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zombee · 11 months

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I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes.

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends.

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it.

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

· Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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oristian · 4 months

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THE ELUCIEN MATING BOND

This will be solely focused on the mating bond rejection, as I plan on doing an in-depth analysis later this month [possibly early June] where I break down each book and document symbolism, parallels, and foreshadowing tied to Elain and Lucien. This is just going to be my thoughts on the actual mating bond and the conversation surrounding a potential rejection.

Simply: The bond will not be rejected.

SJM being a fated mates author aside, all the reader has to do is look at, first, the set-up of the spin off series and also the timeline of the last remaining plot arcs. The spin off series is broken into three main books set as dual POV romantic pairings, and a supplemental novella. A Court of Silver Flames took two main cast characters out of the running [Nesta and Cassian] and have left us with Elain, Azriel, Lucien, Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, Eris. As Feyre and Rhysand were the main voices in the original trilogy, they will not have a major POV in the spin off series. That being said, the plot arcs are working as the drivers for the romantic pairings. ACOWAR and so forth has paired Elain and Lucien into the Koschei arc. ACOSF and HOFAS have tied Nesta and Azriel into the same plot with the Dusk Court arc—however, as I mentioned before, Nesta has already had a major POV and will not be repeated. Who else has been built up to have a POV and can also hold ties in Dusk? Gwyn.

Following up, now that we are aware of the plot arcs and the dual POVs for the following books—I surmise the novella will have Mor, Eris and Emerie—now we can get into the rejected mating bond. The main argument surrounding the rejection is broken down into two pieces: SJM speaking about choice in an interview, and Feyre and Azriel questioning the cauldron. The first argument is easy to debunk—SJM did not give a major spoiler in an interview, nor would she do so in an interview that many people would not have access to/would not watch. The second is just as easy to debunk—both Feyre and Azriel came from a place of bias against Lucien. Feyre had just left Spring and associates that and what happened to her sisters with Lucien. Azriel wants a mate and wonders why his brothers have two of the Archeron sisters, but “the third” was given to another male. If the cauldron had been questioned by a third party without direct ties to either Elain or Lucien, that would be a different story.

We do not have enough time left in the series to properly explore a rejected bond. As the rejected bond affects the males more, we would need to explore it in the long term to see how Lucien is dealing with the mental repercussions of such a thing happening. He and Elain will still always have their bond, and we would need to see how they react to that. As this is would be the first mating bond rejection across the Maasverse, a simple, “I reject you,” is not enough with such little information for the reader to understand exactly what happens in the aftereffects. That being said, we would also need Lucien’s POV immediately after Elain rejects the bond to see how he is affected—meaning, Elain and Lucien have to be within the same book. If Elain rejects the bond in a book with Azriel, and the readers have to wait until Lucien’s book, it loses its effect and becomes anticlimactic.

In order for the rejected bond to be impactful, Elain would have to fully explore the bond with Lucien, get to know him, otherwise is would be lackluster for her to immediately reject the bond and end up with Azriel. The bond is just as much Lucien’s as it is her’s.

Finally, allow us to debunk Vassien. Not only is Vassa set up to be endgame with Jurian, it is unrealistic given the circumstances for she and Lucien to be endgame. Lucien would have just been rejected and would be dealing with the aftereffects, will have to still deal with his plethora of plots and Koschei, and somehow fall in love with a human queen who will die in only a handful of decades? On top of that, there is nothing that Vassa can offer to the plot that both Elain and Lucien have not already told us, or will tell us. Vassa is a supplementary character. Elain would have to both get to know Lucien enough to reject the bond in a literary sense, and also set up Vassa to be the next FMC. On top of that, it was Elain who introduced us to Koschei and began that arc—why would Vassa get the credit for defeating Koschei?

Tl;dr — the bond is not getting rejected.

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rinzsu · 10 months

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✩ ‧ ₊˚ IN MEMORIES I HOLD YOU DEAR — GOJO SATORU

four letters you addressed to him slight angst, wc 800+, reader and satoru have feelings for each other but aren’t in a committed relationship, takes place right after the shibuja arc

november 9th, 2018

satoru.

hair white like the first snow, the color of whipped cream, the pots of the plants on my window sills, and the foam atop the oceans waves.

you’ll forever feel like summer to me, like the first of july, when i drowned in your blue eyes and never came back up.

i wish i could kiss you now like i never had before, catch you when you’re falling, and hold you close instead of pushing you away in hopes of forgetting how my heart beats for you and you alone.

it’s ironic, really, how you come back now after all those days and sleepless nights of trying to convince myself that things are better this way, even though you’re so far gone.

i try so hard to forget about you, about us, only for you to barge right back in and for everything to begin anew.

you once said that you hate it when things come to an end, and i still recall how you always used to leave a single chug of sake in your cup instead of finishing it all together.

and how you used to add an “i still have to finish my cup” as an excuse to stay out longer when nanami wanted to leave the bar.

november 16th, 2018

i miss you. it’s been roughly three weeks since you’ve been sealed away, but to me, it feels like three eternities.

winter is creeping up on us, the air is much colder and the sky always grey.

i’m still taking those hot showers in the evening. you used to say that the water feels like warm hugs after an exhausting day, but nowadays i crave your comforting embrace above all.

the academy's halls feel so much emptier with you gone. i used to mock your silly laugh but now i miss it more with every second i spend in this god forsaken place.

it's quiet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, i wish it was more noisy, because that would mean that you are here.

yuji tries keeping his voice low when he talks about you, but it doesn't matter if it's the students, shoko or my treacherous mind that's uttering your name like a useless mantra.

there's so much i couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't utter out loud, so i'm writing this.

isn't it funny? how i tried to rid you out of my life and now there's a piece of you in every word that i fill these pages with, a fragment of you hidden in each of these lines.

november 24th, 2018

i've been watching our series for the third time now and somehow i feel guilty watching it without you, even though i used to do it all the time when you were still here.

knowing what's about to come soothes my mind even for a little bit. so does going to the drive through and eating chicken nuggets in the parking lot while singing along to all of our songs. i swear by now i can hit higher notes than you ever will.

everyone has their own way of escaping this reality. it helps, makes it hurt less, but just like salve to an open wound, the tranquilizing of this pain will only be temporary until all our sorrows will bleed together again.

is this love?

i see you when it's dark, the illusion of you under one of those flickering street lights. once i turn to look for you, i'm left with your blurring face and the burden of your absence weighing down upon me.

i don't know where life is leading me right now, but there's something that's always pulling me back to you.

december 5th, 2018

you're no longer here.

i've met someone, but he doesn't laugh like you do, doesn't talk to me like you do. it's been less than two weeks but i can already tell that his skin isn't as soft as yours either.

he holds my hand but he doesn't hold it as tight as you do, doesn't intertwine our fingers the way you always did.

when he leaves, he won't make it as difficult for me to say goodbye as you did. and for the first time, i've noticed how different people's presences feel.

how different people breathe, when he rests next to me in shokos office after a mission and i can't feel his rhythm the way i did yours.

was this between us special?

i once heard that after a split up, people tend to romanticize everything bad and to forget why they detached in the first place.

even so, we never dated in the first place and neither did we break up, you just left.

and even though i know that, it's hard for me to believe that i'll ever find someone like you again.

©️ rinsque— do not plagiarise nor repost any of my works on any other platform.

note. hope you enjoyed this <3 i had repost this for the nth time because it didn’t show in the tags i used

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peachy-panic · 4 months

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Companion, pt. 3 (Bonus)

The last little piece of this arc (that was originally supposed to be part of part two)

WARNINGS: Not much. BBU, alcoholic in recovery, anxious animals with a happy ending

Sebastian takes a tentative sip and wrinkles his nose at the burn of carbonation against his throat.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Sam had warned him when he handed them over on their last visit to the house, “but they help.” He was right on both accounts, unfortunately. The bitter notes, the heavy carbonation, and the acidic tang are meant to mimic the familiar habit of nursing a drink, but without any of the pleasant, warm buzz that comes after. (And without the misery and exhaustion and shame that comes with the next morning, he reminds himself).

Sebastian doesn’t find himself reaching for these alcohol replacement drinks often, but nights are sometimes… difficult. A natural consequence, he supposes, using a glass (or three) of vodka as a sleep aid for several consecutive years.

It will be a cold day in hell before Sebastian can utter aloud that he is proud of himself for much in this life, but he thinks, with this, he has done fairly well. Perhaps he can credit part of that to having the proper motivation enter his life.

As if on cue, the quiet creak of a door sounds from down the hallway. Sebastian places his can on the counter, an easy smile falling into place, but no footsteps follow. Jaime is good at moving quietly through the house, but Sebastian didn’t realize he had mastered absolute silence. He frowns, but just as he goes to step around the island to check on him, he nearly jumps out of his skin as a black mass of fur jumps onto the countertop, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Jesus, Bella!” Sebastian whisper-shouts, hand over his heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Merrrr,” she chirps up at him, knocking her tiny paw against the side of his open can, threatening to upturn it all over the floor.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He plucks the drink out of her reach, but as he retracts his hand, Bella nuzzles her head against his wrist. A request for contact. Sebastian’s heart melts a little. “Hey there,” he says, reaching down to pet her properly. She preens at the affection, vibrating softly with a low, steady purr.

Sebastian can’t help but feel proud of their little cat for the impressive adjustment she has made to their home in such a short amount of time. The first couple of nights were… rough. She spent most of the waking hours out of sight, hiding somewhere Jaime and Sebastian couldn’t reach. And though he didn’t voice it out loud, Sebastian could tell that Jaime was affected by her fear. He could see the regret and guilt taking shape in his eyes.

Sebatian tried to comfort him by bringing up article after article online, assuring them that this behavior was often to be expected when bringing a cat into an unfamiliar home, and that there were measures that could be taken to acclimate them. They took all of them. And slowly, surely, they began to work.

A few days after they brought her home, Sebastian returned from work to find Jaime sitting on the couch with a preternatural stillness to his form and a stunned look on his face. When Sebastian looked closer, he saw that it wasn’t just a blanket on his lap. Blending into the soft, black fibers was Bella’s sleeping form, curled up on Jaime’s legs. She only stirred briefly at Sebatian’s entrance before standing into an arched-back stretch and making herself at home once again on his lap.

The smile on Jaime’s face was bright enough to light the whole house.

“I never thought I’d be a cat person,” Sebastian says, rubbing the back of his knuckles between her ears. “But you’re pretty sweet, huh?”

Inevitably, a familiar itch rises to his eyes, as it does anytime he spends more than a minute in direct contact with Bella. He pinches the bridge of his nose to combat an oncoming sneeze. Extracting his hand from her just long enough to open the cabinet above the sink, he reaches for the bottle of allergy pills he stashed away the day they brought her home.

Listen.

There are several internet forums that swear up and down that you can mind-over-matter a cat allergy away given enough time and exposure. Sebastian has done his research. In the meantime, he is perfectly capable of smuggling home a bottle of Claritin once a month and popping pills in secret. Sebastian knew from the moment he saw Jaime staring, enamored, at Bella’s cage at the shelter, that this was one piece of information he could keep to himself. If anything, watching Jaime’s smile on the couch that day had only made Sebastian double down on that conviction.

He unscrews the cap and shakes one of the small, white pills into his hand. The next sip of alcohol-replacement-drink doesn’t taste any better as it washes it down. Worth it, though. All of it.

Sebastian casts a glance down the hall, where he knows Jaime’s door will be cracked open so that Bella can come and go as she pleases.

“You make him happy,” he tells her. “How could I not love you for that?” Right on cue, she turns her head to issue a firm love bite to his thumb. “Ouch, you little shit,” he says, but even he can hear the affection bleeding into the words.

***

@whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @finder-of-rings @melancholy-in-the-morning @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump @the-whumpers-grimm @thebirdsofgay @firewheeesky @whumperfully @hold-back-on-the-comfort @termsnconditions-apply @cyborg0109 @whumplr-reader @pinkraindropsfell @whatwhumpcomments @honeycollectswhump @pirefyrelight @handsinmotion @alexmundaythrufriday @scoundrelwithboba @starsick1979 @b0rgid

#do no harm: jaime & sebastian #whump #whump writing #bbu

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maybeimamuppet · 1 month

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for the au ask game… had to think really hard for this one but—

how do you think things would be different if regina didn’t get hit by that bus??

<3, sunny

send me an au and i’ll tell you about it!!! it was supposed to be five facts about it but i like to yap

ALRIGHT i’ve been thinking about this one for like three days i am not in a space to answer this well but this sitting in my inbox is haunting me so i’m gonna go for it lol

i think the easiest way is to sort of go through and say how i think things would be different for each characterrrrr??? we’ll see lol

to start with, overall, regina getting bussed is sort of the catalyst for everything coming back together. it both is and is not the climax depending on which characters journey you’re focusing on.

for example, regina getting hit is what makes her soften. it gives her a chance to step back and realize she doesn’t want to die being the kind of person she was. it’s what kickstarts her (at least supposed) redemption arc. we never actually see that happen but it is strongly implied at spring fling. without the bus, i like to think she still would’ve come to her senses eventually. but it’s entirely possible that she wouldn’t. or maybe she wouldn’t until they’re all in their thirties or forties or fifties or god knows when.

for janis, that means she’s left with this leftover, hardened, jaded middle school trauma to eat away at her forever. she’s already cynical and, again, jaded. she’s already affected by it. already needed significant therapy. already is made mean and manipulative and vengeful by it.

for janis i see her track going one of two ways. she either manages to heal on her own, realizing regina will never give her the closure she needs and so desperately wants. she gets more therapy, works on herself. develops strategies and learns how to identify the damaging thoughts rooted in this trauma and cope with them and turn them into something healthy. she really falls into her art and educates herself and makes herself into something wonderful with all the broken pieces.

OR she continues down the path of manipulation and anger and spirals. she tries but can never commit to anything serious, be it jobs or relationships or whatever. she has a long string of failed experiences with both. damian is the only thing keeping her away from living under a bridge and dying of some sort of overdose.

for cady, regina getting hit is the beginning of the end for her. it’s the moment the ivory pedestal everyone has had her on shatters and she falls back to their level. she’s hit hard, but again, it leads her to important self reflections and realizations. we get to see more of her redemption, like taking the fall for the burn book and getting to apologize to ms. norbury and janis and damian, along with her speech during stars.

without that, again, i see her going one of two ways. she continues as she is. nobody dares to bring up that she’s just a clone put in regina’s place. she’s queen of the school and she loves it. she has power but no depth. she and janis and damian never speak again. gretchen and karen follow her exclusively out of fear. aaron still wants next to nothing to do with her. she has no deep, genuine connections with anyone for however long it lasts, whether she keeps it going through college and into the rest of her life or whether it ends at graduation. either way, the effects linger with her and she struggles to form genuine relationships and she lives a very isolated, lonely life.

OR she comes to the realization on her own at some point, whether internally or someone dares to call her out. whether before they graduate or well into her adulthood (similar timeline to regina) and she devotes herself to making amends. similar to janis, she leans hard into academia and channels the drive and the desire to control into becoming very successful. she still worries that she hasn’t actually been forgiven and works extra hard to keep her friends and other loved ones close.

for gretchen, the potential of losing her “boss” is what sparks her realizing she has much more power and worth and value than she thinks. with just how anxious and sheeplike her character is in canon i find it hard to believe she would ever truly come to this realization on her own. i think she’d come close with a lot of therapy and self-esteem work, but i think having one, concrete, solid moment to shock her into it is vital for who she becomes as an adult. it’s what prompts her and karen to drop cady and learn how to do their own thing.

if regina had never been hit i see her basically just continuing as she is. following cady or eventually returning to regina and doing her bidding. maybe someday she’d get fed up and realize she deserves more and better, or maybe not.

for karen i think a lot of the same things as gretchen. she and gretchen are sort of a tag team, so i think they go through and would go through a lot of the same things. i think karen has a little more oomph but doesn’t quite know how to use it or know whether she should. i think she’s much more likely to eventually leave cady or regina’s side on her own and realize how poorly she’s been treated for however long. and who knows, maybe that would be enough for gretchen to go too. i think she does know in canon that she deserves better but she stays because it’s safer. so maybe at some point she decides it’s not worth it.

for regina i think it’s. pretty obvious lol. she has her whole downfall which i think had the opposite effect to the bus. i think that on its own would make her FUUUUURIOUS. i think she would become vengeful and vindictive and bitter and sullen and try and try again to snatch the crown back from cady. no matter what it takes, and i have no idea whether she’d ever succeed. again, i like to think that at some point, eventually, she’d work on herself and make amends and become a better person, but i think dying scared her more than they can show in a movie/musical that isn’t about her. i think, again, it’s a catalyst for changing and becoming a better person. and i think it takes time, and that’s why i’m glad the bus happened when it did because it GIVES her that time to do whatever she can and what she needs to do to apologize and improve while she still is surrounded by the same people she hurt the most.

she either is One Of Those Rich People (really angry but good at their job lawyer or corporate bitch everyone beneath her hates or some shit) or she does make an improvement and makes some genuine friends and maybe has some relationships that benefit all parties. or maybe both!!

in conclusion, as horrible as it is, i think the bus needs to happen when it does and i think the strife and the weird healing it brings is BEYOND necessary holy shit. i think it almost single handedly shapes who they all become as adults and the way they connect with each other and other people around them, and i’m very glad we got the canon we did :)

but make them lesbians

#tada long post #thank you friend!!#mean girls #regina george #cady heron #janis sarkisian #janis ian #janis imi'ike #gretchen wieners #karen smith #damian and aaron and kevin and the others are all like #they’re connected but not strongly enough to regina in particular for me to have thoughts about how it affects them without that being tied #to someone else if that makes sense #anyway!!!#thank you for the ask!!#ezzy gets an ask #ask games

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super-paper · 1 year

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:re your tags about body motifs in bnha got me curious about something. I can think off the top of my head several examples of how this applies to the trio, and a couple more about how this applies to AFO. But can I ask you to expand on how the eye motif is present in AFO specifically? The hands and mouth are obvious, but I can't say I've ever picked up on the symbolism around eyes when it comes to him. Well, unless you're referring to that scene with the sensors in Tartarus. But I'm curious if there's more that I missed, and since I'm a slut about themes and symbolism (and the eye theme relating to the todofam in particular), I would love a deep dive into it and how they're connected, if you don't mind sharing, of course 👀 Really love your meta btw

Thank youu~!

Yea, the eyes def receive less focus overall compared to the emphasis placed on AFO's mouth/hands-- but I feel that AFO's association with eyes is still pretty important even if they don't get as much focus, and the rare scenes where we -do- get to focus on his eyes + his relationship with eyes do a lot for his character.

↑ Breaking down AFO's character design to its barest essentials, you can see Hori more or less designed his "true" appearance with these three elements in mind: mouths, hands, and eyes. A perpetual mask-like grin, the stigmata marks to both hands, and completely blank white eyes. Hori uses the composition and lighting in his art to further emphasize these aspects, usually by placing focus on one part/motif at a time-- AFO is essentially introduced to us in pieces, bit by bit, body part by body part.

I would say act 1 focuses primarily on his hands, while act 2 shifts to focusing on his mouth/smile. The final act is where we finally start exploring AFO's relation to eyes-- and imo, Hori chose to focus on AFO's eyes last b/c AFO's eyes seem to be what connect him to his humanity and """true""" feelings:

Panels that emphasize AFO's eyes specifically are almost always tied to Yoichi! It's a neat and completely loaded little detail. In what's heavily implied to be the aftermath of Yoichi's death, we suddenly shift from obscuring AFO's eyes to obscuring his mouth-- the total reverse of how he's typically depicted during flashback scenes. His eyes (and tears) receive all the focus. The narration doesn't match or address what we're actually*seeing* in a fashion that's eerily similar to the way that Tomura narrates over the deaths of his family. There's a lot of set up here already, and I'm looking forward to see how it all ultimately pays off.

And if eyes are ultimately the motif that ties AFO to his humanity, then the lack of eyes throughout Act's 1 & 2 also feels intentional.

Blank eyes are also a design trait he shares with Twice (i.e. "Guy whose own quirk drove him to insanity and completely wrecked his sense of identity/individuality") and Sir Nighteye (i.e. "Guy whose quirk lets him see into the future of others, and the future he saw caused him to fall into despair and become a bitter husk of his former self")-- both characters are depicted w/ blank eyes for 90% of their screen time, but "gain" pupils during key scenes. Twice stands out in particular, bc Hori starts consistently drawing him with pupils immediately after he's able to verify his identity and overcome the trauma associated with his quirk.

Also worth mentioning: Jin kicks off his entire arc talking about the importance of knowing who you are and lamenting about the pains that come with losing sight of yourself/no longer being able to connect with or trust others, and he completes his arc by affirming that he knows exactly who he is and dedicating his heart completely to others. Nighteye's entire arc is about smashing past his fear of the future and the fear of change while *also* learning to value Mirio and Izuku as individuals instead of merely viewing them as vessels for OFA. Both arcs are very much relevant to AFO's whole deal as a character/antagonist and the overall theme(s) of MHA as a whole. Twice and Nighteye serve as semi-heroic foils to AFO who manage overcome the same shortcomings that AFO implicitly struggles with, specifically because they allowed themselves to care about others-- So imo it's neat that these three all share this particular design trait!

they're also the two characters whose deaths have the most narrative impact outside of Yoichi and Nana/The Shimura Fam (whoops)

The final act has also been placing more and more emphasis on how a person's eyes look when they finally get to be their best selves and follow their dreams, and how they sparkle and shine when they think about their origins and their hopes for the future (and I've talked about how this contrasts with Tomura's fairly dead-eyed expression whenever he talks about his "dreams" of destroying everything before (link!), so I'm pretty pleased that the narrative is now calling attention to how a person's eyes look + making the total lack of ~shine~ in Tomura's eyes a very intentional thing).

AFO addresses this directly-- on the surface, he appears to be echoing Touya's desire to be "seen" and expresses resentment that people aren't looking at him. But where Touya longs to be seen in a way that truly validates his humanity and reason for existing, AFO instead wants to be "seen" as something completely devoid of those human qualities. Dabi wants people to see Touya, Mysterious Shigaraki X only wants people to see "AFO." He wants to be a looming, mythical figure who blots out the sun itself-- and when people look towards their future, they should only be seeing a path that ends with him and him alone:

This sequence will never not be thematically relevant

Tomura, Himiko, and Touya all desire the basic human connections that are associated with Hands/Mouths/Eyes. Even as they continue to lash out and use their respective motifs in increasingly violent/self-destructive ways, their core desire never changes. The desire to be touched gently, the desire to be spoken to like a normal girl, and the desire to be truly seen-- that longing for human intimacy (and who they ultimately seek understanding/intimacy from) betrays what their true desires are more than anything else.

AFO shares the same body motifs as the hero and villain trios, but he's a corrupted version of those motifs and represents what hands/mouths/eyes are capable of at their absolute worst. AFO doesn't truly "see" others. AFO doesn't see people as individuals, he only sees them as extensions of himself or as bit-part "roles" to be played out in his increasingly off-the-rails real people fanfiction. AFO doesn't want people to look to the future or even attempt looking beyond him. AFO doesn't want anyone to see what lies behind his shadowy mask and the AFO persona. AFO counts on society to avert their eyes from problems and pretend they don't see, so he can swoop in and play the benevolent savior to those who have been abandoned. AFO doesn't want anyone to see "Tenko," he only wants them to see "Shigaraki." Et cetera et cetera et cetera.

Anyway--!!

There's also the underlying implication that AFO wants everyone to have eyes that are just like his:

Blank. Empty. Completely devoid of spark and soul, pushed past the brink of total despair, with no hope whatsoever for a future.

#all for one #bubaigawara jin #sir nighteye #srry for the late reply i've been pretty busy with work!#my hero academia #nothing to see here just afo being a freak about his brother and taking his larping sessions way 2 seriously. you know. the usual!#mha.txt

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inkblotsonmyhands · 11 months

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***SPOILERS FOR THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES (HUNGER GAMES PREQUEL) BY SUZANNE COLLINS***

suzanne collins just repeatedly pulls the best of a given genre, and what i love about tbosas is that it completely subverts the manic pixie dream girl trope.

the story opens with coriolanus snow, small-minded in his outlook, traumatized by war, starving, struggling to make his way in the world where nothing but his name holds value. he meets lucy gray baird, and instantly, she's the classic manic pixie dream girl. she sings, she wears a rainbow dress, she believes in the goodness of people, despite the fact that her life is as difficult as it gets. in standard trope fashion, she and snow are bound to each other by plot devices: he's meant to be helping her with something, but in reality she has more to help him. she says that nothing they can take from her is worth keeping—because everything she has doesn't have a name. this directly contrasts snow's position where his last name is all he has.

over time, snow begins to realise just how dire her situation is, gets actively more and more concerned about her dying, and eventually falls in love with her. she expands his world, she charms him (and everyone else), and quite literally saves his life. snow believes in debts, and when he owes his life to her, he cannot help but appreciate her for it. she falls for him too—she believes he's a good person, possibly because he's the only one in the capitol to be even remotely nice to her, combined with her genuine belief in goodness and apparent tendency for somewhat toxic relationships.

that's where the subversion starts. despite falling for snow, lucy gray's life does not revolve around him. the song she sings in her interview is about her past relationship, which greatly irks snow who has become incredibly possessive of her. possessiveness is often depicted as a desirable trait in stories with a mpdg angle, but suzanne immediately shows it as controlling and somewhat sinister, despite the story being from snow's pov.

they both end up in district 12, lucy gray as a victor, and snow as a disgraced peacekeeper. it's here that suzanne fully veers away from the more tropey aspects of such a relationship. snow enjoys listening to lucy gray sing, but is constantly upset when she doesn't sing about him, possessively thinks of her as "his girl", and clearly wants control over her life. he doesn't even enjoy all her music, disliking the more freestyle non-lyrical pieces that lucy gray and the covey clearly take a lot of pleasure in. when lucy gray takes him to the lake and meadow, snow enjoys it but hates the birds, mockingjays, that lucy gray loves. typical mpdg arcs often involve the the nature-loving girl taking the city boy to a peaceful outdoors place, showing him all the things she loves about it, and making him love them too. snow never loves the mockingjays and even makes a sport out of shooting them, and thus never appreciates the true reason why lucy gray loves that place. he appreciates it for her as his possession, but not for the freedom that it all represents. he gets increasingly uncomfortable as he starts to realise that free-spirited lucy gray no longer is dependent on him in her own turf, while he still owes his life to her.

when snow kills billy taupe and lucy gray says that this makes up for her saving his life, we see the shift truly happen. snow's debt has been repaid, and his love for lucy gray begins to fall apart without the debt tying him to her. her rebellious tendencies aggravate his capitol heart, and he starts being unable to confide in her when he does things such as inform the capitol of sejanus's escape plan.

in the final scene in the woods, we watch it all unravel. they're both equals, having killed three people each, but snow attempts to lie to lucy gray about his third kill and she realises it. she retaliates by running away and setting a snake on him. snow retaliates to that by chasing her with a loaded gun. he drowns the evidence of his second kill, frees himself of any ties to his dark past, and returns to the capitol where he believes he belongs, forgetting lucy gray and anything he learned from her.

the manic pixie dream girl does not save the desolate boy. it was never her intention to and it was not her life's goal. the boy could never be saved by anyone anyway; the only thing that might have saved him was himself, and suzanne displays repeatedly how he was never truly willing to broaden his perspective right from the start.

i love this because typical mpdg stories make the boy a victim and the girl burdened with healing him and saving him from going down a dark path, but here, it is repeatedly emphasized that snow is a victim of his own making and lucy gray goes through his life on her terms only, trying the change him out of care and the goodness of her heart but leaving him and prioritising herself when she realises that there is no point.

to summarize, lucy gray does not wear a necklace of rope besides the dead man; instead, she flees.

#ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #my writing #suzanne collins #my thoughts #hunger games #hunger games prequel #rachel zegler #manic pixie dream girl #mpdg #tropes #trope subversion #tbosas #the hanging tree

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weavewithshadow · 2 months

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she, the mender; he, the break. (2)

solas/lavellan, rated T.

previous entries: (1)

synopsis: The Dalish elf that closed the Breach has woken. Immediately faced with a world that no longer looks at her the way she expects, Ithalia must piece together what transpired.

How did she survive at all? And who, if anyone, has an interest in her life?

content warnings: canon-typical violence mention, canon-typical depiction of racism, canon-typical profanity, canon-typical religious references, canon-typical depictions of depression.

read on ao3!

Two Ithalia

Something is wrong, deep in her bones, when Ithalia wakes.

Some things, plural. A gap in her memory where, apparently, a trip to the Fade should be. A mark in her palm whose cold burn she cannot pinpoint as coming from… anywhere.

A hole in the sky that she can feel, somehow, from her place on a too-warm bed in a too-comfortable room, is… gone. The quiet left behind is jarring.

Before—there’s no way to know if it’s been days, weeks, a decade—the quiet would’ve been a boon. She’d wanted it, before, a Dalish spy in the Conclave, a watcher sent from home. She’d been meant to watch. That was it. The quieter, the less imposing, the better.

She’s an explosion or two past less imposing, probably.

But what could take a Dalish elf from a prison cell to the plush of a clean bed?

One thing at a time. She cracks her eyes open—those still see the same, even after the last flash of blinding green she remembers. To her right stands a wall, simple wood planks. To her left, everything else: a bedside table, a desk, a flaming sconce, several pelts hung around a small window, a bookshelf—

A tray that clatters on the floor, dropped by an elf standing frozen in her wake.

“O—oh,” they stammer, sweat beading on their brow. Young, no valasslin—probably not Dalish. At the sight of her, their head starts shaking. They backpedal, one step and then another. “I—I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

An elf, of all people, ready to run as soon as she props herself up on an elbow.

“Don’t…” Mythal’enaste, her temple throbs. Her hand, moreso. “... Don’t worry about it. I only—”

The elf falls, and Ithalia jolts upright.

They collapse to the floor—not to faint, but to kneel.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing,” they plead, palms to the floor, even their brow touching the stone. “I am but a humble servant.”

A servant. A city elf, bending to kneel before one of the Dalish, as if Ithalia is something… more. Something else.

Some things wrong, indeed.

“I…” Ithalia lets her voice fade to nothing. She what, exactly? What does this elf, or anyone, think of her? Why is she here? And where is—

“You are in Haven, my lady,” the younger elf says, lifting their head to meet her eyes. They swallow when they spot Ithalia still watching them. “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

She turns her attention there, to the mark, if only to… spare… the younger elf from it. It lights with the twitch of a finger, the same way a person might look up at the sound of their name. It thrums, warm yet impossibly cold, in an arc from the heel of her palm to the curve between her thumb and forefinger.

It looks like an open wound, the color of the Veil.

What she thinks is the Veil.

Probably.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

Three days. The Breach, gone. Three days.

“So you’re saying…” She tries another look at the elf, who winces. She doesn’t hide her own stammer, as she’d learned to do under Keeper Ishmaetoriel’s guidance. Let this elf hear her disbelief. “They’re… happy with me?”

“I’m only saying what I heard. I didn’t mean anything by it!” The elf rises, standing on shaking knees. Again, they step backward, hands raised like at any moment, Ithalia might lunge. “I—I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She… she said, ‘At once.’”

Lady Cassandra. Ithalia grits her teeth before she remembers the younger elf would flee for less. She pauses, finds a smile, rubs a temple. Lady Cassandra…

Seeker Cassandra.

She fights to rise, stifling a groan. “And… where is she…?”

“In the Chantry,” the younger elf answers, their full-body tremor in their voice, now, too. “With the lord chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said!”

They all but fall into the door as they push through it, and then they are gone.

Quiet blankets the room again—but just outside, a wave of murmurs rises, rippling out from this lodge. This Haven lodge, now that the Breach has been closed for three days.

Haven. Breach closed. Three days. She can cling to those, even when…

She will have to face the outside. Soon, probably.

In the meantime, maybe someone has left something behind more informative than the elf who somehow dropped down before her in worship. With precious little time and through the haze of a headache, though, little stands out save for a pile of loose papers left on the room’s only desk.

She chews a lip, looks down at her fingertips. Hands this clean—washed? By whom?—won’t leave any obvious prints that she’d need to make excuses for. If she did, would she have to make them? Or would anyone besides that lone elf drop down and do…. That?

No time to ponder long either way. She tests her steps, finding her own knees shaking, and ambles over to the desk. Elbow on the wood, she bends down and lifts the paper close to her eyes, cursing her headache for at least the third time in as many minutes.

Day One: Clammy. Shallow breathing. Pulse over-fast. Not responsive. Pupils dilated. Mage says her scarring "mark" is thrumming with unknown magic. Wish we could station a templar in here, just in case.

Ithalia sucks in a breath, releasing it only at the end of the passage. Mark must mean her—and unknown magic, while it ties her stomach in knots, matches her assumption.

Mage—she does remember, tangled insides tightening. A flash of green: once, twice, again, then for good before all went dark. A hand clamped over her wrist—no. Loosely. It’d been the Seeker’s grasp that was rough. Cassandra’s, not—

Solas’.

Where is he, now? Where are any of the others, aside from Cassandra and…

Lord chancellor. Haven. Breach closed. Three days.

She sighs, closing her eyes to keep the words from blurring on the page. It takes a moment for the room to return to stillness, for her stomach to stop threatening a heave.

Under the page of notes, there’s nothing discernible. Only a collection of pages with a series of numbers in two columns, marked with what looks like the time over the course of several days and nights. The measurements have no labels. The notes in the margins are packed too tightly, in too intricate of a shorthand to attempt deciphering.

Even one in elvish, which is all she really gleans from the pages. Multiple pages, packed with writing on both sides.

He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’

The dwarf’s voice—one of precious few things Ithalia remembers. Varric Tethras: rogue, author… something. He didn’t look ready to cut her down, for either her heritage or mark. He didn’t look ready to collapse in reverence, either.

“My lady?” a voice—soft, high—asks outside the door, scarcely audible over the rest.

Something brushes against the opposite side of the wood, then stops.

“Shhh! Are you mad? Leave the Herald be!” another hisses.

The Herald. Haven. The lord chancellor, with Lady Cassandra.

Scarring “mark” thrumming with unknown magic.

The Breach, closed, three days.

She’ll have to face them all, now, with nothing else to go on. No blade to ready herself for anything that might not be instantaneous adolation.

How many, in Haven? To what end?

She can’t know, until…

Ithalia opens the door with a tremoring hand and finds a parted sea. Rows of onlookers, standing politely to each side of a cobbled path, some with heads bowed, some with eyes shining. None of them notice the icy wind that shudders down her spine. None of them care for anything but what is in front of them.

A Dalish elf, Dirthhamen’s valasslin upon her brow, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheekbones, under her lip. Unmistakable from every angle as not them, a probably-Veil-green gash pulsing visibly on her palm. Washed by hands that were not hers, dressed in clothes she’s never laid eyes upon, emerging from a lodge she never chose.

Stepping out under a sky scarred the same as she: a waving line of green to split the blue, like a scar over pale skin.

I am not this, she fights not to say, for they should already know.

Have they forgotten?

She has learned, all her life, to run from human worship. To see the sight of red and learn from the bull’s mistake, fleeing opposite, never giving in to anger when survival is never not at stake.

Her Keeper has told her stories, since she was old enough to catch their meaning, of forests made of graves, canopies thick enough to blot out the sun.

Yet this tableau—this human tableau, scarcely an elf and not one Dalish in sight—stays perfectly still. They bow, not for the red of their Chantry, but for the green of her palm.

A magic that is not hers, a name—Herald—that is not hers, a mended sky that is not hers.

For if it were hers alone, she would be dead.

It is because of one that she is not.

#solavellan #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfic #solavellan hell #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #lavellan dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da:i #solas x inquisitor #solas dragon age #solas

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fulcrcm · 1 year

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starter call : connie → @warrued.

" we should leave, before they come back. "

#∘⡊ arc three → all the pieces fall into place.#warrued #i shoved this in his post FO verse but it can honestly be anywhere #beta.

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mint-termsandconditions · 11 months

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Kirbtober Day 7: Headcannon

Headcannons about Dream Land’s favorite pass-time:

Avalanche!

without text and with colors

It’s going to be a very long post.

Context:

Originally, this was from the Avalanche arc, which was a part of an overly ambitious project about what if I, local Kirby fan and idiot, retold the entire story of Kirby, and took inspiration from every medium of Kirby, and I mean every.

I scrapped the idea of rewriting the entire Kirby story because, first of all, I'm not a writer and, second of all, I don't have that kind of patience.

But oddly enough, I grew so fond of the Avalanche Arc that it became part of my head-cannon.

The Avalanche Arc would’ve taken place before Bandana Dee had his Bandana

Headcannon #1:

Avalanche makes everyone act terribly to one another

There’s no magic or scientific reason behind this

It’s just like playing board games with your family

Headcannon #2:

There’s a wristwatch version of Avalanche that allows online multiplayer

The buttons to move your piece are the two blobs on the side and the button in the center is to drop.

Players often use these wristwatches to practice for the competition that happens annually, but recently been changed to triennially due to the Avalanche Competition, causing an increase rate in crime and sabotage pre-competition.

The wristwatch has four modes:

Arcade:

See how long you last

Vs:

Play against another player to see who’s better

Competition:

A mode only available during competition (will be explained later)

Time:

Tells the time

Headcannon #3:

There are two types of Avalanche Competition that are usually hosted:

digital and IRL

Digital is basically your average Kirby Avalanche gameplay

IRL has the same mechanics as Avalanche, where you match the same color blobs together and make combos but with a twist, it takes place in an actual stadium.

Players use large hooks to rotate and guide the blobs to their preferred spot.

Player are able to keep reference of where they have placed the blobs by using the Competition mode on their wristwatch as referenced before. Most players bounce on the already stacked blobs to reach the blobs above.

Beginners typically use the ladder.

And some players have the ability to float or fly to reach the blob.

Like in normal sports, there are more ideal Avalanche players, usually ones who are able to fly or float, but others have figured out ways to get around these shortcomings by using their own skills and abilities.

There are two main type of skills:

Delay Skills:

Skills that stops or slows down the falling of blobs for a few seconds

(Only affects falling blobs)

Destroy Skills:

Skills that destroys already placed blobs

(Only affects blobs that have been placed)

Other rules include:

DON’T SABOTAGE THE OTHER PLAYERS!!!!

You can use a skill only after completing a certain amount of combos (amount depends on how powerful the skill is)

Don’t attempt to move blobs that have already been placed

PLEASE DON’T SABOTAGE THE OTHER PLAYERS!

Headcannon #4:

Some Dream Landers aren’t avid Avalanche enjoyers but usually still tune in to see the blob cam

Because as much as everyone loves seeing their favorite player succeed, everyone always prefers seeing the loser get (safely) crushed by the piling up blobs and come out as a blobby mess.

Kirby:

Rising up the ranks rapidly, it’s Kirby! They do not only have the ability to float, which puts them ahead of most players, they also have not one, not two, but three skills to aid them in the competition!

Skill: (L x W)

Copy Ability:

Allows Kirby to switch from these three copy abilities:

Ice:

Allows Kirby to freeze blobs from falling for a few seconds

Fire:

Allows Kirby to burn and destroy blobs (2 x 4)

Fighting:

Allows Kirby to break boulders and the blobs surrounding it (2 x 2)

Trivia:

Kirby would’ve picked mike as one of their abilities but the competition didn’t allow it

Even though most people brush off Kirby as just being the ideal type of person to play Avalanche due to their ability to float and the many skills they can utilize, their ability to think quickly on their feet is the main reason why they quickly became one of the top players

Kirby is the first player in Dream Land to have three skills

Some Avalanche players (in order of worse to best):

Chilly and Tokkori:

This tag team may bicker often, but when working towards a common goal, nothing can stand in their way!

Skill:

Freeze!:

Allows Chilly to freeze blobs from falling for a few seconds

Feather Falling:

Allows Tokkori to slow down blobs from falling by grabbing the blob with his hook and letting it fall gently

Trivia:

The main reason why they usually lose is that they often argue and complain that the other one have placed a blob wrong

They have a strong rivalry with the Sun and Moon for best tag team duo

Tokkorri is better at solo Avalanche than Chilly

Meta Knight:

Even this lone swordsman couldn’t resist the fierce competition of Avalanche! His ability to fly and slash makes him a fearsome foe!

Skill:

Piercing Slash:

Allows Meta Knight to clear an entire row

Down Thrust:

Allows Meta Knight to clear an entire column

Trivia:

Meta Knight quickly became an Avalanche Competition fan favorite due to his mysterious aura and his flashy skills

Meta Knight is extremely bitter about being ranked below King Dedede

Meta Knight’s playing style is heavily inspired by the long reigning Avalanche Champion, only known as ‘The Avalanche King’

King Dedede:

Make way for the King himself! Ranked second best, this King is a force to be reckoned with! With his trusty tool he’ll destroys anyone who threatens his rank!

Skill:

King Dedede’s Hammer:

Allows King Dedede’s hook to change into the hammer and give the blobs a large bonk (4 x 4)

Triple Dedede Hammer:

Allows King Dedede’s hook to change into a hammer and wack the blobs three times destroying them in the process 3 x (2 x 2)

Trivia:

King Dedede was the number one ranked players for years before someone else took that spot

King Dedede created his hook by himself and this design later inspired Masked Dedede’s hammer

There’s a stadium specifically made for him due to his larger size compared to the average Dream Lander

The Avalanche King:

After vanishing for years, the Avalanche King finally returns! This mysterious champion may look like your run-of-a-mill Dream Lander, but his skills are nothing to scoff at! His speed and quick-thinking are unmatched, but why did he return?

Skill:

None to destroy blobs or to delay blobs. Only fan-service babyyyyy!

Trivia:

It’s Bandana Waddle Dee.

In the Avalanche Arc there was a joke about it being very obvious that it was him but somehow no one knows.

He wears a masked because he doesn’t want King Dedede to figure out he’s been slacking off to play Avalanche and that he took King Dedede’s title

The reason why he vanished was because Bandana Dee realized he had a very unhealthy addiction to Avalanche and decided to quit

He returned because Kirby made him relapse

He’s the same waddle dee from the actual Avalanche game (still a head-cannon)

The reason he’s so cracked at Avalanche is because I wanted to foreshadow his ability to to use a spear by paralleling how he uses the hook to play avalanche (This originally was a part of a story like I said before.)

This was also planned to show that even if Bandana Dee isn’t as physically strong as the others, he has the capacity to be smarter and think quicker than his peers, (I know it isn’t cannon (double isn’t cannon because it’s from an alternate universe), but from the Dreamy Gears Light Novel, it was shown that Bandana Dee figured out how to read ancient text faster than Meta Knight, so I like to think he has the ability to work smarter and harder).

#kirby #kirby fanart #kirby headcanons #kirby’s avalanche #bandana waddle dee #meta knight #king dedede #chilly kirby #tokkori kirby #Bandana dee #I don’t know why I worked so hard on how Avalanche works in Dream Land but I guess I did #kirbtober

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thr-333 · 1 year

Text

I’ve had most of this in my drafts for at least since the first few comics of mystic tots. The only reason I didn’t post it was because I didn’t now how to continue the scene with Raph. Well now I’ve gotten my ass in gear and finished it off. So have an excerpt from this au that is a full arc late.

Lou was starting to understand why his ancestors had been so ready to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. He would too if that meant an eternity of rest. Although with his luck the shredder would turn out to be real and it would be more like an eternity of violence and endless suffering.

He should have never become an actor. He should have found a farm in the middle of nowhere somewhere and sat in a rocking chair until he was old and grey. Now he was young, grey and no rocking chair in sight.

“Dada up,” little hands slapped at his face pulling on his ears.

“No Dada sleep,” Lou tried to roll over, hands fisting in his hair coming along for the ride, “Orange night night,”

“Dada up,” His youngest insisted a hot patch growing on his scalp.

“Alright! Dada up! Dada up!” Lou bolted upright his fire hellion giggling delightfully, “I happen to like my hair, as greasy and disgusting as it is,”

Orange giggled letting go of his hair and falling a touch too slowly to be natural gravity… hm probably not a good sign but that's a tomorrow him problem.

“I thought I left you in your cot?” Lou scooped up his youngest blowing raspberries on his shell, chasing away the last embers of heat, “Did Blue break you out again? Did he? Did he?”

“Bu! Bu!” Orange kicked his legs smiling widely, that was also a plus. Probably wouldn’t get to see that on a farm.

“Yes yes let’s go find Blue,” Lou rolled off the alley mattress he had placed on the floor. He needed to find a bed frame or some cinder blocks at some point. Not because his knees and back were getting creaky he refused to admit it. As far as he was concerned time simply didn’t pass in the sewers. No mirrors, no cameras, no wrinkles.

Before getting up properly he slid an oven mitt on and one of those arm protector things he was pretty sure was from hockey. He held Orange in his mitted hand rubbing his eyes with his free arm. He couldn’t have gotten more than three hours of sleep. Which was honestly more than he was expecting but probably not a good thing if Blue had been galavanting about.

Lou stopped by the nursery first. It was clear of any fire hazard furniture other than the four ‘cribs’ Containment Required for Incredible Baby sh- Well the last part probably wasn’t very family friendly.

Reds was a very nice comfortable pile of (shredded) blankets… with a flipped over crib stacked tall with random items and furniture. Or at least it was supposed to be the crib was flipped over, furniture scattered and Red nowhere to be seen.

Blue’s was close by because Red liked having his brothers near. Honestly Lou wasn’t sure what to do with that one. He always tucked him in very snugly and had a bungee cord tethering him to the crib. Not that it ever worked since the crib was empty, bungee cord snapped.

Orange’s was actually a busted up clawfoot tub, with very shallow water. Sue him for child endangerment and all that but he was pretty sure that ship had sailed when he was forced to move them down into the sewer. Say what you will but it had an almost one hundred percent success rate(when Blue didn’t interfere) keeping orange in and the lair not burnt down.

Purple had a verifiable mountain of pillows and blankets. Lou would like to pretend that was for good parenting reasons but some days it felt more like a bribery to convince the soft shell to stay put. A makeshift wall was formed around it with old pieces of wood held up by loose bricks and a few chairs. That was usually enough to keep him from accidentally rolling away.

“At least one of you can appreciate sleep,” Lou sighed, taking a closer look at the curled up soft shell. His head snapped up when Lou’s head came into view holding his arms out demanding attention, “Or not,”

Lou balanced Orange in one hand thankful his boys were small enough to fit in his hands. He didn’t know how he was going to survive when plucking them up wasn’t an option anymore. Purple kept making grabby hands demanding to be held which Lou had full intentions of doing right up until his knuckles cracked painfully against a suddenly there purple shield.

“Ow-dammit! Don’t repeat that,” He told both the hatchlings very seriously. Orange giggled because he was secretly a sadist. Purple gave him a mighty baby glare tearing up insisting more to be held, “Purple, sweetie, honey, I can’t help you until you take down your shield,”

He said for what had to be the thousandth time. Once again for the thousandth time Purple proceeded to cry while his walls kept up.

“Alright, buddy I’m sorry I really can’t go through this with you right now, I need to go find your brothers,” Who were both missing and in best case scenario just tearing up the lair. Not some government officials house who would have the means and motivation to track them down and destroy them out of revenge. This is why he should know better than to fall asleep, “But that does not mean I am abandoning you, I will be back… soonish,”

He attempted to back away, Purple glaring at him the whole while. He made it to the exit wiping his brow in relief as the crying died down-- then started up screaming at twice the volume.

“Whhahhyyyiiiyy,” Lou whined looking down at orange who was gnawing gummily at his oven mitt, “I can’t abandon him can I? Alright purple you win but you’re not going to like it,”

Lou went back kicking aside one of the panels. From there it was a slow process of gently rolling(kicking) Purple in front of him. The turtle didn’t like getting rocked around any more but it was his own choice. This could probably be applied in some life lesson somewhere. So technically this was good parenting.

“Oh I know you’re not pleased with me,” Lou told his son, stopping for a second to reposition the orb to get around the kitchen doorway, the softshell glared up at him, “But consider this,” he kicked the sphere forward sending Purple tumbling through it, “Oh ho ho… I’m a terrible parent,”

Splinter chuckled miserably to himself, following his son into the kitchen. Purple bumped against the bench unharmed but dizzy. The kitchen on the other hand was very much harmed. Lou was glad Purple was in the bubble because there was shattered dishes all over the floor. Cupboards were thrown open and the left overs they had was thrown across the counter, a striped turtle looking up at him guilty.

“Blue,” Lou said in warning. A blue glow started under him his boy disappearing through it. Lou went on high alert looking around the kitchen for a sign of his son reappearing, “Blue!”

A portal reappeared dropping Blue over the glass covered floor. Lou ran lunging to make up the distance. He landed on the broken shards hissing as they dug and cut into him. His hands remained outstretched just off from where his baby blue was falling, his son hurtling towards the hazardous floor making Lou’s heart stop… a portal appeared just in front of his hands, Blue disappearing never touching the floor.

Lou hardly had a second to sigh in relief before he was up again and looking for the next portal. Luckily enough it formed not far away and he just had to reach out half lunging over the counter to catch the hatchling.

“Gotcha,” Lou caught Blue in one hand juggling orange in the other. Both of his sons giggling at him. It was cute until the moment of panic wore off and he became aware of the piece of glass digging into him as he pressed against the counter, “Ow ow,”

Lou didn’t have time to remove the jagged shards sticking out of him. Both of his hands full he carefully tiptoed over to purple kicking him to the next room. It was a lounge of sorts given the face he had only managed to drag one arm chair in here. Lou dumped Blue and Orange in their makeshift playpen, a wooden crate that hadn’t been set on fire yet. He wedged Purple under the footrest so he wouldn’t go rolling anywhere before collapsing into the chair with a sigh.

He took a moment to groan loudly but he couldn’t wallow too long. He was still down one son and filled with glass. Lou started to pry the pieces out of him. Luckily he was wearing jeans so all but a few large pieces had missed his legs. Same with his torso, most were fairly shallow and easy to find. The worst of it was his arms, which he had to bring the tweezers out to get all the pieces. Thank goodness his mutation had at least given him increased healing, with these kids he needed it.

Lou stood up, he would still need to bandage the cuts but that could be done after he had found and made sure Red was safe. Blue and orange were occupying themselves with the rattle Lou had made by putting a couple of screws in a container. He knew soon they would start fighting over it but for now it wasn’t a fire hazard. Purple was pushing against his shield trying to free himself from being wedged under the footstool.

“All of you stay put, I’m looking at you blue,” He told the turtle seriously, Blue happily babbled back at him, “I need to go find red,”

“RaRa!”

“Yes RaRa- NO Blue!” In a flash of light Lou was in freefall, barely registering the change before he was landing in a dumpster in a place too bright to be the sewers. There were dogs barking and growling not far from him and the bustling sounds of passersby a little further away.

Lou groaned letting his head thunk back against a very nice soft rusted washing machine. Well if he wasn't at risk of infecting his cuts living in the sewers they definitely were now. He’d have to raid a pharmacy for antibiotics on their way back to the sewers from wherever in New York Blue had dropped him.

Speaking of, he pushed himself up looking around the alley. Sure enough one end had a busy street with people too busy to look down the narrow gulley even with the dogs barking up a ruckus. Lou cast a wary look at them doubling back when he saw what they had been barking at.

“Red!” He jumped out of the bin grabbing a busted up piece of what had once been a broom.

He hit the nearest mutt surrounding his son. The boy wrapped up in his larger projection cowering against a wall. The others snapped their attention to him growling. Lou hissed in turn not entirely conscious he was doing it as he started hitting the dogs causing enough grief the pack decided they weren’t worth it.

Lou growled lowly at their retreat, his fur on end. He tried to shake himself out of it. Or find it in himself to be ashamed at the animalistic behavior, but that was hard when it helped protect his son.

“Oh little Red,” He cooed the hatchlings projection still pressed against the wall.

Lou could only hope that New York lived up to their reputation and no one spared a second glance at the rat man and his giant red son in the alleyway. Lou held out his hands trying to encourage Red to jump down to them. Instead the giant version of his son leant down until his head was resting in Lou’s hands.

“It’s alright sweetie,” He cradled the projection, patting his son’s head while looking inward to the small snapper hidden within, “Dada’s got you,”

Red whined reaching out to grab him. Lou winced as he was crushed in the too strong baby grip smooshing him against the red energy field. Half his face was pressed up against it inside he could see the real Red trying to reach out for him.

Lou smiled sadly, how scary for his boys to have powers completely out of their control. He didn’t struggle doing his best to comfort his son through the projection until he felt safe enough to take it down.

When it finally dissipated Lou’s fast reflexes from always catching Blue kicked in scooping up Red no problem. The snapper giggled as Lou cradled him close. He smiled, booping him on the snout quickly pulling back before Red could live up to his species name.

“What do you say we try to find Dada a pharmacy then sneak into a sewer and try to find our way home?” Red squealed which Lou took to mean agreement.

Thanks to Blue he had already gotten a crash course in getting around the city so soon enough they were back in the sewers close to home. He heard the damages his sons had wrought on their lair before he saw it. Good thing he kept that dumpster broom.

“Blue you’re in big trouble young man,” He called into the lair.

The boys were still in the living room. The crate was on fire Purple in the middle of it protected by his force field. A random assortment of items were thrown around things from basketballs to surfboards, a roller skate and a pile of odd socks. So perhaps Blue had been trying to get them back and Lou couldn’t be too mad. Other than the fact it provided Orange with more kindling.

“Go wrangle them up for me,” He set Red on the ground patting the snapper on the head and the rat went to grab a fire extinguisher.

Both Blue and Purple had instantly flocked to Red’s side climbing over the snapper and patting his head. Orange was attempting to do the same but was still on fire. Thankfully a combination of Red and Purple force fields were keeping him at bay. Interestingly enough the colors seemed to be flowing into each other where they intersected.

Ignoring that for now Lou went about putting out fires, including orange. The hatchling was never pleased to be doused but got over it when it meant he could finally join his brothers. Putting the near spent fire extinguisher aside, Lou scooped up his sons. Grateful that his chair was only half singed he sunk down in it cradling the turtles close.

“You four run me absolutely ragged,” He complained to the squealing giggling tots.

Orange was attempting to climb him, making a suspicious beeline for his hair. No thank you Lou could still smell the burning from the goatee incident. Blue opened up a portal above them. A shiny crown fell from it directly onto Lou’s head. He tried not to worry where that had just been stolen from as the portal closed behind it. Hopefully the news reports would make up something outlandish like a heist rather than the reality of mutant magic turtles.

Purple decided he both did and didn’t want to be held. Creating a field around him and smooshing Red into the crux of Lou’s elbow. The snapper didn’t seem to mind teething on the one patch of skin Lou hadn’t bandaged. Considering his jaw strength that would likely change. But telling him off was a slippery slope into giant tantrum time.

Lou smiled, squeezing all of them close.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,”

#mystic tots #rise of the tmnt #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise #rottmnt #rottmnt turtle tots #turtle tots

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sweetpea-sprite · 1 year

Text

i love that a large part of oliver's character arc is coming to love ni no kuni over time until the journey is no longer only about saving his mother to him but about defeating shadar. and i will forever be pissed that level 5 got rid of most of it in wotww. btw.

accidentally wrote an essay about this so i'm putting it under a read more

they didn't get rid of all of it. he has his soulsnare moment. he. uh. i'll be completely honest with you i'm entirely blanking on ANY other moments. like obviously he willingly sacrifices himself to defeat shadar but that's like the culmination not the build up. um. what other. uh.

okay anyway in dotdd you can SEE him get more attached to ni no kuni. literally the first cutscene you see of him after gateway (the deleted ghibli scene. you can see it in the casino in wotww) is him staring at the world in awe. it's emphasised. there's a zoom in on his face. in wotww he has a moment like this but it's a lot less focused on oliver's reaction and more on showing You the beauty of it. (the ghibli scene is prettier anyway...)

in general dotdd does a much better job of showing oliver falling in love with the world and its inhabitants. listen i am the fairyground's #1 fan but in the arc it replaces there's a scene where swaine protects esther, and then immediately after they start fighting again, and oliver starts laughing because he's FOND OF THEM. they're FRIENDS. it does a much better job of showing the party's bonds with each other than the fairyground does. (in a perfect world we would have both the fairyground and del mokahl.)

it's even little thingsss. stuff like swaine directly saying he wants to go with oliver. the tombstone trail where oliver makes friends with a ghost and cries when she disappears. it's so much more obvious that he's getting more and more attached.

and then in xanadu when they discover that mornstar's stones are scattered and they have to find them there's a TURNING POINT. where oliver steps forward and stubbornly says well i don't care that it seems almost impossible. there's a CHANCE. we can do this. think of everyone who's out there suffering we have to TRY. otherwise what was the point of everything we've done up until now? (foreshadowing for his soulsnare moment!) and he doesn't mention alicia ONCE.

in wotww the only stone guardian where you clearly help someone in need is aapep, where you help ali and yasmina break their curse. in dotdd it's all three - oliver promises to look after grey/cerboreas for his past owner, and also, um, organises a union during crossbones. it's just a lot more obvious that oliver wants to help people. he had an ulterior motive for coming here but now he genuinely wants to help and it's OBVIOUS.

and then oliver gets really fucking angry at shadar in perdida. he gets more pissed off in general in dotdd (yet another trait i wish wotww oliver had...) but specifically at shadar he starts shouting about it to the sky. he gets PISSED. it's set off by them discovering a girl who had a piece of her heart stolen by shadar due to her grandmother, on purpose. oliver shouts to the sky that he is "going to SAVE that little girl!"

even the SOULSNARE isn't only about alicia! esther and swaine get trapped in there too and oliver tries to run directly into the poison marshes HIMSELF to get them back and is only stopped by drippy who rightfully points out that he will DIE.

when he finally frees the souls in the soulsnare he has the wotww moment of "everything we've done up until now was for nothing" and then is reminded of everything they've done, and his reason for fighting CHANGES ENTIRELY!!! and it changes in wotww as well - this is the most important part of oliver's arc, after all - but in dotdd. it's already changed. they don't even need the pea montage because you already know how much oliver loves this place.

and then he SACRIFICES HIS LIFE FOR IT!!!!!!! he came here to save his mother - remember, he SAID NO when drippy asked the first time, until he learned about alicia. but he's become so attached and in love with ni no kuni that he heads into a battle he knows he's not coming back from to keep it safe. it drives me NUTS. this world isn't his own and he's killing himself for it because he adores it so much. it's [SCREAMING]

and then in wotww they get rid of almost all of this and oliver is still a fantastic fucking character. they got rid of all of his anger and most of his tears and he's still phenomenal. isn't that crazy. like dotdd oliver is superior but wotww oliver is still really good is the thing

god. anyway. this is your sign to play dotdd. please. please. please. pl

#ni no kuni #rambles #dotdd spoilers #oliver #this can go in the main tag. for funsies #GENUINELY HORRIFIED IN THAT SECOND PARAGRAPH...#i went through all the wotww arcs in my head and there's NOTHING. THERE'S NOTHING #actually there is one line of dialogue when you're talking to the xanadu ghost #where oliver goes 'shadar will pay for this >:(' with a little angry face #but he's not even that mad. they even scaled down that.#because i knowww that one line of dialogue is meant to be the fucking perdida scene #what did they do to youuuuu... oliver i'm so sorry

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sallage · 7 months

Text

The Milkman - NSFW

The Wheel AU

Part 1

Warning: This is an intense tickle fic!

Summary: It had been years since Bakugo had last stepped foot outside of the city. Graduating U.A. at the top of his class, interning and working for The Genious Office, and making a name for himself had been cake once Deku was suspended. The first few months, he'd hardly thought about the nerd. After that, not at all. What he didn't know, was that the life he'd grown acustomed to was about to derail in one of the most sadistic and twisted ways he'd never thought possible.

Pairing: Lee Pro Hero Bakugo, Ler Villain Deku

Words: 10,466

Reading Time: 41 Minutes

A/N: Holyyyyyyyyyy shit. This is the longest fic I have ever written. I had sooooooo much fun writing this and I'm actually kind of proud of it.... just a little(: Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

The room was mostly empty.

Bakugo was blindfolded, but he could sense it. He could tell by the way the metallic clang of the chains clamoring around his neck reverberated off of the walls. The bastard had fucked with Bakugo enough for him to learn how sound worked in a small room, which is why his heart was already in his throat when he felt a tug against the icy narrow band, which he’d learned the hard way, meant stop.

So he did.

“Good boy.”

Bakugo growled, a low animalistic noise from deep within his throat. If someone gave him one million attempts to predict his future, he never would have guessed this.

That he would end up a piece of meat for the nerd to fuck with for his own sick, demented pleasure.

When Deku was suspended from U.A., Bakugo's graduation at the top of his class became effortless, with the internship and job at The Genius Office falling into place just as smoothly.

Once Bakugo had turned twenty-five years old, he had developed a high level of renown and respect as a hero. The final arc of his success was right there, literally in the palm of his hands.

Then everything went to shit.

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Reports of a faceless crime lord monetizing black market drugs and illegal erasure darts on the dark web were far from unknown. However, an anonymous tip had led them to discover a money laundering outpost posing as a trading card store. After years of coming up empty, Bakugo was itching to discover something, anything useful.

All they had to do was monitor the establishment.

Bakugo couldn't see the use of the three men sent to scout with him, especially after the store had closed, so he’d sent them home with a note reviewing the new tracker that had been implanted in their gums. The technology was new and not widely tested yet, plagiarizing elements of skin and bone, so Bakugo was confident that the chip would be missed if he were somehow captured and searched.

He’d spend the next several hours watching.

Maybe he should have gone home after the fifth hour of quiet.

It wasn’t until four in the morning, when a small sliver of activity caught his eye.

A lone person in a black hood quietly exited the dark store.

Bakugo recognized the possibility of a diversion, that the person in the hood was simply meant to draw prying eyes away from the store while other things went on behind the scenes. Bakugo had seen the trick used before.

But he couldn't help but feel… drawn.

So he followed them.

The thought to report an update was fleeting.

The hooded figure remained silent and unperturbed. Bakugo kept a safe distance in the shadows, his soft footfalls masked by the rising pitch of the winding river and bridge ahead. The figure's movements remained consistent and steady as they both crossed, the city now but a shimmering dot in the darkened distance.

They crossed into ghostly, suburban territory.

After around ten minutes, a graffitied public school park looming under a broken flickering street light caught his attention.

A twinge of familiarity ran down his spine.

Distracted, Bakugo didn’t see the hooded figure round the sidewalk. Cursing, he rushed to catch up.

When he’d rounded the corner, they were standing in the center of the street, staring at some old, tragedy stricken apartments with their hands casually slung into their pockets.

Bakugo considered the situation, and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated initiating a confrontation. The very small and mature voice he’d annoyingly developed in his mind told him to think about his endgame. If he rushed the shady bastard now, he would tip off the villain operation and everything they’d learned up to that point would be as useful as dirt. He’d need to have reasonable proof and all he’d had was a stupid feeling.

Bakugo gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. He’d wanted to confront the fucker and kick his ass, but it was too early to have a full picture of what was really going on. The store could simply be that, a store, with nothing more to it.

He rolled his eyes and before he could talk himself out of it, took careful steps away in an attempt to slip back out, then paused. Maybe if he could catch a glimpse of their face…

“My mother still lives here.”

Bakugo's body went completely still. His breath stopped in his throat, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest like a hammer against steel.

The figure lowered their hood, glowing green eyes trained on the apartments.

Bakugo blinked. Everything else fell away from him.

“Everyday I think she’d leave, especially after I destroyed the neighborhood. Do you think she’s still waiting for me?”

He should have left right then and there.

Instead, Bakugo rose from his crouch and slowly walked out onto the street. Each step he’d taken had an undeniable ferocity to it, his eyes like two burning embers that could turn into an inferno at a moment's notice.

It was the fucking high school drop out. And he knew Bakugo was following him. He’d probably known it the second he’d left the store, maybe even before.

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan.”

The familiar nickname wasn't spoken with the same fondness that it had once been uttered with, instead carrying a tone that made it sound more like an insult.

Gone was the silly, quirky, and fun-loving person that was filled with goodness and joy. In his place stood a dangerous, predatory, and threatening presence. In his eyes no longer shined the bright light of his once golden heart, but instead the glimmering of a cold and dangerous predator.

“Don’t do this! Please don’t let them take it, Kacchan!”

Bakugo scowled at him, his palms grew hot.

“Why the hell are you here?”

He should’ve reported the update. Hell, he should’ve called in the entire damn agency.

Deku’s voice was steady, eyes trained on the apartments. “You didn’t like our walk down memory lane?”

Bakugo’s eyes sparked.

The playground, the river, the fucking card store.

Bakugo bristled. He should have known. It was obvious. “Answer the fucking question.”

Black tendrils slowly slithered out of Deku’s back. Bakugo’s palms sizzled.

“No one’s talked to me like that in a long time.”

Without so much as a twitch as a warning, one of the tendrils struck. Bakugo quickly shifted and dodged, failing to realize that Deku had simply struck the ground just next to where the blonde once stood, intentionally pushing him right into a hulking frame standing silently off to the side, who wrapped massive arms around Bakugo’s chest from behind.

His palms crackled and sparked with the orange and red of his quirk, building up and igniting in a devastating explosion that engulfed them both in a calamitous blaze of volatile force.

Somehow, deep in the heat, he felt a sudden and painful sting on the side of his neck.

In an instant, the heat and power from his attack subsided, dissolved by the abrupt numbing sensation that spread through his body and left his hands smoking and twitching. His body tingled, all of his senses numbed and weakened.

“Motherfffuuhh-”

Another sting, and his vision wavered and blurred. He shook his head, fighting against it.

It was a fucking trap. Set For him.

He’d known he was going to pass out and these fuckers were going to take him. He’d wanted to fight it with as much defiance and disrespect as he could. Profanities spewed from his lips accompanied by worthless sparks that popped from his numb, useless hands. His eyes seared into Deku, but the villain’s eyes remained locked on the apartments, not even sparing him a sideways glance before whatever drug they injected him with finally overwhelmed his senses.

He’d woken up in the same damn room he’d been staying in for the past week.

Over the course of that week, Bakugo had fought harder than he ever had in his entire life. He’d bitten fingers, head butted anyone within range, and spat. His mouth proved to be as dangerous as his quirk, but three days in the muzzle and firmer restraints taught him to use his talents sparingly.

As expected, they’d missed the tracker during the strip search. He’d woken up with it warm against his tooth, confirmation that someone was indeed looking for him.

So he’d reserved his energy, save for every few minutes or so when he would religiously check if the quirk erasure dart was still active, hoping to catch it before they’d eventually inject him again.

On his first night, blindfolded, cursing and thrashing, they’d shoved him into a chair and bound his legs to it along with his arms to a hanging contraption above his head. It took seven of them to eventually subdue the aggressive pro hero, all of them walking away with some kind of injury.

Deku didn't make an appearance that night, but the orders to his grunts were clear.

Extract any information Bakugo had uncovered about their operations.

Bakugo was expecting to be tortured. He’d mentally prepared himself for it the moment he’d woken up in this shit hole. And he was, just not in the way he was expecting.

Deku didn't want to dignify Bakugo with a formidable excuse for when he eventually gave up. He wanted to humiliate him.

For the first three days, he was brutally and sadistically tickle tortured.

When the method of torture was revealed, to say that Bakugo was flabbergasted would be an understatement. He’d imagined needles under the nails or flaying. Hell, he was even expecting something ironic like being branded or burned alive. So when he was finally forced into the chair, the last of his flailing limbs secured, he braced himself for the kind of pain that would match the reputation Izuku created for himself, only to be startled by harmless and rough fingers and hands, ticklishly squeezing sensitive spots on his body.

The pro hero sneered and taunted the goons, under the impression he was safe for the time being.

But of course, he would be proven wrong.

The grunts took their time and expertly learned his body. They triggered reactions and sounds Bakugo didn't know he could make and tormented spots he didn't even know were ticklish. After hours of meticulous work and charting, they’d put the information they gathered to blindingly effective use. Bakugo learned a few things about himself that night, things he would pay top dollar to forget.

And he’d weathered the torture by the skin of his teeth.

The second day, Deku made a personal appearance, and cracked him in less than an hour. Bakugo answered every single question asked of him, relevant or not.

Still, it wasn't enough for the damn masochist.

Deku didn't just want answers from Bakugo, he wanted him to pay.

So now, in the fourth day of hell, Bakugo has nothing to say or give that would spare him from whatever Deku planned.

Today was purely about revenge.

A hard hand clamped on his shoulder and the blonde blindly stepped forward, letting the hand guide him.

He swallowed his resistance and it slid down his throat like sand.

The hand lifted. He paused.

Then there was light.

Bakugo blinked several times after the blindfold was lifted. The intensity of the dazzling lights in the room made his eyes squint and nose itch. His eyes landed on a tall, colorful object planted in the center of the room.

The Wheel.

Deku had seen fit to inject whimsy into his revenge plot with The Wheel: a colorful 20-slice abomination that would randomly determine how Bakugo would be tickled that day.

A fucking Wheel.

Bakugo sizzled in place. He wanted to rip the bastard’s guts out and make him eat it. He wanted to kill him.

Deku blew Bakugo a kiss and strode towards it.

"Let's see what The Wheel wants us to do today." Deku winked and gave it a spin.

Bakugo's sense of how much time had passed was determined by how many times the wheel had been spun: 5, and this one made 6.

The Kennel

The Carwash

The Gang

The Hog

The Milkman

The wheel began to slow, its revolution enrapturing both Bakugo and Deku...

The dial stopped on The Milkman.

The door suddenly busted open and two grunts walked inside, carrying something that reminded Bakugo of a weird combination of a padded sawhorse and a spanking bench. There were cuffs towards the front where his arms would rest and vise versa where his calves would be placed. Towards the back of the middle cushion that would support his waist and hips, was a custom cut hole that looks like it could fit…

Bakugo’s eyes widened.

The smile that slithered onto Deku’s face was maniacal.

Bakugo clenched his jaw, continuing to stare at the contraption even after Deku smugly faced him and tugged at the leash.

“No.”

Tug

“Fuck. off.”

Deku cocked his head to the side, an amused expression squaring his face, as if Bakugo was a stubborn kid not wanting to get into the bath.

Tug tug tug tug-

“You mother fucking piece of stupid shit. I said no.”

“I don’t care.” Deku slurred, playing with the leash. “You don’t have a choice.”

Bakugo remained still. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. But if the past few days had taught him anything, it was that without his quirk, resistance only lead to extreme suffering. The bitter pill? Deku knew his body better than he did. The largest explosion in the world wouldn’t be enough to tamper how he felt about that.

“I could force you,” Deku shrugged, reaching over to open the collar. “That would be easy. But I think it would be more entertaining for me to watch my men do it. And if they have to come in here again, they’re staying.” Deku smiled, encouraged by Bakugo’s visible frustration. “And participating.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He knew that no matter what he did, he would end up on that fucking bench. His violent objections in the past had made quick work of him. Just thinking back to that damned tree…

When Deku gestured to the bench, Bakugo reluctantly obeyed.

“Take everything off and get on.”

This was supposed to humiliate him. To make him compliant to his own torture. A sick kick back to those days in high school when he’d scream at anyone who dared to give him orders.

Cursing obscenities the entire time, he stripped off his clothes and laid face down onto the bench, carefully fitting his groin into the cushioned hole.

Deku restrained him accordingly.

Thick, fur lined straps secured his wrists and ankles tightly. Another strap looped around his waist, and an added infinity loop tightly secured his lower thighs right above the bend of his knees, forcing his legs slightly apart and flush against the legs of the modded bench.

Bakugo clenched his jaw and rested his forehead on the cool leather as Deku circled, lingering far too long right behind him.

“You really kept in shape.” Deku whistled.

“Fuck off and get this shit over with.”

“Excited to start?”

Bakugo jerked when he felt something ghosting lightly along both of his flanks, and he instantly knew it was Blackwhip. The touch felt feathery and ethereal, like cool fingers made of harmless, tickly sparklers. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, grateful Deku couldn't see his face from this position.

“We have so much to catch up on.”

The ghosting along his sides curved inward, tracing and slithering over his stomach and hips. It slowly dragged back and forth, up and down over the smooth skin, making Bakugo want to claw it off.

The way he was positioned arched his back slightly, so he couldn't close that small gap that gave Deku easy access to those spots. The fucking bastard.

“We don’t have shit to do with nothin’.” Bakugo spat through his teeth, uselessly forcing himself to stay as still as possible. His stomach muscles twitched of their own accord though, instantly snitching on his stoic facade.

“I think we do. I plan to make up for lots of lost time, Kacchan.” He goosed his ribs.

Bakugo flinched and clenched his jaw so tight, he felt the hurt in his neck. “Stop fucking calling me that.”

“Mmm. It never bothered you before. What’s different now?”

Bakugo ground his teeth together. He jumped when he felt more tendrils start teasing the muscles on his back, tracing agonizing patterns and small circles right underneath his shoulder blades. A lone tendril slithered up his spine, slowing down just enough to trigger an involuntary lurching reaction Bakugo did every time he was touched right below the back of his neck.

“You ffffucking-”

“Whats different now?” Deku repeated, sliding two tendrils up his spine this time.

Bakugo tensed his entire body and cringed, waiting for the tendrils to touch down on that stupid spot. Instead, he jumped when he felt them split up and caress over the top of his shoulders, tracing down to the little dip that made up the corners of his armpits. Bakugo’s arms strained, trying to push them back into himself and close the gap.

“I called you Kacchan our entire lives.” More tendrils pushed out from his back, wrapping around each of his ribs, softly vibrating in place, still tracing. Randomly, one would squeeze.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me to stop.”

Bakugo inhaled sharply when he felt the tendrils at his shoulder blades slither down his back, the slow trek brought a curse to his lips.

Deku didn't speak again until it teased around his lower back and touched down on his ass.

Deku drew long and sensual circles along the soft, toned skin, causing Bakugo to twitch and huff puffs of air through his nose. Discovering his ass was ticklish was one of the things he would die to forget.

Deku’s voice was low. “The question wasn't rhetorical.” A firm squeeze to his ass made him him jump. “Or optional.”

Bakugo snarled. “Fuck off, you piece of shit.”

Deku chuckled and Bakugo seized when all of the tendrils started moving in different directions at once, all of them teasing the fuck out of him. Circles were drawn on either sides of his back, tendrils pressed inward towards his shoulder blades, along his spine, and behind his flanks. Two wafted up and down his stomach in different patterns with two more teasing the edges of his stomach. Two ghosted the rim of his armpits, occasionally dipping in smoothly, making him jump. Two teased his hipbones, occasionally dipping inward towards the inner thighs, tracing the crease right before his thighs became his crotch. The two on his ass stroked abstractly, making him twitch with each pass. He felt two additional tendrils ghost the back of his thighs and the hollows behind his knees.

He was moving around a lot now. Frustrated noises and loud puffs of air through his nose were quiet in comparison to how loud he made the bench squeak with his erratic movements. The occasional gasp left him when the tendrils tracing his ribs moved inward, playing with the sensitive spot right underneath his pecs, or that delicious spot right underneath his underarms. The occasional squeeze anywhere on his body forced him to jump. Regardless of sensitivity, all of his nerves were absolutely on fire.

He bit the inside of his cheek when he felt two new tendrils slowly ghosting down his calves, stopping just over the heels of his feet. The only ones on his body not moving, and he was hyper aware of it.

Deku let Bakugo stew, watching the blonde lose more of his composure with every passing second. Bakugo pushed his head against the cool leather and balled his hands into shaking fists, his body starting to work up a sweat.

This was the kind of tickling he hadn’t experienced yet. It didn't make him hysterical, didn't make him scream until his throat hurt, and didn't make him thrash like his life depended on it, but it made him want to claw his fucking skin off. It tickled so fucking much, but it wasn't nearly intense enough for him to justify letting out any of the building tension through laughter. He couldn't fucking stand it.

For a hot five seconds, he went berserk on the bench. He yanked hard and bucked attempting to kick and thrash. Spittle flew from his clenched teeth and he growled when Deku watched him with a smirk, using the tendrils on the sides of his stomach to dip into a pocket of sensitive nerves right by his flanks.

Bakugo dipped his shoulder inward and to the left, as if he could close off the gap that allowed Deku entrance. He groaned out loud and used his arms to buck once, twice, before being so fed up he couldn't handle it anymore.

“Fucking stop already!” He boomed. “If you’re gonna do it, then fucking get it over with, you pathetic coward!” The slow and methodical sensations were making him so fucking frustrated. He couldn't help the way his back arched, the way his head snapped back when the tendrils behind it slithered too close to his neck, the way his shoulders and arms jerked violently in an attempt shake off the tendrils, or the way his toes flexed and splayed regardless of the threat that ominously loomed inches away.

Deku chuckled again. “You’re so ticklish.”

Bakugo cursed when he felt two tendrils slowly gliding up the insides of his thighs. They traced the sensitive skin right next to his balls, curving up and down, spreading out and caressing the skin under his ass and back again. Bakugo spluttered and yanked hard at the restraints, the ticklish muscles in his arms flexing under the mischievous and ethereal touch of Blackwhip.

“You fucking loser ass villain bah-” The tendrils on his feet twitched. Bakugo’s mouth clamped shut.

“Hm?” Deku hummed, leaning his ear toward the heaving blonde.

“Fucker.” Bakugo cursed. “What the hell is it you want from me?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.” Deku gleefully mocked.

“You’re a goddamn fucking moh-morohon!” Bakugo cursed, busying himself with another bout of frustrated thrashing when more tendrils swirled under his arms. “I’m not playing your backward ass games!”

Deku smirked. Without letting up on Bakugo’s treatment, he grabbed a chair and sat right next to the blonde, who had to tilt and rest his head on his left cheek to look Deku in the eyes.

“You’ll do whatever I want you to do.” He slurred, kicking his foot up on the edge of the bench where Bakugo’s shaking arm rested.

The tendrils around his ribs prodded firmly. Bakugo flinched hard, unable to hold back the gasp that choked him.

“The day I got suspended from U.A.,” Deku’s eyes roamed shamelessly over Bakugo’s trembling body. The blonde straightened his head and closed his eyes, still painfully aware the tendrils on his feet were still as stone. Anxiety bubbled up in his throat. He knew Deku did it just to fuck with him. He fucking knew it.

“I begged you to help me.”

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

“Grrh! The school hahas rules, dumbass! Not my ff-fuckin’ fault you weh-went and broke ‘em!” Bakugo snapped. The damn tendrils never stopped moving, always switching places and finding new spots on his infinitely ticklish body. He was going to throw an aneurysm if it didn't stop.

Deku’s eyes darkened. “Not your fault, huh?”

Bakugo sneered. He couldn’t focus! “Damn it! If you got somethin’ to say, just fuckin- GAH!”

The tendrils on his heels traced slowly down his foot, spilling down his arch and wiggling slowly like a snake, tracing over his incepts, the sides of his feet, wrapping around to the tops and circling their tips around the balls.

Bakugo released a large puff of air and slammed his forehead against the leather, breathing harshly through his teeth. He yanked hard on his arms, face turning red with titanium effort. He jolted and grimaced when two tendrils slithered under his toes, the others still circling along and around the balls of his feet. Just a ghost of a sensation, but it psyched the fuck out of him.

Two more tendrils, parallel of each other, traced down the sides of his feet, looped around down to the heal, then zipped up to the toes, following the outline of the undersides and back again to repeat. Two other tendrils appeared and started tracing the ticklish spot along where the arch melts into the heal and then two other tendrils outlined his calves and ankles.

Bakugo lifted his forehead just to slammed it again against the leather rest, frustrated agony sizzling at the corners of his mouth.

Deku smirked, reveling in Bakugo’s priceless reactions. “You’re acting like I’m shoving a burning knife through your gut. I bet you would prefer that.”

Bakugo huffed and growled, sweat dripping off his heated skin. “What… do you gohddamn… aaghh- want?!”

“Let’s play a game!” Deku quickly stood, knocking over the chair. All of the tendrils finally, finally stopped and Bakugo shamelessly let his entire body flop onto the bench. He barely took two much needed breaths before Deku whistled. Bakugo heard the door open behind him, but he was too exhausted to attempt to look. That was, until he felt someone crouch underneath the bench. His head jolted up and he was about to speak when he felt something wet squishy and warm envelop his entire manhood. Bakugo jerked up so hard he actually moved the bench slightly.

“What the fuck! What the fuck?!” Bakugo screeched, thrashing heavily again as the person underneath the bench fitted the squishy thing over Bakugo’s penis and balls. The person then stood and pulled two straps around Bakugo’s waist, tying them in a neat little bow above his ass. Bakugo saw a tan hand pass Deku a controller and without a word, whoever it was, left and closed the door behind them.

Deku palmed the controller, observing it as if he were a critic admiring a strokeless painting. Bakugo’s face turned red with anger, embarrassment, and everything in-between.

“What the fuck is that? What did your perverted ass minion put on me?! Answer me, damn it!”

“These are the rules of the game,” Deku started, ignoring Bakugo’s whining. “First, if it’s not obvious, I’ll be tickling any spot of my choosing.”

Bakugo glared at him. “What the fuck is on my dick?!”

Deku smiled. He turned the controller and Bakugo strained to see it. It looked like a TV remote but it only had eight buttons on it. One circle button in the middle with four arrows around it. There were two buttons parallel to each other below it and one button at the top.

Deku rose his pointer finger, and made a show of pressing the top button.

The on button.

Bakugo flinched with a disgusted yelp when the thing around his cock and balls started vibrating. He anchored his back and tried to pull his penis out of the hole but he couldn't lift himself high enough.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” He screamed, a whole new wave of frustration coursing through him. “You have to be fucking kidding me!” Another bout of useless thrashing. He whipped his head towards Deku, sneering at him with all the hate he could muster. “You’re fucking dead! Do you hear me? When I get the fuck out of here, you’re- AHHH!”

Deku yawned and pressed the middle button. The squishy material Bakugo was encased in started moving. It squeezed and pressed and massaged in a sloping downward fashion, simulating a blowjob with winnowing pressure that caressed his entire length. The space that enveloped his balls started gently squeezing them, massaging them softly. Then, around his scrotum, he felt a circular object like thing close tightly, acting like some sort of cock ring.

It felt… amazing.

After almost an entire week of torture, Bakugo almost succumbed to the sensations right there, despite the makeshift ring.

Instead, he bit back his carnal reactions and pressed his forehead onto the head rest. “N- St-stop… Fffuckin’-” He groaned and bit his tongue.

“Enduring the tickling will be something you’ll have to do. What you’ll not have to do will be so much harder. Get it?”

Bakugo growled, trying to think about anything other than what his body wanted to do right now. He felt his manhood instantly get harder, more susceptible and sensitive.

“Why… why the damn-”

“I’m glad you asked.” Deku’s green eyes sparkled. “If you cum while I’m tickling you, you cant cum again on that spot for the rest of the game. If you cum twice on the same spot, you lose. If you win,” Deku shrugged again. “I’ll let you go.”

Bakugo hardly heard anything until those last four words. “What?”

“If you win,” Deku enunciated, punctuating the sentence with a careless gesture. “I’ll let you go.”

A chance. A fucking chance. He knew he couldn't rely on Deku’s word, but it was the only opportunity to present itself in this goddamn nightmare.

“Not like I… have a fuckin’ choice.” Bakugo groaned, using every ounce of energy he had not to lose the game before it could even start.

Deku grinned. “We’ll do two rounds.”

Bakugo assumed once the tickling started, it would be easy not to focus on the thing doubling his vision. It was the only silver lining he could think of, the only hope that he could cling on to.

Funny how he suddenly needed the tickling to overwhelm his pleasure.

“Alright!” Deku clapped his hands together. “Let’s start.”

“Set a.. Grrhh- S-set a fuckin’ timer.”

Deku tapped his temple. “It’s up here.”

Bakugo was about to protest, but closed his mouth when Deku, with a diabolical grin, slowly unsheathed Blackwhip. The blonde watched with disgust as inky tendrils slinked toward him with twitching excitement and intent.

They touched down on his left side first, caressing his flanks and ribs and slipping softly under his arms. He cringed, the pumping sensation on his dick still prevalent. He flinched when a tendril squeezed his hips and ribs at the same time.

“You… fuck… you said ohone damn s-spohot!”

Deku chuckled. “I’m just trying to decide.”

More poking and prodding, more flinching and cursing, then all of the tendrils traveled up and started tracing his shoulders, inner biceps, the lower outline and rim of his armpits.

“Here.” Deku said, joyfully. “Ten minutes starts now.”

Bakugo clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a burst of insufferable tickles, but the light tracing continued. The makeshift cock ring in the pump gradually released and he felt a rush of dangerous pleasure. With a long groan, the teasing and the tickles were completely obliterated from his mind, hardly able to feel them anymore as the pump expanded and closed in, the massage of his balls deepened causing him to shift around in his restraints, unconsciously grinding his hips to further the sensation.

He was close and was hardly resisting anymore. He teetered on the brink of ecstasy, a welcomed feeling afloat in a sea of agony and shit else. He felt something inside him swell, could have sworn the toy around his shaft pumped faster with excitement. Maybe just one time, just in this spot, wouldn’t be so bad. He could avoid it in the next round.

Yes, he’d decided. Who fucking cares if Deku watched. The sick fuck probably got off on it. Bakugo shoved his previous reservations aside and allowed the bliss to fully envelope him. Fuck everything and everyone else, with one final groan he-

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHA! WHAHAAAA! DEHEHA- AAHHHHAHAHAHA! FUHUHUHK! DAHAHAMN IT!! YOHOU FUHKING- DAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Bakugo exploded into a generous mix of curses and laughter, brought on by the four tendrils circling the rims on either sides of his armpits to suddenly close in and undulate into the sensitive flesh. One was squeezing and floating around the ticklish muscle right where the armpit and chest connect. Another was pushing and rotating just above but not quite on that delectably torturous spot above his ribs, and the last two were shamelessly digging right into the center, One stationary, the other circling largely and being sure to not to leave any spot untouched.

Bakugo thrashed. He pressed his chest into the bench and slammed his forehead onto the headrest. His hands clenched and unclenched from their trembling fists and his shoulders bounced up and down from pure mirth. The surprise caught him off guard, although he would kick himself for not expecting it if he had the ability to think at all.

Being denied a peaceful release at the absolute last second made his body tingle with newfound sensitivity. His stomach filled with frustration and his throbbing cock twitched as it was continuously and mercilessly pumped.

Quickly tumbling down from his euphoric high, he cursed and fought. One of the tendrils found a delectable spot at the top left inner muscle, where the edge of his shoulder creased into his armpit. Being caught so grossly off guard by the spike in sensitivity, it easily knocked and bursted through to the most secluded corners of his mind.

“GAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! AHAH AAAHHHAH! AAHAHAHA! FFFAAAHAHAHAHA- GGRRRAAAAH! GAHAHAD DAHAHMN IT STAHAHAHAP!”

Deku wore a toothy grin and just hummed to himself.

Bakugo tried to use his momentum to rock himself on the bench, hoping to tip the whole damn thing over but it held steady. Unable to manage anything more then a few stress creaks, Bakugo pushed each of his shoulders in and squished them against the bench, but the tickling never relented. He jolted violently when two random tendrils goosed his ribs.

“ARRRGGHH! GAHAAD DAHAMN YOU DEHEKHU! STAHPFUC- AAHAHAHA! STOP FUCKINGARAHAHOUND!”

Deku chuckled and raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist.”

“BAHAHSTAHAHARD! SHIHIHIHT! GAH! NO! NOO!! STAHAHAP!”

Deku feigned innocence as one of his lower tendrils slowly slinked more so towards the bottom of his armpits, causing Bakugo to thrash harder, doing a piss poor job of covering up his panic.

Suddenly, he yelled out when he felt the toy around his manhood start to squeeze. The tendrils under his arms gradually slowed their manic torment, leaving Bakugo huffing and puffing with each sensitive pass. Bakugo rested his sweat riddled forehead against the leather, squeezing his eyes shut in aggravation. The transition from obnoxious tickling pleasure was rough and Bakugo felt his arms shake.

The smile in Deku’s voice was infuriating. “How are we doing?”

He didn't realize it until a surge of pleasure slapped him in the face but Blackwhip was no longer pinching and prodding. Instead, swirling and ghosting. The toy around Bakugo’s length suddenly started pumping, undulating up and down in an unpredictable pattern. Strokes, like a tongue, traveled up his length, the winnowing pressure taking him in deep while it massaged his balls. Although still there, the tickling quickly became secondary.

Bakugo couldn't help the carnal groan that left his tight lips. Everything fell away from him as he openly welcomed the only good sensation he’s felt since being in this shit hole. He wanted this and he didn't care if Deku saw and mocked him. This was only the first round, He’d be able to avoid-

Bakugo yelled out as he released the first drops of ecstasy. The slicked out muscles on his back rippled as he arched into it, riding the whole thing out. The tendrils never stopped teasing his armpits, and he didn't give a shit. He couldn't feel it anymore. Sparks ignited and bloomed across his vision. After a moment of shameful, shattering pleasure, he slumped. Spent and breathless.

Deku whistled.

The toy didn’t slow. He felt something brush across his reddened tip. Bakugo twitched and gasped, pushing his hips back as far as he could.

”Fff-Fuck!”

”That’s one for the armpits.” Deku commented, casually. “If it’s going to be this easy then I think you might be screwed.”

“S-sta- Sh- I’m- I’m gonna-“

“What?” Deku’s eyebrows rose, amused.

”I’m gonna fffuckin’ k-kill you.” Bakugo panted, his pitch rising and falling in rhythm with the thing around his cock overstaying its welcome.

Deku’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s the Kacchan I knew.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but slammed it shut when Blackwhip started moving.

”After All Might gave me One For All,” Deku started, moving Blackwhip slowly, ever so slowly downward. “He told me to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sorry, young Midoriya. Please hold still.”

Bakugo cringed as he felt the tendrils slowly swoop over his ribs. He felt them expand so they caressed right underneath his chest. Two tendrils on each side teased the ribs that wrapped around his back, while two other sneaky ones still swirled in his armpits. He hissed through his teeth as chills iced down his spine and goosebumps appeared all over his body. He shook his head, as if he could will it all away. To his dismay, the teasing is so much more frustratingly ticklish than before.

He grunted when two guileful tendrils flicked and circled his nipples on either side.

“But I told you about it anyway, and I did it out of respect. Respect you didn’t deserve or appreciate.” Deku continued. “Even after All Might, The hero we both grew up admiring, saw it fit to pass his quirk onto me, you still told me I was worthless. Unworthy of U.A. A psychopathic freak.”

A tendril goosed his upper ribs, another slithered down his stomach, drawing wide circles around his belly button. Two closed in on his hips, pressing into the bone with light pressure. Two teased the skin underneath his ass, two played with the tendons next to his groin, right along the edge of the toy. Another two slinked down his legs and teased his ankles while circling around the heels of his feet. He jumped when an additional pair circled around the balls, occasionally dipping in and tracing the skin right underneath his toes, massaging the stems and teasing the bases.

His heart rate picked up and his breath came fast. His skin tingled as his nerves fired at him with obnoxious sensitivity. He could feel every delicate stroke, every harsh poke, every sensual touch and squeeze, and couldn't help the giggles when they spilled out of his snarling mouth.

The fucking orgasm. It made him even more sensitive.

He was so fucking screwed.

Deku paused, letting the epiphany the other was clearly having, sink in. “I started to believe you.”

All of the tendrils poked their respective spots at once, causing Bakugo to let out an undignified yelp and jolt. Every little movement now started him to the core.

“Funny how a worthless, psychopathic freak now holds the leash to your collar.”

“Is that what this bullshit is about?” Bakugo’s voice boomed with irritation, edgy nervousness punctuating the end of his accusation. “What the hell do you want, damn Deku? A fuckin’ apology or somethin’?”

Deku shook his head. All the humor was void from his face, his voice dark and emotionless. “I’ve never wanted anything from you.”

Bakugo blinked when Deku raised his hand with the remote and pointed it at him. He couldn't see what button he pressed, but he gasped when suddenly the toy started vibrating. Teasing strokes evolved into sensuous pumping. He was hard again in seconds.

The tendrils eased off. All except the ones stationed at his ribs. Three teased the bottom, two on his left, one on his right. Two on each side teased the middle of his ribs, swirling and poking, following the curve of his back, and another two danced across his upper ribs, rubbing back and forth, up and down, ghosting underneath and the sides of his chest.

“I’m sure you can guess which spot is next.” Deku clicked his tongue. “Looks like you might lose before I even start.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up from where it was resting. “Fuck you!” His biceps strained with the titanic effort of trying to lower his arms. He arched his back, pushed himself forward, tried to dip his shoulders and chest hard against the leather, but nothing phased the tendrils determined to take me straight to hell. They encouraged the sort of panic that he felt like he could taste. The toy’s vibrations increased, the flesh of the toy slowly starting to suck, doubling his vision with pleasure.

“There was a spot around here… where was it again?” Blackwhip poked and nudged at his entire rib cage. Bakugo spluttered and hissed through his teeth, body jolting and flinching with every jab.

“Fucker! You, mother fuc-!!” Bakugo spat. “Stop this- Mmgghhm- bulh-bullshit! III’ve fuckin’ had it with y-AH!”

“Mmmm.” Deku mused. Blackwhip paused, pinpointed tendrils vibrating softly right on that dreaded spot. Bakugo froze as well, looking at Deku with the most hateful glare he’d ever given anyone.

“I wonder if-”

Squeeze

Bakugo inhaled so sharply, he choked. “AUGH! Damn it, stop!” He tried to haft and throw himself around on the bench. Deku only smiled, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Blackwhip softly, softly undulated once more and Bakugo would have hit the ceiling if he wasn't so tightly restrained. “MMGGHH! STOP! Don’t you fucking do it, you fuck!”

The toy around his needy length pumped faster and his attention was quickly averted to the sudden burst of pleasure that wracked through his body and made him shutter. His mouth opened in a silent groan, which transformed into an unrestrained yell as Blackwhip again, teased one of his death spots.

He hafted himself up hard, creaking the bench. “NO!” He cursed, shoving all of the authority in his voice that he could muster. “Just fucking stop this! I swear to FuhuahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! SHIHIT!”

The three tendrils teasing the bottom of his ribs dove in, rubbing fast and harshly between and around the bone, the third tendril went rogue and snuck over his quivering stomach and down to his thighs. Bakugo shook his head in delirium and fruitlessly bucked his hips up and down. Even with the torturous tickling rerouting his mind, the pleasure he was feeling from the toy was still very much present. Slowly, he felt himself twitch and glisten with pressing need.

Deku hummed. “Oh, does that tickle?”

“FAHAHAK YOU! GAAGHH! NAAAAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP!”

The tendrils stationed at the middle of his ribs came alive, mimicking the same unpredictable technique as the ones on his lower ribs. Bakugo fought hard, knowing what was next, knowing he couldn't stop it. Two tendrils slowly wrapped around his thighs, goosing and tickling the whole way. Bakugo expected them to attack his thighs again, but unexpectedly, they slipped their teasing tips underneath the sleeve of the toy, now slowly stroking and wrapping around the bare skin of his penis. Aside from dissolving into harsh thrashing and seizing like he touched an exposed cable, something else instantly came over him. In a moment of panicked weakness he opened his mouth.

“AAHHH! GAHH! WAIT! FUKIN’ WAHAITWAIT! WAHT DOYOUWAHAHAHNT?!”

Deku answered simply. “This.”

Two things happened at the same time.

The tendrils resting and teasing his death spot pulled back and dove right in. Viciously rubbing into that incomprehensibly ticklish spot without a shred of mercy. Four more vibrating tendrils latched on, squeezing, rubbing and scratching torturously.

The tendrils that snuck into the toy, wrapped around the entirety of Bakugo’s heat and lightly squeezed, following the rhythm of the toy. It pumped Bakugo excitedly, the two tips reaching his pre-cum soaked tip to swirl and rub, lick and tease. One of the tips pressed underneath the head, flicking under it like like an experienced tongue, while the other teased and stroked the slit.

Torn between two incredibly overwhelming sensations, Bakugo’s voice instantly gave out. For a moment, there was silence. Bakugo’s mouth was open in a silent, lustful, tortured scream, his sweat glistened muscles rippled with the intense single pull he was imposing onto all of his limbs. His toes clenched and his nails bit into his fists. After one sharp intake of breath,

Bakugo fittingly exploded.

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAHAHHA! NONONOHOHOHONOOOOO! GAHHH! NAHA- I CAHHAHA- ST- GAHAHAHAHAD OHHOHOH FUCK! OHFUUUUUCK!! DEHEHE- PFFTAHAHAAHAHA!! AHAHAAAASHIHIT! SHITSHITSAHIT!! AHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAH! GGRRAAAAAHHH!!! -AHAHHAHAHAAA————OOOOOPP! STAHAHAHAP STOPSTOPSTOPFUCKINGHELLSTOHOHOHOHP!! AHAHAHA————”

Deku watched Bakugo fall apart, a maniacal, sadistic smile creasing his face. “Found it.”

“AAAAHH! FUCKDEKUSTOOOOOOOOOOOP! FAHAHAK! I CAHAHA- GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I CAAAAHAHAHAH-”

“What was that?” Deku stuck his tongue into his cheek. “You can’t what?”

Bakugo’s mind was blank. His entire world was encompassed by all of the sensations saturating every recess of his brain. He whipped his head around, slamming it repeatedly against the headrest, the cushioning not even allowing him the relief of pain. He quickly approached the lower level of laughter, where it became mostly screams.

“ICANTTAKEIT! OHFUCKINGSHIT I FUKIN CAHAHAHAHA! AHAHA AHA AHA AHAHAH! ICAHAHAHANT! STOOOOOOOOHOHAAAAAAAAP!”

The toy picked up its pace, encouraging the tendrils wrapped around his dick to follow along. A few new tendrils squeezed his balls, Two flicked and rubbed his nipples, one even licked up the side of his neck, right underneath his jaw. His eyes flew to the back of his head.

“Want me to stop tickling or stop pumping?”

Bakugo’s face was alight with fire, he wasted no time. “TICKLING! STAHAH THE TIHIHIH-TIHIH- FAHAHAHAK! STAHAHAHAP TIHIHAHAHA-!”

“If I stop the tickling, you’ll lose the round. Are you sure you-”

“YES! YEHEHEHS! YESYESYESJUST- SHIHIHIHT!! STAHAHAHAP! FUCKINGHEHEHELL!”

Deku instantly stopped and focused his energy into on the blonde’s dick.

“MMMMPHHHHH FFFFFUUCK!” Bakugo moaned, arching his back and shaking his head, grinding his hips along the bench. “FFFFFFFFUHHHHHK!” Bakugo groaned, lost in a new kind of torment.

He closed his eyes, everything instantly fell away from him when he felt a tendril slip over his tip again. He felt the build up burn in his stomach, felt his penis throbbing, his tip glistening, ready for release. He felt the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had gather, aching in his swollen balls. Despite the need for air, he held his breath as the first drops of-

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Bakugo’s voice cracked when everything simply stopped.

The tendrils and the toy fell limp. His body tingled as if all of his limbs fell asleep. Sweat dripped off his chin as he gasped. Opening his mouth to curse, a strangled sound came out instead when everything resumed. He flinched and jolted in his restraints, but the pumping and “licking” resumed, throwing him right back into that agonizing build up. Right when he could see stars, it stopped again.

He jerked his head up and seared his eyes into amused green ones with a guttural growl, only to force his head back down and clench his fists when it all started again.

“You…. You ffffuh- ffucking b-”

“I’m just helping you out.” Deku cocked his head to the side, chuckling. “Trust me, you don’t want to cum again.”

Bakugo closed his eyes, but he couldn't have a moment of rest before the pumping started again. He filled his cheeks with curses and air, releasing them in a flurry when rogue tendrils buried themselves into his ribs, his worst spot spared for now, as he was thrown head first into more ticklish chaos. He couldn't handle this much longer. He couldn't handle this now. He felt his sanity slipping through the cracks, but it didn't matter.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Deku trilled after a few more minutes. “If you beg me to cum, I’ll let you. Then we can move on.”

Beg him to lose the game. Beg him to take away the small change at freedom and hope that he had. Beg him to keep him here and torture him until help eventually came or he went batshit.

No, no he couldn't.

Bakugo snapped out of it. He returned Deku’s wicked glare and sneered. “Fuck. You.”

Deku narrowed his eyes and smirked, as if he was hoping for that exact answer. “Tickling it is then.”

First, there was a moment of silence.

Then pure, unadulterated madness.

Blackwhip attacked every inch of Bakugo’s ribcage. Bakugo screamed, a high pitched uncharacteristic shriek that shocked both of them. Then, he fell into manic, hysterical unrestrained laughter. Laughter that only maddened when his worst spot was finally targeted. Bakugo couldn't feel when the toy started again, couldn't feel the bubbling build up, or the burn of release that taunted him from mere inches away. He couldn't feel any of it, not until the tickling abruptly stopped and he stole greedy breath before countless tendrils converged on the entirety of his tip, sliding and slinking over the crimson peak it while the tendrils wrapped around his dick pumped up and down his length with mouth watering speed. His eyes stung with mirthful tears before he was thrown right back into ticklish oblivion.

Once his death spot was awarded another short break, Bakugo used that opportunity to quickly give up.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAYE! OKAHAHAHAHAY JUHUSTFUKINGDOHOHOHIT! I GIHIHIVE! IGIVE! JAHAHAAST MAAKEMECUM! DHAHAMNIT!”

“Mmmm,” Deku considered for a moment. “Say please.”

“AAGHHAHAHA!! GAHAHAHDDAHAHMN YOU!” Bakugo was slapping the edge of the leather wrist rest with his hand, trying to physically tap out. “PLEHEHESE! FUCKINPLEHEHESE! JUHUST STOP TIHIHIHCKLING!”

The tickling didn't stop completely, but it was enough. Bakugo was hardly afforded the gift of relief as tendrils immediately pumped and licked, massaged and caressed his entire length. The toy suddenly closed up around the tip and so similar to a warm mouth, he felt licking, swirling and even sucking. The rest of his twitching member was caressed and abused with soft and fast lustful strokes. Spit dribbled out of his mouth and beads of sweat glided down his sides and back as he arched.

He had no idea how many tendrils were pleasuring him now, but every damn spot was zapped with unbelievable, world shattering, sinful pleasure. Tendrils slinked through his toes and circled around the balls of his feet. Others lightly ghosted up his long arches and more teased his heals. New, lustful feelings seared from his feet straight to his dick, which pulsed in tandem with the activity. He didn’t dare start to unpack that.

The tendrils reappeared at his nipples and neck, his eyes once again dug into the back of his head.

He lasted an impressive 50 seconds.

He groaned out loud with his long release, his damp rob and body twitching through each pump of glorious rapture. His orgasm, almost matching the duration of his endurance, forced his twitching toes to curl, the squirming tendrils undeterred by even that. His abs and back muscles flexed, the light reflecting off of each sweaty twitch and convulsion.

He slumped heavily after it was through. He bucked and hissed when the tendrils around his ribs hardly gave him a second before teasingly slinking down, tracing over his twitching sides and pressing into his hips and thighs.

“Two for two.” Deku counted, unapologetically. “I’m not sure I like your odds.”

Bakugo couldn't muster a response. The tendrils around his hips and thighs forced a few half assed curses and poorly held back giggles from him. He arched his back, huffing when they pressed into the soft spaces inward next to his hips, ticklishly stroking down between his thighs. Oh shit.

“Agghh staha- Mmmhh. No mohore.” He murmured. His once silky ash blonde hair was now dark and matted, sticking to his eyes and head. “I-I— God, I fffucking can’t- I can’t d-do this shit anymore.” His body sizzled with heightened sensitivity. Even the breeze across his fucking feet tickled.

Deku looked at him for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “The game isn’t over yet.”

The tendrils found a ticklish tendon underneath and inward along his ass and inner thigh, and pressed into it. Bakugo barked out a surprised laugh and squirmed weakly.

Deku was silent as he teased that spot, longer than the pro hero thought he could tolerate.

“One more spot,” Deku announced, pushing his tendrils down over his thighs, creeping over the back of his ticklish knees, lingering there for a moment before tickling toward his calves. “Then round two starts.”

The tendrils slowly slithered down this calves, forcing him to half groan, half whine and bite his cheek. When they grazed over his Achilles heal and brushed down around the sides of his feet, Bakugo felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, energy he pointlessly wasted by yelling a stream of obscenities and fighting hard as he could. He’d never felt more helpless, he’d never been so tortured, he’d never felt as if he could be reduced to begging, but here he was, those sinful words dancing at the tip of his tongue, tempting him like food tempts a starved man.

All from tickling.

Blackwhip paused and Bakugo knew it was over. His fatigue caught up moments before and he stared at Deku with wide pleading eyes. Deku drank that up like a craved cigarette. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

Well, almost.

“Wait! Deku, wai-”

The rest of his plea fizzled and died on his lips.

He felt it everywhere and nowhere. Tendrils raced over and under his flailing toes, some scratched right underneath and along the stems and pads, more circled and scratched the balls of his feet, playing with the plump, overly sensitive pads. Additional ones scratched just at the creases underneath the balls, which at this point hadn’t been touched and absolutely drove him up the metaphorical wall of madness and hysteria. Others stroked up and down and side to side, playing along his creamy arches, paying special attention to the spot where the heel melts into the arch, while more circled and teased his heels. Two tickled and scratched along the sides of each foot, a few, Bakugo couldn't count, even tickled the tops of his feet along with some slowly stroked up and down this claves and two stragglers unfairly burrowing into the back of his knees.

Bakugo couldn't comprehend anything except how much it fucking tickled.

His mouth was wide open in a silent scream, his eyes squeezed shut, saturated with mirthful tears. When additional tendrils started stroking and alternating between the arches and balls of his feet, a switch flipped in him. He started bouncing up and down, moving the bench slightly as he tried to lift and drop his weight, trying to use pure strength to break it or at least flip it over. Aside from a few cracks and creaks, it was silent as he wasted precious, limited energy.

More at the top and sides. Extra in between the toes. Something evil goosed his ribs.

That was all he couldn't handle.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NONONONAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUUUUUCK! AHA AHAHA! AHAHHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOOOOOOP!YOU STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF MOTHERFUCKINGSHIT ILL FUCKING KIHIHIHIHLL YOUDEAAAAD! MMMGGHGHHMHMHMHMMMAAAAAH!! GOD! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”

Pure, tortured belly laughter bellowed out of him like a fog horn. His laughter only evolved, turning pained and high pitched when the thing on his cock started vibrating.

“NOOO!”

The tendrils along his feet started slowing, sensually rubbing and tickling his toes. Electricity flitted through his dick, standing to attention within seconds.

Curses temporarily overwhelmed his laughter when Blackwhip wrapped around and pulled his toes back. The sweat coating Bakugo’s body created enough slip for the tendrils to wreak absolute havoc just along the undersides and stems of his toes, where the sensitive skin had been pulled and crueley exposed. Bakugo thrashed and screamed and spat and heaved, but nothing stopped it. Nothing topped it.

This time, Deku didn't edge, didn't relent, and didn't change the pace. Either Bakugo was going to cum like this, or he wasn't.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHESE! AHAHAHA! OOHGADDAMNITPLEEHEHESE!!”

“What are you begging for?” Deku inquired. Bakugo couldn't care that he was being mocked, couldn’t even take the few seconds of brain power to register or understand it.

“AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH ST- AHAHAHA! MA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCKFUCKFUCK I CAAAAA————”

Silence. Deku furrowed his brows and leaned forward, cupping a hand to his ear. “Hmm?”

“——————PAHA- PH- PLEHE- PLEHEHEHESE! WAHAHAH- WAIHIHIHT! NAHAHA I- I GOHOHAHAH! MMMMMMHHHHHFFFFFAAAGGHHHHH!!!”

The tickling hardly slowed as stars blurred his vision. A loud, animalistic moan burned his raw throat. He came hard, the tendrils slipping and sliding gleefully inside the wet toy.

Even after he was done, it continued for a few more seconds, prompting a loud continuous scream from him that only relented a few moments after everything truly stopped.

He collapsed, breathing so hard and deep that his chest ached.

He only knew one thing; He couldn't fucking handle this anymore.

Deku slow clapped and whistled. “Bet you never thought you could be tickled into an orgasm.”

Bakugo didn't respond, he hardly heard him. He flinched hard when the tendrils teasingly retracted from his reddened and raw feet, traveling up his trembling body once again.

Bakugo moaned. “N-no… Please…Just … please just stop.”

Deku shook his head and beamed. “The game isn’t over yet.”

Bakugo shook his head, entirely defeated. “No more.”

Deku eyes glittered, the emerald hue glowing as though the devil himself had possessed the soul behind them. “Remember,” Tendrils slithered up to his aching ribs. Bakugo gritted his teeth and pulled his arms. Deku’s eyes crinkled. “You cant cum in the same spot twice.”

Tendrils slipped under his arms, waving and stroking like wheat in the wind.

A noise, almost like a disgruntled whine slipped out of Bakugo. “Please. Deku, please just fucking stop this.”

More tendrils. Bakugo inhaled sharply. “I-I know what I di-did wahas fucked a-”

“Is that all it took?” Deku murmured, voice low. “Hours of tickle torture for you to realize that?”

“No!” Bakugo winced as tendrils spilled down his ribs. “Damn it! I’ve known, you fucktard! I- Fuck! I just- SHIHIT! Just- FUCK! Let me goddam taHAHAlk!”

“No.” Deku put a hand up, silencing the quivering blonde. “It might come as a shock to you, but I haven’t thought about what happened in a long time.”

Tracing along the heels of his feet. Bakugo cringed.

“I’ve wanted this for a while. To torture you, and make you beg.” Tendrils slipped into the hollows behind his knees. “To make you answer for each and every horrible thing you did to me, down to every dirty look.” Tendrils teased up his spine again, causing him to lurch forward as much as he could. “I wanted to break you and make you pay. I still do.” Tendrils ghosted down his arms, teasing the skin under his biceps. “Maybe one day, I’ll let you explain it to me. But right now,” Deku stood, straightening his back. All the tendrils lifted themselves from his body, pointing their tips over their respective spots.

“It turns out, I don’t give a shit.”

Tendrils burrowed into his underarms. As if he were being repeatedly tased with a stun gun, he convulsed and seized, immediately dissolving into loud, unrestrained guffaws. His entire being was now just a big ball of overly sensitized, ticklish nerves to which Blackwhip took full advantage of. It dug, scratched, wiggled, pinched and squeezed all over his body, the main event taking place in his armpits. He fell into silent laughter once, twice, three times within the span of a few minutes.

He couldn't fight when the toy started vibrating, when he felt more of Blackwhip dip into the sleeve of the toy, when the tendrils ghosting and tickling his thighs pinched and traced along his ass, and when tendrils teased the newfound egregious zones on his feet. He gave in to the torture, unable to protest when the freedom he had no chance of earning burned out of him for the fourth time.

Everything stopped. His head fell in misery.

Then snapped back up.

He felt it in his armpits, ribs, thighs, groin, feet, knees, calves, arms- everywhere.

Every spot Deku had learned was put to merciless use.

Bakugo’s screams echoed throughout the room, down the hall, and drifted outside, haunting the grounds like loitering ghosts.

He didn't know how long it took for him to finally pass out.

—

His eyes groggily flitted open.

It took a few minutes for his vision to fully come back to him. It took even longer for him to remember where he was. Eyes locked on the water damaged ceiling, his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. When his brain started to catch up with his body, he felt it.

Holy shit, he ached.

His throat felt chipped and raw, his head pounded hard at the side of his temples, his fucking ribs and stomach…

He groaned and pushed himself up, stomach muscles screaming as he held his head in his hand. One glance around the room and one more zap from his aching body confirmed that what happened to him wasn’t just a fucked up nightmare.

Catching a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, he turned his attention to the flimsy nightstand next to his bed. Three bottles of water were placed onto it, along with some dark steaming, floral smelling liquid inside of a beige mug with a spoon sticking out of it. In front of that was a bottle of Advil, a sandwich on a small, circular paper plate, and an envelope. All neatly placed together.

Any reservations he’d possessed about eating and drinking had been thwarted long ago, so he downed the first bottle in seconds as well as half of the second before deciding to swallow three Advils along with the rest. He placed the third bottle underneath the mattress and observed the contents of the mug, deciding it was tea. He took a tentative sip, sighing when the hot liquid velveted down his sore throat, soothing it and warming his stomach. A hint of ginger left a subtle, spicy tang and he could have sworn he tasted a bit of honey. He ate his sandwich as he sipped.

He didn't want to think about who left all of this stuff here for him, much less why. As far as he knew, everyone in this fucking place had access to his room and everyone was a damn scumbag for it.

His gaze turned to the envelope. He finished the tea, pulled the lip open, and pulled out something small and rectangular, wrapped in white tissue paper.

He tore the paper off and his stomach dropped.

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

It was old and worn. It looked exactly like his.

“PLEASE!”

It was Deku’s All Might trading card.

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