#and then you have the two of them fight

[random-iz-stuff]

Here’s an idea: Somehow, Zim gets split into two different Zims. Could be because of a plan gone horribly wrong, could be because of a plan going horribly RIGHT, but Zim gets split into two different Zims, one that has all of Zim’s defects and one that has all the parts of Zim that are considered perfect by the Empire’s standards.

Zim A (contains all of Zim’s defects and non-perfect parts), is very different from the Zim we all know. Firstly, he has no real interest in conquering Earth. Zim A, having Zim’s ability to go against the Empire but none of Zim’s endless patriotism, just wants to do what interests him, which just so happens to be scientific work, his original job before joining the military. He also puts his own well-being before the Empire.

Zim A also contains Zim’s creativity, imagination, moral code, ability to treat short/defective Irkens like people, ability to view Gir as more than just a SIR Unit, mental illnesses, and anything else not usually found in a fully functional “perfect” Irken

However, Zim A seriously struggles with motivation and keeping himself focused, as that kind of stuff is found more in regular Irkens and therefore went to Zim B. Zim A also lacks whatever little impulse control Zim had and as a result, Zim A can be extremely chaotic and is near uncontrollable in most circumstances.

Zim A also got all of Zim’s trauma, as lasting trauma is considered a defect. Miyuki’s death, Spork’s death, Foodcourtia, it’s all here, and Zim A doesn’t have Zim’s usual coping mechanisms of denial and repression, as that went to Zim B.

In sharp contrast to Zim A, Zim B (Contains all of Zim’s attributes that are considered “perfect” by the Empire) is so different from the usual Zim that he’s almost completely unrecognizable. He does exactly what he’s told to do by the Tallest and does it as efficiently and effectively as possible, with no room for screwing around. And as far as he knows, he was told to conquer the Earth as an invader.

Zim B is what Zim would look like if he was completely functional, without even a single defect. Effective, powerful, and absolutely will not go easy on anything, especially since Zim’s moral code went to Zim A. Dib is screwed going up against him, because in a fight, Zim B will just bust out the guns immediately and shoot Dib point blank. No room for banter or gloating. Only efficiency. You’ve heard of Duty Mode Gir, this is Duty Mode Zim.

However, Zim B doesn’t have any of Zim’s creativity or his ability to think outside the box. Like most fully functional Irkens, it’s extremely hard for him to think of outside the box solutions, especially trying to do so quickly.

Zim B also wants Zim A dead, as Zim A is defective and defective Irkens must be given trials and deleted.

Another difference between the two Zims is their speech patterns. Zim A speaks almost just like how regular Zim speaks; using first and third person interchangeably with no real pattern and speaking exclusively in first person when being serious or focusing on something. The only difference is that Zim A never goes quiet when they’re being extremely serious or emotional like regular Zim.

Zim B speaks exclusively in first person at all times and rarely if ever yells.

Both Zims share some stuff as well. They have the exact same intelligence, strength, military training, memories (with the exception of only Zim A having traumatic memories) and a few more (mostly physical) things.

[afterartist]

Apriltello /neg

2k12 Dee I love u but this was not it

Pushing my rise turts paint their nails the colour of their brothers agenda

Bonus of my fav panels

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[artzchao]

things that go =D

[front-facing-pokemon]

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Peeped the horrors

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[kabutoden]

bug trolls… i am interested in kankri vantas. if that isn’t too much trouble. your buggy guys are so silly and interesting and i am a fan

here is kankri and his baby brother…. they don’t get along!! i wish they did though id love to see these two go on an adventure together where they look out each other. since kankri is a beforus troll and a vegan, his shell is pretty thin because he’s not getting enough iron. on the other hand, karkat’s shell is heavier then it should be due to stress. thanks for the RQ!! im soooo glad ppl like my sillies :D

[gabs-magical-abs]

Queer women who have never seen Xena before are gonna be in for such a treat when they finally watch it

[wizardlyghost]

thing about deltora quest that only occurred to me in hindsight is not only just how much jasmine carries the entire party on this quest but also how genre-defyingly brutal she is lol. like, this is a kid's series that hinges on riddles and puzzles far more heavily than combat - even when deaths occur, they're often the result of cleverness in some way rather than straight up combat ability. that said, let's look at the villain kill count at the end of book five of eight of the first series:

- lief: 1 - even there it's with a well-thrown bottle of cursed water rather than his sword.

- barda: 0 - i'm not counting that one unnamed sand beast, that's an animal not a villain.

- filli: 0 - he is a squirrel, this is unsurprising.

- kree: 1 - killed an invincible sorceress all by himself, good bird best friend.

- jasmine: 5 - dropped a tree branch on a mf, drowned two cannibals in quicksand, cut a giant snake's throat, shoved a dude down a pipe full of toxic mold (after having to be told not to cut his throat while he slept jfc).

idk it just suddenly struck me as really funny how this one character who isn't the protagonist is almost from a different, far more brutal story, and uses that fact to consistently be the mvp and save everyone else's asses. i need to read this series again it's been too long.

[danwhobrowses]

What's this? My skin, cleared? My crops, watered!? My heart, soaring!!??

Callowmoore softness, comfort and sleeping beside each other my FUCKING BELOVED!

[slavhew]

28/01/2024

stars don't twinkle moon doesn't shine

big thanks to @nahrgles for finishing this for me after i hit a wall with colors bg and effects- chromatic aberration blew my fkn mind

pre edit transparent version under cut because i spent too much time cleaning it loll

[nakaremfarlei]

Was just thinking about the amount of animals Obi-Wan interacts with compared to literally everyone else and in the Clone Wars episode where Kamino gets attacked he literally gets saved twice by the same ray-like animal and just...

The growth from judging Qui-Gon for the 'pathetic lifeforms' he picks up to whatever he has going on during the Clone Wars era. He must have gotten that from Qui-Gon though, right?

And because it's my brain and it's rotting with all the star wars stuff I am consuming I was thinking of Obi-Wan saving all these creatures and the 212th having to deal with that. Surely they made one of the rooms pet proof in case one of them needs a new home. There also have to be clones who love that because of course Obi-Wan can't really take care of rescues on top of all his duties.

After the first few times this happens Cody learns to order animal food and other necessities. And if the Republic doesn't fulfill these requests or asks too many questions he'll just have to make sure to organize them on planet during the campaigns.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

teenage menaces

wc: ~850; context: set a few months into the last year of Aldera, Toshinori baits Bakugou into a fist-fight and they got in trouble with admin. this was mostly me testing out whether or not I could write Bakugou without stepping into the bashing zone. izuku pov.

//

The three of them wait outside the classroom: Kacchan impatiently, Izuku anxiously, and Yagi cheerfully.

“Yagi-san, what if you get expelled?” Izuku hisses, weaving his fingers together to stop them from twitching.

“Then I’ll get homeschooled? Honestly, Midoriya-kun!” He laughs under his breath, grinning way too big for a boy who got in trouble for beating up the star pupil of Aldera. Kacchan—looks small, next to him. Small and furious, like he doesn’t know the right way to get Yagi to shut up and sit down. Izuku prays that Kacchan never finds out that Yagi is actually All Might. Something might really break.

“Shut the hell up,” Kacchan snarls. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

“Ah, if I know my old man…”

“I told you to shut up!”

“You don’t want to place a bet on it, Bakugou-shonen?”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING ‘YOUNG’?!”

The door swings open to reveal a pale-faced principal and a deeply unimpressed Gran Torino. The latter is out of uniform, but the clean-cut fashion of the button-up and slacks does an effective job at communicating Torino’s professionalism. He swipes the end of his cane at Yagi’s ankle, and Yagi yelps and jumps in surprise.

“Who are you calling ‘old man’?” Torino snaps.

“Sorry,” Yagi says unapologetically. “What’s gonna happen, jii-san?”

“You’re suspended for three days,” the old man announces, and because Yagi looks delighted at not having to attend school, meaning Kacchan looks furious at this apparent light sentence, the principal valiantly steps in.

“You’ll obviously have assignments over this period, to reflect on your actions. And Bakugou-kun must have an apology made to him.”

“I don’t want his stupid apology!” Kacchan spits.

“Fujita-san,” says Torino, “I believe I told you what was going to happen. I’ll get the parents’ permission. They might even be happy about seeing their son in action, if the boy wants to be a hero. Just get me two teachers.”

“Torino-san, this is a deeply improper way to handle the situation—!”

“The entire way you’re running your school is improper,” he drawls. “Don’t worry, it’s not an issue unique to your administration. I know what I’m doing, and I know my boy. He won’t be the one hitting below the belt.”

Izuku connects the dots faster than either Kacchan or Yagi. He blurts out, “Are you having them fight?”, and two blond heads whip around to stare (or glare) him down, then back at each other. Yagi’s grin widens. 

Torino says mildly, “In martial arts classes, they call it a spar. Clears the head, knowing the hierarchy… of who’s better.”

The principal’s distress is palpable. “It’s not legal,” he protests.

“I’d win,” Kacchan declares, bristling. Izuku bites his tongue to stop himself from trying to intervene. This is not a fair fight that Torino is setting up; however Quirkless Yagi is, he hasn’t lost the experience of his time as All Might, and with all the training that Torino’s put them through, his muscle memory and reflexes are sharp. Just because Torino is promising to get parental and teacher supervision—god, it’s a whole trap. Kacchan can’t beat Yagi unless Yagi overestimates him. It would take a legitimate miracle for Yagi to lose.

“I don’t know, jii-san,” Yagi says playfully. “Isn’t that a little mean to Bakugou-kun? He won’t be able to use his Quirk in the fight.” Unlike today, his smile says. 

“You need a Quirk to punch someone down?” Torino responds, and he rolls his eyes at Yagi’s tone. “That’s when you cross into villain territory. No. This is going to be good old-fashioned fisticuffs.”

Does Kacchan sense it? He must. He’s never been an idiot. The way his eyes dart down to Torino, assessing, attempting to reassess the old man’s threat level, to so casually propose arranging a fight between two fifteen year olds—Kacchan knows the shape of the trap, then. It just depends on whether he believes he can win.

And Kacchan, Izuku knows, believes in winning.

“Midoriya-kun,” the principal suddenly says, and Izuku flinches at the sheer hope in the man’s tone. “You’ve known Bakugou-kun for a long time. Did he start the fight?” 

The weight of all their eyes is overwhelming. His loyalty is being torn two ways, and he doesn’t know who to save. If he stops this fight, and denies Kacchan the chance to show off his skills and heart, Kacchan will hate him. If he stops this fight, and affirms that Yagi threw the first punch, then—All Might won’t hate him. The wry twist to Yagi’s smile is basically a blessing to disavow his fellow Quirkless classmate.

But Izuku doesn’t want to disappoint All Might, or even Gran Torino.

He trembles, breathes shakily, and says, “Kacchan would never miss a fight he couldn’t win,” and in the time his audience takes to process, Izuku quite deliberately sides with Yagi. Not hiding. Standing elbow to elbow, in solidarity.

Kacchan’s face twists. “Deku,” he hisses.

“Focus, boy,” Torino says, and his cane clacks against the linoleum flooring. “Your fight’s with Toshinori. That is, if your parents agree to supervise.”

“What if they’re too busy?” 

“We’ll find a time.”

[knightforflowers]

drew slightly updated ref sheets for myself for my Ethersea designs !! (this time with some bonus outfit designs under the cut!)

I would have liked to have done some more outfits like alternate casual fits but I got tired lol I’ll do them another time soon!!

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them