – I needa come!” you squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, princess.” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come around my cock.”

The built-up pleasure in your belly is profuse, it’s built up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the pleasure being too much.

Your orgasm slams through you, your vision nearly turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm. His teeth digging into your bottom lip as his jaw slacks.

His hips continue slamming into you. They’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt continues clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow numb in his arms, although your hips still continue to desperately roll against his. His breathing is heavy and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” You whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed within you. “B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other. Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knock the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me! Please fill me up!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw into his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four bloody red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot throbbing cock. The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically under your fingernails, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that Imma fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips slamming inhumanly faster into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have noticed the clamping of your inner walls as he continues drilling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You sob against his mouth, your nails tearing into his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he only continues to fuck you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses your back onto the mattress again. The protruding veins on his cock creating insane friction against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto curses loudly as he finally loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time as a heavy load shoots into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he falls beside you. You whimper as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, his hand moving to find yours again, and you can’t say anything but nod in agreement.

“Holy shit is right,” you chuckle and his snort makes you warm inside.

“So… we’re dating now, right?” you ask softly, moving to look at Shouto’s closed eyes.

“We’re about five months late on that, but yes, yes we are.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Witch”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Well, it's perhaps happier provided you didn't watch today’s episode lol. Getting through these 18 minutes felt like watching an extended version of a CinemaSins vid. I heard a little 'ding!' every time something nonsensical, contradictory, or just downright stupid happened. My mind became a pinball machine.

Which, in the interest of being fair as opposed to just snarky, only matters if you're looking for something resembling emotional depth in this show. RWBY, for all its faults, is enjoyable as a mindless spectacle. It's when you expect — or simply hope — for anything more that this very fragile house of cards comes tumbling down.

If it’s not clear already, today’s recap contains copious amounts of salt. Fair warning.

With that disclaimer out of the way, let’s dive in. Episode nine is titled "Witch," which is fitting since many members of our group go toe-to-toe against Salem herself. The narrative issues inherent in having your heroes fighting their final boss years before the series is meant to end might have been avoided if it weren't for Oscar's ridiculous, sacrificial attack... but we'll get to that.

We open with a sweeping shot of the Atlas battle, as hundreds of dead soldiers segue into endless grimm. Hold onto that image for a bit. At the end of this carnage is, of course, the mouth of the whale. We cut to Jaune, Ren, and Yang already safely inside.

"Well," says Yang, "that was harrowing."

I'm on the fence about this choice. On the one hand, yes, it's good that RWBY knows it can skip over extraneous scenes. We have NINE characters to keep track of and develop, fourteen if you count Ozpin, Maria, Winter, Ironwood, and now Whitley. Plus villains. There simply isn't time to show every insignificant moment... but was this insignificant? Obviously finding Oscar and escaping Salem's clutches is the true hurdle of this mission, but that doesn't mean getting through an entire army of grimm is in any way a cake walk. I'd be more willing to ignore this time skip if it weren't likewise presented as such a challenge for Winter's team. They have to "clear a path" to the whale, but our trio got there unscathed and unnoticed? The obvious implication here is that Ren just masked them the whole way — supported by his aura breaking later in the episode — but it still feels like we missed an important chunk of this task.

I'm nit-picking though. As said, I’m straddling the fence on this one and, given that, I'm inclined to settle on a, "Good job, RWBY. You're keeping the writing tight," if only because I don't have much else to praise about this episode. Throw the poor, struggling show a bone lol.

Now that they're inside, they realize they haven't the slightest idea how they'll find Oscar. “Like finding a needle in a giant…whale… why did we think this was a good idea?!” Because you and your friends are idiots who no longer bother to think about a situation before throwing yourself straight into it? This isn't me being mean to Yang, she literally says as much later on. Our heroes no longer get by on intellect, strategy, and skill, but rather plot armor and a staggering number of coincidences. For example, Ren.

Yang: Wow, it sure is lucky for us that on our way to this incredibly dangerous mission Ren inexplicably developed a new part of his semblance. Now he can not only mask peoples' emotions, see the true emotions that someone is feeling, pull thoughts out of their head about what they believe about a situation, but can also track someone across long distances through their emotions alone. Even that doesn't actually help us find Oscar, we just got lucky again when, in this maze of a whale, he ran right into us!

Me: So what were you going to do if this meta-world stopped giving you the most contrived solutions in Remnant history?

Yang: Die gloriously, I guess.

What Yang actually says is, "Okay. That's new!" and they enter the literal belly of the beast wielding a shield of convenience.

Jaune is also being awkward again because remember, RWBY doesn't know when to incorporate humor and when to treat a situation seriously. He reminds Ren not to "drain [himself]," he'll help him, and it's clear the scene is hinting at their earlier fight. There's a lot to unpack there, but I want to save it for the second conversation.

For now, we cut to Oscar, curled up in his cell, repeating stories to comfort himself. Yeah that's fine. I could use a broken heart right before Valentine's Day.

“She brushed off her bumps and bruises, for nothing hurt worse than the loneliness in her chest." It's a line from The Girl Who Fell Through the World, which Ozpin recognizes given that he's "lived through" a fair number of fairy tales. He immediately asks how Oscar is holding up — because he's a caring person! — and Oscar admits that he never understood why the girl of the tale was sad upon reaching home again. Now he does: she wasn't the same person anymore. I don't think the fact that Oscar has had both a metaphorical fall — leaving his farm to 'fall' into this war — and a literal one — falling through Atlas to unlock his magic — is lost on anyone. This is a nice allusion to our themes. Yang's speech to Salem later on? That’s something else entirely.

Storytelling done, Ozpin says he thinks "this plan to divide might have run its course” and it's time to try and find a way to leave. I'm sorry, I love my farm boy, but what plan? He didn't do anything. At least nothing that could remotely be termed an intellectual plot. Oscar convinced Ozpin to try and turn Hazel by telling him the world would end under Salem's rule and the only reason that worked is because the story decided to chuck out Hazel's entire character. You know, the one that hates Ozpin above all others, wants the world remade into a non-Academy horror show, can't understand that people make their own choices, is terrified of Salem, and has no reason to trust a prisoner he's currently torturing. Oscar's "plan" hinged on his writers erasing a great deal of work to build a new story that fits said “plan.” He didn't even get Emerald involved, she just — again, conveniently — eavesdropped outside their door at just the right moment.

To be clear, I'm not against a story being written to work in the hero's favor. Of course things are going to be convenient in a happy-ending tale. Someone manages to hold out just as long as they need to, a sword is lying just within reach, you, yes, happen to run into the one person you're desperate to find. This kind of stuff is reassuring, telling its audiences that sometimes things do work out for the best. It's enjoyable... but only provided the hero's entire success doesn't hinge on fate being shockingly kind to them. That's what RWBY has become. A world where Salem doesn't attack Mantle, Amity Tower is suddenly finished, the group can charge into any deadly situation they want to and bank on destiny twisting around itself to ensure they come out of it safely. A hero finding a convenient weapon nearby to defeat their enemy with is only reassuring after we've seen them implement a brilliant attack, struggle, nearly win, but then suddenly be faced with failure, necessitating that little push from coincidence. They earned it. The hero doesn't get to run in blindly and find a Defeat Bad Guy plot point gift wrapped for them at the first sign of trouble. They just die.

RWBY used to be a better written show because that's precisely Pyrrha's story. She charged a Maiden unprepared, without a single plan or hope for success, and she died. That's what happens in a dangerous, internally consistent world, but RWBY has since lost the second half of that formula.

I'm harping on this because this entire episode is built on that foundation of coincidence, something that shouldn't be happening at all, but especially not when you're pitting the heroes against Salem herself.

So yeah, it just gets worse from here.

Back to Oscar. Without the cane magic is the only weapon they have at their disposal, but he's reluctant to use it because every time he does, they merge more quickly.

They... do?

Okay, there are three major problems with this announcement:

I'm pretty sure we've only seen Oscar use magic once: creating that barrier to survive the fall through Atlas. That was the point of his near death experience, to unlock something that had previously been unavailable to him. Yet if he's only used it once, why is he so sure that it hurries the merge along? What's this "every time" business? This confusion could have easily been avoided if the show had just let Oscar use his magic this volume, tackling some other questions and gaps in the process. Let him use it to fight off the grimm in Mantle, giving him the opportunity to admit to at least Jaune, Ren, and Yang that Ozpin is back. He could have used some magic against the Hound with Ozpin's encouragement, answering the question of why he was entirely silent while the two of them got their ass beat. Give us a moment where Oscar uses his magic against Hazel, nearly escaping in the process, but is captured again at the last moment. Basically, his line makes it sound like magic has been this ongoing resource with an established downside when... it hasn’t.

Coinciding with all of the above, how is it that Oscar can suddenly use magic at will? Yeah, yeah, he unlocked it during the fall, but really? You open up the magic gates and from then on out it's as natural as breathing? This is the same issue with Ruby's silver eyes. The story gives these characters incredible powers, but never has them talking about how they work, let alone training them. They just exist, perfect in execution, as soon as the plot needs them. (See: the final shot of this episode.) At least Weiss had to practice her summoning for multiple volumes.

Finally, the question of how Oscar instinctively knows how to use magic could easily be answered with, "Well, he's kind of Ozpin now," but that would require the story to actually explain what the merge is. "We merge faster," Oscar says, but what does that mean? The Ozpin and Oscar we see in this scene are fundamentally indistinguishable from the Ozpin and Oscar who existed at his aunt's house, four whole years ago. They're still separate people, with one controlling the body and the other existing as a consciousness he can talk to. Nothing has changed. The show keeps insisting that Oscar is going through this deep and painful arc of losing himself to Ozpin... despite the fact that he has yet to lose a single bit of Oscar-ness. Has he changed? Well of course, but anyone going through these experiences is going to change. Remove the "merge" aspect and Oscar's confidence or power up is likewise indistinguishable from any of the other characters' developments. Nora is becoming more of an individual this volume. Ren is becoming more powerful in his semblance. Neither have an Ozpin to force that change, it just happens on its own. So what separates Oscar from every other character going through a formative experience? When is “I’m not the same person anymore” due to unnatural magic vs. just growing up?

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy our boy is getting more screen time — and that the cast is actually being kind to him now — but overall his arc is objectively terrible. He bought some clothes, told Ironwood he was as bad as Salem, told Hazel how to access the Relic, and then asked him not to be a villain anymore. Somehow these things are presented as significant moments of growth while the real questions surrounding his merge go unanswered.

“Honestly, I think you’re doing just fine on your own," Ozpin tells him, but he's not. God knows our boy is trying, but this is a moment where Ozpin's self-hatred (and the story's insistence that the younger generation is intrinsically better than the older) is blinding him to the situation. Oscar has made terrible decisions lately, in as much as he's been able to decide anything at all, and now he's rejecting escaping captivity because he's terrified of a concept he doesn't even understand yet. None of that is fine. Reassurance is one thing, but painting this situation as Oscar making better choices than he would with Ozpin's input is insane. He literally just decided to keep them in Salem's clutches indefinitely because something something magic is scary, I guess. Oscar doesn't need a, 'You're better than me' speech, he needs a reality check so they don't both die. Remember back in Volume 5 when Oscar, a brave but idiotic 14 year old, insisted on fighting someone entirely out of his league and Ozpin was like,

then saved him from getting his head crushed in like a cantaloupe? We need more of that. Our teenage heroes need guidance, but because RWBY keeps insisting that every adult they encounter is corrupt or incompetent, that hasn't happened in three volumes. They're just aloud to decide things like, “Let's tell our captor the Relic's password because UwU ~trust~” and then the story bends over backwards to make that work. Instead we could, you know, let characters learn that they can be wrong.

The snow scene was the beginning, but RWBY really went off the rails the day it let Qrow warn the group against stealing from and attacking an allied city, only for them to call him an idiot for doubting them. Now, Ozpin doesn't even get to warn Oscar about stupid decisions, he just agrees with them, reassuring and passive. Never mind the complication of whether Ozpin is even emotionally capable of providing guidance after they labeled him the worst thing to ever happen to them.

Why does RWBY keep ruining my faves 😔

Anyway, we’ve got to stay on track. Oscar has decided to just lie there but, luckily for him, Hazel's redemption — I use that term so loosely — has begun. He drags Oscar out of his cell before we cut to Winter.

She's leading a portion of Ironwood's army, trying to get things ready for when the bomb arrives. Neon and Flynt are a part of her team, sharing scared glances and trying to remain optimistic. It's a legitimately hard-hitting moment, striking that balance between horror and hope. Funny though, I wonder that RWBYJNOR would think of their friends fighting for evil Ironwood...

Marrow, continuing the tradition of insisting that our heroes be both adults and kids simultaneously, looks sadly at the soldiers heading into battle and goes, "But... they're just kids." I would like to remind everyone reading that Ruby is younger than them. Anyone who thinks that these teenagers shouldn't be fighting grimm — the thing they have been training to do as their professional career, during an unprecedented attack on their home — should not simultaneously be looking to the girl who is two years younger as his savior. (Something that, while not overt yet, is very much where Marrow is heading as he continually doubts the Ace Ops and looks to RWBY's group as his new, moral leaders.) I'm glad that, for once, this perspective is firmly called out. Elm arrives to tell him point blank that he needs to figure out his personal ethics later. It doesn't matter because there's an army of grimm out there and monsters aren't going to spare anyone, adult or child. Quit philosophizing and kill some already.

Back to Hazel where we get the doorway shot from our trailer. He's taken Oscar to the Relic, because of course he has. Do I really need to list how convenient this is too? Apparently, "the moment we move that thing, this place goes on high alert," but there’s no alarm for when Oscar is taken from his cell, they enter the Relic's room, or when they use it. What does a movement alert matter if someone can just waltz in and waste the last question themselves? Put some of those endless grimm in the room to guard it, Salem!

Just assume that I am, at any given point in this episode, letting out the longest sigh my lungs are physically capable of.

Emerald shows up, demonstrating both the convenience of everyone arriving when they need to, and the very real danger that Salem herself could come in and discover what they're up to. Hazel has Oscar summon Jinn, only to immediately say that “Actually, I think all my questions are answered now.”

I'm sorry, how does this answer any of Hazel's questions? His driving question was not, "Is the Relic actually a magical object capable of doing magical things?" but rather "Are you telling me the truth about Salem's plans to summon the Gods and destroy all of Remnant in her quest to finally die, thereby changing who I'm going to support in this war?" Seeing a naked, blue djinn does not answer that question.

Hazel's "redemption" is non-existent. He — we — learned about Salem's death wish despite how that contradicts previous lore, then he trusted Ozpin despite that contradicting his entire character, now he joins the heroes because, literally, he sees Jinn floating there. It’s bad enough that Hazel goes from clear villain to sacrificial hero in a matter of in-world hours, but we don’t even get a reason for why that change occurred.

Oh, there's also this:

So Jinn doesn't come out of her lamp unless someone intends to ask a question, but does it for Ruby because she's special, yet still reiterates that this won't happen again. Then Oscar summons her without intending to ask a question, she comes out anyway, confirms that none of them seek knowledge from her, and happily pops back inside her lamp because eh, it’s whatever.

If RWBY had any courage the three of them would be cursed now for toying with a powerful, magical object. Remember the days when Jinn was a little terrifying because it felt like she was warping her answers and we had no idea what she might do to someone who used her carelessly? When she felt like a djinn? Good times.

Or better times, at least.

So Good Guy Hazel and Good Gal Emerald promise to get Oscar out. Never mind all the horror they caused, the people they killed, and that for Hazel, at least, this defection is coming out of nowhere.

Anyone remember that Emerald orchestrated Penny's death? No? Just me?

As they leave it turns out Neo was camouflaged against the wall, because she was also precisely where she needed to be. Does everyone just periodically pop into the Relic room to see what’s going on? At least this time it's not working in the heroes' favor. Remember when I said it's beyond idiotic for Oscar to just hand out the Relic information to known enemies currently holding him captive and torturing him?

Yeeeeaah.

So Neo's got the Lamp. Funny how all of this could have been avoided if Ruby had just put it in the vault like she came to Atlas to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

We return to our trio where Jaune and Ren need to rest because their aura is giving out. Good! These guys fought a battle, fought Neo, fought more grimm, fought the Hound, traipsed through the tundra, presumably fought through more grimm to get to the whale, and have been using both their semblances to look for Oscar. It's about time their reserves started to falter.

Jaune decides to scout ahead a bit, leaving Yang and Ren to talk about nothing of importance. I mean that seriously. Remember a few days ago when I spoke about how, if the snow conversation does come back up, Ren's points would be entirely ignored for a nonsensical “I’m glad we’re friends” speech? Remember how I also spoke about how every emotional beat now is entirely generic and you could replace any character with another and not a single thing would change? Yeah. This is both those arguments in one. Nothing is said about the points Ren made. His problems with how the group has been acting lately and the very real, very deadly consequences it has had are flat out ignored. We went from

"But these aren't the kinds of decisions we should be making because we have no idea what we're doing!"

"Forward, no matter what!"

in a matter of hours, with precisely zero insight into how Ren went from one perspective to the exact opposite. Kind of like Hazel. Because see, RWBY doesn't write arcs, it just writes one thing until it decides to switch it up for something else, with the opposite idea presented as a “resolution” or a “twist.” Our creators writes scenes they know the fandom is begging for without considering how to get a character to that place, let alone how to get them out of it. That's all Ren's speech was, the equivalent of moral fan service. Here's a glimpse of actual character depth and a morally gray situation... now forget it ever happened because we're back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Instead of working through the laundry list of issues Ren raised, Ren instead accepts Jaune's aura help — something they've been doing since Argus — and tells Yang it's okay to be scared. These moments are meaningless and, as said, could have been between anyone in our cast. Ren could have told Nora she doesn't have to use jokes to cover up that she's scared. Jaune could have reminded Ruby that she can depend on him. Yang could have tried to keep Blake and Weiss' hopes up. This scenes ignores the individuality of the characters, like the fact that they just fought over very different world views, to instead favor any dime-a-dozen moment of support. The number of times this volume has rejected the conflict and resolution the group needs for bland, generic reassurances staggering.

Also, apparently Jaune isn't scared at all? I don't think that's as good a thing as Ren seems to think...

Then Jaune immediately rounds the corner, terrified lol.

One of the seer grimm is on its way and he tells Ren to mask them. Apparently he had been masking them before — one of the reasons he's so tired now, trying to do two things at once — but it's only here that they go black and white again. Ren manages to keep it up for a little while, but his aura breaks before the seer passes and they're spotted.

Hark! A consequence!

That was well done. It makes sense and it adds to the stakes. We've seen the insane amount of fighting the group has done since Volume 7, we just established that they're at their breaking point, and then Ren's aura fails him right when he needs it the most. Add this to the miniscule pile of things that were well done this episode.

Salem runs into Emerald and Hazel, the former of which is acting very suspicious when asked if he's made any headway with Oscar. The seer's alarm interrupts them though and... okay. Was I the only one who cackled during this moment? Between Salem's voice acting and the fact that she just yeets herself down the hallway, it came across as really funny to me.

Either way, it is a bad situation. Our trio is trying to figure out what to do, to which Yang responds, "Do what we do best… charge blindly into danger!!”

Ren's aura is broken. Jaune barely has any left and it’s unlikely he could heal right now even if Ren had any aura to amplify. If Ren takes a single hit anywhere important he is dead.

Me, on my knees, surrounded by the ashes of the Hound, the last bit of serious storytelling we had: "For the love of God, the kingdom is on fire and simultaneously dying of cold. There's a grimm army decimating hundreds outside. Half their group is missing and they're wandering lost inside a devil whale, about to have the most powerful being Remnant has ever known personally try to kill them — can we please have their attitudes reflect that?"

The answer, in case you were wondering, is no.

Back to the bomb. Whatever scientists were given this task have completed it and Marrow watches as it's flown out towards the whale. "Come on, Juan" he whispers and I'm all, "Juan?" Apparently it's a callback to last volume when Marrow couldn't remember Jaune's actual name, but it took me hopping onto the RWBY wiki to remember that.

As death via explosion inches closer, the trio runs into Hazel and Emerald. Turns out though that Hazel is really Oscar, disguised through Emerald's semblance. Nice trick! Jaune immediately drops both weapons to hug Oscar and, while that's nice and all, it's also the stupidest thing he could possible do in enemy territory. Also, Oscar has been beaten up by the Hound, tortured with magic, and likewise beaten bloody by Hazel. I was hoping for a tender hug like the one Nora gave him, not a giant squeeze for more comedy purposes. It just feels like RWBY has no idea how to manage the tone of this volume, let alone the torture of a child...

There's the obligatory, "Why should we trust you?" from Yang regarding Emerald joining the team, to which Ren responds, "Because she's scared, just like us."

That doesn't prove anything. Literally everyone is scared right now. There is a war going on. I really cannot emphasize enough how RWBY throws out Deep™ sounding lines that are, upon inspection, absolutely nonsensical. Nora reminding Penny that there are different parts to her personhood, Hazel saying that all his questions have been answered, Ren announcing that Emerald is scared... it's all worthless chatter that has no bearing on their problems: How do I keep from being hacked? How do I know you're telling the truth? How do we know you're trustworthy after you spent years trying to kill us? But of course, because it's RWBY, Ren's announcement is treated as some sort of secret truth that everyone accepts. Emerald joins up.

As they head for an exit we return to Marrow who, frankly, is getting on my last nerve. I know the fandom loves him because he's clearly leaning towards Team RWBY, but does anyone actually listen to what he says? He starts yelling at Winter for sending in the bomb because the trio might still be alive in there, despite:

Seeing for himself the hundreds of soldiers that have fallen trying to keep Atlas safe

Knowing and hearing again from Winter that the only way to stop this carnage is to take out the whale. Given more time, the whole city falls

Sadly announcing to the world that children shouldn't have to fight in a battle, rather than just joining the fray and helping to keep those kids safe

How does Marrow think those kids are going to be able to stop fighting? How does he think he'll get a city to return to? It's no wonder that he's drawn to Ruby because both characters stand around twiddling their thumbs, mourning that things are bad, and blaming others for imperfect solutions rather than doing something to make the situation better. Marrow's disgust at Winter over the bomb is precisely the same as Ruby's disgust at Ironwood over Mantle: how dare you not have a plan that results in both victory for us and zero sacrifices? They want perfection which, yes, is an admirable trait, but their problem is they refuse to do anything until that perfection appears. They’re paralyzed, a trait that’s particularly dangerous when your story insists that perfection will never appear: it’s not a fairy tale. So they just continue to get mad at others for the fact that they live in an unfair world. You want that perfect solution? Think it up yourself. Otherwise, stand aside and let those coming up with something do what they can to make things better.

Marrow goes so far as to drag Weiss into things, trying to guilt Winter with the knowledge that she'll have to relate the death of her sister's friends back to her. Winter, because she's a badass who isn't in denial over the situation, tells him that yes, she will shoulder that responsibility. To Marrow's credit he backs off then, but man. RWBY has legitimate moral questions here — when is holding out for a few worth risking the many? — but they go about exploring it in the most frustrating way possible. I personally have no respect for the guy who wants to announce that Children In War Is Bad instead of, you know, using the power he currently has to protect those kids already neck deep in a battle.

Because John Mulaney remains relevant:

"There shouldn't be a horse in the hospital :( "

"We're WELL PAST THAT."

Marrow is the one going, "There shouldn't be kids in a war :( We shouldn't have to kill a few to save the whole kingdom :( " and everyone around him is like, "No shit, dude! But this is the hand we were dealt! You going to help us, or what?"

Literally all of these characters could have been so much more than what they currently are.

Except Winter. She's doing great.

Now for the final scene. Our group nearly manages to escape the whale, but is incapacitated by some sort of screechy power that Salem employs.

She contorts her body, stretching out her arms to snag Emerald, and the others have a brief, but intense skirmish. Jaune manages to block a blast of magic aimed at Ren with his shield — nice — and Yang dots Salem's face with a bunch of bombs before blowing her sky-high — double nice. Oscar shoots out some magic of his own because, yeah, I guess he can just do that now? It really feels like it came out of nowhere after eight episodes of being the punching bag.

Of course, Salem immediately reforms. She traps the group with grimm arms that come out of the whale, interrogating Ozpin about why he bothers to keep coming back. There's a very sad answer there of, "I don't," referring to his lack of choice in reincarnating to fight her.

Yang interrupts their little tet-a-tet to throw the question back in Salem's face, calling her out on her choices. A great idea but, as always, execution: "because something bad happened to you once upon a time? No one gets a fairy tale ending."

I’m sorry, but that dialogue had me cringing. Like I said before, way too on the nose. There's keeping with the fairy tale theme, and then there's shoving the viewer's face in it. More of Oscar's musings on how he relates to the protagonists of fairy tales, blurring the lines between storytelling and reality, which in turn encourages the viewer to consider how they see themselves in the RWBY cast. Less... whatever this is.

Yang goes on to talk about how many people Salem has taken from her, which upon reflection makes a certain amount of sense if you toss in all the people who are here, but changed somehow due to Salem's influence, as well as acquaintances who died as a result of her meddling: Raven is scared off, Tai suffers as a result, Pyrrha dies, Penny dies, Yang loses her arm and her school. I think the dialogue could have been revised to reflect that better though because what Yang implies is that Salem has killed countless of her loved ones, yet what she says is, "Summer Rose. My mom." Honestly, for the few seconds this exchange was happening my thoughts weren't even on Summer. Yang calls Salem out for killing loved ones and my brain went, "Pyrrha??"

That's how little they've done with Yang and Summer. I know in the past I've argued that RWBY has a "better late than never" situation going on, that I would praise them for making the right writing choices even if they arrive years too late... but now that we're here, I find that it's a hard problem to overlook. Summer is Yang's mom? When's the last time we heard that? Volume 2? Whenever the conversation with Blake was. Since then Yang has called Raven "Mom," focused on that emotional connection (or lack thereof), was excluded from the conversation with Qrow, comforted Ruby after she was blindsided by Salem's taunt, and otherwise hasn't mentioned Summer at all. There is no foundation for this accusation except a few lines about getting cookies as a child and the fact that we're tossing references in now makes me worried that we'll indeed get a grimm!Summer reveal. Better remind the audience that she exists before the twist arrives! Honestly, as much as a part of me wants to praise RWBY for trying to get things back on track, moments like this just ring hollow now. They waited years and now it’s too late. It doesn't help that this is the episode where we shrug off Ren's speech. What will Yang's cutting admission amount to based on this trend? Probably nothing. Summer will become Yang’s mom again in another six seasons.

Salem, obviously, doesn't care. The real Hazel arrives and she orders him to take Oscar back to his cell. Instead, he gives him his cane with a whispered, "No more Gretchens, boy."

Behold, another meaningless line. Hazel hates Ozpin for "forcing" Gretchen on a mission and "getting" her killed. The whole point of his villainy is that he doesn't understand the concept of choice and that bad things can happen to good people with no one able to prevent it. Not every loss has a responsible party attached (outside of, you know, Salem/the grimm). So what is he even demanding here? No more huntsmen schools? That's what you wanted Salem for. No more "forcing" people to fight for you? Ozpin never did that in the first place. Or is it just a strange promise that no one else will die here? RWBY seems to be under the impression that they can just name drop dead family members — Summer, Gretchen — and that's that. Emotional depth created, never mind a lack of buildup or clarity.

Then Hazel punches Salem across the room and she releases every single hero from their bonds. See the theme of this episode: convenience. Hazel shoves a whole bunch of dust crystals into his shoulders and yells that he's doing what Gretchen would have wanted, clearly sacrificing himself so that the others can escape. The battle between him and Salem is pretty decent. I enjoyed the dust vs. magic creativity and the sheer damage Salem can take before reforming. This fight really showcases how not human she is.

It does, however, bring into question Hazel's reveal about her needing an hour to heal at the longest. I mentioned how unlikely it would be that our heroes would get the chance to "kill" her multiple times, yet here we are, just a few episodes later. They got that opportunity and... does it matter? Salem's reforming doesn't appear to slow down at all, despite her head getting obliterated at least three times, so at what point does she need longer than a few seconds to heal? If this was meant to be a potential weakness the group would eventually exploit, we needed to see it here, both for that setup and to keep it consistent with Hazel's story.

Regardless, they fight and at first it looks like a pretty straight-forward sacrifice on Hazel's part, giving the group their chance to escape. Except... Oscar.

"She'll just come after us," he tells Jaune, turning away from him to fight.

I need a list for this:

Of course she's going to come after you. This is not some shocking revelation. At no point has anyone thought that escaping the whale is the answer to all their problems, it just creates one less problem to deal with. Namely, the problem of "Our ally is captured, being tortured, and may give up important intel to the enemy. Oh, also he's about to be blown up with a bomb." Salem coming after them doesn’t matter. What matters is making her plans as difficult as possible as you work to come up with more solutions of your own. This is just a smaller version of the Ironwood conflict: “Well, Salem will just follow Atlas into the sky so it’s useless to attempt escape, or to buy ourselves time.” It’s really not. I know I’ve used this ridiculous comparison before, but if you’re ever chased by a horror movie serial killer hell-bent on your destruction and your reaction to this problem is, “Why run? He’ll just chase us. The only possible choice is to fight him with a 99% chance of our death,” then I beg you to re-evaluate things.

What was the point of coming to rescue Oscar if he was just going to stay behind? The whale is about to be blown up by a bomb and the trio risked their lives ten times over to get to him. If I were them I would be pissed. We went through all that to get you out and now you’re refusing to leave when we have a chance? Thanks for that.

Same with Hazel. Not that I care about the guy, but if I was sacrificing myself for others to escape I'd be pretty annoyed at them randomly deciding not to do that.

What does Oscar even think he's going to do? Kill the immortal witch? The entire point of our series is that they can’t do that (yet).

However, if he is able to do something significant via Ozpin's magic, why didn't Ozpin do that generations ago? Somehow I don't think a younger Ozma closer to the height of his power was in a worse position to attack Salem than a tortured, aura-less kid who unlocked his magic yesterday. The more RWBY reveals about Salem, the more I go, “Okay, but why didn’t his happen [insert any number of years] ago?”

Did Jaune actually leave? I assume he's just grabbing an airship or something before coming back to drag Oscar away, but seriously where did he go?

There's no way I can approach this scene without throwing up my hands and going, "What? WHY?" Which is a real shame because we finally get to see a bit of what the cane does and it’s... precisely what Ozpin's magic has always done? I mean, we saw that green shield five years ago and now there's a giant white beam. Okay.

If the beam just hits Salem with Generic Magic Power then there was never anything secret about the cane, it’s just, you know, Ozpin’s weapon. If the cane does something significant to hurt her we're left with the question of why it took literal generations to use it. Nothing is making sense to me and the only way I can think to salvage this scene is if Jaune runs back in, snags Oscar like a sack of potatoes, and runs out yelling about how he's clearly suffering from a concussion because what are you trying to accomplish here?

It doesn't help that this moment feels... final. Hazel has managed to hold Salem in place. Oscar has unlocked his cane and lands some mega hit right before Hazel passes out and looses his hold. Not only does this feel like a scene that should be at the end of the volume (we've still got five episodes), but also the end of the series. RWBY is building Salem into an unbeatable enemy by giving her more and more powers, and simultaneously eliminating the stakes by having our currently weakest character (in terms of exhaustion/injuries/aura/training) landing a shot like that. Why would you nerf Salem's threat level like that in the middle of a volume? Especially with a tool our group has had available from the start? If the cane does damage, maybe lead with that in the, “Here’s why we should stay and fight” office conversation.

I assume that Oscar's hit will obliterate Salem to the point where both he and Hazel have time to escape, or he obliterates both of them (“Do it”) and that's somehow presented as a better choice than just running while Salem is captured, or the bomb will interrupt things somehow... but it's just so shoddily done. At the very least, if they were going to have Oscar refuse to let someone fight alone, have it be an actual friend he's staying to assist. Having Oscar refuse his own rescue to help Hazel has more than one problem attached to it. We can say what we want about RWBY's themes of forgiveness, but this guy was torturing him just a few hours ago while serving Remnant's version of the devil. Just let him sacrifice himself and move on.

And that's where we end. Oscar powering up, the cane getting all magic-y, and him shooting a crazy big blast that engulfs both Salem and Hazel. I can't believe how not excited I am about my farm boy doing something badass, but here we are.

Overall I think this episode was way worse than last week's. We absolutely had problems in "Dark," particularly when it came to the Hound and the group's blind devotion to Ruby, but at least those moments were cushioned by an otherwise decent episode. "Witch" felt like I was watching something closer to a parody of RWBY, one deliberately poking fun at the fandom's desires: erase all conflict for awkward silly times, your favorite villains are instantly good now, the heroes go toe-to-toe with the main antagonist because why not, throw a bunch of magic in there for good measure, and wrap it all up in some over the top "this isn't a fairy tale" lines. I can see the pieces of a much better episode here — Emerald sneaking Oscar out with her semblance, Neo snagging the relic, Flint and Neon, Hazel attacking Salem — but it simply didn't come together.

I know I said this last time, but I have no idea what we're going to do for another five episodes. Salem slowly reforming from bomb damage as the group tries to keep Penny from opening the vault? The grimm attack halted with the whale gone so Qrow can go after Ironwood? The longer this volume runs, the more I think it was a mistake for them to introduce Salem as a fightable antagonist now. RWBY doesn't know what to do with her besides have her inevitably fall in the final season, so until then she's left being stupid (Relic), passive (Mantle), or, likely, written out of the story temporarily so the heroes can turn their attention towards smaller conflicts and weaker foes. They literally can’t beat Salem yet, but they can’t focus on other problems when she’s around without coming across as negligent, so if you have to find ways to erase her to make room for that... what was the point of bringing her here in the first place? We could have established that Salem is bound to her realm and had her send the Hound and whale to attack Atlas. There, all the fun parts of the volume without her complicated presence.

Well, the next five weeks will certainly be interesting, at the very least...

Until next time 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby witch #mymetas #rwby recaps

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fansplaining · 4 years

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A Note from Fansplaining

If you’re subscribed to Fansplaining on iTunes or another podcatcher, you’ve probably seen that we put out a short statement this week in lieu of a new episode. Because we’re committed to making all audio we release fully accessible, we’ll transcribe the clip at the bottom of this post, below the cut. But fwiw, it’s mostly just explaining what’s in this post:

Black lives matter. We condemn white supremacy in all its forms. We believe the police should be defunded and dismantled. And we want to make sure everyone who listens to our podcast knows about ways they can contribute to this fight, and ways they can support the Black community (please note that these are U.S.-centric). We’ll be back with a new episode soon, but this is more important than anything we could say right now.

Places to donate

If you’re out of work or have lost hours in the past few months, you may not have money to spare. But even small donations—$5, $10—add up. A few organizations we recommend:

House of GG, a Black-led organization, is fundraising to build a permanent home in Little Rock, Arkansas where trans and gender-nonconforming people can both be housed and receive leadership training.

G.L.I.T.S. is fundraising to buy two buildings to create a permanent place to house and support Black trans people in New York City, as well as sign leases for space to use in the interim.

Sista Afya, a Chicago-based organization, is fundraising to keep its therapeutic services, social events, and wellness experiences under $15 and to hold large scale events like a free arts festival.

For a larger crowdsourced list, see suggestions here.

Ways to get involved if you can’t physically or monetarily participate

If, like us, you live in New York City, here’s a great resource for actionable things you can do from home. Here’s a national list, though for more granular detail for your town/city/region, you should search social media. Some great google doc action happening right now!!

As a reminder, when contacting elected officials:

Always write your own email, rather than use a form. People who work or have worked in these offices strongly advise this, and report that form emails are regularly filtered out, often directly into the trash.

Always write a postcard rather than a letter. Letters are scanned for things like anthrax and can get held up for days; postcards go straight through.

Ensure you know the official’s position on whatever you’re asking about before you call or write. If they’re already supporting or sponsoring a specific piece of legislation, call them anyway and thank them. They use constituent numbers to show that their positions have a lot of public support.

Particularly for white and non-BIPOC: reach out to your family members, as much as you feel safe doing so, and speak with them about Black Lives Matter and the issues of the day. If you have language barriers with your family members, or just need a place to start, Letters For Black Lives is a great resource that includes material in many languages.

Stream this video—all ad revenue will go to bail funds, families of victims of racist police brutality, and other Black-led organizations.

Resources on anti-Blackness and racism in fandom

Because we are a fandom podcast, we encourage white fans in particular to continue to listen to Black fans and other fans of color when it comes to racism in fandom. If you’re new to the podcast or haven’t dug into the full back catalogue, we recommend prioritizing:

Our pair of episodes on race and racism in fandom—especially anti-Blackness in fandom—featured eight different guests. Episodes 22A and B: “Race and Fandom Part 1” and “Race and Fandom Part 2.”

Ebony Elizabeth Thomas was one of our earliest and one of our most recent repeat guests. You can listen to her talk about race, children’s literature, and fandom in episode 7, “The Dark Fantastic” and episode 120, “Ebony Elizabeth Thomas.” Once you’ve listened to these episodes, buy or request that your library purchase a copy of her book, The Dark Fantastic.

Tanya DePass is the founder of I Need Diverse Games. In episode 42, “Fresh Out of Tokens,” she discussed fan/creator interaction and intersectionality in the context of games specifically.

Rukmini Pande is a well-known scholar of race and fandom. She first joined us in episode 29, “Shipping and Activism,” to talk about the ways that ships intersect with politics; then, she returned in episode 89, “Rukmini Pande,” and discussed her academic work. Once you’ve listened to these episodes, buy or request that your library purchase a copy of her book, Squee From the Margins.

In episode 48, “Con or Bust,” we interviewed Diana Pho and Mark Oshiro, two board members of Con or Bust, an organization that raises money to help fans of color attend conventions.

For further reading, Fan Studies Network North America has put together a great list of resources.

Transcript

[Intro music: “Awel” by stefsax]

Flourish Klink: Hi, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth Minkel: Hi, Flourish.

FK: Welcome to not an episode of Fansplaining. Um, we almost completely canceled recording at all, but we decided that we wanted to record a short thing, because we know some people only receive us through their podcatcher or whatever and don’t ever go to our website or our social media. So it felt important that we actually record something short today.

ELM: All right. So, just off the bat, at the risk of sounding like a terrible brand black .jpg with white letters, I think it should be obvious to everybody right now but it’s always worth restating—Black Lives Matter. We strongly support everything that is happening right now. We both strongly believe that the police should be…what word are we gonna use? Dismantled?

FK: Yes.

ELM: Dismantled. Like, we, like, you know—and like, strongly condemn white supremacy, which is the foundation of our country and much of the world.

FK: Right. So…

ELM: Very broad statement here, but like, you know, it’s definitely worth stating in explicit terms and not couching it around, you know, just to outright state support for Black people and the fight that is going on right now.

FK: Completely. And we really struggled with whether or not to record an episode because, on the one hand, there’s a lot of topics that we think would be really good to talk about that are within the purview of this podcast—stuff like the way people are using social media to organize, stuff like the entire conversation around K-pop fandom and the way that’s been going down. There’s like five things.

ELM: Spoiler, spoiler: It’s been going down poorly.

FK: Yeah.

ELM: Wait, side note: just anyone, please please please, cause I know a lot of people listen to this podcast and are in fandom but are not in K-pop fandom, if an article that you’re sharing about K-pop fans mobilizing doesn’t acknowledge the, like, rampant anti-Blackness happening within those spaces right now, they haven’t done enough research.

FK: Correct. And also, it’s both that and also if you see the narrative that K-pop fans are only bots, that’s also the other flip bad side of the coin.

ELM: Well, we should—now we’re gettin’ right into it. We’re not actually doing an episode. We’re not actually doing an episode. Yes.

FK: We’re actually gonna talk about this at some point in the future. Right now it feels like, you know, just being two white women talking about this stuff feels like not the thing to do right now? And we also don’t want to right now ask Black people to come on to our podcast and talk about things in a deeply traumatic and horrible moment. So we’re going to put a pin in the podcast and we’re gonna come back with all of those topics and a bunch of guests and basically begin to address this stuff, hopefully in a moment that’s less fraught. Is it ever gonna get less fraught? I don’t know if it’s gonna get less fraught.

ELM: That being said, let’s play it by ear! Because I could not tell you what’s gonna happen two weeks from now, but like…

FK: [sighs] Yeah, I really don’t know either.

ELM: Just, we’ll see. So in the meantime, we are going to put a post on Tumblr so it’ll be shareable, and we are going to include resources—places to donate, in particular places that aren’t getting as much attention. More grassroots stuff that we’re seeking out right now. And also ways to be active and involved for people who don’t have the money or physical ability to be protesting right now, because I am very aware of the narrative of “You should be in the streets! And if not then you should donate!” And it’s like, well, what happens if you are unemployed and also physically unable to get out there? There are so many ways that you can really be, actively lend your support right now.

So we’ll put those in there, and then also, we shared on Twitter a thread of great resources about anti-Blackness and racism in fandom, and since this is a fandom podcast we’ll be sharing some of those in that post as well, because it’s all connected.

FK: Absolutely. All right, everyone out there, stay safe, stay strong, if you’re in the streets stay in the streets, and we’ll be back when we can.

ELM: OK, bye Flourish!

FK: Bye, Elizabeth.

[Outro music: “Awel” by stefsax]

#fansplaining #fan culture #fan studies #fandom

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attic-witch · 3 years

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🐐Super Full Moon in Capricorn 🎑

She’s here again!!

Seems like almost forever since the last Full Moon! So much has been going on but Mercury Retrograde is finally over and I’m sure a lot of us are feeling a sense of release.. which is exactly what we need to do to honour this Full Moon today!

Clean your space! Do those dishes that have been building up in the corner of your room, put the laundry on and take out the trash!!! The Moon in Capricorn highlights the importance of feeling safe and secure at home. There’s no better way to honour your home than to clean and make space for new energy so get scrubbing and smudging witches! 🎇

Connect with your family! Whatever the word means to you, this may be your direct family, your children, your partner, your pets or anyone else close to you that makes you feel at home. Go visit your grandparent(s) and remind them how much they mean to you. Spend some real quality time with your loved ones today, maybe invite them to celebrate the Full Moon with you in your favourite spot to gaze at her beauty! 🎴

Focus on your security! Capricorn is an Earth Sign and values having strong foundations. 🛖Where do you feel most at home? 🫂What gives you a sense of belonging? ⚒️What material resources can you use to create your perfect home and what do you need to get rid or let go of in order to feel safe and secure? 🚮

Celebrate your achievements! The Sea Goat is determined and disciplined, and has a great respect for authority and tradition. As boring as this may seem sometimes, these qualities are extremely useful and grounding. Write a list of all the times throughout the last month where you made a plan and stuck to it, where you kept your cool in times of stress and when you did something you thought you couldn’t. Also note any other personal quests you achieved this month or this year so far and stick this list up somewhere where you will be reminded of how awesome you are!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Venus will be opposite Pluto just before the Full Moon (which goes exact at 7.39 PM GMT+1) so expect some shadows to rise and bring ghosts of the past with them, they will demand your attention. 👻 (Especially the case for Libras during this transit)

Finally!! Check out these Full Moon in Capricorn ritual ideas by Forever Conscious >>>> https://foreverconscious.com/capricorn-super-full-moon-ritual-june-2021 Or however you decide to celebrate and release all which does not serve your sense of security, do it with intent and love for yourself!

Wishing you all a Blessed Full Moon, Love and Light now and forever <3

#full moon #moon in capricorn #super full moon #ritual #witchblr #baby witch #spirituality #love and light #capricorn #release #wicca #paganism #blessings

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

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Title: maybe not star-crossed (but daybreak)

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @emmakoneko

Pairings: Hinata Hajime / Komaeda Nagito

Additional Characters: Kamukura Izuru, Nanami Chiaki

Rating: M

Warnings: No specific warning applies beside the ones that could be applied in Danganronpa in general

Prompt: Hajime realising he loves Nagito.

Author’s notes: hi!!! this is my exchange piece for the komahina secret exchange!!! this was super super fun to write, and i really hope my giftee likes it! special thanks to my friend for looking over this and making sure it’s coherent :D have a good day, loves!

Hinata Hajime is not a romantic, but romance fills his thoughts anyway.

It’s an identifier that isn’t exactly of importance, of course. Romance on Jabberwock Island, specifically in the aftermath of the Neo World Program, is something privately kept by each individual pairing. Occasionally, it’ll be the subject of harmless speculation on the slow days, but overall, it is just… a part of life.

A part of life that most of them never got to fully experience.

A part of life that Hinata doesn’t necessarily need to have a piece of.

A part of life that he wants, all the same.

He isn’t certain if it’s the influence of Kamukura on him that makes him hesitate in the face of it. The other is a lull in the back of his head most of the time, diminishing everything to uninteresting, and yet seamlessly taking control when Hinata gives the slightest hint of needing help, slipping into the role of the Ultimate Talent easily. It’s a difficult dynamic, and it would be a lie to consider it a linear sort of thing– lines blur when you are made to become another person, and further, residing with that person in the headspace.

Hinata wonders if, before it all happened, back at Hope’s Peak Academy in the suffocating reserve course dorms, with little to hope for… he maybe pined after romance in a desperate way, if he wanted something to break the suffocating silence, if it would all really be any different to him now.

It’s not something he needs right now, which is what he tries to convince himself matters the most. He has enough overwhelming quiet, and even more overwhelming noise. He has tasks to commit to– even though all of the Remnants have awakened, there are Future Foundation members to call, emails to send, resources to manage, buildings to reconstruct, surgeries to conduct… it keeps him busy, to say the least.

(He hardly allows himself more than the clinical, repetitive process of healing. Not his own healing– that is far from the forefront of his mind. Rather, constructing robot arms and extracting rotting body parts and starting up chemotherapy. For the others. Not him,

never him.)

Prioritizing romance is selfish, in all cases. Putting it before himself and everyone on the island, losing himself in the want of something he isn’t even sure he could recognize, if he saw it in front of him, if he had a flickering chance of love… it’s selfish. Excess. A lapse.

However, there is still a kind of yearning he keeps in the back of his mind, in the endlessly swallowing part of his throat, in the throes of his heart. A sort of fixation, solely focused on a single individual, who keeps him awake through restless nights and sends him directly to the infirmary for more work, who leads him to discover new places on the island that the person tends to frequent, who leaves him with an unfamiliar warmth that his body rejects like a disease because love is not-

One that defies all his wants and needs, all his thoughts on relationships and the others, all his thoughts on the person whom he thought he hated more than anything.

One fixated on Komaeda Nagito.

And this is where his doubt is born.

–

The first time he hears the name Komaeda Nagito is in a time before the seeds of despair were planted by his hands, before The Project became more than just a whisper of Hope’s Peak conspiracy and research. He hears it from Nanami Chiaki, before she became just a program, before an entire class gave into despair at the sight of her death.

He hears it from her at the fountain. Their fountain, he has taken to calling it, because while they aren’t exactly the only people to come here, they are most certainly the two students who frequent it the most. Before, it was a place to admire Hope’s Peak from a distance (one he maintained out of respect, or maybe self-hatred, or maybe an amalgamation of both), but after meeting Nanami, the cynical tones of the setting were replaced with a sort of safe haven.

It’s now comforting, for him, to hear the sound of her game starting up against the sound of rushing water, leaves and blossoms fluttering around them as the sun lights up the campus around them.

In all honesty, it’s easy to get lost in the surroundings, in his own thoughts, especially when he has the space to. Nanami rarely presses any matter, unless it is something she’s particularly passionate about, so Hinata zoning out isn’t exactly an issue for her. It’s not like she doesn’t do the same. Which leaves them with a pretty nice relationship, because either of them are free to completely lose themselves in their thoughts without having to make small talk.

However, he does jar himself back to reality to pay attention to the game she’s playing– it’s a survival game, which is sort of exciting, because that’s the kind of video game he thinks he’d be best at– and listens to the soft breath she always takes before she starts to speak.

“Do you know a lot of Ultimates, Hinata-kun?” is what she asks, her voice as dreamy as usual.

It’s sort of a harsh question unintentionally, since it sort of nags at the parts of him that wishes he could be an Ultimate, would do anything to be an Ultimate, but he shoves that down and keeps his voice casual. (It’s not a big deal, anyway. Nanami affirms him of his worth a lot, and really, he should just… accept that things are the way that they are. But it’s really, really not that easy. Not when everything seems to loom above him, dangling promises of talent and hope).

“Uh, not really?” he answers tentatively. “I mean, I know Koizumi, and I sort of know Kuzuryuu because I’m friends with his sister.” Friends is probably not the right word for it, but being her friend is pretty much impossible. “And I know you, of course. But, I dunno about the others.”

“Mm,” she hums. She focuses back on her game for a while, and Hinata focuses right alongside her, but she ends up speaking again only a few moments later. “I was just thinking… a lot of my classmates would really like you.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, just a bit. “I don’t really know much about them, but maybe?”

It’s not really relevant, in any case, or possible, because I’m a reserve. So, why do I want to entertain this impossibility?

“Well, I can tell you about some of them.” There’s some passion in her voice, underneath the languid sort of pace her words take.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She opens her inventory as sort of a pause screen, organizing all of the items while talking. “There’s Mioda-san. She’s… sorta loud, but she’s the Ultimate Musician, so that makes sense, I think. She’s really optimistic, she likes bright colors… reminds me of a dancing game… you’d get along with her, probably.” The idea that Hinata could be friends with someone like Mioda Ibuki is unsettling in a hopeless way, but he’s interested in the descriptions regardless. “She gets along well with Pekoyama-san, who’s the Ultimate Swordswoman. She’s really pretty and quiet; she’s defensive over Kuzuryuu-kun, too. Like a Skyrim housecarl, kinda. I remember Komaeda-kun saying something, once, and she was immediately at Kuzuryuu-kun’s defense. I don’t think Komaeda-kun meant it badly, though.”

Hinata tilts his head. “Who’s Komaeda?”

Nanami bites her lip, stacking some potions before saying, “He’s the Ultimate Lucky Student. He’s… sort of an outcast, I think, but he cares about the class a lot. I wish he would talk to us more.” She puffs out her cheeks in a cute way. “You might like him… but you also might hate him. Maybe.”

“Why would I hate him?” From what Hinata’s hearing, maybe dislike would make sense, but hate sort of implies he would have done something… really off.

“Mm… Komaeda-kun has strong views on talent and hope. It might annoy you, but…” she sighs. “I dunno.”

That’s a vague description, but it gives Hinata enough information to sort of… make inferences. Of course, Hinata sort of expected some Ultimates to view talent as superiority, and he knew that some of the adults believed it, but to hear it being an actual thing from someone his age… sort of sucks. At least the rest of the class seems to not agree with it.

But… is Hinata really sure of that?

In any case, he tunes back into the way Nanami continues talking about her classmates, about a sheepish mechanic and a princess she seems to have a slight crush on. He laughs along with her, listens with intrigue and fascination at some of the things her class has done and somehow not gotten expelled for, and feels the sense of peace grow overtime (alongside his quiet bitterness).

All the while, though, part of his mind thinks about Komaeda with a… weird sort of interest.

(And for some reason, Hinata wants to both avoid him as much as possible– which might be a bit harsh, admittedly– and also… maybe meet him.)

–

Hinata doesn’t sleep well.

His sleep patterns vary. Sometimes, he falls asleep in a random place– he’s been found on the floor of the dining hall and at the beach, once, both instances embarrassing– and stays asleep for the better part of a day, barely brushing below twenty hours as he restores his energy. Then, he pushes himself, neglecting rest for three days straight until he downright collapses again.

He tends to get nightmares, too. When he’s sleeping deeply and for a long time, it’s not enough to jar him. When he first woke up from the Neo World Program, though, they were relentless, leaving him paranoid and guilty constantly for all he has done to his friends– his family, now.

His family that he needs to stay awake to care for. His family he has to keep intact– physically and mentally.

(He remembers that, for a week, all he saw in his dreams was a burning warehouse.)

He doesn’t sleep well, working on restocking and labelling all the medications they have in the infirmary, and he finds that none of the others sleep well, either. Some sleep too much, some function on caffeine and nothing else. But there’s one other person on the island that varies with Hinata, not exactly the same but similarly.

Komaeda.

Hinata’s been monitoring Komaeda’s progress closely, almost closer than the way he fusses over the others. Komaeda’s health is precarious, even with the rotting flesh of Enoshima’s arm fully removed from his body, and one of the facets of his lifestyle that directly impacts his not-ideal progress is his shitty sleep schedule.

A simple example: he falls asleep at 4:00 PM, wakes up at around 7:29 PM. He goes to the dining hall, all of the other inhabitants having finished dinner and retired to their rooms for the later parts of the afternoon, and eats a worryingly small portion of dinner. He goes to his room, stays up for hours, and falls again the following day at 10:00 PM, successfully bypassing lunch and repeating the process.

It’s horrible in every possible way– it doesn’t do wonders for his prognoses and mental health, and Hinata doesn’t like the dark circles under his eyes that grow more familiar with each progressing day.

(It doesn’t suit his face. Because, well, Hinata can acknowledge that Komaeda is very, very pretty. But the shadows are… worrying. He still looks beautiful, but he looks more fragile than he’s ever been, even in the green pods, and Hinata wonders why he’s worried in a way beyond medical observation.)

However, there is one benefit to it, a meek silver lining that could hardly be considered one at all: Komaeda and Hinata end up accidentally interacting quite a lot. Komaeda follows lights– buildings with fluorescents open, signalling that Hinata is currently occupying them– and Hinata follows the soft sounds of Komaeda hanging out at the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean or tripping on some ridges and yelping.

The latter ends up happening when he exits the infirmary and sees in the distance a white-haired man face first on the beach shore, and he sighs in a way that isn’t fully exasperated as he walks over to help him out (maybe fond, maybe fond).

Komaeda tilts his face, his cheek still buried in sand, and looks up at Hinata. He decisively accepts his help, straightening himself out and brushing the sand off his pants with a smile. His voice is cheerful– far too cheerful for 5:00 AM– as he says, “Good morning, Hinata-kun! I’m so sorry you had to see me in such a disgraceful way!”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You weren’t disgraceful. You just tripped. Also, why are you even out here?”

Komaeda’s lips curl slyly. “Do you even have to ask, Hinata-kun?”

“Ah.” Fair enough. “Well, you should, uh, try to get some sleep.”

“Will Hinata-kun get some sleep?”

It’s equally frustrating to talk to Komaeda and get him to do anything… and interesting. There’s also a bit of heat that wants to pour into his cheeks, something he fights with a poker face, at the idea that Komaeda cares about his sleep schedule. Technically, a lot of people on the island do, but it all comes back to the inexplicable feelings he has around the other. In any case, Komaeda’s due for an answer. “I was actually heading back to my cabin to do that.” It’s sort of a lie. Sort of.

(He was probably going to lay awake, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe he’ll think about the other, maybe he’ll think about everything else.)

“Can I come with you?” Komaeda asks.

Hinata squints. “… Why? How would that help either of us sleep?”

“It could be relaxing to be near another person,” Komaeda defends, his logic slightly flawed. “But I understand that being around me is absolutely dreadful, and I shouldn’t impose even the disturbing thought upon another person. I apologize for that, Hinata-kun! I’ll get out of your sight, now!”

“Wait,” Hinata finds himself saying before Komaeda can actually leave. The other stops and looks at him, a curious but not demanding expression in his murky grey eyes. It’s sort of cute. Hinata isn’t sure why, why he looks at the other in that way.

It’s with a defeated sigh that he says, “You can come with me,”

and Komaeda’s eyes light up in a way that’s really, really endearing.

–

The first time he meets Komaeda is a month after his conversation with Nanami.

Stress has settled onto his shoulders, making a permanent residence there, as exams approach at increasingly rapid paces and life-changing emails chase him forward, forward, forward. He finds little enjoyment in his spaces between classes, isolating himself up in his room and hardly having time to reply to any of his friends (not that there’s an overwhelming number of people on that list). Occasionally he takes a break, but these times just remind him that he has so much to do, so much to consider, his entire life might change with a few signatures and-

-he needs a breather.

He ends up leaving half-finished history homework on his tiny desk, nearly tripping over his laundry bin in exhaustion as he makes his way out of the dorms. He figures a small walk might do him some good, since he’s hardly seen the sun as of recent and it might be less intimidating to think through things when he has fresh air to breathe and the soft ambience of nature surrounding him.

He hums to himself for the first part of his walk, careful to stay out of the way of others, but he eventually falls into silence as the number of people around him dwindles. He’s tired– he’s so, so fucking tired– and he should probably be adjusted to fatigue and restless nights, since he’s not exactly new to overworking himself, but he hasn’t. Not fully. And God, he’d probably kill for a nap, for someone to hear him scream everything he thinks, to go to a completely different school for a few days and relax.

But would he even want that? Would he know what to do with so much free time? Would it even be okay, going to a place that would view him as equal, not endlessly lesser than another sector of the school? Would it even make sense to be worth something, when he has spent so long not being worth anything?

It’s in this rumination that he ends up near him and Nanami’s fountain, and he almost expects to see her there…

… but instead, he sees someone else.

The Main Course uniform is the first thing he sees, the red tie loose around the Ultimate’s neck, their jacket still buttoned properly. They must have been out there for a while, since their white hair, unruly atop their head, is slightly ruffled from the wind. Their grey-green eyes that remind Hinata of mercury he had seen in chemistry class is focused on the pavement, but looks up when Hinata’s footsteps grow closer. On their face, there’s a pleasant smile, one that Hinata finds strikingly pretty…

… one that disappears when they make eye contact with Hinata.

He can’t say he expected anything other than this.

“I thought reserve course classes were still in session,” they muse, which is an interesting conversation starter in any case. Paired with the way they were almost glaring at Hinata, it left him with… an unsettling feeling.

“They, uh, aren’t,” he replies eloquently. “They ended a bit ago.”

“Ah.” They smile, slightly, but it looks… more cold than friendly. “Can I get a name? Or should I just refer to you as ‘reserve-kun’?”

Hinata quickly decides he doesn’t like this person. “Uh, Hinata Hajime.”

They nod. “Komaeda Nagito.”

That name is… kind of familiar.

Oh. Oh. That’s the name of Nanami’s classmate. The Ultimate Lucky Student, who has strong views on talent and hope, if he remembers Nanami’s words correctly. Someone that Hinata would either like or hate– and it is strongly veering towards the later– someone who is a bit of an outcast. Someone who Hinata isn’t sure if he should have a lot of pity for, or none at all.

He’s heard more stories since, ones where Komaeda is a background character. He’s gotten the vague idea that aside from his unsettling opinions, he also tends to be an overall concerning individual, with a shocking inferiority complex, calling himself trash near constantly. It seemed to worry Nanami, which in turn worried Hinata.

But from the way this guy is talking, it doesn’t really seem like this guy feels inferior at all. At least, not compared to Hinata. Which is…

… not surprising.

Hinata isn’t really sure how to progress the conversation, especially one that started this oddly, so he figures he should make do with this new information, asking, “Oh, you know Nanami, right?”

“Nanami-san is my classmate, yes.” He tilts his head to the side and sits up a bit straighter. “You must be the reserve she’s friends with, then. In retrospect, I remember she’s mentioned your name once or twice. I thought she was kidding.”

Yeah. Hinata definitely doesn’t like this guy. “Well. She wasn’t.”

“So it seems.”

This conversation is going nowhere. “Well, I’m gonna go. And, uh. Finish my walk. So-”

Before Hinata can leave, Komaeda speaks up. “Don’t you feel awe, Hinata-kun, walking around Hope’s Peak, looking at a school filled with such hope and talent?” He punctuates those words, wrapping his arms around himself and looking up at Hinata. “Doesn’t it put you in your place? Knowing that you’re a stepping stone for hope, just here to further the Ultimates’ abilities? Isn’t it beautiful, so beautiful that you know you’re unworthy of it? Do you have another purpose aside from this, or do you put your value in mindlessly pacing the perimeter of Hope’s Peak Ac-”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Hinata interrupts. This guy looks really worked up over the random bullshit he’s saying. He’s managed to get under Hinata’s skin really fast– which, yeah, Hinata has kind of a temper, but Jesus Christ.

This must be the whole concerning thing.

Komaeda just smiles wider. “You’re rather disrespectful for a reserve. Shouldn’t you be worshipping me? I mean, I’m utterly worthless in every possible way and deserve to be destroyed like the filth I am– but at least I’m an Ultimate.”

Hinata gives up, walking away from the other and running an agitated hand through his hair. He can hear Komaeda laughing raspily, still at the fountain, and it just forces his steps to go quicker.

(The most aggravating part of all of that is that it hurt. It shouldn’t– the opinion of a slightly-unhinged, annoying, pretty Ultimate shouldn’t hurt him. But it did.

Because there was some truth in that mess of shit he was saying. Hinata is inferior. Hinata would always be inferior to the Ultimates he looks up to– not as much as Komaeda said, but still. The whole being a stepping stone thing, he didn’t get, but… he is unworthy of this place. That much is true. That much hurts.)

He decides, without much hesitation, not to mention the encounter to anyone.

–

“Uh, make yourself at home, I guess,” Hinata says when Komaeda steps into his cottage, his eyes wide as he looks around the scene. Which is fair– Hinata hasn’t exactly had time to clean the place, and he’s sort of a restless sleeper, so it’s a shitshow of a mess, as of current. Komaeda’s room, from what Hinata’s seen, is a lot neater than this, so hopefully he isn’t all that judging.

(Not that Hinata really cares about Komaeda’s thoughts on his cabin.)

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda replies politely, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hinata sits beside him, and they both ignore the bed sheets that are tangled at their feet. “Once again, I apologize for intruding.”

“I invited you,” Hinata points out.

Komaeda frowns a bit. “Well, yes, but-”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you here. I don’t exactly do things out of pity or kindness when I’ve been awake for over a day,” he states bluntly.

The other stares at him with a weird expression in his eye, something like understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Hinata kicks the sheets. “Speaking of.”

“Are you going to sleep, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda sort of teases, but there’s a level of seriousness in it. Hinata sort of hates the way the other makes him feel like he’s fucking up by neglecting himself (which is sort of an oxymoron in thought, but). It’s something Komaeda has always done– made Hinata feel like a fuck up, that is– but it’s sort of different, now, when it’s more of a constructive criticism than a blatant attack.

He’s not sure how he feels about the change.

“I was going to talk about you sleeping, actually,” he retorts, clearing his throat.

Komaeda smiles mischievously. “Did you invite me here just to watch me sleep? How flattering, Hinata-kun, but I assure you I would not be able to do harm to others or myself whilst asleep.”

“That’s,” he takes a deep breath, “not what I meant.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry for assuming!”

“It’s fine?” It sounds too much like a question to his ears, but. Whatever. “I just meant, like. I’m sort of concerned about your health.”

“This doesn’t seem like the mood to discuss this,” Komaeda observes.

Hinata blinks. “Was there a specific mood set by any of this?”

Komaeda looks unimpressed. “Hinata-kun, we’re in your room at 5:00 AM, spending time together. I don’t think this is ideal for a medical visit– especially considering how exhausted you are. I thought you were more trying to be a person than a doctor, right now.”

… There’s some truth in that. There’s some pain in that. Hinata doesn’t try to be inhuman in any way, but he knows, deep down, that it’s a difficult task to accomplish. Months of conditioning combined with the instinctual drive for survival resulted in Kamukura’s eternal boredom and apathy to manifest as a defense mechanism, one that Hinata employs in situations that aren’t necessarily defense-requiring. Like administering medicine, or investigating his own psyche, or trying to breach any topic with Komaeda.

He hates it, but it’s part of him, neither nature nor nurture. Just… a trait, forced upon him, one he has to adapt to.

“Hinata-kun?” Komaeda’s smile is thin. “I apologize for overstepping!”

“It’s fine.” He sort of has a headache. Maybe he should sleep. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Ah, Hinata-kun doesn’t have to apologize! He can do whatever he likes! I still appreciate him regardless!” he reassures enthusiastically, in an almost adoring way.

… And. The thing is.

Hinata has been viscerally aware of Komaeda’s attraction to him ever since he awoke from the Neo World Program. It didn’t take overwhelming amounts of self reflection and memory analysis to realize that Komaeda has had feelings for him, ever since the Despair Era, when neither of them were the person they are now or were before it all began. It’s present in Servant’s endless worship and Komaeda’s subtle (and sometimes, less subtle) affections.

It’s something that Hinata thought, initially, he could just… accept. The fact that the other likes him is simply a fact of life, like the fact that this same individual is still suffering from frontotemporal dementia and lymphoma, like the fact that the other has trauma neither of them can even begin to impact, like the fact that Hinata is privy to entirely too much about the other that he’s hardly aware of.

This is why his yearning and fondness for Komaeda, despite his conflicting thoughts of romance, takes him by surprise. The idea that Komaeda’s affections could be requited is a shocking concept to both of them, one that might be earth-shattering or simply a natural progression of their current behavior. It’s a thought that he keeps in the back of his mind, primarily, believing that not much can be done until Komaeda heals.

And yet, it surfaces in the quiet moments like this, where Komaeda has that energetically adoring expression, where the moonlight accentuates his face in a pretty way that will only get more beautiful with daybreak, where Hinata is just staring at him mindlessly. It surfaces like this, and Hinata wonders, to himself, if he loves the other.

If this is how it comes to him.

“Hinata-kun?”

Or maybe it’s just a lapse.

“I’m tired,” he replies, which isn’t a proper response but it is the only thing he can find himself saying, right then.

Komaeda nods and starts to stand up, “Ah, okay! I apologize if I bored you, I know I can tend to do that. I hope you sleep well, Hinata-kun-”

Hinata catches his wrist.

“Maybe,” he inhales. “You can stay? And sleep beside me?”

Komaeda’s face shifts, emotions spreading across his face like auroras, but they’re quickly stifled by another smile, one that seems a bit more genuine. “Ah, of course! Whatever Hinata-kun wants.” He takes the eagerness Komaeda exhibits while taking off his shoes and scooting to the center of the bed as confirmation that Komaeda wants this as well.

It’s odd how Hinata has the courage to ask something like that, despite everything.

Hinata draws the curtains closed, hoping that the sun won’t wake them up, and he slips beside Komaeda in bed. The other adjusts well to sleeping in someone else’s bed, all things considered, but he looks fairly stiff all the same. Hinata knows there’s nothing he can do to change his slight discomfort– anything he could do would be a bit too courageous, and he’s already expressed a lot of bravery considering that he’s more contemplative than rash, at the moment.

So he lays down beside him, facing the other who faces away, and he finds himself tracing the contours of his body (innocuous and entirely unrelated to medical concerns), the way his hair curls against his nape, how his hands lay at his sides. It calms him to study the other, and he wonders if that is love, if all of this is love, even if he has a thousand other concerns.

It takes a pathetically short five minutes before he says, “Komaeda…?”

“Yes, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda still sounds awake. He wonders if he was planning on sleeping at all.

He breathes out a soft exhale. “Can we talk?”

–

He does not see Komaeda again until after despair overcomes the world.

But by then, both him and Komaeda are separate people. The memories prior to the creation of himself– Kamukura Izuru, that being– are vague and only documented in a diary that Hinata Hajime struggled to maintain. And Servant, while not suffering direct memory loss of everything regarding Hope’s Peak Academy, does not appear to want to verbally recall anything regarding the school to Kamukura. This could be from lack of trust. This could be his nature.

They meet in a bloodied street, bodies scattered across the asphalt in an unpleasing way. From an aesthetic standpoint, it is disgusting, but Kamukura does not necessarily dislike it. He does not dislike anything.

He only finds this despair base.

Servant’s hands are dirtied from crusted blood, which is to be expected. His hair is awry, his face in a considerably tormented frown, and his attire is dirtied aside from his chain that drags obnoxiously loud on the pavement.

Kamukura clears his throat.

His face shifts drastically when he sees Kamukura, which is the most interesting part of his appearance, as of current, and he immediately drops to his knees. It is certainly an interesting display, yet predictable, and Servant’s voice is raspy when he says, “Kamukura Izuru.”

“So you have heard of me.” That is understandable. The only reason Kamukura is at this location, after all, is because Enoshima requested prior to her death that Kamukura take ownership of Servant. She had considered it a present to him, but Kamukura finds nothing to be a gift, especially when it is at her hands.

One of her hands is severed and attached in place of where Servant’s would be. Expectable.

“You’re the Ultimate Hope,” he breathes. “I- I have been looking for you-”

“How convenient,” he cuts off his likely obnoxious rambling. He does not want to hear about his godhood from the lens of a worshipper. “As I was looking for you.”

Servant’s face flushes. “You were looking for me? Ahaha, I’m sure you must be mistaken.”

“Enoshima stated that in her death, you were to be my property. Transitive ownership.” His face twists at the sound of her name, which is not necessarily expected, but can be easily explained retroactively. “You are mindlessly idling, as of current. You plan to travel to Towa City, but have not done so yet. You have killed seventeen people directly in your time of being a Remnant of Despair, but you are growing bored.”

Despite his wide eyes and droll expression, Servant is clever enough to catch on. “You would like me to travel with you, Kamukura-kun? I warn you, I am useless in every possible way and unworthy of your presence.”

Kamukura glares at him. “I will determine that.”

“… Understood.” Servant hesitates before standing up, and there is shocking amounts of excitement in his expression. “I apologize for being overeager, I’ve never travelled with someone like this before. Someone like you before.”

“That is to be expected,” Kamukura says as he begins to walk, stepping over corpses with grace as the Remnant beside him trips and stumbles, babbling about despair and hope and talent all the way.

From there, an attachment forms. They continue to travel in this manner, relocating from place to place with little but each other’s companionship (and what they can find, in this cataclysmic scenario– assorted piles of canned vegetables and month-old water bottles). Along the way grows learning, basic answers to questions that benefit both of them only slightly, though prove to be boring, as Kamukura does not have a favorite color or movie or food. But the basis of small talk leads to a more expanded exploration of morality, of death and life and the liminality of such matters, philosophy and physics and their prediction for where the world will be.

Kamukura discovers, then, that Servant is not capable of matching him in intelligence. However, he nears close to having this ability, exhibiting his cleverness in a distinctly separate way than how Enoshima enforced her analytical prowess upon her victims. It is refreshing, to have this difference. It is refreshing, by extension, to have him.

That is how the evolution of their relationship begins.

Sexual ties between them have been present from the start. Servant is poor at concealing his overwhelming attraction to the other, and Kamukura has curiosities he was not interested in exploring with Enoshima. Thus begins tumultuous, albeit safe to an extent, exploratory intercourse, which Kamukura finds not particularly boring.

Then becomes an inherent domesticity in residing together, in sharing beds (although, Servant only allows himself to sleep beside Kamukura if he is particularly in pain, that day. Kamukura does not necessarily mind if Servant continues to sleep beside him, but it is a matter of principle that is tedious to undo, especially with no distinct want to commit effort to it). Along with sleeping together, there is having meals together, defending each other from robotic Monokumas when it becomes necessary, and even reading together.

It is all not particularly interesting. It is all not particularly boring. It exists in a grey area that Kamukura struggles to define.

He dislikes struggling.

There is a particular day, once, that he would consider lucky (were he to indulge in this thought towards Servant, the other would likely break down) due to the numerous realizations had. The primary one, and the most convoluted one by far, is the realization that he is perhaps infatuated with the other.

It comes whilst Servant is asleep, his body bare aside from the marring of bruises and hickeys, thin sheets layered in dust resting atop him. Kamukura observes him from where he sits at the edge of the bed, admiring the way the red sky highlights Servant’s body in an almost rosy way, porcelain skin glimmering with red contours that made the Ultimate Artist in Kamukura transfixed. Part of him desired to reach out and trace his body on impulse– and it would not be the first time he sought touch out of poorly placed impulse. However, he refrains.

A small part of him– a romantic, likely, in all but practice– finds that touching him may, perhaps, detract from the natural beauty he exudes. It is not like Kamukura is anything other than manmade.

This is a thought that crosses his mind often. Rather, the latter is. However, with Servant in his life as a catalyst, the frequency of such thoughts rapidly accelerates, and he finds a sense of permanence in the other. Something he is rather interested in exploring, given the time. There are many, many inquiries he would indulge in, given the time.

They are not given time.

He had prepared an injection in advance, one to make Servant unconscious for approximately 48 hours. It is enough time to execute a procedure that would remove Servant’s memories of Kamukura, a similar procedure that he will attempt to repeat on himself (he has done thorough research into lobotomies due to his experiences. Even without this research, it would not be a particularly difficult task. However, his emotions pose a hindrance). He is aware that he should inject Servant now, as, according to his predictions and intuition, he has confidence in the fact that the Future Foundation will locate them within that period of time.

He would like to evade them. He knows he is able to, that he has a capacity to outwit them, that Servant would heed every command necessary to guarantee their survival. After all, there is no certainty in the prospect that the Future Foundation would keep them alive.

Despite this, Kamukura is… curious. He is intrigued as to what the Future Foundation will do, once they capture him and Servant, and he knows that they cannot evade the Future Foundation forever. They will grow bored.

It is regrettable, he thinks as he injects Servant with the serum, stroking his hair for purely selfish purposes as he does so. It is regrettable that they did not have infinite time together. However, Servant is dying to his own illness, and Kamukura is dying, metaphorically, to the boredom that he can not fully stave away, even with his agreeable companionship. It is poetic, in the same sense, that they will be captured and perhaps be executed before they could fully breach the barrier of worship and love, something Kamukura is not certain he could attain.

In all senses, it is over, and Servant will not remember him by the time he awakes in the grasp of the Future Foundation.

(A part of Kamukura recalls their first meeting with feigned nostalgia, remnants of the emotion that must have existed before his creation, and he wonders– or, cynically, he hopes– that he may meet the other again, and finish the life they began.)

–

Komaeda rolls over and smiles, slightly sleepy. “What do you want to talk about, Hinata-kun?” After a pause, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says with a little too much force. “I’ve just had some. Things on my mind. That I want to talk about?”

It’s sort of a half-truth, because it feels wrong to say that it’s been something on his mind. Because it has been, and it has been for a while– but he hardly knows if what he’s feeling is love, if it’s worth indulging in this when he has so much to work on. If he can even be certain of his thoughts at all.

But he wants to talk to Komaeda– maybe to get perspective, and finally decide.

So, he closes his eyes and starts talking. “I was thinking about the simulation, and before. More specifically, us.”

He can hear the bitterness in Komaeda’s voice when he says, “Ah. How I betrayed and belittled you?”

“Not exactly.” But it’s part of it. “… You said in the simulation that you were in love with me, right?”

There’s a pause. One that’s long enough that Hinata almost wants to open his eyes, but he needs to isolate himself in his thoughts temporarily, dissect the words and his feelings and come to a conclusion. It’s something he’s good at (but love isn’t survival games, or class trials. If they were, he would have figured this out a long time ago, back when Nanami was still around).

When Komaeda eventually speaks, it’s brief but telling. “… Yes.”

“And. You didn’t like me much before all of that, but… as Servant, you-”

“Worshipped and admired Kamukura-kun, yes.” He sounds almost nervous. Komaeda rarely sounds like this, and it’s almost enough to stop pushing. “… Why do you ask? Don’t you already know this, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata sighs. “Yeah, technically. But I’ve been thinking about it more, and…” he opens his eyes, now. Komaeda’s face is vacant– no smile, no frown, just a straight line that wavers if he stares hard enough. His eyes are filled with emotion he can’t uncover, emotions he doesn’t want to uncover. But… he watches them carefully regardless, makes note of how they shift. “We’ve had an interesting relationship, throughout all our time knowing each other. In our one encounter back at Hope’s Peak, we didn’t get along, and things in Despair were… intimate, yet twisted.”

“That’s one way to consider it,” Komaeda says, and it isn’t quite hatred in his voice, but something close. Something Hinata knows not to take personally.

“And. I’ve been thinking about where it leaves us, now. And– I mean, it’s something in the back of my head, but not really. Filling all my thoughts? It just sort of came up while we were sitting here, before I said we should sleep, and sometimes I think about it when I’m not working around the island. So it’s sort of…” a dormant thing, has been in the back of my mind forever because I put it there, because I didn’t want to accept that I like you, because I’m too afraid and I know you are too, but there’s something about you, something about this, and I’m curious to know where it goes- “Yeah.”

Komaeda nods. “I see.”

“I think you know where I’m going with this.”

There’s a silence. Then- “I’d rather not.”

“… Rather not what?”

He already knows, but he wants to hope, wants to hope that Komaeda will allow himself this, despite everything. And yet…

… “Rather not believe what you are implying, Hinata-kun.” And the bitterness is directed at him this time, but Komaeda has always tore at him claws to hide something else, whether it be personal insecurity or infatuation or fear. Hinata thinks it might be all three, now. “You are aware of my love for you, how you could use it to your benefit, how you could disregard me and I would-” his breath catches.

“Komaeda?”

“… hardly complain,” he finishes. “I would hardly complain if you used me, because it’s you. You’re aware that you could make this so easy– and you aren’t even certain of this. I’ve been certain ever since I knew you, even when I hardly knew anything about you, even when I stayed with you to wake up on that island, I knew. But you don’t, and you could make it so easy and just give up on me, because it’s not like I would love you less or hate you more, but you’re acting on impulse. You rarely act on impulse, so why are you…”

There are tears in Komaeda’s eyes.

“… When I first met you,” Hinata starts. “I thought you were pretty. An asshole, but pretty. In despair, Kamukura was interested in you, and he was bored of everything else, even her. And he knew your worship, and that was the most boring part of you, to him, because he didn’t like being treated like a god, not by you. And… and in the simulation, I remember the betrayal I felt when I knew one of the only people I trusted turned their back on me. And- and when I saw your corpse-”

Komaeda shakes his head, but Hinata doesn’t stop. “-When I saw your corpse, I was so fucking pissed, because you’re smart and fucked up and I almost missed you that trial, despite everything. And despite everything, now when I woke you up, when I had to run into the infirmary and out of it and had to do all those fucking psychodives to get you out, I thought it was worth it.”

“Hinata-kun.”

“I thought– I knew, and I know– that you are worth it.”

And even though Komaeda’s stare is intimidating, and even though Hinata’s so uncertain of everything right now, he’s confident in that.

He’s never been more confident in anything, actually.

–

When Hinata wakes up on an unfamiliar island, with an aching head and endless questions about his surroundings, he’s greeted by a stranger, with a slight smile on their face. They had slightly tostled white hair, cloudlike and wispy, that falls just above their dim green eyes, and they have a slender yet alluring physique that Hinata almost finds pretty, in his dazed state.

After they confirm that Hinata is awake, they introduce themself. “… I’m Komaeda Nagito. Nice to meet you.”

Hinata accepts the hand he offers him and stands up, brushing sand off his pants (why are they at a beach?) and replying, “Hey, I’m Hinata Hajime.”

Komaeda leads him around the island, introducing him to all the others that had left him behind, unconscious, on the beach (he can’t really blame him. He’s still embarrassed about how he just… passed out. At least Komaeda isn’t judging him for it). He offers his own quips and commentary about the island, one Hinata finds insightful, if not slightly odd at times, and he begins to develop a trust for the other.

Sort of. Because, well, it’s not like he can really trust anyone, when they all woke up on a random fucking island with no idea of what’s going on, aside from some random shit a rabbit tells them. But, for as weird Komaeda can sometimes be and the weird situation they’re in, he establishes him as trustworthy early on. Someone to rely on, even when everything goes to hell.

(And littered in there, far enough in the back of his head that he sort of forgets about it, he is sort of infatuated with the other. In a super base way– because he’s a teenager, c’mon– but, still. Komaeda’s pretty, and he’s friendly, and he thinks there’s some significance in that.

Of course, everything changes when the first murder occurs. When the trial happens, and truths are revealed. When everything spirals downwards for the rest of their ‘island vacation’, and Hinata realizes that Komaeda should have never been trusted at all.

… But he can’t bring himself to hate him, despite everything. Even when he’s faced with his corpse.)

–

There is a long silence that fills the room, after his admission.

It’s understandable, considering that Komaeda… has never quite had anyone stay by his side as long as Hinata has. He’s probably never considered the possibility of requited love or care of anything, has never been able to reconcile with the idea that Hinata wants to stay despite the fucked-up mess of trauma and disease his brain is filled with. He probably finds himself vacant, like Hinata does, sometimes, like every quirk about him that makes him distinctive and worthy of love is completely null, and that he is cursing Hinata by being around him this long.

It’s more fucked up than Hinata can sometimes conceptualize, but. As he said, it’s worth it.

Hinata breaks the silence, knowing that he should be patient with the other, who has had his mentality partially shattered in a brief period of time, but slightly worried that the progress they’ve made would fall at a stalemate in complete silence. “… Komaeda?”

“Hinata-kun.” His voice is both empty and emotional, and it leaves an ache in Hinata’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand, still. I’m not…” he trails off.

“You are worth it,” Hinata insists, because he knows the way that Komaeda thinks, knows where his mind is going. “We don’t have to do anything, or be anything, if you don’t want to. I just… thought you should know, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, so. Thought it was worth saying.”

“Worth,” Komaeda echoes quietly. His laugh is at the same volume, raspy and choked. “I… I really like you, Hinata-kun, but I can’t let you endanger yourself.”

Hinata shakes his head. “Your luck can’t affect me badly, remember? I’m lucky too.”

“It has in the past. Before you remember. When me and Kamukura-kun were together, and how bad luck and consequent good luck would follow us around. He thought it was interesting. I knew we weren’t safe. And we weren’t.” He sighs, and Hinata wants to reach out and brush his cheek with his fingertips, ensure that he isn’t just a ghost. “If I hurt you, Hinata-kun-”

“You won’t,” Hinata argues.

Komaeda raises his voice, slightly. “But if I do, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing that you chose to have something with me, despite all your responsibilities and all the risks I bring to you just by existing… it would kill me, Hinata-kun. I’m already dying and I’ve done it once, but… it would really, really kill me. I don’t think I would be able to lose you. I don’t…” He looks so tired.

Hinata reaches out, then, and intertwines their fingers. Komaeda doesn’t push him away, and he takes it as a good sign. “You aren’t going to lose me. And I know we can’t be certain of what’ll happen in the future, but… I think we deserve something good. So much bad shit has happened, and we’re healing and everything, but I think we also deserve to find something like… hope. In each other. Y’know? And, obviously, it’s only if you want. I’m not gonna, like, make you date me, or something.” He squeezes his hand. “But, I don’t want you to keep yourself from someone you want– something we want– out of fear. We’re not going to die, Komaeda. And even if we did… every second that led to it would be worth it.”

Komaeda’s eyes flutter shut. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, but his scrunched eyebrows and shaky lip is almost worse. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Hinata asks gently.

“I…” he cuts himself off, thinking in silence as Hinata rubs circles into his palm. Eventually, his eyes open, and his expression is tentative and a bit scared, but Hinata can see some hope in it. It’s almost enough to make him smile, but he fights it off and waits for Komaeda to finish. “I… I want this. But, I don’t deserve it.”

“You want it,” Hinata reminds him softly, “and I want it. So, I think it’s okay for us to have, yeah?”

He hesitates, but eventually says, “… Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, and then he gives him a slight smile. “I can work with maybe.”

Komaeda responds with a fleeting smile, one that makes Hinata let go of his hand and tug him forward into a warm embrace. Komaeda’s face nestles into the other’s shoulder, and he can hear a muffled voice whisper, “I love you, Hinata-kun. I really do.”

A weight he thought would permanently be on his shoulders disappears, and he breathes out a long sigh of relief as he tightens his grip on Komaeda’s waist. And, with a voice that echoes himself through all of the years of knowing Komaeda, through the stress and irritation and curiosity and trust, in a journey that was just as much his as it was theirs, he says, “I love you too.”

Even after everything.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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