#or maybe i just never got far enough in academia to unlock the They Let You Just Say Stuff tier

[marypsue]

a theory of Kids On Bikes

A dirt road. An asphalt backroad. A suburban street. 

One bike zips past. Two. Three. Four.

I say, “kids on bikes”, and it’s likely a story comes to mind. E.T. The Goonies. Stand By Me. This is a theory of nostalgia as much as it is of narrative. Even new stories often place their kids within one of two decades. The Iron Giant. Super 8. Stranger Things. The kids bike eternally through nineteen fifty-something, nineteen eighty-something; through an artifice of universal childhood, universal innocence.

The base unit of kids on bikes is four. It can go up as high as seven or eight, but at that point, group cohesion begins to break down. And group cohesion is important. The kids-on-bikes story is a thesis on friendship, the kind of friends you had when you were twelve. 

The kids-on-bikes story might be set in any place, at any time, but somehow it’s always about the summer you were twelve years old. The long days, lying empty before you and rich with possibility. The intoxicating feeling of freedom. 

The summer you were twelve is a place, a moment frozen in amber, and the kids-on-bikes story is the long car ride taking you there for one shining, finite, ephemeral week of vacation. The summer you were twelve could be a week in November, or years before you were even born. The summer you were twelve could be a state you’ve never visited and likely never will. The summer you were twelve is a state of mind, and so is a story about kids on bikes.

Now and Then. Stand By Me. Kids on bikes don’t need to face fantastical monsters.

IT. N0S48U. They don’t need to be kids.

Scooby Doo. Gravity Falls. They don’t even need bikes.

It’s more than just a handful of aesthetic elements that unite them, though of course it is that too. Bikes, of course. Scabby knees and bandages. Scuffed sneakers with trailing laces. Oversized glasses with thick frames. Missing teeth, and pigtails, and shorts. Analog technology. Horizontal stripes. Scout uniforms. Pocket knives. Slime. 

Monsters. 

But it’s also a sensibility. Love - romantic and otherwise. The incredible power of friendship, of community, to forge bonds between strangers with little in common, bonds that can become stronger than the fear of death. Courage, and kindness, and the value of wonder in a world overflowing with amazing - and terrible - things that most of us, caught up in the day-to-day, never see.

The world the kids on bikes inhabit asks only whether those wonders might include the fantastical. The world the kids on bikes inhabit is the world we all inhabit, but more so. Everything is outsized. The joys, the sorrows, are too vast for one person to contain, spilling over onto endless summer skies. The colours are more saturated. The shadows are darker - and full, teeming with some nameless menace that cannot quite ever really be defined, cannot quite ever really be defeated. The edges are sharper between them.

There is a faint golden nostalgia that lies over it all, of course. Like an August evening in the hour before sunset. I never had any friends later on like the friends I had when I was twelve. The kids-on-bikes story is not written, usually, by the child. The kids-on-bikes story is written by the adult, or perhaps the child within the adult. Looking back and seeing, for the first time, the value of something they didn’t know was precious when it was still within their grasp.

And it asks us to believe that we all had that same precious thing.

But the haze of memory and wistful regret colour everything. Blur detail outside the central focus. Bestow a false innocence on the deliberate structure of a story. Nineteen fifty-something, nineteen eighty-something. Four (or more) boys and one girl. One of them is fat. One of them is black. One of them might be queer, but only as an insult. 

They live and roam in an unmarked summerland, a world without history. Cruel or kind, the world is made new for them and them alone. The world, too, is adolescent and teetering on the cusp between innocence and hard-won experience.

The unmarked is not innocent. The unremarkable is not innocent. Monsters hide in plain sight, in the world of kids on bikes. Monsters that a stolid adult world dismisses as imagination or insanity. Monsters that, for all they disappear, chameleonic, behind the camouflage of adult assumptions of reality, can - and do - kill.

The kids-on-bikes story uses metaphor as both shield and sword. David Harbour speaks on an awards show stage about standing up for the underdogs, while Jim Hopper threatens children with bodily harm and calls a traumatised woman crazy to her face. The Goonies befriend a man the world thinks is a monster for his face, while the story mocks one of their number for his size. At twelve years old, it’s easy to see when you’re being bullied. It’s harder to see when you’re being the bully.

Love - and hatred. The incredible power of friendship, of community, to forge bonds between strangers with little in common - bonds that can exclude those stuck on the outside looking in. Courage, and kindness - and abuse of strength and power, and oblivious, childish cruelty.

The kids-on-bikes story is an adolescent itself. Teetering on the cusp between innocence and hard-earned experience. The kids-on-bikes story is, I think, afraid of growing up.

And well it might be. It’s set itself up in opposition to the adult world, the world of hard realities, the world where the terrors lurking in the shadows are easily seen and recognised, where those terrors have clear forms and names that are known. Against the world that understands and is understood. Once the world is familiar, it becomes a little smaller. Once the monster is seen, once it is called by name, it loses a little of its terror. Sometimes, it becomes clear that it was never anything more than a greedy, bitter old man in a mask.

And without those shadows, without the possibility of nameless menace, there is a fear of losing that saturated, golden sunlight. There is a fear of losing the joy with the terror. 

But everyone had a summer when they were twelve. And they were not all the same summer. 

There is room, I think, to tell stories about kids on bikes that haven’t already been told. There are still sun-drenched days of glorious freedom and unending possibility, where that possibility is wider than Ray Bradbury or Stephen King could ever imagine. There are still worlds and worlds of unspoken, unspeakable monsters, nameless and menacing, lurking in those summers’ teeming shadows. There is room to grow.

And kids on bikes don’t always need to be kids.

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[alitaimagines]

character- bakugou katsuki - my hero academia 

song recommendation: play date - melanie martinez

note: another Yakuza/Mafia AU. 

“what did I tell you!” Bakugou screamed to his men as they all jumped in fright, “I said that if we didn’t get our last job done and done right, all of you would be dead where you stood!”

he paced the room before grabbing the gun from his waist and held it to the temple of one of the men. the rest of them trembled in their shoes before hearing the gun shot go off. 

“sad he had to go, right?” he asked them rhetorically, “and if you let me down one more time, it’ll be all of you!” Bakugou slammed his gun on the table making his red headed right hand man start to clean it. 

whenever Bakugou had a day like this, he always left the house for a few hours. it cleared his mind and got him ready for his nightly activities. 

being that it was mid November, the air was chilly and there was several kids ice skating in a small pond not too far from his home. he parked the car and sat down on a bench to people watch. 

couples skated together, kids learning how to play hockey tried to shoot into their small net, and others just sat and watched along with him. 

“is there anyone sitting here?” he heard a soft spoken voice say. Bakugou was ready to snarl at whoever interrupted his peace but as soon as he looked up, his voice went mute. 

you had a laptop in your hand with a little contraption in the other. he figured it was a hot spot receiver. Bakugou shook his head no as you have him a smile and sat down next to him. 

he wondered why you decided to sit in the middle of the cold and do work but he didn’t bother to ask you. after a while of just sitting there, he could notice you shiver every now and again. 

not a word was spoken until he noticed a hockey puck was heading your direction. he managed to grab it bare armed and immediately felt the tingling in his hand. 

“are you okay?” you asked with nervousness in your voice. you immediately grabbed his hand and checked it. his hand had small cuts and a huge gash running through the middle of it, “we should get you home and get it cleaned.” 

Bakugou still hadn’t said a word but you dragged him down the street, “my car is this way,” he murmured as you perked up at the sound of him talk, “do you want me to drive? there’s no way your hand can possibly grip the steering wheel this way.” 

he handed you the keys to his VERY expensive looking car and you jumped into the drivers seat before taking another look at his now bloody hand. there was streams of blood running down his very muscular forearm. 

what you said was true. your house wasn’t too far from the pond but your house wasn’t exactly a house. it was a rundown apartment that looked too cheap and ugly for his liking. 

“sorry, from the looks of it, it looks like you have enough money to afford nice things so my apartment is probably really ugly,” this made Bakugou chuckle, “it’s fine,” he grumbled in his deep voice. 

you fished the keys from your purse and unlocked it. your apartment on the inside looked well put together. he smelled the fresh scent of a holiday candle roaming through the air. 

“I’m a nurse so I can patch you up and get you on your way in a moments  notice,” you chirped taking out the first aid kit from underneath your kitchen sink, “now if you want to prop yourself up on the sink, I can get to work!” 

had this been any other person, Bakugou would’ve probably screamed at them for even touching you but for some reason, with you, he didn’t even want to raise his voice an octave higher than his regular voice went. 

Bakugou opened his hand as you dabbed the alcohol onto the cotton swab. you gave him a warning to brace himself however as soon as you started cleaning the cuts, it was like it didn’t affect him. 

“does this not hurt?” you asked. Bakugou laughed before shaking his head no, “you must have a huge pain tolerance to be just sitting there and taking it,” you responded. 

you noticed the lack of conversation Bakuou was making with you but as soon as you took the gauze out, you were able to tell that the hand was turning a purpley-blue. 

“all better!” you said in a childish voice before giving his hand a slight squeeze. your eye widened in embarrassment, “I am so sorry! I’m a pediatric nurse so I’m used to dealing with children!” you rambled to explain yourself. 

“pediatric nurse? living in an apartment like this?” he asked, remaining on the kitchen ledge. you shrugged, “I know but the hospital I work at is very small and they can’t afford to pay me more than the actual doctors. they don’t have enough of donations to raise wages or anything of the sort,” you said with a tinge of sadness. 

Bakugou watched your face fall to the ground, “but I love what I do and I’m a very popular nurse there so it’s not like I just can’t get up and quit,” you added, “but enough of my troubles. you’re good to go! just be careful with your hand for the next few hours.” 

he nodded as he jumped off the ledge and went to the door, “what hospital do you work at again?” he asked, “oh! I work at St.Lukes downtown! it’s the small pediatric office next door to the actual hospital.  

Bakugou hummed a response before waving you goodbye.

you woke up the next morning with an odd feeling. it wasn’t a bad feeling but you just felt like there was something going to happen today. without putting too much thought too it, you looked to the clock on your bedside table. 

5:30 AM 

your shift at the hospital started at 6:15 so you had enough time to quickly get dressed before stopping at the coffee shop near your job for a large coffee before your shift. 

after picking up your coffee, you walked into the employee entrance to see all of your coworkers as well as the head doctor freaking out around a table. 

“hey, what’s going on?” you asked the general crowd, “we got a donation last night. a $100,000 donation!” your eyes widened at the amount as the lead doctor held the check in his hand, “who’s it from! did they leave a note?” you exclaimed. 

“it just says, “to the cute pediatrician,”.” 

your heart stopped for what felt like minutes. it was from Bakugou. the man that you helped yesterday. you didn’t bother say another word knowing if you did, you would never hear the end of it. 

“well, we should get to our posts. our first appointment starts at seven,” you murmured before putting on the rest of your uniform, “hey, you okay?” one of your coworkers asked. 

you didn’t bother to respond as you felt your heart heavy with several different emotions. it was such a big sum of money for someone you only interacted with for a few minutes. maybe he took pity on your story last night but all you hoped was that you seen him soon to thank him profusely. 

after the initial shock wore off for everyone, the day started as any regular Monday. you did a few vaccinations for newborns before getting sent to do some work at the front desk. 

“hey, ( your name ), your lunch is on the table,” the secretary said, not bothering to look at you, “my lunch? I didn’t order any,” you thought before making your tread to the back room. 

you noticed a box of food sitting on the table with a card on top of it. 

“enjoy. didn’t know what you liked but if you want to meet up again, I’ll be at this bar tonight. 10:00 pm.” 

you couldn’t help but smile at the note before stuffing the lunch inside of the fridge and going back to your desk. 

after you left work and went back home to rest, you were laying down after awakening from your nap when you looked at the clock reading that it was past eight. 

you pondered on the thought of actually meeting Bakugou again. you wanted to thank him for not only donating so much money to your job but for the lunch you had. 

you read the note again and looked up the bar. it was on a sketchy side of town but nevertheless, you gulped down your fear and started slowly getting ready. all you dreaded was that you were going to wake up tired the next morning. 

you put on black ripped jeans with a cute top and dark heels before fixing your semi messy hair. you couldn’t help but pick at your nails as you waited for your time to head out. 

all that was running through your head was how weird it was to be going to an end of town that was semi closed off to the general public. the bar was located on a side of town where a lot of yakuza business was handled. it wasn’t like it was prohibited however not many people entered the area because they wanted their lives to spared. 

as you drove to the bar, you could see the city lights dimming down and how the area was particularly quiet in the sense of people being out on the street. 

after you found parking at the bar, you walked to the entrance before noticing how many men were looking at you. you played with your fingers before noticing Bakugou in the back. 

you walked slowly towards him as he had his men sitting around him. not at the table with but at the surrounding tables. 

“Bakugou?” you said in more of a question. he whipped his head up before giving you a tiny smile before waving you towards him, “I’m glad I found you, people were starting to freak me out,” you admitted. 

you sat down next to him as a waiter immediately came to the table, “is there anything you’d like to order?” he asked. you quickly looked down at the menu, “can I order a bottle of wine? red specifically?” the yellow haired man nodded before running back to get you the bottle. 

“Bakugou, did you send money to my job?” you asked suddenly. his internal panicking started as he shook his head, “you have no idea how much I can thank you for that!” you exasperated, “you have no idea how much that’s going to help us as a job and how many patients are going to get treated. our facility also helps families that can’t afford treatment like others so that’s going to help us a ton!” 

he chuckled before swooping you into his lap, “did you like your lunch?” he reminded you, “of course! the steak was amazing, it was so juicy and soft! I haven’t had a steak like that in was feels like years,” you exclaimed. 

the night continued with the both of you talking until it was time to close the bar. it was already nearing two in the morning and you had to be up in a few hours for work. 

Bakugou walked you to your car to make sure that nothing to happened to you and also that you didn’t get stopped by one of his men unintentionally. 

“tonight was amazing,” you whispered as he grabbed you by the hand, “we can do it again if you’d like,” he replied as he felt you grab his tie and pull him toward you. 

you gave him a kiss that quickly turned heated. you opened the door and laid him on top of you as you ran your hands up and down his arms. there was a muscular feeling to him that was not shown because of his suit.

“I should get home,” you told him, “I have work in the morning.”

he nodded as he got off you and dusted himself off. you laughed at the lipstick stains on his lips. you licked your finger and wiped it off his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as you nodded yes, “I’ll get you from work,” and with that, you got back into your car to head back home. 

-

weeks had passed as you continued seeing Bakugou. you had gotten to know him more and the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to you. 

Saturday finally came and all you wanted to do was sleep until you absolutely had to get up for food or the bathroom. 

you didn’t bother to wake up until noon and the first thing you seen when you got onto your phone was Bakugou’s plethora of messages. 

he had told you that he wanted to pass by your house before the end of the night and while you would have freaked out about not being ready, for some reason, you didn’t want to get ready. 

just as you were about to make your first cup of coffee, you heard a banging on your door. you jumped at the sound of the banging before hesitantly walking towards the door. you peeped inside of the door hole before realizing it was Bakugou. 

you whipped the door open to see him bloody, bruised, and looking like he was ready to pass out. 

“hey, what happened?” you yelled as you shoved him inside, “did you get hurt? were you in a car accident?” you continued. 

he didn’t say anything as he hopped on the kitchen sink ledge to let you patch him up, “I just got into a fight, nothing to worry about,” he mumbled as you wiped the blood from his eye. 

“Bakugou, you could’ve died from your injuries!” you lectured making him laugh, “here, let me see! did you get hurt anywhere else?” you asked as he shook his head no. 

once you finished cleaning his hands and face, he brought you in for an embrace, “I wanted to bring you this,” he murmured into your ear as he dug into his pocket. 

he fished out a necklace for you. it was just a gold chain and although you wanted to ask him why he got you it, you realized that it was real gold that must have costed him a fortune. 

“Bakugou, it’s gorgeous!” you whispered as he wrapped it around your neck, “but why?” you asked. 

“because, I need these other extras to know that you’re mine.” 

ALITA 

[morbidanthem]

-> Prompt HERE <- By: @otpprompts

(( A/N: Here is the other part, again, I’m trying to clear out my Google Docs. I will probably upload this to my AO3... maybe. IDK yet. ))

Continuity - Boku no Hero Academia

Character(s) - Mirio Togata, Fem!Reader, Shouta Aizawa Parring - Fem!Reader/Mirio Togata Genre - Fluffy Rating - M for Mature Warning - Cursing, Implied Heavy Petting

Word Count - 2,183

➡️ [ Izuku Midoriya Ver. Here ] ⬅️

✏️Written 06/13/20 - ??/??/20✏️

Mirio Togata

“Oi, there is a surprise Dorm Inspection in Five Minutes!” You heard a loud feminine voice shout, it was coming from right outside of your dorm room door, and you took notice that they hadn't even bothered to knock on the door.

You ignored the shouting though, as the sound was nothing more than an annoying muffle that was easily tuned out.

No...

You were too focused on what was going on on top of you to really care about what the voices in the hallway were screeching to you.

The one and only boy scout, Mirio Togata, had you pinned hard to your mattress while his strong hands gripping your wrists above your head as you whimpered under him in submission.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to the voices in the hallway either, as he groaned into your mouth at the warm feeling he was experiencing in his core, as you began to defy his display of dominance by sliding your tounge around his to try and wrestle the control he had over you.

You wanted to break free from the grip he had on your wrists, but even without his quirk, he was still able to over power you with his physical strength.

It drove you wild, as you felt a shiver jolt down your entire body and through your spine.

It was pure ecstasy.

Moments like these were so few and far in between… you don't think you'll ever get your fill of Mirio Togata.

“Hey! You and your Boy Toy need to throw some clothes on and separate before the Teachers or Class Rep. catches you!” The snickering singsong voice shouted again, this time banging loudly on the locked door.

You grunted uncomfortably as he pulled away from your lips a little too quickly, causing a small pop to reverberate through the room from the sheer force of separation between the two of you.

"Ugh, OK! Thank you, Nini!" You shouted in response, as Mirio looked down at you with a quizzical expression on his face.

You couldn't help but memorize the flush on his face so deliciously mixed with the color of his slightly swollen lips.

"This boy will be the death of me."

"Didn't we just have a Dorm Inspection last week?" Mirio asked, moving to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, while he began to sit up straight. He was still straddling your hips, as you both strain to listen to the incoherent yelling that was going on through the door.

'Dude! Help me hide my stash!'

'Does anyone remember if we were allowed to have snacks in our rooms or not?'

'Ok, but how much trouble will I get if my room is trashed?'

"You have enough time to fix your room, right?" You asked, as you tapped Mirio's thigh to get his attention back onto you.

"Yeah, besides some dirty laundry on the floor, I'm good." He smiled, shifting his weight off of you, so that he was sitting next to you. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, watching Mirio trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind.

"I wonder why they keep doing inspections so frequently like this..." He hummed loudly, placing a hand on his chin, with a very cute thoughtful look on his face.

"Probably because of me." You sighed, stretching your legs as you stood up.

How long had you two been "napping'' anyway?

An hour?

Who knows.

"What?" Mirio asked, watching you with so much interest in his gaze, as you began to clean your ruffled aperance.

You casually tried to smooth out the wrinkles on your tank top, and shifted your lounge pants so that they sat on your hips once more, instead of down past your thighs… When has he had time to pull your pants down?

"Haru is absolutely hellbent on catching me doing something wrong." You spoke, with a very nonchalant tone to your voice, while you turned to help fix Mirio's disheveled appearance as well. "He hasn't forgiven me 'ruining' his chance to date you, you know."

You could have sworn you've had this conversation with him, but judging by the surprised expression on his face, you've probably forgotten to mention it.

"No! I didn't know that!" He replied, shocked, as you ran your fingers through his hair to try and brush out the knots that had formed in it earlier.

"Huh, it must've slipped my mind,I forgot to tell you that part." You laughed, sending him a cheeky smile as you continued. "He has a huge crush on you, and is mad at me because, because I quote- 'dug my claws into your heart and refused to let go'."

"That's… there is a lot to unpack here…" He mumbled, turning his gaze to look at the floor.

God, when he is all distracted in thought like that, you would have loved to just grab the back of his head and pull him in close until your lips swallowed his in another passionate kiss… but, getting any more intimate can cause the clean-up to take a lot more time than the Five Minute warning you just got.

Good thing the two of you didn't get very far in that time.

Because, you honesty might not have been able to stop had he gotten your pants further down your hip.

"God, Mirio, you really are oblivious." You laughed out loud, as you brought yourself back to reality, by standing in front of him and smoothing out the wrinkles on his short.

Instinctively, he placed his hands on your hips, as you continued to grooming him while he sat on your bed. He couldn't help but huff at your words though, a cute pout replacing his once quizzical expression, as he turned his face up to look into your eyes.

You can see he had questions he wanted to ask, as that curious glint never left his gaze.

You don't have time, really, you don't have time to stand here and fix his appearance either… but you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself when you were around him.

"Wait… So what does calling a surprise inspection have to do with you, though?" He asked, pulling you into a hug, as you giggled and patted at the back of his shoulders.

"I am offended right now, I can't believe you forget about El Perro!" You spoke in a dramatic tone, a mock hurt present in your voice as you couldn't help but tease him. "Dios Mio! I am hurt! Hurt on El Perro's behalf." You laughed as you felt Mirio's shoulder shake under your grip, as he began to chuckle as well.

"I did, actually. He is so quiet that I forget he lives in here too." He said, turning his head to look at your closed closet door, with his trademark smile back on his face.

"That's how I've gotten away with having him for so long. Not even my Mom knew I had him, she would have kicked my ass if she ever found out." You chuckled, as you pulled away from Mirio's grasp, to meander over to softly pull your closet door open.

There he was, El Perro, the infamous Black and Tan Teacup Chihuahua.

The dog himself was no bigger than 2 pounds, and could easily fit in the palm of your hands. He was a short hair, and had the cutest bug eyes you've ever laid your eyes on.

He wagged his tail happily, as you went and picked him up off of his pillow, to hold him against your chest, as his tail wagged happily at the affection you were showing him. Your fingers caressed through his long soft fur, as he begins to pant as his tail wags harder.

You cooed at him, saying how cute he was, as you handed him off to Mirio so that you can go through the routine of hiding the evidence the dog leavea behind.

You heard Mirio laughing in the background, as you went to work by hiding the dog's bed and food dishes that were on a small dresser in your closet.

You began by unceremoniously shoving his bed and blankets into a large pillow case, quickly shaping it to make it look like a rather terribly lumpy pillow. But that was the whole plan though, as when the teacher looked into your closet, they would just assume that it was shoved in the closet because it was uncomfortable to sleep with.

His food was already hidden in a cereal box that you had, it was cleverly placed next to other various snack foods that you were allowed to keep in your dorm for midnight snacking. His water bowl was collapsed, and was easily clipped to your backpack that was hanging up next to your clothes, so it looked like something that you would use for hiking.

You were an expert at this by now, and if your Mother was never able to catch you, then it was far beyond the reach of the nosey Class Representative and his gaggle of teachers.

Five minutes... two minutes after your messing around was done, was more than enough time to hide the evidence that you had a dog in the dorms.

The final piece to complete your charade, was a baggy black sweater that you slipped on over your tank top, just as there was a loyd knock on your door.

"Hey, it's inspection time, open up." You heard a bored voice speak, as you quickly took the dog from Mirio's hands, and gently slid him into the pocket of your sweater.

El Perro was used to being in your pockets, so it took him no time to settle and be still, as you placed your arms through the pocket of your sweater as the teacher walked in.

"Aizawa? You're inspecting the 3rd Year Dorms?" You blurted out in shock, as you unlocked and opened the door to let the tired looking teacher into your room.

He always seemed to have bad bags under his eyes.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Your Teacher is off, having an exciting weekend…" He mumbled flatly, as you and Mirio stood off to the side as he began his inspection by opening up the drawers to your dresser.

He really looked tired, more so than usual, which made him not really inspect much of anything.

You could tell he just wanted to get this over with, as his eyes lazily roam around the room.

"You're not off having an exciting weekend as well?" You chided, as he slid the closet door open, while he scanned the small nook.

He didn't answer your sarcastic question.

He didn't even really acknowledge you'd actually said anything.

He also didn't say anything about all the snacks you had stashed in there… but, he probably didn't really care about that.

That isn't what he was looking for.

"Your Class Rep. wanted to call an emergency search. He was convinced I would find something amiss in here." Aizawa mumbled, mostly to himself, as he slid the door shut slowly as he turned to face the two of you. "What did you do to the poor kid?"

"M-Me? C'mon Aizawa, I didn't do anything..." You muttered, flabbergasted he would accuse you of anything, as you gave El Perro a little squeeze in your pocket.

"Right." He said, rolling his eyes at your feigned ignorance. "Just make sure you're behaving in here, no… after hour dorm visits."

"Of course!" You laughed loudly, spoke a little too quickly, and if you were to ask Aizawa's opinion he would look further into why you both had the door locked before he came… but he had so many more dorms to check that day, he just nodded and walked out. "Your Dorm Check is coming up soon, Togata, you should head over there now so I don't have to wait for you."

"Right! I'll be there!" Mirio said, watching Aizawa turn and leave the room, as he intentionally left the door wide open.

"Why does everyone think I'm the instigator?" You huffed with a scowl on your face, as you turned to face Mirio, who had a big smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You laughed, his smile infectious, as you pushed him on his chest lightly.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how much of an instigator you are." He laughed too, as you playfully slapped him across the chest.

"Tch, whatever!' You tutted, as you tried to push him out of your dorm.

He barely budged.

"Go away, Lemillion, lest you fail your dorm check for making Aizawa wait."

He just laughed again as he turned to leave your room, but not without giving you his trademark goofy smile and a small wave.

You waved back, as you watched him disappear out into the hallway.

'Girl, that boy is going to get you into trouble if you're not careful.' You thought to yourself, as you closed the door as you went back into your dorm.

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Koushi Sugawara) Magical

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Word Count: 2,790

Pairing: Reader x Sugawara

World: Haikyuu!!

Author’s Note: In this fic, Suga is eighteen and the reader is twenty. I dreamed about this and immediately fell in love with domestic Suga and I just had to write this.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the door to your house, scaring away a moth that had been perched on the doorframe. Upon entering, the smell of roast stew tickled your nostrils, making your stomach growl and brow furrow. Were you imagining things because of how tired you were? You didn’t bother taking your shoes off as you headed down the hall until the kitchen came into view.

Koushi stood at the stove, carefully stirring the contents of the pot. A baby blue and white striped apron sat around his neck, tied loosely around his waist. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you, offering you a warm smile. “Welcome home! Dinner is almost ready.”

Your body fell into one of the kitchen chairs, stifling a yawn. “What are you doing here, Koush?”

He pouted, placing his hand on his hip. “What, you’re not happy to see your loving boyfriend?”

“Of course I am,” you beckoned him closer and he obeyed, standing between your legs as you gently held his hips, his forehead resting against yours. “I could definitely get used to coming home to you. You just surprised me, is all. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Hmm, I’m moving in with you the second I graduate, so you better get used to it quickly~” He pecked your lips before returning to the stove to check on the food. “How was work?”

“Long,” you wrinkled your nose as you untied your boots, kicking them under the table. “I got assigned to Casa Valore today. You know, that really uppity place on the other side of town.”

“The country club?” He inquired with surprise. “You have to have serious cash to get a membership there, from what I hear.”

“Mhm. This bitch kept trying to get in even though she doesn’t have a membership, right? Claimed she knew the owner. Intimately. Then she starts going into detail about their supposed exploits.”

Koushi bit back a laugh as he gathered rice onto two plates before pouring some roast on top. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you stood up, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. “Every. Friggin’. Detail, Koush. You want tea?”

“Water, please.” He set the plates down on the table before taking his seat. “What happened to her?”

You poured a bottle of water into the glass with ice before doing the same with a soda and setting them on the table, collapsing back in your chair across from him. “She was spouting some really dirty shit just as a family of three walked up. When the mom heard her, she went off. The lady was terrified.”

He nodded to show that he was listening, taking a bit of the stew.

“The mom ended up punching her. One little hit and she was out like a light. Then she started after me for not stopping the woman.” You rolled your eyes, stuffing a spoonful of rice into your mouth.

He frowned at you, concern shining in his hazel eyes. “I still can’t believe you’re not allowed to touch people. You’re a security guard, it’s your job to prevent things from escalating, but you’re not even allowed to interfere when someone acts out.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders. “You get used to it after a while. What about you? Any problems at school?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’d call it a problem, perse.” He responded, tapping his chin as he thought back to mid-day practice. “Noya came running into the gym screaming his lungs out. It took some time before he was calm enough to explain what had happened.”

You sipped your drink, brow quirking as you waited for him to spill the tea.

“Apparently, he was running down the hall when he bumped into his classmate. When he helped her pick up her books, he found this manga she was working on. He claims she was shipping him with Tsukishima.”

The thought made you snicker. “Ah, the shipping days of high school.” You shook your head as you stood up, carrying the empty plates to the sink. “‘Kay, you win. Your story was better than mine.”

Koushi came up beside you, pushing your hands away from the dishes. “Let me, love.”

“You cooked dinner, it’s only fair.” You knew how stubborn he could be, so you shifted your position so you were behind him, arms sliding around his slim waist and chin resting on his shoulder.

“You worked all day.”

“Hmm, and you went to school then spent hours at practice.” Your lips twitched up at his huff of frustration and you rubbed soft circles into his side to appease him.

“Just let me take care of you, Y/N.”

With a soft kiss to beneath his ear, you conceded. “Fine, fine. I’m gonna go take a shower.” You released him, heading up the stairs into your bedroom. After gathering your clothes, you stepped across the hall into the bathroom, turning on the water to let it warm up.

When you stopped to think about it, your relationship with Koushi felt like a dream. He was just so perfect in your eyes. Kind, caring, loving, selfless. Everything he did was for others, even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process. He was patient, too – he had to be in order to deal with you and your job. You couldn’t help smiling as you stepped out of the shower.

‘How in the hell did I get so lucky?’

Koushi was already lying in bed, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you to join him. He glanced at you when you entered the room. “The group chat is blowing up tonight.”

You slid under the covers with a yawn, shoulder brushing against his as you looked at his phone. “About what?”

“No idea. The messages are coming through too quickly.”

Your eyes narrowed at the screen, trying to pick out keywords that could piece the story together. “Movie, scared, black widow, glass, death, girl, pizza.”

Koushi snorted, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. You sent him an amused look. “Sorry, it was just so dark and then pizza.”

You hummed. “I think Tanaka’s sister is making him watch the grudge. Or maybe the ring? Probably used pizza to bribe him into watching.”

“That makes sense.”

You yawned, not bothering to try and cover it as you slid down until your head landed on the fluffy pillow. Following your lead, he plugged his phone in before settling down against your side, his head using your shoulder as a pillow. You brushed your hand through his grey locks before resting it against his back. “Good night, baby.”

He hummed softly, his limps tangling with yours as sleep started to claim him. “Good night, love.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You stepped into the house around noon, kicking your shoes off in the doorway. The AC was blasting through the house, keeping the heat of summer at bay. As you stepped farther into the house, you noticed the TV was on, playing PBS kids on low volume, which was strange because you had never seen your boyfriend show interest in kid’s shows before.

With a shrug, you continued toward the kitchen, an ice-cold soda calling your name. “Ow, shit!” Pain shot through your left foot and you hopped on your right, holding the injured foot in your hands. Your eyes narrowed at the object that had created your pain before frowning in confusion, picking up the square object. “The hell? Aren’t nesting blocks for toddlers?”

Setting the toy on the table, you headed upstairs in search of your boyfriend, but he wasn’t in the bedroom or the bathroom. That left the storage closet at the end of the hall or the guest room, and you highly doubted he was in the former. You pushed the guest room door open softly, eyes widening a bit at the sight.

Koushi was sitting on the floor with a boy sitting in front of him, probably around two-years-old, playing with toy cars and action figures from the popular anime, My Hero Academia.

Something about the scene just seemed so magical to you. Your heart started to race within your chest as you thought about him as a father, the father of your child. Honestly, children were never really something you thought about, but seeing him interact so softly with this child… it stirred something within you.

With a soft smile, you leaned against the doorframe. “Koushi, did you go and have a child with someone else?”

His hazel eyes slid up to meet yours and he chuckled. “Of course not. You’re the only person I want to have a child with!”

You hadn’t been expecting that response and your red cheeks showed it, but you hid it behind your hand, faking a cough. “So, who’s the kid?”

“My nephew, Sasuke,” he explained, gently rubbing the top of the boy’s head. “My sister suddenly went into labor this morning and couldn’t find anyone to watch him, so I went and picked him up.”

“You should have called me, I would have taken you.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t far!” He smiled brightly, his hair shifting across his forehead when he tilted his head. “You’re home early. Did something happen?”

“Sort of.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Apparently, the manager has been skimming funds from the clients and the CEO found out. He came in this morning raising hel -” You eyes shifted to the small child before clearing your throat. “Raising a fuss.”

“Oh wow,”

“Yup. Everyone was sent home until they can get everything sorted. With pay, of course.”

“That’s good.” He pulled himself to his feet before lifting up his nephew, holding him against his hip. “Come on, it’s time for lunch.”

The boy giggled, his small hands grabbing at his uncle’s shirt. You followed him downstairs, taking a seat at the table as he sat the boy beside you, kissing the top of his head before heading to the fridge.

“Are you okay with a sandwich, love? I wasn’t expecting you home early so I didn’t make anything.”

“I don’t mind,”

Sasuke looked up at you curiously, reaching out for your arm. You held your hand out to him and he was just barely able to wrap his hand around your finger, pulling it up and down and giggling as if it were the most amusing thing he had ever done.

Koushi looked back at you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I didn’t ask before bringing him here. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

You hummed as you watched the boy, lifting your arm and watching as he pulled it back down before giggling. “You’re fine. My foot definitely minded when it stepped on the nesting blocks, though.”

He giggled, covering his mouth with this hand.

“Glad my pain amuses you, babe.”

“Sorry, sorry~” His eyes were amused as he set the small squares of sandwich in front of his nephew, who instantly dropped your hand to grab the food. “Eat slow and careful, Sasuke.”

Sasuke nodded, carefully grabbing one of the squares before taking a small bite.

You turned your gaze to your boyfriend as he got to work making your sandwich and his own. He just had such a domestic aura about him that made you feel so warm inside. The future was not something you thought about often, but for some reason, you started to think about spending the rest of your life with this man. You knew he would be just as amazing as a husband as he was a boyfriend and that thought made your heart flutter within your chest.

Setting the food down, he took a seat across from you, watching his nephew with a happy expression. The three of you ate in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, but the peace was broken when his phone lit up on the table.

“It’s from my sister,” he commented as he pulled up the message, his eyes lighting up as he read it. “Oh my god. She had twins!”

“Really?” You quirked a brow. “That sounds… like a handful.”

“Definitely,” he sweatdropped. “Can you take us to the hospital to see them? She wants Sasuke to meet his new siblings.”

“Yeah, of course.” You finished off your food before clearing the table while he grabbed the bag with Sasuke’s things.

“Shoot, I need to grab my charger. Can you take him?” Koushi handed the boy off to you and you held him against your hip, pulling the front door open. You were a bit worried because you didn’t have a car seat, but you were sure that Koushi would sit in the back with him and keep him safe, and you’d make sure to drive more carefully than usual.

He came jogging from the house, making sure the door was locked before heading to the backseat and pulling the door open, setting the bag on the opposite side of the seat. He held his hand out to take his nephew. “You’re gonna sit in the back with me, okay? We don’t have a car seat so you have to behave and not move around too much.”

“‘Kay!” Sasuke agreed with a high pitched voice.

You started the car, turning the AC on to battle against the summer heat as you waited for them to get settled before taking off. The hospital wasn’t far by car, taking only about ten minutes to arrive even with moderate traffic. Koushi tried to pick up his nephew once everyone was out of the car, but the toddler started fussing, refusing the be picked up.

“Do you want to walk, instead?” He asked softly, to which Sasuke nodded. “Okay, but you have to hold my hand tight and not let go. Can you do that?” Again, he nodded, holding his small hand out to the grey-haired male. You took the bag from him, slinging it over your shoulder as you walked on the other side of Sasuke, just for added protection. It surprised you when the small boy grabbed your hand, but you certainly didn’t mind, nor did you miss the loving look that Koushi sent you.

His sister was on the fourth floor and when you stepped out of the elevator, you gently patted the boy’s head before heading toward the waiting room.

“Where are you going?” Koushi frowned.

“It’s your family, I don’t want to impose.” You smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine, go on.”

He bit his bottom lip as he thought it over before hesitantly nodding, gently tugging his nephew down the hall.

The waiting room was empty and silent, making your ears ring. There was a small TV mounted in the corner, but someone had muted it. Captions were playing across the bottom of the screen, but they were too small to read unless you were right next to it. You weren’t very fond of hospitals – something about the sterile environment just made you feel strange, but the maternity ward wasn’t too bad.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through your MyBook page, sharing posts you found amusing or responding to tags from friends. You got bored of that pretty quickly though and decided to search for anime memes, finding a few that made you chuckle. You soon got bored of that, too, sliding down in the chair with a sigh.

The door opened, Koushi stepped inside with something small in his arms. He was smiling brightly, eyes lit up like stars. “Y/N, meet my niece, Yin.”

Your body tensed as he brought the newborn closer. You gently pulled the blanket away from her face, your finger sliding across her cheek. “She’s so small,”

“Do you want to hold her?”

“Ah, no, I -”

He chuckled softly. “Love, you’re not going to hurt her. I asked my sister and she said it’s fine.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, holding your arms out, carefully holding the newborn in your arms. She barely weighed anything, like you were holding a feather.

His hand gently caressed your arm to keep you calm. “I can’t wait for us to have our own children. You’re going to be such a good parent.”

“What are you going on about?” You muttered, keeping your eyes on the infant as if scared she would disappear if you looked away. “We’re too young for kids.”

He hummed softly, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek. “Hmm, maybe I just have baby fever.”

“Pretty sure you do.”

“It’s your fault~” He pouted, making you quirk a brow.

“How is it my fault?”

“You’re gorgeous with a child in your arms.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks at the declaration. “S-Shut up, Koushi.”

He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling his laughter.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

[aftermathdb]

DEATH BATTLE review: All Might vs. Might Guy

First Atlantis^2, then Widow^2, then Marvel^2, then ONE^2, and now Might^2.

(Holy Hell! I have exactly 100 screenshots for this episode!)

All Might′s Preview.

We open on a world where superpowers are common.

A world where schools are everywhere so that people can harness their powers.

These “Quirks” are varied, and some are… not that great.

But one aspiring hero would rise up to be the greatest hero around. Toshinori Yagi, who was given the greatest Quirk of all: One for All.

The hosts go over how badass this Quirk is. But more specifically how it’s the Quirk that can be passed down to other users.

Toshinori got his from Nana Shimura, and he became the ever-smiling All Might.

All Might keeps that smile on his face to ensure that everyone around him feels safe.

Thanks to All Might’s Quirk, he’s got everything from Super Strength, speed, stamina, and durability.

Aside from Boomstick’s apparent ability to manifest seafood, the hosts go over All Might‘s main powerset.

Interestingly enough, All Might’s tendency to name his moves after the US is kinda accurate.

For example, the Texas Smash and Oklahoma Smash both create forms of tornadoes. And guess what states are smack-dab in the way of those things?

But All Might can combine those States together in one extremely powerful attack: The United States of Smash. PLUS ULTRA!

The power of the USoS is actually quantifiable. Given the size of the storm compared to the buildings around it, the force would be over 11,000 tons of TNT.

All Might can also move at speed around Mach 29.

Now, here’s the thing: All Might’s doing a lot of this with a handicap. So these moves are still impressive. Since DEATH BATTLE takes a look at these characters in their prime, those are the stats that would be used. In his hayday, All Might would be 60 times more powerful.

He’s on par with many a fighter, like Nomu, whom he had punched 300 times in ten seconds.

Even when crippled, All Might’s proven exactly why he’s been the number one hero for years.

Might Guy′s Preview.

a

In the world of Naruto, there exists schools that train the best Ninjas around. These schools would essentially teach Ninjutsu and Genjutsu, or in Boomstick’s terms, Ninja Magic.

But one ninja doesn’t really have that. Rock Lee was never really that good at the whole “Ninja Magic” thing, so when he found a mentor, it was a good thing for him.

Enter: Might Guy.

Despite not having that great of skill when compared to the other guys, Might Guy and his dad opted to focus on one thing and become the undisputed master of it:

Punching people (Thanks for the description there, Boomstick).

Strong Fist is a subset of Taijutsu, or hand-to-hand combat. A hard martial art that is focused on breaking the bones of the opponent.

Only the toughest people can really use Strong Fist according to the hosts, and it comes with it’s own set of skills.

But it’s a really big double-edged sword.

And we get more into that double-edged sword by an animated segment.

Regardless, the technique Guy and Duy developed was the Eight Gates.

With these Gates, they can unlock a whole slew of crazy abilities by way of removing limits on the body. From mental inhibitions, to physical limitations.

Some of these Gates are safe to use. Numbers 1-3 are good to go, but once you go past that, you’re in trouble.

At Gate numero six, Guy moves so fast that his fists ignite the air around him and can be used as projectiles.

In order to ignite the Hydrogen in the air, Guy’s swinging at speeds at 40000 km/h.

For reference, that’s nearly five times as fast as the X-15 Rocket Jet, the fastest man-made jet that has been made so far.

Gate Seven is still relatively safe for Guy, according to the hosts, but the final Gate is a fatal attack.

That’s not some sort of “Battle Aura” you’re seeing around Guy, that’s his blood burning. With this, he can use… “Night Guy.”

Yeah, I’m a little unimpressed too.

This form was able to decimate Madara. You should know that guy by now. He’s the deadly villain that could take on Naruto and easily defeat him in base mode.

Naruto’s super modes are definately better that Guy’s best mode, but it’s also way better than Jiraya’s best move.

Guy is also a match for Kakashi, who could catch lightning.

Kakashi’s speed clocks in at around 763000 m/s, so Guy is definitely in that ballpark.

And with all the feats he has, he’s proven to be a badass through and through. It takes a lot to bring down this Mighty Guy.

… Yeah, the end quote doesn’t exactly inspire greatness, but eh, it’s probably iconic (Really sorry, not a Naruto fan).

The Battle Itself.

Torrian is back to head this project, All Might will be voiced by Kaiji Tang, while All Might was voiced by a guy named “Dick Splitter” (No, I’m not making that up). "Mighty” by both Brandon Yates and Therewolf sprite artist (If there are any), and audio lead by Chris Kokkinos.

Our fight starts with Guy sitting in a park, reading a bit of Manga. For those eagle-eyed viewers, you’ll notiice that he’s reading a My Hero Academia book. I’ve circled it for you.

Anyways, All Might drops in and does his dramatic enterance. After geeking out, Guy challenges him to…

An ARM WRESTLING CONTEST!

Which All Might readily accepts.

I want to go on record and say that this initial explosion is in essence, them just starting.

And can I also point out the absurdity in the ground being cratered before the table? Like what is that table made of?- Adamantium?

Well, my accusation is unlikely. The table breaks, and then the two duke it out. Not out of jealousy or because one of them accused the other of sabotaging the contest, but because they’re just that hammy.

So with the fight underway, these two go at it. It’s readily clear that All Might has the edge up in strength over Base Guy, but Guy is certainly faster  given how often he dodges the attacks that All Might dishes out.

He even gets a perfect 10 on his dodging!

I want it to be known that Might Guy actually dodged this attack. He clearly has the speed advantage.

And these two just keep complimenting each other! Like, come on! Who am I supposed to root for here?

Anyways, Guy opens his Sixth Gate, which gives him an edge up over All Might.

And you want to know what’s better than a beam struggle?- A Barrage attack struggle.

What’s better than that?

When the barrages are fire vs wind!

They make an explosion that brings Guy to the ground, and he opens the Seventh Gate.

He unleashes his Daytime Tiger, and actually puts All Might on the defensive.

Here’s my question: How is it that all that power is being condensed in that one park? Those buildings should have destableized by now!

Anyways, Finishing Blow in

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Might Guy gets impaled! Well, it was a good run, and he certainly put up quite the fight…

And he’s also not done yet. We still have one more Gate.

REAL finishing blow iin

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

You gotta wonder what the report by the  authorities and news is going to be like.

Verdict + Explanation.

So, right off the bat, this fight actually is close. Guy’s Gates were really the big thing that was letting him keep up with All Might and his  speed was certainly nothing to sneeze at.

Now, As for All Might, since DEATH BATTLE was looking at him in his prime, they had to scale accordingly.

All Might himself claimed that a fight he finished in 300 punches could have been done in 5. So that means that the All Might that is being used is 60 times stronger.

Take this feat for example, All Might’s foe Gigantomachia, once blew a hole through the mountain. Adding in the X60 multiplier, and All Might’s batting in the 154.8 Gigaton range.

However, Guy is still way faster, add in his better training and more versatile arsenal, Might Guy just needed to hit All Might harder than All Might could hit him.

All Might’s feat of changing the weather clocks in at about 1462 Gigatons of TNT.

Now, that’s impressive and all, but Guy hasn’t really shown his full power.

So we have to compare him to another person that we’ve seen all too many times before: Naruto.

Now remember: Base Naruto < Madara, and Night Guy > Madara.

As we’ve seen all too many times before, Naruto’s Base Chakra was enough to blow a hole through the moon.

How much force is that?

About 480 Petatons of TNT.

How much is a Petaton?

A million Gigatons. Simply put All Might > Might Guy, but Night Guy > All Might. Sure, Guy goes down not too long after using the attack, but he wins in the moment, and that’s what matters.

The winner is Might Guy.

Overall impression.

I came into this thinking “This feels more like season premiere material.” Something to hype up the crowd for the upcoming season. And I was right in the absolute most wrong sense of the word. The fight is spectacular, and it makes me want to read up on MHA. In all honesty, if this were a season premiere,  everything after it would feel boring in comparison.

Now, admittedly, this was basically just a fistfight. A battle of who could punch harder than the other guy. Which isn’t very exciting on it’s own, but is still interesting given the characters.

Plus, given that no sane parent would ever give their kid the name “Richard” if their  last name was “Splitter”  I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say that this is the official VA for Guy.

I’m not going to link to his twitter, I’d rather he not get in trouble, but it’s still pretty cool.

Then again, my dad knew a guy named “Richard Head” so I guess the name “Dick Splitter” isn’t that farfetched. Who knows, maybe this is a real name.

Tangent aside, this battle was epic in all sense of the word. I’m sure there are a lot of references that I missed because of my lack of knowledge on these two, but it was a joy to see, and the music is awesome. Definitely looking forward to downloading it.

9.6/10.

Next Time…

I’m calling…

… Well shit. I don’t know what to call. But I recognize Miles Morales, Beerus,  and Danny Phantom, so who knows?

Though the end colors for the start of Season 7 makes me think of… Harley Quinn.

Is there a fight that you want me to review? - Send an ask/request, and I’ll look into it!

Do you want to read my fanfic based around DEATH BATTLE itself? click here!

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you next time for…

A DEATH BATTLE.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia - Chapter 27: Isamu Haimawari’s Got This

The raw and unedited next chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic! The rest of the fic (and a side series) can be found here

“Okay,” Isamu said to himself, “real easy.  Nothing to worry about.  You’re just trying to get your Quirk to work in a way you’ve never used it before and you’re not sure it actually does.  Nothing to worry about.  Easy peasy.”

His Quirk, which he shared with his dad, worked on the basis of creating a repulsion field, concentrated in his hands and feet.  He mostly used it for sliding around, but he could also use it to adhere to other surfaces or slide over just about anything.  It had served him pretty well so far, but if he was going to do well at the Sports Festival, he needed at least one more ace in the hole.  He could rush just about anybody, but unless he could build up enough speed, it might not be enough to knock them down.  Plus, that relied on getting close, which wasn’t always ideal.

His dad though, he had a trick, a Super-Move really, he called his “Scrappy-Thrust Style.”  He could concentrate that energy in one hand and expel it outward, like a force beam.   He’d tried teaching it to Isamu several times over the years, but he’d never quite been able to get it right.  It always fizzled before he could make it work.

Which was why he was using one of the practice target ranges.  Students with long range Quirks could use them to practice shooting and aiming without having to worry overmuch about collateral damage or anything else getting in the way.  Not as good as live-fire situations, but definitely good for getting a few shots off.

If he could make this work.

Takiyo Aoyama was also using the target range, effortlessly firing off concentrated beams of light that burnt their way through his targets.  He made it look easy, practically, dancing from one blast to the next, blue-white laser light zipping from hand to target.  He hadn’t made any attempt to engage Isamue in conversation and, friendly though he was, he wasn’t sure Aoyama was worth bothering with. Guy had an arrogant streak a mile wide. And he had his own problems right now anyway.

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve got this.”

Step one, brace his feet. Right foot in front, left foot back. Dad said the kickback on this trick was something intense.  With his bad leg, he couldn’t even really do it anymore, except for the lowest blast.

Step two, aim.  Right palm out, left hand bracing his right arm against the kickback.

Step three, build power. He activated his Quirk, feeling the power flowing through his core, through his limbs, building up in his hands. Just like when he was sliding around, only without going anywhere.   Good, good, good…  Let it build… Let it build…

And step four, release!

He stared at his hand, trying to will the energy to release.   Step four!  It was release!  Why wasn’t it releasing?!

“C’mon…” he said. “Release!”

A faint pop of white-ish light emerged from his palm, fizzling only a couple inches away.

Well… that was more than he’d been able to do so far, right?  That had to be some kind of sign of progress.  He only had twelve more days to get it right before the Sports Festival.  That was plenty of time to unlock and master a portion of his Quirk he’d never successfully used before so that he could use it in a competition that might well determine the future of his career as a Pro Hero.  A competition where he’d be up against the kids of some of the best Pro Heroes in the entire country.  Who were all already pretty impressively good with their Quirks.

Yep.  Just that easy.

Of course, all of that was predicated on the already overly optimistic idea that he was even going to get to the third round of the Sports Festival in the first place.  He might do all right in the first event.  That was always some kind of race.  And even with a couple of classmates who could fly, he was still one of the fastest people in the class.  But beyond that?   He really didn’t know.

Which was why he had to keep practicing.   So.

Step one, brace your legs…

***

“I’m never going to get it,” Isamu said.  He was with Izumi, Shinso, Midoriya, Tokoyami, and Sora Iida, crowded into Toshi’s room (which was even more full of Hero posters and merch than his, but not as full as Shinso’s) for a study session.  Even with the Sports Festival coming up and all the training associated with that, they still had regular school work to deal with.  And that, unfortunately, meant a math test on Friday.  The study sessions had been Izumi’s idea.  They were mostly doing well enough in the class, but combining brainpower was good for all of them.  Especially for him.  He figured he was probably somewhere midway in the pack in overall grades. Which considering this was U.A., still put him ahead of a lot of other people… but which still left him feeling terribly behind.

Iida—who definitely didn’t need the help—looked up from the notes she was scribbling.  She sat close to Midoriya, practically in his lap.  And possibly would have, if not for the slightly stern look Tokoyami had given the two of them.  Midoriya had looked pretty embarrassed by it, but Iida had simply slid a small distance from him.  He didn’t know the Iida Twins as well as most of the others, but he suspected they were largely immune to shame and traditional boundaries.

“What part of the equations are confusing?” she asked.  “I can attempt to explain!”

“I don’t know if I could follow all that, Iida,” he replied.  He raised a hand high above his head.  “You’re something like here and I’m,” he dropped his hand down to about his shoulder level, “maybe here.  On a good day.”

“Science is nothing if it is not communicable,” Iida replied.  “If I cannot explain my processes and results, then I have no business in science at all!”

Modoriya put an arm around her affectionately, giving her a little squeeze.  “I don’t think he was disparaging your explanation skills, Sora. Just admitting that you’ve probably got a way better handle on this than the rest of us.”

“Yes, well, math is very important,” Iida agreed.

“Important, schmortant,” Frog-Shadow said, suddenly appearing on Tokoyami’s shoulder.  “I’m bored!”

“Again,” Tokoyami said, her green plumage ruffling, “my purpose in life is not to entertain you. Sometimes, I have to do actual work.”

“Booooring!”

“I just want to know one thing,” Shinso said.  “If this is math, why are there so many letters in it?  I thought math was supposed to be about numbers!”

“Heh.”  It was a small, quiet laugh, but a laugh all the same. And it had come from Izumi. Everyone turned to stare at her for a moment, before the laughter began to spread, growing in each of them for a moment, and releasing all the tension that came with cramming for a test.

“Oh,” Midoriya said, “I meant to ask, Isamu, what happened with you and Tetsutetsu yesterday?”

“What do you mean, Toshi?” Shinso asked.  “All they were doing was training.  She said so!”

Frog-Shadow perked up again on Tokoyami’s shoulder.  “Oh?  Gossip? This just got good!”

“It either must be very secretive or no secret at all,” Izumi said.  “Otherwise, I would expect that Ojiro would have already shared it with the masses.”

Okay, so maybe he’d had a bit of luck lately after all.  Isamu smiled a little.  “She, ah, she said she was interested in getting to know me better.  Saw me during the Entrance Exam and wanted to know more.”

“And?” Midoriya asked. “What happened next?”

“I’d be pretty dumb to have turned her down,” Isamu said.  “I mean, I don’t know her well or anything… but she seems nice.  So we’re gonna try and do something after the Sports Festival is over.  We both want to make sure we’re giving it our all first.  But we’re still gonna text and stuff.”

“A smart choice,” Izumi said.

“Agreed,” Tokoyami added.

“Boring!” Frog-Shadow said.

“Well, I’ll hope it works out,” Midoriya said.  “Tetsutetsu’s pretty great.  And you’ve got Katsumi’s approval if she agreed to help with getting you two alone together.”

“Figured she was in on it,” he said.  “Though I didn’t think she was the wingwoman type.”

“Katsumi will go far for her friends,” Izumi said.  “Her bark is much worse than her bite in any case.”

“Lots of bark though,” Shota said.  

“Fair enough.”

“Okay,” Midoriya said, “let’s give these equations another shot and maybe we won’t let FireFox down again like after the last test.”

***

“Okay, Isamu… on your mark… get set… go!” he said to himself.

At go, he activated his Quirk, racing forward along the track in a blur, eating up the distance to the first curve quickly.  As he headed into the curve, he concentrated, slacking up on the power flowing through his right side and increasing the repulsive force he was sending out his left.   Quickly, as he made the first turn, he balanced the power back out, then applied maximum thrust on the straightaway.

The sudden change in acceleration was like getting a good solid kick in the hindquarters, pushing him as fast as he had ever gone.  As he came into the next turn, he had to account for that, first applying his thrust forward to slow down, before powering through it.  Another straightaway and another blast of thrust, another turn, and finally a last straightaway before back to his starting point.

He breaked slowly, applying short bursts of reverse thrust as he slacked up on the forward power, skidding to a stop at the starting line.  He crouched there, breathing heavily for a moment, before finally standing, slapping his hands against each other to shake some of the dust from his fingers and gloves.

“Okay, what’s my time?” he asked the training robot.

Numbers flashed rapidly across the robot’s digital-screen chest.   “Time to complete 10 kilometers:  three point seven minutes.  Average speed: 160.934 kilometers per hour.”

Huh.  Not bad.  That was a little faster than he’d expected.  All this Hero-training must have actually be paying off.  Reflexes were getting better too.  He’d managed not to go flying off the track or anything like that.  Hitting the turns had taken a lot of concentration, managing his outputs differently, but he’d done it!

“Okay guys,” he said to the Iida Twins, who were waiting on the sideline, “your turn.”

“Good work, Haimawari,” Tensei Iida said, giving him a small nod.

“Keep it up,” his sister agreed, “and you might even be as fast as our father one day!”

“If I’m lucky,” he said, taking a seat on one of the benches and drinking from his water bottle.

“Ready, Younger Brother?” Sora asked as they took their marks.

“I am only younger by a negligible amount!”

“Nevertheless, it is factually correct!”

“Curse the impartiality of facts!”

“I’ll tell you what, Little Brother,” Sora said, waving a finger in front of his face.  “If you can beat me in this race, I will stop referring to the fact that you are younger.”

“And if you win?”

“Then I reserve the right to call you such for all time!”

Tensei considered this, then snapped his fingers.  “A desperate gamble!  But one with enough probability of success to make it worthwhile!  You are on, Sister!”

Both took a moment to prepare, then activated their Quirks, flames flaring from the pipes that sprouted from their backs.  They flew low, only a few feet off the ground, but it was an impressive Quirk all the same… and an even more impressive burst of speed.   He could barely follow it, watching as they rounded the curves, neck and neck, with neither of them gaining an advantage over the other.  The only thing he could say for certain was that they were both faster than him.

Slower in the curve, though, he noticed, at least without their costumes and the wings from those. They must have aided in maneuverability.   Sora nearly overshot the first turn but corrected, and Tensei nearly went off course in the second.  They were definitely better at going in a straight shot.

They definitely took less time than he did, returning to the starting line practically before he could blink, at what seemed to be the same time or so close as to make almost no difference.

“Robot!” Sora called out.

“Report scores!  And prove to my sister that she no longer need be overly precise!”

Numbers flashed across the robot’s chest again.  “Time to complete ten kilometers: one point four-nine minutes.  Average speed: 402.336 kilometers per hour.”

“But which one of us?” Sora demanded.

“Scores are identical,” the robot reported.

“What?  A draw?!”

“Impossible!” Tensei added. “And yet… the numbers do not lie!”

They shook hands.  “It appears neither of us are victorious, Little Brother,” Sora said, a smug grin on her face.

“One day, I will surpass you and then you will be forced to cease!”

That their scores were identical was… actually kind of weird, now that Isamu thought about it. He was hardly an expert on Quirks, but even with identical Quirks, there were enough differences between the Twins that something wasn’t adding up.  Sora was taller but lighter, though he would blushing also admit that she was significantly less than... aerodynamic.  By contrast, Tensei was heavier but more streamlined.  One or the other definitely should have been faster than the other (though he wasn’t sure which and wouldn’t be without a lot of math he had no interest in doing).  Clearly though, one of them was trying not to outdo the other.  It was actually kind of sweet, now that he thought about it.

None of which changed the fact that they were both more than twice as fast as him.  It wasn’t all about speed, of course, there was skill (where they were probably about equal), intelligence (where they had him beat in spades), and lots of other factors.  But he couldn’t help but be a little jealous.  With all three of them having high-speed mobility Quirks, they were bound to be in competition fairly often.

He was just going to have to keep stepping up his game.

***

Later, Isamu and several of the others were gathered around the television, watching the news. Midoriya and Shinso did so religiously, hoping to get a glimpse of some Hero action not yet reported on the internet or elsewhere.  Others came or went, depending upon their own schedules.  Today, that was Mineta, Kaminari, and Ojiro.   None of whom really seemed like the type, but when he’d asked about it, Ojiro had admitted they were just killing time until the news was over and Hero-tainment Weekly came on with the latest celebrity hero gossip and news.   He wished he could say he was surprised, but…

On the plus side, he was actually getting along better with Mineta and Kaminari.  Ever since they’d discovered a shared love of music and music-Heroes, the two had seemed much less intimidating.   Granted, Mineta still tried hitting on him, but she actually hadn’t done that tonight.  Which was really weird.

“So,” Mineta said, “you and Kana, huh?”

How did she…?  Right, she was friends with Tetsutetsu, that was right.  He rubbed the back of his head.  “Ah, maybe? We’re just talking right now. Supposed to text her later.”

“Well, if things get serious… watch out for those teeth.  Seriously.  Shark-teeth on a girl?  That could go south real fast!”

Isamu felt himself go beet red and he sunk lower on the couch.  

Kaminari gave her a smack on the back of the head.  “Be nice, Mika.  Besides, aren’t you video chatting with Shinji later?”

“Not for another hour!” But there was a smile on the horned-girl’s face.

“What.”  Isamu could swear he could feel the glare, even if the glarer was invisible.

Ojiro threw her arms up in the air.  “Are you two seeing people?  How did I not know this?  Is the gossip vine finally failing me?”   She leaned forward.  Wearing a tank top, if she’d been visible, she would have been giving them a pretty good look at her cleavage.  As it was, he could see all the way down her top.  Which was just… weird.  He wasn’t sure if it was more awkward or less.  What was invisible people etiquette? He didn’t know any invisible people before now!  

“I.  Need. Details!”

“It’s really… it’s not gossip,” he tried, desperately.

Fortunately, Mineta came to his rescue, which was not something he ever thought would happen.  She shoved her phone in Ojiro’s face.  “His name’s Shinji Yoarashi!  Isn’t he hunky?  He’s one of Todoroki’s friends!  And she was totally not interested in him!  So I’m calling dibs!”

“Guys,” Midoriya said, “can this wait?  It’s back!”

“In other news, we’re less than two weeks away from the annual U.A. Sport’s Festival!  Of course, U.A. student files are confidential, but it is known that a very large number of Pro-Heroes have children in this year’s class and cross-referencing that with the Public Quirk Registry does give us a very good idea of this year’s student body, so the Festival is expected to be very spectacular! And, of course, there’s the annual speculation on just who current Number One Hero Deku will take on as his intern…”

“Your dad give you any hints, Midoriya?” Kaminari asked.  

Midoriya shook his head. “Even if he did—which he didn’t!—he’d have made me promise not to tell.  Besides, he’s got to watch the thing first!”

“Okay, point.”

“You guys are lucky,” Isamu said.  “You all grew up together.  I’m betting your parents are already fighting over you.  I’m gonna have to work, like, three times as hard to come close to impressing anyone.”

He could swear he saw something flicker in Midoriya’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly that he must have been imagining it.

“Maybe,” Midoriya said. “Just do your best, Haimawari. The unexpected can always go down at the Festival.  And the Pros aren’t always just looking for people who place.  Sometimes they just get hunches or see something and go with it.”

“Who cares about that?!” Ojiro said.  “Right now, there’s still gossip and I don’t have all the details!  Haimawari!  Are you and Tetsutetsu an item, yes or no?  My fans are going to want to know!”

He got up off the couch very, very quickly. “Oh, would you look at the time, gotta go…”   He took long, fast steps towards the stairwell door.

Ojiro sprung up off the couch as well.  “Get back here, you!”

***

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve got this.”

Step one, brace his feet. Right foot in front, left foot back. Dad said the kickback on this trick was something intense.  With his bad leg, he couldn’t even really do it anymore, except for the lowest blast.

Step two, aim.  Right palm out, left hand bracing his right arm against the kickback.

Step three, build power. He activated his Quirk, feeling the power flowing through his core, through his limbs, building up in his hands. Just like when he was sliding around, only without going anywhere.   Good, good, good…  Let it build… Let it build…

And step four, release!

KRACKA-POW!

A massive wave of energy burst from his hand, tearing across the target range and obliterating the target. The kickback was also more than he expected.  A lot more.  Isamu was thrown off his feet and knocked back into the far wall.  

“…ouch,” he groaned.   But a grin broke out on his face. He’d done it!  He’d done it way more than he expected to do it, but he’d done it!  Sure, he wasn’t sure if he could do it again, and he wasn’t sure he could do it less so that he didn’t knock himself into something, but he’d done it!  Which was more than he’d done yesterday!

Of course, if he did it like that at the Sports Festival, he’d probably knock himself out of the ring. Unless it knocked the other guy out first.  Did that count?  It probably hadn’t come up before.

Isamu stood and dusted himself off.  He was a bit sore… but nothing seemed broken.  Instead, he took his mark again, planted his feet, and started calling up his Quirk.

“You’ve got this,” he said.

He had this.  He had to have this.  Because in a class otherwise full of the children of Pro-Heroes (seven of whom were in the Top Ten!), he needed to do whatever he could to stand out.

He felt his energy charging up, ready to exit his hands.

He had this.

[shieldagentscully-blog]

Scalpel & SHIELD: Chapter 5 - Big, Goddamn Hero

Howard University - 2002

Scully hadn’t ever seen herself teaching at a university. It was the farthest thing from her mind years ago when she studied under Daniel Waterston at Stanford, the brilliant cardiologist, thinking she was going to fix hearts and change lives. She had been young, brilliant, eager to please, and absolutely full of herself back then. But life had a funny way of turning things upside down. More than a decade ago, she stood at a crossroads. Broken hearted and betrayed, she had the choice to stay in the field she no longer loved with a man who had lied to her or to forge a new path in a more interesting field and perhaps make a greater difference than she’d thought possible. She took a gamble and left to join the FBI. It hadn’t worked out exactly as she had hoped, but it was the path that led her to the X-files and to Mulder. For all that she lost, she could never regret having him come into her life.

Now she stood at another crossroads, another choice between a road that was secure but not fulfilling and one that held the promise of the things she sought but could destroy her and her son. To most, the choice should have been simple, but Scully had wrestled with it all night, laying in bed, the young face of Samantha, heartbroken and tired, floated to her mind. She had been alive in 1974. She had lived until 1979. Just what had the likes of Spender and Rinehardt done to her? What had she endured? Were those men still out there, kidnapping other Samanthas? Did they have Mulder?

It was that last thought that sent her out of bed, finally, giving up on sleep as she flipped quietly through channels until William finally stirred, bright and early, as always. He hardly noticed her dark mood as he fussed and whined, his sore teeth and gums making him fractious as he piddled with breakfast as she tried to force coffee into herself. He had been even less thrilled to be dressed and loaded up in the car to go to his daycare, howling most of the way there until she got him inside, upon which time his entire personality changed to that of an angelic saint. Frustration didn’t even begin to describe her mood as she returned to her car and made her way to campus, fighting Midterm students and parking. By the time she even got to her office, she was in the mood to lock herself up, hide away, and pray that no student came looking for her.

Unfortunately, even as she rounded the corner, she saw someone sitting just outside of her office door. She had already sighed and begun to mentally prepare herself before it occurred to her that the man waiting patiently couldn’t possibly be a student. He was at least 80, far too old to be the average college student, and certainly no one she remembered having in her class. He sat straight in the heavy chair that sat out there, one hand laying on the cane at his side, his silver head resting against the wall by her door. She cleared her throat as she approached, causing him to look up with a broad smile.

“You must be the talented and amazing Doctor Scully I’ve been hearing about!”

That caught her short, but she smiled, recognizing the compliment. “Someone clearly has been telling you some sort of line if they said those things about me.”

“I doubt my daughter would lie to me like that. She hasn’t lied to me since she was seventeen, and I caught her in the backyard, in the dark, with a boy. She learned better! But, she says good things about you.”

It took her only seconds after that to realize who she was indeed speaking to. “Doctor Jones, I presume?”

“I could be Livingston, but that would flip the tables a bit, no?”

Scully laughed, unlocking her office to let the older gentleman in. He rose slowly from his seat, leaning on his cane, but still tall and proud despite the age that now withered him.

“Come in, sir! Have a seat.” She waved to one of the two leather seats by her chair, the one not currently occupied by a stack of ungraded papers. “Can I get you coffee? Water?”

“I’m fine!” He waived her offer off as he settled into the creaking leather. “If I knew that you were so pretty and accommodating, I’d have been here to see you sooner.”

“Well, you are here, and that’s what matters.” She perched on the other side of the desk, trying to bite back the grin of delight and amazement. Gabriel Jones was a figure of legend in her household growing up, as were all the Howling Commandos. The old films had been a staple of television viewing, and while Scully was well aware that the real life heroes were very different than the sanitized, Hollywood depictions, she couldn’t help but feel like a figure of history and legend had just alighted into her office.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir! I can’t even tell you how special it is that you stopped by!”

“Well, Wanda kept telling me to get over here and I kept putting it off, but I happened to be by today. Had coffee with some of the donors and advancement, you know the types, all wanting to pump hands and look impressive. Had enough of that and decided to come find someone with a brain to talk to.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m honored! Ever since your daughter told me that her father was the famous Gabriel Jones, I’ve been bugging her to meet you. You were a hero of mine growing up!”

“You watched those stupid movies?”

“Well, I was also seven and convinced you all could walk on water, Captain America especially!”

“Well, Cap probably could walk on water, but the rest of us were just average, Army Joes, doing a job.”

“I don’t know, taking down HYDRA and defeating Johann Schmidt seemed more than just the average Army work.”

“Still fighting and dying, just like everyone else.” He nodded, solemnly, a sad sort of wistfulness about him as he regarded her. “Wanda tells me you were in the FBI before she dragged you over here.”

“I was for about ten years. I worked in a small division for most of it, investigating unsolved and strange cases.”

“The X-files, I heard about them.”

That surprised her. Few people outside of the FBI knew about them and those that did often mocked them. He didn’t seem to be doing that. “I’m sorry, how did you know about them, sir?”

“I’m not ‘sir’, I’m Gabe, and as for how I heard about them, I knew Arthur Dales from my days in SHIELD. He had been Army buddies with someone, maybe Sawyer, but anyway, he would come and chat with us on some of the more interesting cases he had going on.”

“You were in SHIELD?”

“For a bit, yes. We were all under the auspices of the SSR, which eventually was closed down after the war and rolled into SHIELD when it was formed. I was there for a while, till the kids started come along and getting older and I realized I wanted to be around to see them grow up. Left SHIELD, finished up my degrees and went into teaching history and public policy.”

“I know, I’ve read some of your articles.” The fact that Dr. Jones was an intellectual on top of being a hero had caused her no small delight, especially given his long career in academia. “So do you really speak five languages?”

“Seven? Been bored in my retirement.” He laughed brightly, as he leaned back comfortably. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved teaching and researching. By the time I got into it, I could actually have the sort of voice I couldn’t have when I was a kid in the 40’s, getting a degree that may or may not allow me to work in the nicer establishments of Washington DC. But, as much as I loved doing it, there was a part of me that missed the old life.”

“The Commandos?”

“Yeah.” He grinned with broad reminiscence. “I didn’t even start out the war with those guys. I was in the 92nd Infantry, the Buffalo Soldiers, because that’s where they stuck the black kids that signed up. We got sent to Italy to serve as support there. That’s how I met Barnes and Dugan. They were in the 107th and all of us were sent to face Schmidt. We all just happened to be captured together. War has that habit, I guess, putting folks together that would never have talked to one another until they were forced to live in the same, ten foot cage.”

That was the least of the horrors that Scully knew most soldiers faced in World War II. “Despite all that, you still wanted to fight?”

“Hell, yes! I saw what they could do, HYDRA.” Something dark and grave passed over his expression, a ghost of old terror, never forgotten, rising to the fore. “We were just sitting ducks there when they came up over the hill with their lasers, blowing tanks to kingdom come. Whole platoons cut down in an instant. We had no choice but to surrender. And then to be drug to Schmidt’s hell, forced to work till we dropped, or like Barnes, till we nearly died. I saw most of my unit go that way, drug off to wherever Zola had them. None of them ever made it out.”

Scully didn’t know what to say to that. She knew death intimately, saw it on it’s most basic, fundamental, scientific level everyday. And she knew something of the horrors faced by soldiers in World War II, but admittedly had only paid half attention to them. Like many historical events, they seemed so distant and outside of her, not something real and tangible. Seeing the grief of someone who lived it, even after sixty years, made it all too palpable.

“Anyway, when Cap came and got us out, the Army offered to send most of us home, discharge us on medical leave. I thought about it, frankly, more than just a little bit. After all, most everyone I knew was dead, and here I was, a colored boy with a college education doing grunt work and nearly getting killed for it. I had half a mind to come back home to Howard and walk away from it all. But, then Cap comes along, all truth and justice and wanting to punch Hitler in the jaw, and I’m signing up to join his suicide squad along with Dernier. Never regretted it for a second.”

This conversation was hitting uncomfortably close to home for her. “Even when it would have been safer for you to go back home and lead a quiet life?”

“One could have argued there wasn’t much of a quiet life back home, either, not for someone who looked like me. Maybe I knew that and didn’t want to have to face that. Maybe I wanted a bit of revenge for those that didn’t make it out, like I did. But, I figure, a lot of it was Steve.”

Captain America. Even the name caused a thrill, knowing that this man knew someone she so revered. “What was he like?”

“Steve Rogers?” That caused Gabe to laugh outright, a wheezing sound as he shook his silver head. “I’d love to tell you half the crap those movies put out there was bullshit, but a lot of it was true. First time he came waltzing into our prison, all by himself, not an ounce of self-preservation to him, saying he was ‘Captain America’ and that he’d punched Hitler 200 times. We all thought he was nuts. We didn’t realize it wasn’t that he was crazy, it was just that he was stubborn and convinced his will was bigger than yours. But, he grew up this scrawny Irish kid from the wrong side of Brooklyn, so I suppose he always had that chip on his shoulder.”

“As a scrawny, Irish kid myself, I understand that feeling intimately.”

Gabe only chuckled. “Yeah, but you are a hell of a lot prettier than Rogers was.”

“Oh, I’ve seen pictures. I don’t know about that.”

“Lord, you too! Barnes was always floored by it, these women throwing themselves at Cap and he wouldn’t know what to do. Of course, he only ever had eyes for Peggy, so I don’t think he even noticed.”

Shaking his head, he sighed fondly. “Steve could be obtuse like that, but in a good way, you know. He never saw differences the same way others did. Didn’t matter to him if you were white, brown or yellow, didn’t matter if you were even American, only that you wanted to do the right thing and were willing to take a stand when no one else would. Guess when you grow up like he and Barnes did, those things don’t matter as much, maybe.”

There was no hiding the deep sadness welling up in his fond words. “You must really miss them.”

“The Commandos? Yeah, everyday. There’s really only Peggy, Morita and me now. Jim’s harassing his grandkids and traveling the world. Peggy’s only now retiring from SHIELD. Thought they would have to carry her out on one, frankly, didn’t think she’d ever leave. And here I am, mostly retired, teaching a class now and again, stumping for my alma mater, going to museum openings.”

“Don’t suppose it’s as exciting as taking out HYDRA.” Despite herself, Scully couldn’t help but think of Coulson’s visit and his simple request, or the fact that deep down, underneath the pain of loss and fears for her son, she had really wanted to say yes.

“No, but it’s a good life for a man just turned 80. Besides, there’s others to fight those fights now. My grandson, Antoine, he’s joining up with SHIELD when he’s done with his degree. Says someone has to carry on the family legacy.”

Someone has to carry on.

The last conversation Scully had with Mulder before he disappeared had been outside of Skinner’s office, the fateful evening when Alex Krycek had shown back up in their lives. He’d begged her to stay, to leave the X-files, to go be a doctor and live her life and leave the mystery behind...to leave him behind. She tried, she really had. But Coulson’s visit loomed, along with the implied threat of what still lay out there. Spender, as far as anyone knew, was still alive and was still dangerous. It didn’t matter that she left the X-files and the FBI behind, that she had stopped asking questions, that she was attempting to lead a normal life, if he was still out there, he was still scheming. And knowing he had likely been with HYDRA the entire time made the danger even more overt. If he had used his own children in his heinous experiments, what was to say he wouldn’t come for his grandson?

“Do you know Phil Coulson? He’s an agent with SHIELD.”

Something sharp flickered in Gabe’s eyes, but he played off at being nonchalant. “I’ve heard the name, yeah. One of Fury’s agents, said to be really good. How do you know him?”

“He came to visit me last night.” She eyed Gabe pointedly, sensing he knew far more about that than he was willing to let on. “I found it interesting he rushed to see me on a Sunday evening, on my way back from Baltimore, right after your daughter made me a nice job offer to stay and teach here.”

“I’d only say it was interesting if I knew what a SHIELD agent was doing at your house.”

“Making me a counter-offer.”

“Well, then, that is interesting. SHIELD wants to recruit you.”

“Apparently, he heard from sources about me.”

“SHIELD could use a woman of your talents.”

“So could your alma mater.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Wanda would be upset if you left her. She’s been thrilled to have you. But like Antoine keeps telling me, someone has to carry on.”

As simple as that, she realized her decision was made.

“I have a feeling your daughter is going to be mad at me.”

Gabe only smiled knowingly. “Just like when I caught her in the backyard with a boy, I’m sure she’ll get over it. She’s used to me coming in and messing up her good time.”

[weepingauthor]

Romanticizing Romance

She had seemed fine that morning when he left, but now that he was looking at his phone with no new messages, he was running all of her recent behaviors through his head. Was she angry? Did something happen to her at school? Did her mom say something again? He hated that he couldn’t recall much. He had been so tired after work that he fell right to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

“Dude it’s just a text. Chill out. She’s probably fine.”

“Maybe, but I’ve always had at least one text from her by lunch everyday for the past seven months.”

“So she got a little busy today.”

That was possible, but she didn’t get busy. She had school and then her own schedule at home. As far as he knew she was still waiting for the editor to send the notes back about her manuscript, so she should be staring at her e-mail. But here he was with no text, and that usually meant something was wrong.

Okay. No biggie. He’ll give her a call.

She didn’t pick up.

For the rest of the day he had no messages and no answered calls. Something was wrong.

As soon as he could clock out of work he rushed home to her apartment. They weren’t moved in together but he stayed over enough they should have been. Unlocking the door, he found her hidden under her covers, dissociated stare watching an anime.

Shit. This wasn’t good, but he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him that she was still there. He slumped against the doorframe. “Babe?” He said.

“Hmm?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” He made his way over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. She balanced the phone in her hand, continued watching it, and never looked at him. “Babe?”

“Nothing.” It was short and curt, but he knew it wasn’t directed at him. There was something. Something that had her scared and curled away.

“Okay?”

“I’m just tired.” She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. Still not against him.

He understood. He had been warned.

She gets tired sometimes. Everything hurts. Her chest aches. Her mind runs millisecond laps. Her belief in the universe, God, hope, it’s all gone. She can’t breathe. And she can’t imagine you genuinely caring. She’ll push you away. She’ll face it till it passes some days later. But don’t let her pass them without you.

He laid down behind her and turned her over so she was laying in the crook of his arm. He held the phone above them. “What are we watching?”

“My Hero Academia.” And his heart broke. He heard the choke in her throat and saw her swallow the tears. 

“I like this one,” He said. And he kissed the top of her head.

[dothewrite]

Ringleaders - Chapter Three.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four.

[This is legit like, 5k in one sitting and I thought my brain was steaming out of my ears. ‘Is the lady suspicious, or is Kuroo just dense?’ - coming to you in theaters now.]

It’s a Saturday, but Kuroo finds himself waking up to his six o’clock alarm anyway. It takes him at least four bleary eyed tries to slap the snooze button on his phone, and he groans with excruciating pain that once again, he is required to function for another day. He shifts, his phone clatters onto floor, and he dozes back off to sleep for two minutes, dreaming about throwing himself off a high building.

Breakfast isn’t much better. It’s slow, he pours orange juice into a bowl and his toast into a cup, and the sound of children playing outside sets his teeth on edge. It’s a nice neighbourhood he lives in, but with nice neighbourhoods come families, which means children. He almost runs one over when he starts his car to make his way to his lab back on campus. The look of betrayal from the distraught child glances off him like oil on water and he pushes his foot hard against the gas pedal.

There is one saving grace, however, is that he’s famous at work. ‘Nobody talk to Kuroo Tetsurou before it hits ten’ is an unofficial rule, and Tetsu reigns supreme as the lord of zombies in the bright corridors of exhausted academia. They don’t fear him exactly, because he doesn’t snap or grumble if he’s disturbed from his walking sleep. It’s just universally known that unless you’re really deprived of conversation, you’re not going to be very entertained with a man who can barely form words. It’s even worse if you ask Kuroo to do something for you in a hurry in the mornings. The last time he was sent off on a mission to deliver a package, he got lost for about an hour and a half and was finally found sleeping underneath a bench outside. They took pictures, and he had to see them pasted everywhere for a week, but he was too busy feeling relieved that they didn’t turn him into a meme to mind.

“Morning,” he hears an amused voice call after him, and Kuroo waves his hand tiredly in reply. Or tries to, but his fingers only manage to twitch oddly by his sides and the person chuckles and walks off. Kuroo smiles dumbly, although what for he’s no clue, and unlocks the door to his office.

The chair is simply too far, he decides with one eye cracked open, so he makes do with the wall to his immediate left.

Sleep had eluded him for far longer than usual last night, and he had found himself taking at least five sleeping pills before coming to the realization that if he had any more, he might be put in a permanent coma for at least five days. Not that it’s a terrible idea, but he prefers to actually feel like he’s sleeping, when he’s sleeping. Without any other options, he’d settled for actually counting sheep. They were kind of cute- black, round things that baa-ed happily at him until they started doing little tap dances in his imaginary field, and his mind finally shut itself down a few hours before sunrise.

He sinks down onto the carpeted floor and lets his head fall into his arms. There’s a voice that nags at him that says he’s not supposed to sleep at work, but as his eyelids start to fall, the darkness seems too soothing for him to resist. This time he dreams of little sheep-people, wooly centaurs, maybe, running around in what is now a slightly purple field, making happy giggling noises that sound suspiciously like this morning’s children. A rustling sound suddenly permeates his dream, and he shuffles uncomfortably against the concrete wall. Not too awake, the sheep people incorporate the odd sound into their movements, their thundering hooves suddenly making sounds like paper on carpet. Then, there’s a pause outside, and the sheep people pause too- before he hears a decisive knock on the door that startles him out of his crumpled position. Kuroo topples over sideways with an ‘oof’. He swears he hears a soft sigh on the other side of the door, but forgets it quickly when a pristine envelope stares at him from the floor. He prefers the sheep people, to be honest, but he picks it up anyway and gets to his feet.

It’s a daunting task, but he’s a big boy, and he manages to wobble his way into his expensive leather chair (straight out of his own pocket too, he was sorely disappointed when his petition for upgraded office supplies was soundly rejected) which he collapses into.

Kuroo turns the envelope over several times in his fingers, noting how there’s nothing on it except for an exceptionally penned ‘Kuroo’ on the top right corner and sealed with a traditional lick. He tears it open with a noise of satisfaction when it rips jaggedly under his finger.

It smells like tea leaves when he sniffs the page, and is filled with a handwritten message that looked like it had come straight from ‘Calligraphy for Dummies’. He’s never received anything from anyone who had writing down like an art form before, but when he looks down and finds the signature, he’s surprised by how unsurprised he is. Trust a poetry major to write like the Queen of England.

Kuroo, it begins, and the lack of any formalities gives him a tired chuckle. Here he was, expecting purple prose. I hope it isn’t too odd for you to receive a written letter in this day and age, but I thought perhaps this would be the best way to get your attention. I’m sure you have far too many unopened emails in your inbox for any of them to catch your eye. Kuroo grumbles at that, because she’s right. After the previous evening, I suspect you might not want to meet with me face to face either, so this was my only option. I’m using my best handwriting, even, which I hope you appreciate because my fingers are cramping.

I… can’t presume to understand your position. Admittedly I only know the cursory information available to anyone who asks the right questions, but I have noticed that you are rarely intercepted by people on campus regarding your extra-curricular activities. I took the liberty of guessing that you keep your personal and professional life separate.

I envy your ability to do so.

Kuroo blinks at that. The sentence jumps out at him with sudden honesty, sudden intimacy, and he can see the way it pens darker than all the other sentences so far. She must have hesitated, or perhaps struggled with writing it. The smirk slides off his face, and he sits up straighter in his seat. He doesn’t know what he did to earn her confidence, but his discomfort was no excuse to disregard her sudden seriousness, even if there wasn’t anyone else to see him in his office.

Nevertheless, I must have been an unwelcome surprise last night. I, of course, had my own reasons for being there and will not apologize for them, but I should have given you less grief, possibly. I doubt I’ll remember I even thought this later in the day, so please don’t hold me to that; I have a tendency to be insufferable, quite like yourself. At this, he has to be impressed, because this is the first time he’s been insulted so very articulately, and it makes him squirm a little in his seat. Still, I assume that I am a little wrench thrown into your plans, whatever they may be. I would like to assure you that I have no intentions of breaking the barrier between your two lives- quite the opposite, actually. However, with regards to your ‘organization’, because it has overlapped with my own interests if you recall specific parts of our conversation last night, I will not be able to completely leave this opportunity before me untouched.

I’d like to propose a truce. A trade. An agreement, of sorts, that I hope will be beneficial to us both. I will not jeopardize your position in exchange for some information that I hope will clear up some of my own involvement with my… struggle, with authority. Authorities. We are different, but not enough so, it seems. I hope you will consider this proposal carefully, and as I assume you already know where I hold my office hours, I welcome any questions or enquiries that you may have.

I await your favourable response.

Yours truly.

The letter ends with a very dignified swirl that Kuroo assumes is her signature, and he’s faintly impressed. Either she’s put a lot of thought into crafting an autograph, or she has, most likely, given him her actual signature on paper in an act of good faith. He lets the thick letter paper fall from his hands and the first thing he does is pull up his own email.

The contrast is quite startling, he has to admit. He thought his emails were okay until this morning, but clearly, he writes like a drunk baboon in comparison. Thx, one of his emails end in, and Kuroo cringes so hard that his forehead meets his desk with a thunk. He considers replying in kind, with a damn posh letter, but it only takes one more glance at her cursive script for him to sigh and give up that idea entirely. Perhaps he’ll draw a picture instead.

He imagines a little chibi figure of him with a thumbs up going ‘okay!’, and cackles loudly to himself.

Kuroo catches her after lunch in their commons when he slinks in for his fourth cup of coffee. It’s excellent coffee too- all the grad students had pooled good money together to get one of those high-end coffee machines with George Clooney in their commercials, and ever since then it’s become a local treasure. The line for it isn’t as long as it would be on a weekday, but he spies her sipping on her own mug in contemplative silence, a large book spread out on her lap. He hesitates for a moment, but slips out from his position in the line and makes his way over to her. It’s a big sacrifice, and he hopes she knows that.

“I felt like I was being summoned to court,” he sits himself on the armrest right beside her. She on the other hand, barely shifts, and the only sound he hears is her small breath as he smiles and her hair shimmies forward when her head dips.

He waits patiently for her to close her book- anthology- and she places it on the coffee table in front of her and sweeps her hair to one side to look at him clearly. Kuroo inhales sharply at the very vibrant grey he’s greeted with- almost violet under the right lighting- and he finds that he can’t look away at all.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice soft and careful, “I can’t stop writing like my thesis. I can’t stop dreaming about my thesis.”

“Wow, your major sounds like a riot.”

“Yours sounds equally fascinating,” and he has to grin at that, “’cus then I’d dream about numbers and I might actually just die in my sleep.”

“Feel my pain,” Kuroo laughs, and although she doesn’t laugh with him, he doesn’t miss the way the corners of her eyes crinkle.

He feels thrown off balance by this completely harmless chat. Funny small talk and charming quips were his actual specialty, as is being a piece of shit, and nobody is ever surprised to hear his distinctive laughter echoing through corridors or past stairwells. It all comes out when he knows he’s allowed to, and his mirth dries up sufficiently to make way for solemnity during the nights. He’s never had to pretend to be casual in front of someone who knew his occupation, and what’s even stranger is that this doesn’t feel out of place at all.

She’s smiling right back like she means each word, both now and in her letter, and Kuroo feels like he’s being left out of some grand secret. Like he’s falling into a trap, but when she blinks, her lips twist into an awkward smile that gives away her usual loneliness. He can’t help but feel his gut twisting around his chest. He can’t help but feel like he’s not lying at all, and the very thought unnerves him.

“Your letter,” Kuroo suddenly pitches his voice lower, both in volume and in pitch, and his face darkens. She leans forward in response, and once again her hair falls back across her face to hide her eyes from view. She’s no longer smiling. “I’d like to discuss it more, but not here.”

She doesn’t respond, her tightening fingers the only indication of her understanding, so he continues. “I’m going to be frank with you right now- I don’t like the sound of anything, or you appearing out of nowhere. You’re getting into things too large for you alone, but if you really want to hear what you’re asking for, I’m not going to stop you. That is, until I know exactly everything there is to know about you.”

“You have a hacker,” she responds quickly, “your types usually do. You can type in my name and find out more about me than I can tell you.”

“There are things you don’t know even about yourself.” Kuroo stands up briskly and she glances at him for a split second. His eyes are chilly, brows harsh and unforgiving and he watches with a small ripple of satisfaction when she shivers involuntarily and turns her stare back to her hands. “I’m good at tugging those things out of people. Data can’t tell you if someone’s lying, but I can. I’ll know how serious you are about this ‘trade’ if I see you later. Four pm, at the closed train station on the yellow line heading north. I wouldn’t be late if I were you.”

There’s a muted silence to her movements as she reaches for her book without another word and opens it again. Kuroo frowns at the lack of response, but chooses to turn away to finish filling up his mug like he had intended. The chatter doesn’t stop around him at all, indicating that their conversation had gone completely unnoticed, but the feeling of discomfort doesn’t leave him. Kuroo feels like something had slipped through his fingers and he had no clue what it was.

Setting an alarm for three fifty, he settles back into his office chair and tries to forget about the way her fingers shook against well-worn pages.

Although he had told her not to be late, there’s nothing hurried about the way he walks towards the empty station. Still in his regular college clothes, he looks less like a man on a mission and more like a geocaching young guy, but that doesn’t stop his hands in his pockets and the purposeful crunch of gravel underneath his always metal lined shoes.

His approach is by no means quiet, but she barely responds to his presence before her, favouring her Starbucks cup in her hands instead. It’s four fifteen, the sky barely darkening at all, and she sits as if it’s winter on the aged bench. There’s something wrong about this picture, Kuroo feels, it’s a complete contrast from her carefree behavior the night before and where he had spent an entire day feeling like he was being thrown around like an orca does with its prey, she sits curled into herself, protecting her underbelly from the predator.

It was what he wanted to feel like, and Kuroo’s achieved it. She’s here on his request, and he holds all the cards in his hands now, all except for her promise of silence, and that’s quite a lot of cards to be going on.

Yet when she looks up, straight ahead at the train tracks instead of him, he has to take a seat beside her before his determination fails.

“You’re focused on your leadership role a lot, aren’t you?”

Kuroo is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to start the conversation yet again. “I never mentioned being a leader.”

“You walk like one. You talk like one. You most probably are one.”

“Excuse me for being obvious,” Kuroo replies, slightly affronted. The small tell-tale breath sounds again, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, not like it did earlier that day. He has no clue how he had noticed that, and so has no countermeasures against the light flush that touches his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she murmurs, “and you probably don’t view them as faults.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Kuroo answers stiffly. “But I think you’ll find a psychoanalysis of me won’t get you closer to what you want.”

“No,” and this time she laughs out loud, “what does is a psychoanalysis of me.”

“Yup.”

“Alright then.” She shifts, and Kuroo finds himself looking into those grey eyes again. “I’ve nothing to hide. Give it your best shot.”

There’s a pause between the two of them, and Kuroo sniggers. “That suspense made me feel like I should pull out my hi-tech scanner. This isn’t Star Trek. Let’s just talk.” She’s the one with the quiet blush now, and Kuroo catches it anyway despite her efforts to hide her embarrassment. “You don’t seem like the type to talk to many people.”

“I don’t get along with many people.”

“Why’s that?” Kuroo finds himself actually curious. He’s been there, that socially awkward stage, and he’s still surrounded by it constantly (making small talk with Ushijima and Kenma feels like dragging an indoor cat out for walk), but there’s no mistaking the iron in her voice. This wasn’t just social awkwardness.

“They piss me off easily. I get pissed off easily.”

“Oho,” he smirks, “so the silent and serene type does have a fuse.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I don’t mind annoying people, I just don’t like stupid people.” Her eyes sharpen in a way that Kuroo hasn’t seen before, not even during those dirty alley fights, and his fingers clench in his pockets. “People who don’t think from other people’s point of view frustrate me, so my ideology clashes with theirs quite often. I don’t have any political or organizational affiliations because of that, if that’s what you were angling for.”

“I can certainly see why you don’t like idiots,” he nods, somewhat empathetically, “you’re not too slow yourself.”

“You’re lucky I have brothers,” she eyes him amusedly, “your insults sting quite a bit.”

“Backhanded compliments, I’d like to think of them as,” Kuroo corrects. “I’m nice to my friends.”

Her eyes soften at that, and she looks away. There’s a taste of wistfulness that tugs at the corners of her lips, and Kuroo feels left out of some obvious secret yet again. “Are your brothers your only regular social contact?”

“Yes, I try to stay away from their friends. I’m not involved with whatever they get up to either, I just follow them on the evenings where they’re headed towards trouble. I don’t know who I end up fighting either, only that they’re after my younger brother in particular. He finds it fun and easy to scam drug dealers, you see, so I have to clean up his mess.”

“So he’s smart, but can’t finish his own battles, huh?”

“Precisely. They’ve nothing to do with why I want to know more. They’re just something I have to live with.”

Kuroo reckons it’s a bit more than that, but he keeps his silence. “Then tell me why you want to know more, and why you aren’t blackmailing me for something bigger.”

“I’m not blackmailing you,” she huffs, and she turns back to him with an exasperated look, “I know that’s what it sounded like in my letter, but how else were you to come to me? I’m going to keep your secret anyway.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you tell?” Her cup gives a low pop when her fingers dig into it mercilessly. “You’re so good at sniffing out lies and asking invasive questions, but you can’t tell what’s in someone’s eyes?”

“I can’t, not anymore,” and the honest admission astonishes him. Kuroo itches to clap a hand over his mouth, but the tension in his body is growing, and he feels like he’s being hung dry in a desert and he’s the only thing left, soaked and miserable underneath his own raincloud. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. “Can’t you tell?” He mocks.

She bites her lip between her teeth so hard that it leaves red marks. However, the sudden anger is draining, and there’s something too alike sorrow in her stare. It confuses him too much for him to feel irritated by it, and Kuroo finds himself at a loss for words.

“I’m always angry,” she finally says, and he feels it like a stab to his gut. “I’m always… searching for something, and I’m tired of not knowing what for. Maybe it’s just my indifference to everything, but the longer I sit still, the more I feel like I’m losing something.”

He knows. He knows so well that it feels like someone’s carving a ditch in his chest, and a memory of his merry band of misfits around a table floats up.

“I’m doing this for me, Kuroo,” she’s sitting completely straight and he doesn’t recognize this person at all. At the same time, he sees her every day, when he looks in the mirror, and when he goes to his headquarters at night. It’s been so long that he’s forgotten the name, forgotten what it looks like when it rises to the surface after it’s been buried into his bones for so long. “I don’t need anything bigger from you, because I don’t need anything. I want to know more because- because-,” he waits and waits for the words to stop choking her voice, “-because I can’t do anything by myself, but you seem like you know what path you’re on. I just want to be on my own path, that’s all. I’m curious about your organization because it’s the only one that the strays stick with, and I wish my brother joined your group instead of fucking around with drugs all the time.”

It’s a mess of statements, one after the other with no transition at all, and she slumps backwards onto the bench and hurls her cup onto the dilapidated train tracks. It skids to a stop, her incorrectly spelled name revealing itself underneath the dimming sunlight.

“Ahh…” she sighs, and he glances at her, “it’s been a while since I’ve felt so much about anything. I’m tired.”

“Yes,” Kuroo finds his tongue again, “I thought I fucked up and met up with the wrong person.”

“I’m normally quite calm, I promise,” she smiles, although it is quite tired, it’s genuine, and he can see the relief in her eyes.

“Your mysterious persona was done pretty well for someone with so much, uh, emotion.”

“It’s not a persona,” she grins, “and I can’t believe you thought I was mysterious.”

“You showed up in the sewage system in the middle of the night and said nothing. Seriously?”

She rises to her feet, still grinning, and he follows. Kuroo realizes that he’s a good head taller than her, and has to take a step away so that he can look down to see her face properly. “I just like being insufferable, like I said. Being annoying is what keeps me sane.”

“I suppose we have something in common,” he admits grudgingly, but he doesn’t feel as disgruntled as he sounds when he sees he relax. He’s said something right, although how that little comment had ended up being positive, he has no clue.

“So we’re good?” She asks.

“We’re good.” Kuroo nods. “There’ll be something sent to you tomorrow, if everything checks out.”

She looks a bit puzzled at that, but the smile doesn’t fade and she shrugs again. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

He nods again and lifts a hand goodbye. She mirrors his action, and he turns away before she does, heading back to his car the way he came.

“That was kind of you.”

Kuroo stops suddenly in the middle of the crowded pavement and someone bumps face first into his back. He waves a hand and apologies sheepishly at the disgruntled businessman who hurries along with a sour look on his face. Akaashi, on the other hand, says nothing and watches as his friend stumbles his way through basic social interaction.

“Were you spying on me again?” Kuroo sighs, and gestures for him to follow. Akaashi pushes himself off the wall with a kick and falls into step beside him. “Coffee?”

“The one two streets down has good seating,” Akaashi points out, and Kuroo hums, changing direction. “And yes, I was spying. It’s my job, Tetsu, the one you gave me.”

“The beast is free! Nobody is safe!” Kuroo cries dramatically with a hand over his heart. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Not men who slink off to abandoned train stations to meet up with girls.”

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is: you didn’t ask her very much.” Akaashi doesn’t sound accusing, only objective, and Kuroo feels grateful once again for so much tact built into one man. If it were Oikawa, or Nishinoya, he’d never hear the end of it. Or Tsukishima- it’d probably be inscribed onto his gravestone for all he knew. “You seemed moved. Do you trust her?”

“I think so,” Kuroo replies slowly, “oddly enough, she didn’t lie once.”

“A lot of people don’t lie about what they believe in. You’ve just been in this business too long.”

“I guess you could say so.”

Akaashi sighs again, this time fondly with a tinge of chastisement. Kuroo hangs his head at the sound. He doesn’t quite know what he did in a past life to deserve such a friend, but any time he tries to imagine life without Akaashi he feels a little part of his soul curl up and die.

“You’re really obtuse for an intelligent person; you should take a holiday and see if those brain cells grow back.”

“I don’t get paid for days off unless I’ve a doctor’s note,” Kuroo jokes, but Akaashi’s quiet, and Kuroo knows that his joke falls flat in the face of actual worry. “Maybe, ‘Kaashi,” he amends, “if I have some peace and quiet, maybe.”

“It’ll help,” comes the gentle reply, and Kuroo feels a warm hand brush against his. He takes it, and squeezes. “Maybe you’ll find some things you’ve lost over time.” Akaashi squeezes back. “Maybe you’ll realize why she didn’t seem quite the way you thought when you showed up.”

“You know absolutely everything, don’t you? You should have gone in my place with a mask of my face and would’ve done a better job being me than I did.”

“Obviously. But not everyone is as blind as you are, Tetsu,” and Kuroo laughs openly at that. “How anyone thinks that you’re intimidating is beyond me.”

“Dude, I’m just a cat pretending to know what I’m doing. All I really want in life is to sleep.”

“I see no inaccuracies in that statement.”

Kuroo smiles straight ahead, and something tells him that Akaashi is doing the same. Whatever strain he had been feeling earlier after his impromptu meeting seems to be melting right through his arm and out from the hand that still has Akaashi’s gripped softly in it.

“You missed your date, by the way.” Akaashi, Kuroo’s personal keeper, calendar and mother, adds.

Kuroo closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky like he’s praying. “I know. I just ignored the messages.”

“And the phone calls.”

“And the phone calls,” Kuroo agrees.

“Do you want to be known to women as something other than a dick? Because I’ve got some news for you,” asks Akaashi, and Kuroo grins.

“I don’t care what women think. Do you think I’m a dick?”

“Quite a small one.”

“Ouch,” and Akaashi laughs. They’re almost there, their hands still linked in solidarity and companionship, and they push through the busy crowd with double the shoulders.

“Bokuto’s asked after you too,” Akaashi says, this time a little quieter, afraid to be overheard, “and I know you never avoid his messages.”

“Bokuto, my man! Does he just want to talk? Or has he painted some anti-government propaganda again, because I swear to god I can’t bail him out of trouble every damn time. How does he even manage to get his galleries set up when he’s always running from the police?”

“That’s a lot of frustration,” Akaashi smirks, “and I can answer all those questions for you but I shan’t. Be a decent person and catch up with your friends once in a while, please.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

The barista welcomes them with a bright smile the moment they step in, and Kuroo finds it surprisingly easy to return the greeting with equal vigor. Akaashi was right- the seating is fantastic, and they pick out a small corner next to a window facing a tall skyscraper opposite. He’s tempted to close his eyes and sink into a very deep sleep in his very comfortable armchair.

“No more caffeine for you,” Akaashi gives him a mild stink eye, “but I’ll get you fruit juice.”

He spins away immediately when Kuroo blows him a sloppy kiss, but Kuroo catches a glimpse of the small smile anyway. He watches as Akaashi joins the line with his trademark, unimpressed expression, and wonders if he should text several apologies now that he has a moment to spare. Kuroo pulls out his phone wearily and stares at it for a few moments before dropping it onto his slumped chest.

Eh, he had time, and a small nap wouldn’t hurt anyone.