#they’re both feral gremlins

[zeawesomeness]

I was reading your au and saw this

I found the differences in my Tim and your Kendra so funny bc Tim thinks that "dang" and "heck" are curse words lmao I fear what would happen if they met now lol

THIS is how Kendra made Casey hate her.

Casey and Kendra immediately had a fist fight after this happened.

[plastikduxx]

oh yeah i made an splatoon oc i actually care about look at her LOOK AT HER

so basically she worked the grizzco reward counter and sometimes helped with egg collection shifts but kinda accidentally found out about the fuzzy shenanigans and was like “huh looks cool i wanna be fluffy :0 :3” so she sorta agreed to it and is chill

she likes being able to use her weaponry skills for something other than turf war (she now lives in Site 6 in one of the floors on the buildings).

[hanakihan]

ANYWAY I give up sketching at evening while on a bus so here we are

[phoenixkaptain]

I like Luke and Grogu’s teacher-student relationship because students can teach teachers as much as teachers teach them, and I think it would be very meaningful to Luke to see all the ways the Force can be used positively and helpfully, like with healing.

I think it would be nice for Luke to learn that he is not just a weapon of mass destruction and that he can help people without hurting others.

I think Luke and Grogu should help each other heal from their traumas and I think the teacher-student relationship is very cute and they should go further with the dynamic

[dclovesdanny]

Something I will never get enough of is Danny killing the Joker. However, something I want to see more of, is Danny killing the Joker for Ellie.

Like, Jason and Danny are neighbors and they’ve been friends for a little while. Jason knows Danny has the 20 something year old mechanic with a six-year-old daughter who is an absolute gremlin. He really likes them both, and he might have a little crush on his neighbor.

Then when they are out at the park or something, the Joker attacks. The joker decides to grab a hostage and who does he grab, but this six year old girl who only seems to have one person who knows her, a scrawny 20 something person. She has dark hair and blue eyes and only person who seems to care about her is her older brother/possible father? Perfect bait for Batman.

He wasn’t counting on Danny being able to fight god for his family. He didn’t realize that Danny will do anything to protect his family, that, in his literal core, he is sworn to protect his people, no matter the cost. the joker did not realize that Danny loves Ellie enough to not only die (again) for her, but to kill for her.

The Joker doesn’t die to Batman, or in some big battle. The Joker dies to a man no one knew because the Joker kidnapped his daughter. The joker dies, because he forgot that not everyone has the same hangups about killing that Batman does. The Joker dies because he pushed a parent too far.

Jason is there during all of this. I think he’s either there as red hood, watching through the cameras, or there is Jason. All three of these have many different pros for various forms of angst.

If Jason is there as red hood, he’s probably with some of the batfamily, and they are holding him back from killing the Joker. They’re trying to figure out how to make it so that the joker won’t kill this little girl, and Jason is going feral because that is his kid. That is the little gremlin who lives next-door, who knocks on his door and treats him like a jungle gym. That’s his kid. When he sees Danny jump at the Joker, he’s going to have a straight up panic attack and he’s gonna get the guns ready, but he doesn’t need to.

If he’s there as Jason, I think the joker would also take him hostage. Jason Wayne, the brat who would get him a lot of money. Especially if the Joker knows that this was the second Robin, because this just means he can get two killed in one swoop. And Jason is trying to protect Ellie with everything in him, cursing himself for not bringing a gun with him and praying that this time Bruce isn’t too late. And he can see the pain in Danny’s eyes and he is so scared to lose this family he has. He praised to a God he doesn’t believe in this time, history won’t repeat itself.

I feel like it would be most painful, if he’s watching through cameras. He’s probably injured or in the middle of doing something for his civilian life . Maybe he’s even out of town, but turned the camera on to look out for the joker, and had a heart attack when he saw the little girl next-door being held by the Joker. This man is trying so hard to get there, breaking every traffic law, praying that he won’t be too late that this won’t be the same as his death. His trauma is excruciating, because this feels like when he was waiting for Bruce and Bruce not getting there until it was too late.

No matter which of these scenarios, he needs to see Danny snap and kill the joker. Maybe, in the camera scenario, it’s just this he arrives that he sees it. Either way, he needs to see the moment, the Joker dies at the head of a single father, and the parallel of Bruce and him and Danny and Ellie need to be very apparent. Because this time the dad wasn’t afraid to kill.

This is the moment I feel, Jason would fully acknowledge that he would do anything for these people. That these two neighbors of his have become his family. The moment he sees the two of them holding each other, and the jokers body at their feet, I guarantee you this man is fighting tooth and nail not to go over his red hood exposed them. if he’s Jason, he can run into hug them no problem, but if he’s red hood, he’s not going to be able to do that.

This man will fight with Batman if he even that should get in trouble for killing the Joker. He will threaten to never ever speak to Bruce ever again, will be ready to bribe the police into letting Danny go, we will race every camera footage out there of the event, will do anything for this family.

Later that day, he won’t have nightmares of the Joker for the first time in a while. He will be able to look at his family and rest easy, knowing that there’s no way that Joker can take them from him.

[amomentsescape]

Heyyy darling,IM POLITELY BEGGING,for some stu and billy with feral ,hyper,punk gremlin s/o headcanons. Simply the boys trying to be as casual as possible so they dont get suspected for the previous murders but then they’re running around with their own little bundle of chaos. Im talking like a real troublemaker,just for the fun of it but always just watching all the drama happening,never being involved even though they caused it. For example: •causing misunderstandings in other friendgroups •cutting someone’s car wheels (or similar stuff) after they’ve been rude to someone in their friend group,maybe when gale didnt respect sidney‘s privacy in the first movie •S/O has a collection of anything shiny and glittery things they stole (from spoons to necklaces) just cause they like how it looks and they know it will cause some chaos. •Flirting with randy,tatum and stu to piss the boys off a bit •Oh or maybe billy getting them one of those vertical cloths or swings for their living room,I feel like that would fit cause billy would be a bit tired of his S/O letting their hyperness out on him. •When they come home from killing a bit later sometimes,they just find their s/o sleeping in the most uncomfy position (criss cross apple sauce type of shit) on their swing,drooling a bit,their body twitching every now and then

I dont know if any of this made sense my head is all over the place right now. <3

Billy and Stu (Separate) with Feral Gremlin Reader

Billy Loomis x Reader, Stu Macher x Reader

A/N: This was honestly so fun to write!

Billy Loomis

Boy, he didn't quite know what he was getting into when he first became interested in you

But he's in it for the long run, so here we go

Making Billy jealous is a common theme with you

Outright flirting, giggling, and dancing around with other people automatically makes Billy see red

But there's something about his possessiveness that you love so much that you keep doing it anyway

It almost always leads to a fight between Billy and the other party

And damn, isn't it fun to watch?

But that's not to say that you don't also feel your fair share of anger as well

Someone pisses you off even slightly? They're gonna regret it the next morning

Keyed cars, egged houses, graffitied threats

There is no limit to your creativity to get back at them

Billy simply huffs and puffs at you, berating you about being too "loud" with your actions

He's trying to keep things down-low by all means

And the last thing he wants is one of your actions getting him caught and put in jail

But there is something kinda attractive with how you stir up drama and give Billy some attitude

He doesn't like easy

He wants a challenge

And boy do you give him one

But on days where he simply cannot have you running amuck, he has you lay down in your own little hammock he bought you

For whatever reason, that always has you relaxed

It's like you become a whole different person with it

And Billy lets out a little "thank you" to the Gods each time he sees you just swinging away

He loves you, but damn, it's hard to keep up with you

Stu Macher

Stu on the other hand, is not phased at all by you

In fact, he matches your energy about 80% of the time

A friend pissed you off? You're both screaming and laughing while talking badly about them

Things are getting a little boring? You and Stu tell different people made up stuff that someone else is "saying" about them

You both love to stir up drama and watch how badly things can unfold

Stu is less concerned about getting caught than Billy anyways

What's even the point in killing if you can't have some fun outside of it?

So having you around is the perfect way for Stu to let out his hyper energy and keep things exciting when he isn't killing teens

But when he is out and about, he's thinking of you

You're probably at home eating all of his snacks in that moment, but he doesn't care

After his victims meet their fates, he is happy to dig around in their pockets and their homes, looking for anything even the slightest bit shiny to bring back to you

Nothing compares to the way your eyes light up at the gifts

Hell, you have a drawer in your room just filled with all things shiny and captivating

But Stu knows he'll have to wait until the morning to give you your gift

Because just about every night he comes home, he finds your head handing off the couch with your legs and arms splayed out, snoozing away

Remnants of chips and chocolate can still be found on your lips and fingertips

Stu secretly has made a photo album in his phone just for all the pictures he takes of you when you're sleeping

It's about time Stu had someone who met his chaotic energy

[lockewrites]

Durge!Reader being comforted by Halsin

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || SFW-ish (slightly violent) || 2390 words AO3

From anon on Tumblr: I feel like theres a real lack of Halsin/durge fics, specifically him helping her after denying to kill, and I think you’d be amazing for this!!

SPOILERS FOR DURGE IN ACT II - wrote the scene Larian denied us with Halsin as our LI :3

You lie on your bedroll, the stars hidden behind the cloth of your tent, the air within suddenly feeling as though it’s not enough to breathe. Sitting up, a wave of nausea roils through you, bile eating away at the back of your throat; each breath in creates a ripple in your gut. You crawl out of your tent, desperate for the open air; your movements are slow as you push to your feet, fearing your stomach will empty itself.

This sensation is certainly not a stranger; you’ve felt it a number of times since waking from the illithid pod. 

The campfire has long since died, and with it is the absence of your companions, each lost in a trance or dreams. You’re grateful for the solitude; they’re aware of your… general situation, or at least as much of it as you know yourself, but they needn’t see you in such a state. 

Your eyes flicker to Halsin’s tent; the druid had quickly drawn your interest upon joining the party. It began solely as a physical attraction; the sheer size certainly was enticing, and his Wild Shape, that very nature spoke to the feral instincts inside you. But his gentle temperament despite the power he holds, both physical and arcane, is an enigma to you, and him extending that soft touch to you, someone who certainly does not deserve it… the interest had quickly shifted to something deeper. 

And for reasons you still couldn’t fathom, it’d been reciprocated. 

Without realizing, you find yourself having approached his tent, your hand reaching to open it. 

“He believes you’ve relieved the weight of his worries, returning him to himself.”

You spin to find a despicable creature standing behind you; decaying skin stretched taut over sharp bones, beady red eyes looking past you at Halsin’s tent. Sceleritas Fel. 

“Such delusions, to think you a savior. As though you aren’t the heaviest burden to wrap around his neck, until he breathes his last, losing himself forever.”

Your mouth pulls into a sneer, and you take a step to block his view.

“You could do so much better, Milady,” the butler says, shaking his head. 

“Back off, you rotten gremlin,” you hiss, your fists clenching. “You won’t touch him.”

He holds his hands up, unphased by your words. “I won’t lay so much as a talon on the elf.” His pointed teeth show in his malicious smile. “I wouldn’t rob you of that delight.”

A sharp pain beats through your head as you stare the creature down; the evidence apparent in your expression. 

“Your clever mind is penning tragedy as we speak,” he remarks, pointing at you. “Your repressed Urge yearns to kill.” His voice drips with something akin to desire. “And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized.”

“But I love him.” Your words are quiet, yet they startle you, spilling from your lips of their accord. Are you surprised by the admission? So early in your journey? Or is it that you don’t know whether you’re truly capable of such a thing?

“We all kill what we love most, in time,” Sceleritas replies. “He is so beneath you; his very presence infects the air with a sickeningly sweet stench. His pure heart would be better served floating in a jar.”

With each utterance, bile crawls further and further up to your throat. 

“Halsin believes I’m stronger than this,” you mutter, more to yourself. “He won’t come to harm by my hand. I haven’t even yet told him how I feel.”

“Why not whisper it while you twist a knife?” He smirks. “Or have a love confession be the final words between you.” Sceleritas leans toward you. “It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master. There was much disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden.” 

Your glare sharpens, suspicion growing and nearly pulling a snarl from your chest.

“You could kill this one deliberately,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be considered a great show of goodwill. The tithe could still be yours.”

The pain stabs through your head again, forcing your eyes shut as you grimace. Your instinct gnaws at your mind, and your Urge claws and screams beneath your skin. 

Forcing your eyes open, you speak through clenched teeth. “Perhaps I sate the Urge by killing you.”

“Oh, my dear Lady.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It’s been many a time I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing your malice personally. But my death means little to your father and the Urge.”

The thought of his death at your hand would be satisfying, but you feel the honesty in his words; it would be far too shallow a victory to quiet the Urge.

“I won’t do it.” Your nails threaten to break the skin of your palms. “I will keep him safe. From you. And from me.” 

He tilts his head. “I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank.” His head dips, giving a bow just as his body glows an eerie red. “Good night, sweet Lady.” 

His body disappears in a moment, leaving you alone with your back to Halsin’s tent. With a deep breath, you will your jaw and fists to relax; the lingering pain offering a bit of comfort as you wrack your mind on what to do. 

You turn, reaching up to open the flap of Halsin’s tent, leaving a dark spot where your fingers touch. A metallic tinge spills into your nose, and you look down to see your hands streaked with blood, spilling from half-moon wounds in the middle of your palm. Without thinking, you run your tongue across your skin, the taste sending a shiver down your spine as your breath wavers. 

Your movements freeze, the Urge rising in your chest, desperate to taste blood spilled from a body you crave.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, as though simply speaking would placate it. “Not Halsin.”

You dare to step through, finding Halsin lying on his bedroll, still deep in his trance, unaware of the looming threat to his life. Kneeling beside him, your bloodied hands hover above his throat; it would be so easy to spill his life with a simple slice of your dagger. 

“Stop,” you plead to yourself, to your hands. 

They move to his shoulders and give him a shake. “Halsin,” you utter, hoping to not wake the others. He doesn’t react. “Halsin!”

He wakes with a start, sitting up and gripping your arms in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Your lips part, but you struggle to find the words. 

Halsin’s hands move to your wrists, turning them to view your still-bleeding hands.

“Speak to me,” he pleads, looking at you with fear and concern, visible even in the dark.

“You’re in danger,” you breathe, not entirely confident your words are loud enough for him to hear. 

His brow furrows. “From what?”

“Me.”

His mouth opens, and you half-expect a lighthearted remark, but perhaps your severe gaze makes him hesitate. Halsin’s grasp slides to rest on either side of your face, his warmth filling you and quelling the nausea still tainting your stomach. 

“Whatever is going on,” he begins, his thumbs brushing away tears that you hadn’t known spilled, “we will get through it, but I need to know what’s happening.”

You blink, his image going in and out of focus. “I… My… My mind isn’t my own,” you cry.

Each word given steals more and more of your energy, leaving your body on the cusp of failing; your vision grows tunneled and red as a headache splits through your skull, the pain unlike anything you’ve experienced before. 

You feel the last of your consciousness slipping, but you must get out what has your heart in a vice grip. You slip from Halsin’s touch, stumbling backward against the tent’s flaps.

“It wants to kill you, and I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose you.”

He leans toward you. “You won’t lose me,” Halsin promises. “Our time together has only begun.” He interrupts himself with a heavy sigh. “You’ve shared a touch of your troubles with me, but this is far beyond anything you’ve said. To hold such a burden alone will destroy you. You could have confided in me.”

“I’m…” Even with the absence of any of your strength, you somehow draw further back; your vision becomes nothing more than a blur, the world spinning beneath you, and your throat burns with bile. “I’m sor—” You collapse into the dirt. 

Whatever time that’s passed is lost to you, waking near the dead campfire with your hands bound behind your back and any semblance of control over your Urge gone. Your body thrashes, your wrists twisting and pulling against the rope, its flesh tearing into your own. 

“Calm yourself,” Halsin orders, his voice sounding authoritative, as if speaking to one of his druids. “My magic cannot penetrate what plagues you. You, your will, will conquer this.”

Your mouth tastes of iron; vile desires gather on your tongue, the Urge itself commanding your body. You try to focus on Halsin, your eyes pleading that he sees you’re trying, even if not successful.

“I know you are still in there.” 

His words are soft, sweet… they sicken the Urge. 

You lurch forward, your teeth seeking to clamp down on any piece of Halsin, wanting to tear the meat from his bones, devouring him raw. 

He doesn’t flinch, but his jaw sets. “I’ve handled the most feral of animals. Your fangs are no threat to me.”

The response sends the Urge over the edge, your limbs pulling with all of your strength, no regard given for any injuries caused by their own actions. The rope breaks through your raw skin, blood soaking the binds.

“Easy, my heart,” Halsin says. “Your strength is greater than this curse, and I will grant you my own alongside. You will not suffer this alone.”

You hold his promise in your chest, hoping it blooms bright enough to allow you to express your gratitude. You try to speak, but all that escapes is a harsh growl that tears through your throat.

“A growl means little from a trapped beast,” he remarks. “But you can escape this. I will see you free of this affliction.”

Tears that feel like acid fill your eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s frustration and anger from the Urge or fear and dread from you. Your body is beaten inside and out, exhaustion’s hands wrapped around your throat. Still, it fights against your bindings, even as your consciousness slips back into the dark. 

“Let your mind rest,” he says. “Your body will soon follow.”

Again, you don’t know how long you’re out, but at some point, you come to. You feel sticky, your clothes clinging to your sweat-slicked skin; your head still pounds, and your stomach still turns, but your mind is once again your own. As your vision clears, you let out a sigh of relief; Halsin remains in front of you, mercifully unharmed.

His gaze holds yours, searching for you. And he finds you. 

Rising to his feet, he steps behind you and cuts your binds; your freed arms settle in your lap, the muscles screaming, and your wrists and hands caked in dried blood. Tentative, you flex your fingers, the maroon stain cracking and falling from your skin.

Halsin returns in front of you and sits back down. His expression is relieved, but as the seconds pass, it shifts to something far more serious. 

“I am overjoyed to have you back,” he begins, “but we need to discuss what happened.”

Your head drops, shame filling you. With a deep breath, you let everything out: divulging the severity of your Dark Urge, how often it haunts your thoughts and dreams, the little creature that calls himself your butler, your mysterious father you’re supposed to please.

Those hazel eyes are hard, his brows pinched; Halsin is deep in his thoughts, sifting through the heavy truth you’ve just shared. And all you can do is sit and wait, anxiety boiling within as you await his response. Will he claim you too dangerous to live? An unnatural being, something that disrupts the world’s balance? Perhaps simply cast you out, banish you from the camp as he’s unable to bring himself to end you? 

Your hands are suddenly gifted his warmth, his own gently caressing yours. He dips a rag in a bowl of water beside him and begins cleaning your wounds, his touch impossibly gentle.

“In all my years, I’ve not come across anything quite like this,” he finally speaks. “But I stand by my words. You will not lose me. And I will not let you lose yourself to this Urge.”

He puts the rag aside and casts a healing spell; the golden glow fills the space between you, and the torn skin pulls back together. Your wrists still ache, still feel some remnant of the deep injuries, but it’s barely more than a pinprick to you. 

His hands remain on yours, but you feel disgusted and have to fight the temptation to pull away. You should be left to rot, ended now to protect everyone around, to protect him.

“I’m a monster,” you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve taken countless lives. I don’t even know the depth of my crimes. I’m an abomination now, and I know… I just know I was fully embracing this Dark Urge before I lost my memories.” Your throat feels as though it’s being stabbed. “You should end me.”

Your head is guided up, his thumb under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“The Urge is a monster,” he argues. “You, the person you are now, is utterly incredible. And having learned just how hard a battle you face with this evil, I am in awe.”

The tears fall from your cheeks, and while you still don’t believe you deserve a single utterance he’s given, you’re grateful beyond what words could express.

Halsin wipes them away, and his hands remain along your jaw. 

“We will free you from this abomination,” he swears, “and your mind, your heart, your soul, will be entirely yours. And you will see just how extraordinary you are.”

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

Im briefly emerging from my trigun obsession to tell you that seeing nerd x jock AUs for bakudeku is deeply funny to me because, first of all, they are both nerds and jocks. Its like the AP kids who also do varsity sports. They’re batshit feral gremlin children with inferiority complexes. Secondly, how do you pick which one is the jock and which one is the nerd for the AU?? Because I see jock!Bakugou and nerd!Midoriya way more often and I think we’re collectively missing out on the comedic potential of it being the other way around. I can think of several instances of Bakugou canonically running study groups and shit, but also Midoriya has canonically worked out more than even All Might wants him to and can move at least 650lbs even before starting at UA. He pulled All Might (560lbs) on top of a fridge (100-400lbs) on a beACH. And finally, I’m sorry if the height difference throws off your usual jock x nerd flirting dynamics but just make Midoriya a gremlin to counteract it, it’ll be funny.

[foldingfittedsheets]

*peeks over the top of your phone/monitor* Hey, what are some of your favorite things about @aorryn47? I hope you have a fantastic [time of day]!

When we first started dating we were both seeing other people too. I was late once meeting with one of the other girls and she pouted and sulked and generally made me feel terrible for the slip up. But one night I made plans with my betrothed and then a customer kept me forty minutes late. I called them to apologize profusely and they were just totally calm and understanding.

While I tend to be prone to anxiety and frantic energy they tend to be calm and grounded. We’ve joked about being like a cheetah and their service dog.

Another thing I love about them is their silly gremlin energy. They’ll be doing something normal then suddenly hunker down and be a feral little creechur and it always delights me.

We were both previously in relationships where we were wildly, dangerously, intoxicatingly in love with the other person. It ended disastrously for both of us. But being together with each other feels soft and stable, warm and comfortable.

We worked to build a stable place together and it’s infinitely precious. We communicate better than any other relationship I’ve been in and on the 30th I get to sign a piece of paper saying they’re who I choose to be with as my partner.

[xxnomadsxx]

Nomads AU! Branch’s second in command..look I haven’t finished a drawing for them yet ….BUT it’s coming

Originally I wasn’t gonna have them in the story. They were just used to be a reason for why Branch was in the feral troll village, but then I got the idea for a brother rivalry between them and Brozone and I was like “OH! I have to do that!!!!!” (I am so sorry I really wanted to make an Oc please don’t unfollow 😭)

Branch’s Second in command is basically a replacement brother? (no one sure what gender they are? So Branch just calls him his brother?with a question mark) Honestly, the relationship is like SUPER toxic, like I’m talking about his second command has accidentally tried to eat him on a couple of occasions and has gotten him hurt multiple times on accident. (They’re also a huge reason on why is kind of more paranoid and aggressive troll that he is today) also they occasionally just bite Branch, maybe on the arm, leg, or just nibbling on his hair (I promise they won’t eat Branch they just like biting stuff) the biting freaks Branch out a lot (poor guys trauma won’t ever leave 😔)

What they look like is basically a description I gave of the feral (trolls?) a while back claws, tail, sharp teeth, messy looking, slitted eyes, and pointy ears the second in command/brother? wears half a cloak that only really covers one of their sides while also having the most stitched together outfit known to anyone in the village, arms and legs basically covered in bandages and scars surprisingly their face is scar free, their hair is similar to Bruce’s with how it cascades down his back, The only difference is it’s way messier and pitch black sometimes say to Branch how it makes them look more like family (which is cute in my opinion) They have shark teeth and sort of just has this look on there face of “I will bite you if you get close to me and if you’re not close to me, I will still bite you.” Their hair has some branches and leaves in it, but still pretty clean. Sometimes they lay on the ground and just pretend to be a carpet (I mean with how much hair they have it just completely covers their body) people have walked over them on accident before.

The second in command/brother? Doesn’t really have a name. Everyone just calls them Thing and that just became its name. Thing is maybe just really bad for Branch’s mental state, but they genuinely do really care for him. I mean the whole reason Branch is here is because Thing got one look at them and said “new little brother” and sorta just kinda adopted him.

Thing is is like the most insane feral (troll ?)(whenever they do something their motives behind it is either baby brother or feed there is an in between ground of just both) Thing is the head of the militia, and surprisingly is the most trusted with the village, due to their survival instinct/ tactics, and overall mindset of protection they’re kind of dumb though (so branch doesn’t really leave him in charge a lot for long periods of time but still trusts them over anyone else)

Random facts Thing owns a mug that says best big brother? on it, and it is like his most prize possession(and only possession) They once tried to eat a troll egg. Their excuse was omelette.(the egg was fine don’t worry) they are basically the most feral feral troll, (which is honestly really hard to do so claps for him I guess) He has tried to eat Creek on multiple occasions, the only reason he stopped is because they now have some weird deal going on (Creek just feed him bits of his hair.) They constantly run on all fours like a gremlin usually having their claws out just to climb trees and over buildings around the village. The trolls and feral(trolls?) just sort of got used to them and they’re weird freaky antics (they’re surprisingly really well respected and a lot of people quite like them… they just get super scared of them) As a kid they basically saw Branch as a pet until after like a week they were like “OK this is my baby brother now.” Similar to how trolls put their babies in their hair they sometimes just put Branch in their hair (Which Branch has gotten used to he just doesn’t mind it as much anymore but still hates it.) Nonetheless, no one is quite sure how old they are or where they came from in the village they just sort of been running around for years and then one day just showed up with a troll.

Thing can speak! Most of the time they prefer to just make weird animal noises or hiss and growl. They really only speak to Branch and anyone who has a genuine concern or anything (I mean he still has to be a good second in command) and even when they do speak it’s always in this raspy sounds like it hasn’t been used in like weeks voice. Has the most broken English ever they also speak in 3rd person quite a bit. (They can’t read and just ask a bajillion questions to anyone about anything or just run their own “tests” on stuff to see how it works)

I’m going to give it to you straight, the only reason Thing exists is so I can have a brother rivalry between them and Brozone I mean Branch’s biological brothers who he loved very much as a kid vs the creature who cared and raised him for 20 years after they left (The scenarios would be amazing!!! 🤩)

Branch and Thing have a very good relationship, Branch really loves them since Thing hasn’t abandoned him like everyone else and raised him with love (never mind how toxic of a home it was and still is)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I'm SO sorry if you've already moved on from the polyAU but I have some thoughts about the pre-poly situation and the sexual tension between those three is making me feral.

imagining a scenario where König is away (but still watching through cameras cuz duh) and bestie is staying over with Engel (southern redhead gremlin Kitty my actual beloved, anon thank you for that one) would König feel bad about indirectly peeping on another girl while with Engel? I don't think he'd actively follow Kittys movements like he would his angel but if they were comfortable enough to say, sleep in the same bed I can see him, ahem, indulging himself in some fantasies here and there. and watching them get really animated in conversations as they're getting ready or baking together as Engel asks Kitty to try a bit of frosting from her fingers just fuels a homey lil fantasy he has with them, which he immediately feels guilty about. the absolute worst was when Kitty teased Engel about her breasts getting bigger since shes on her period, only for Engel to retort by poking her boobs which naturally let to a bit of play wrestling, meanwhile König is about to rip his shirt off out of pure frustration at how blessed and cursed he feels.

Nooo I haven’t!! You can send all the poly thoughts! (I’m just busy with life and Roman!König stole my soul for a moment but poly au is not going anywhere I swear ❤️)

Sooo would König feel bad? Naah, I don’t think yan König feels bad about much anything, sorry! His angel is forever and always his priority, of course, but if they’re cooking together and tasting the frosting or the sauce from each others fingers or heaven forbid sleeping in the same bed then König is watching them both like a hawk, sure! Having some “homely” fantasies too, yup 👀

But the play wrestling omg…. I bet a thousand bucks that gremlin Kitty has Engel wrestled on the floor, playfully, of course, but still nothing short of dominant as she straddles her hips and holds her hands down… While Engel puts on her most lovable little pouty face of “I’ll behave I swear, you bested me, please let me go!” *pout pout pout*

Raaahh König would be ripping his shirt for sure! That’s exactly what he would do too, restrain his cute little Engel who always tries to test her might against those who are stronger than her >:( He’d put some bridles on that Kitty, too, if it came to that… Both of these little hellions are looking so incredibly adorable like that, baking a cake and play wrestling and poking each others tits. König can’t wait to get home and see if this sort of play fighting goes on while he’s present as well…

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I like your writing, can I request Thor, Poseidon, Buddha, Hercules, Jack, Loki, Rudra, Ares, Lu Bu, Shiva, Hermes, and anyone else of your choice with a Female Human Reader, but she tries to asserts her ‘dominance’ by Kabedon them? Reader is like, 4’11-5’0, in other words SHORT (She’s every sweet and kind but because absolutely Feral if someone insults her height, ever she significant other isn’t safe from her ‘wrath’) And despite her size, she’s surprisingly strong (Can carry her significant other bridal style or over her shoulder, no sweat) so it’s a double whammy when she’s pissed and is set loose on the culprit

To others that call her Short Names: Becomes absolutely Feral, will bite, punch, kick and cuss them out using the most violent and dirtiest of profanities

To her Significant Other: Kabedon’s them in anger (All of them), silent treatment, pouty (Jack), eats all their snacks in anger (Buddha), punches them in the face (Lu Bu, Thor, Ares) kicks them in the balls (Loki) and/or death glare (All)

I feel the rage deep within me when I get called out for my height, I’m the shortcake of my family and it’s not fair!!! Especially when my brother is over a foot taller than me!!!

-You were a sweet maiden, petite in stature but the love and warmth you projected to others was almost intimidating.

-You were kind to everyone you met, always giving everyone a chance, even if they’re rude to you first.

-However, like most everyone else, you had that one button, if pushed, you would turn into a different person, almost like a demon, feral and violent.

-You knew you were petite, but you didn’t need others rubbing it in, especially those who were much taller than you.

-Calling you short or telling you short jokes was a quick way to piss you off.

If he does say something ‘short’ related, it’s completely by accident as he doesn’t want to piss you off, as he’s seen you pissed off and doesn’t want that rage directed at him. However, if someone else pisses you off, he’ll grab popcorn and watch you kick some ass.

            -Ares, Hermes, Thor, Poseidon, Beelzebub, Lu Bu

Doesn’t do it often, on purpose anyway, if it was an accident you wouldn’t get as pissed off, but when you know he said something on purpose, he would immediately get a chill up his spine as you give him a death glare and hold his hands up, immediately apologizing.

            -Ares, Hermes, Poseidon, Hercules, Hades, Nikola, Jack

Teases you often, as he thinks you’re adorable when mad, but usually will only do one or two jokes, stopping when you would leg-sweep him and stand over him, holding him up by his shirt as you threatened to kick his ass or when you kabedon him to the wall, glaring up at him. He knows you can and will beat his ass with no hesitation, as you’ve done it before.

            -Ares, Buddha, Rudra, Shiva, Qin Shi Huang, Nikola, Jack

A gremlin, constantly teases you and tells short jokes all the time, just to get a rise out of you, thinking that it’s funny, at least until you start ignoring him, pouting, not giving him any affection or attention, and in Buddha’s case, eating all of his snacks. Then he’s pretty quick to apologize.

            -Loki, Buddha, Raiden, Shiva

Has been warned many times and has had his ass beaten many times by your petite, but unusually strong, self. Has not and will not learn. You will be lifted into the air to recreate the Lion King at any given moment. He will put stuff up on the top shelf where you can’t reach. He will get you a step ladder or a chair so you can talk to him eye-to-eye or kneel down on both knees. There is no escape. You are stuck with short jokes for life.

            -LOKI, Raiden

[xoxoladyaz]

The most unsurprising thing about Steve Harrington is that he loves being physically affectionate with the people that he, ya know, loves.

He’s always throwing an arm around Nancy, smacking kisses on top of Robin’s head (and dodging out of the way of her flailing limbs while she screeches about cooties), ruffling his hands in Dustin’s hair, pulling El into long hugs when she starts to get overwhelmed, and so on and so forth.

He’s the most physically affectionate with Eddie - tucking his hand into the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans, pressing kisses to his forehead/cheek/hands/lips, slinging an arm around his shoulder, guiding him through crowds with his hand at the small of Eddie’s back, hugging Eddie from behind and just standing and talking with whomever Eddie is talking with for hours on end. And Eddie? Eddie eats it up.

But what Eddie is quick to learn is that while sober Steve is very affectionate, drunk Steve is even more so. Sloppy kisses on everyone’s cheeks, tackling hugs that just turn on to full on cuddling, and Eddie - being Steve’s boyfriend - is lucky enough to get the brunt of it.

But the thing is - the thing is - Eddie isn’t quite like Steve. He’s more like a gremlin, or a small and slightly feral puppy. He likes to bite Steve, and he does it all the time - out in public and in the privacy of Steve’s bed. And Steve is a kinky fucker who likes being possessed as much as Eddie likes possessing him, and seeing all the marks that Eddie leaves on Steve’s body is something they’re both super into, but, you see, Drunk Steve isn’t quite like sober Steve. He’s sensitive.

So one night when the whole gang is over, Corroded Coffin included, Steve goes to boop Eddie’s nose and Eddie bites down and actually bites his finger and actually draws blood.

Steve spends the rest of the night sitting on Robin’s lap, teary-eyed like Eddie just killed his dog, and Eddie spends the night trying - and failing - to convince Robin to “let me take Stevie, for fuck’s sake.”

(Robin sleeps in bed with Steve that night. Eddie sleeps on the couch.)

In the light of a sober morning, Steve laughs it off and says all is forgiven, and Eddie knows he means it.

But Drunk Steve? Drunk Steve doesn’t forget. Drunk Steve goes out of his way to boop everyone on the nose aside from Eddie. And when Eddie tries to talk to Drunk Steve, to say it’s okay, Eddie won’t bite him again, Drunk Steve just tears up and then Robin comes to his rescue and Eddie, once again, sleeps on the couch.

And so, unless he wants Buckley to kick him out of his own goddamn bed yet again, Eddie just has to deal with the fact that Drunk Steve likes to boop everyone aside from him on the nose. (Especially Jeff. Drunk Steve really likes Jeff, and Eddie feels Very Normal about it, thank you very much.)

It finally gets resolved six months later, when Drunk Steve accidentally boops Jeff on the nose more than Drunk Robin, and then Eddie is left to shuffle a teary-eyed Drunk Steve into bed instead of Buckley. And hey, as long as they’re there, he might as well show Drunk Steve that biting isn’t all bad.

Eddie wakes us the next morning with several bite marks all over his neck. Steve looks far too smug, but Eddie can’t be too mad because Steve gives him a kiss and boops him on the nose.

(Robin doesn’t talk to Steve for two days. It takes four different phone calls, a bouquet of flowers and an extremely expensive sushi dinner before she forgives him.

Robin pretends Jeff doesn’t exist for about a month. Jeff thinks Eddie is way too happy about that.)

[artsy-hobbitses]

This fucker took a while because I REALLY wanted to do him justice in regards to how he was originally meant to be much more of a competent foil for Sonic and listen, it doesn’t get more traditionally badass than fancy longcoats ✨👌🏼 Also the aesthetic here is much more French Freedom Fighter than a captain of the guard which I feel suits him better! 

Aurelien ‘Antoine’ Montague D’Coolette, the son of a celebrated war general and formerly betrothed to Princess Solaris Concordia Acanthus ‘Sally Acorn’ as a child, is the team’s self-proclaimed Master Of The Blade (And I say ‘blade, not ‘sword’ because he’s packing half a dozen knives on him at any point of time like a coyote Machete. The fun part is guessing which ones are for kitchenwork and which are for shanking) though a lot of his bravado ties back to a childhood lived in the shadow of his father who pushed him to become a royal cadet and be ‘brave’ when he showed ‘softer’ tendencies ie. cooking and the arts.  So when he’s got front seats to Robotnik’s bloody coup and his traitor father attempts to use him to betray the Princess, he makes the split second decision to be brave for Sally instead of his father, who now terrifies him (and is who gave him his lip scar)

As much as he adores Sally who he essentially grows up with, he comes to realise that she has no romantic interest in him, and in making it clear that their friendship has always been the greatest gift she could give him, encourages her to put duty aside and follow her heart in this regard. (They’re still very BFFs—he cooks for her, she helps him with his hair, they both trade chaste forehead/cheek/paw kisses on the regular)

He and Sonic have a bit of an argumentative bash-brothers relationship, and he likes to think that he has more sense than this feral gremlin of a hedgehog but really, when they’re busting heads together they both have ONE brain cell, and Sally’s holding it. 

Having helped care for a disabled war veteran uncle (who was more of a father to him than his own father was) as a child, he’s the first on the team who actually has an inkling of an idea on how to help Bunna-Marie ‘Bunnie’ Rabbot through her trauma and acclimatise to her cyborg limbs (he ends up building a little physio-rehab set for her and it’s in the banter of these sessions that they come to understand each other better beyond ‘uncouth lapine’ and ‘pretentious pup’)

[suzteel]

monsterfucker au of your choice 😌

You just want me to talk about Pete with two cocks, don’t you? Istg a person makes one typo…smh

Hmmm…let me think.

(You know it’s kinda funny because given their positions in canon one would think Pete would be the default monsterfucker in fanon and yet it seems Pete is usually the “other” in some way in AUs.)

Let’s go for alien!Pete because I love a good sci-fi or space mafia au.

Anyway let’s go with alien!Pete ok. And he’s from an alien race known for being incredibly feral in battle. Alien berserkers if you will. Fierce and deadly and have like no sense of self-preservation. Very good canon fodder, you know, but also someone you do not want to deal with in a fight because they won’t stop until you or them, or both, are dead.

Anyway, typically these are combat aliens, these aren’t guys you want as bodyguards, because sure, they’re willing to die for you, but in a battle rage they are very hard to control. Once you’ve pointed them at a target, good luck calming them down until that target has been eliminated. So it’s something of a power move and an intimidation tactic that Korn has one of these guys not only as a bodyguard, but lets him guard his oldest and most vulnerable son. Korn either somehow exerts an iron-will control, or is fucking crazy (and he lets you think whatever he needs you to think).

The truth is that Pete is a castaway, sold to Korn as a child because he was “weak” meaning he doesn’t have the battle rage. He’s a skilled and fierce fighter, and lacks a sense of self-preservation, but he doesn’t lose control the way his species is known to.

Does the backstory count as one fun fact of what happens? Sigh. Anyway, things go very similar to canon but

-Porsche is initially terrified of Pete. Like oh shit they want me to die rooming with this guy. But then he observes how Tankhun is around him and he can’t help it. He’s fascinated at how chill Pete is. And his gremlin heart can’t help it, he likes to tease Pete a because wow look at how chill he is! Porsche can’t believe he’s not getting his head torn off! And then he very quickly forgets he was ever scared of him and also forgets that other people are scared of Pete.

-Similarly Vegas is also kind of fascinated but initially it’s very much “oh what a curious little toy Khun has” kind of way. He’s aware Pete doesn’t get rages, and has this kind of patronizing view of Pete as like a lap dog when he should be a wolf. Oh look at it. How cute?

-When Pete foils his plans though, Vegas experiments. He keeps trying to get Pete angry, really angry, trying to trigger a rage. He grows more and more fascinated that despite Pete’s capability to be angry, he always retains a part of himself that stays in control. (Until of course he cedes control to Vegas but that’s another thing entirely.)

-Anyway, Vegas is actually successful in provoking a rage, he just…had to die first. And in this version it’s not just one bodyguard he fells.

-ALSO YES PETE HAS TWO COCKS. All this backstory for two penises! You happy now? And everybody knows it too because this Pete is as balls out as in canon.

Whew.

[andypantsx3]

incendiary | 3 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 4.9k of ~23k / 3rd of 8 chapters

summary: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, light hurt/comfort

warnings: themes of discrimination (please see note in fic masterpost), canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters

notes: A HUGE thank you to my sensitivity readers @cat-slippered​ and @darkenedniqhts​. They’re both incredible writers and lovely human beings, please check their fics out!! Please see my notes in the fic masterpost for more!

In the morning, you woke to the slam of pots in the kitchen.

You shot up, instantly getting tangled up in your covers. You struggled against their tight coiling, letting out a strangled hrgh noise before overbalancing and slipping over the side of the couch, landing hard on your shoulder.

An ugly chuckle issued from the kitchen. You poked your head up to catch a scarlet eye turned in your direction, the maliciously pleased curl of a full mouth. You stared for a moment, disoriented, wondering who the hot blonde was, why he was so familiar, and what he was doing in your house.

Then he turned towards you more fully, his eyes flickering judgmentally over you, and it all caught back up with you.

Ugh. Fucking Bakugou.

Part of you had hoped when you woke, this all would have proved a very detailed and specific nightmare. But the nightmare was still there, glaring at you while he neatly chopped vegetables and set a pot to boiling on the stove, still wearing that stupid black tank that showed off the meticulously honed, deadly perfection of his biceps.

Double ugh.

You groaned and sank back to the ground, biting down some choice swear words. Bakugou ignored you, the only sounds from the kitchen the quick thump of his knife against a cutting board, the snap and hiss of the grill drawer being turned on.

You slowly extricated yourself from your tangled heap of blankets, beating a bleary but hasty retreat to the bathroom to escape his presence, grabbing a change of clothes and your toiletries on the way.

In the bathroom, Bakgou had apparently already set out his own—a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, a razor, and a small travel size container of shaving cream were laid away behind the mirror. On the shelves, a small zippered pouch in a deep gray lay next to a stack of fluffy towels.

You couldn’t help but peek inside, intrigued by the idea of Bakugou Katsuki having personal effects like an actual human being. Inside, a comb, some kind of expensive smelling hair gel, and spares of the items behind the mirror peered back at you. It all seemed weirdly domestic, weirdly intimate, and you quickly backed away, turning on the shower instead. You flung off your clothes, scattering them all over the bathroom in your haste to get into the shower and away from Bakugou’s things.

Of course Bakugou was a living, breathing human (demon), which you had quickly realized yesterday. But it still threw you for a loop to realize he was more than the person you saw on TV, or even the spitting, snarling gremlin who’d stood in the detective’s office and vehemently refused to protect you. He existed outside those spaces—he brushed his teeth and shaved his face and did his hair like every other human man on earth. He apparently also chopped vegetables very expertly and had enough presence of mind to start grilling things early in the morning. There were moments, domestic and intimate, that he had, just like everyone else.

You jumped into the shower, disliking the thought of him as anything other than a feral garbage rat. A quirkist, feral garbage rat, at that.

When you emerged, Bakugou had laid out his breakfast at the coffee table, sitting cross legged on the floor. It looked like a full, traditional spread—with grilled fish, miso, rice, marinated vegetables, and neatly sliced tamago—and it smelled divine. Your stomach rumbled. Bakugou’s lips turned up in a smirk but he didn’t say anything as you passed.

You poked into the kitchen hopefully, only to find all the dishes scrubbed and drying in the dish rack. It had been too much to hope you could have snuck leftovers out of the pan while he wasn’t looking. He had probably planned for this, the bastard.

You dug around in the fridge and the cabinet instead, taking quick stock of things. There were a lot of fresh vegetables in the crisper drawer, a bowl of assorted fruit on the counter, and a large variety of spices lurking in the cabinets. In the back of a cabinet, you unearthed a box of nearly-expired granola bars. You ferreted a canned coffee from the door of the fridge and an apple from the fruit bowl, and disappeared back into your room, unwilling to lay out your inferior spread in front of Bakugou.

Back on your bed, you arranged your spoils on top of the covers and dug around in your backpack for your phone. It was near-dead, choked with thousands of texts, and the notification badges were piling up on all your social media apps. You spent a couple minutes mindlessly scrolling through everything, deleting whatever wasn’t from a contact you already knew.

The majority of your real texts were from Megumi—some from yesterday when you had been at the police station, but several more had piled up overnight.

MEGUMI ✨🍹🌴💕 is bakugou there with u still 11:58 PM what does he sleep in 11:58 PM have u seen him in his underwear yet 12:07 AM if u send me pics i will sell them to the girls on our floor 12:09 AM i’ll only charge u a 20% cut 12:18 AM

You laughed, cracking open your coffee. At least one thing was still normal.

I’m in, you texted back, smiling. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got the goods.

You also had a smattering of emails from your professors with links to where your lectures would stream in the upcoming week, and a reminder from your least favorite of the bunch that your Ethics paper would still be due on Tuesday regardless of your circumstances. He seemed to imply in not so many words that if you had enough time to get messy and go viral on YouTube, you also had ample time to get your paper written.

His message startled you into a stream of swears, and you finished your breakfast quickly. You dug out your textbook and laptop, clicking into the half-finished document.

The morning passed in a blur of frantic typing, hasty annotations, and some lurking about on Wikipedia articles that explained the concepts much more clearly than either your textbook or your professor had. It was well past lunch by the time you finished up, proofing it one final time and sending it off to your professor one whole day early, thank you very much.

The shower was running when you emerged from your room, and a small mountain of exercise equipment had been unearthed from somewhere, now laying stacked up against the far wall of the living room. A set of bright orange resistance bands were draped over two disturbingly large weights, and a yoga mat was neatly rolled up behind them. A sweet, tangy scent like burnt caramel hung vaguely in the air.

You wondered at the thought of someone like Bakugou doing something that was supposed to be as chill as yoga. Although, you supposed he needed to maintain some degree of flexibility if he ever hoped to reach back and remove the enormous fucking stick from his ass.

You went into the kitchen, digging around in the cabinets for the jar of peanut butter you’d seen earlier, slathering it onto two slices of bread in a hastily prepared meal. You pulled a banana out of the fruit bowl, and retrieved the entire box of granola bars for good measure, then beat a hasty retreat to your room lest you run into Bakugou coming out of the shower.

You might not have concerned yourself, however, because no sooner had you started in on your meal than the door to your room banged open, rebounding off the wall with a violent slam. You jerked, startling, accidentally flinging a piece of bread onto your covers.

“You missing something, princess?” A familiar voice growled.

Bakugou stood in your doorway, slightly pink and flushed from the heat of the shower. The ends of those blonde spikes drooped with moisture, dark at the roots, and a few very distracting, very horrible beads of moisture glinted wetly at his collarbones and in the hollow divots of his muscles, darkening the fabric of his shirt at the collar.

Your mouth went kind of dry and your skin prickled with something. Irritation, probably.

“Well?” he demanded.

It took you a moment to realize he wasn’t just standing in your doorway for nothing. Your eyes trailed over his shoulder, down the length of a faintly glistening arm to where he held something clutched in his fist. In his hand, a horrifyingly familiar gray fabric stared back at you—your bra that you’d flung off in your haste to get into the shower, and then promptly forgot about. You shot out of your bed in a blind panic, grabbing frantically for it.

Bakugou’s mouth pulled up into a wicked smirk, and he lifted your bra just out of reach as you approached, watching you grab for it with no small amount of relish.

“Mother fuck—just—give me that—!” you demanded, swiping for it again.

“Not gonna say thank you, brat?” he asked. Red eyes fixed pointedly to your face. “First I’m a babysitter and now you think I’m your damn maid too?”

You could have exploded. Dynamight, actual pro hero Dynamight—human, demon, garbage rat, quirk supremacist Dynamight, was holding your bra—and holding it hostage. And clearly enjoying himself for the first time since he’d gotten here, too.

You grabbed his arm with both hands, yanking it down with an embarrassingly extreme amount of effort on your part. You quickly plucked your bra from his fingers, whipping it behind your back.

“What are you, in first grade?” You demanded, rounding on him.

Bakugou didn’t appear at all chastened. “Think I liked the pink one better, princess,” he said.

A wild noise somewhere between a horrified gasp and an incredulous laugh erupted from you. You quickly flung your bra behind the bed, then pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him out the door and slamming it closed after him. An ugly snort issued from behind the wood grain, dissolving into a bright peal of genuine laughter. Bakugou’s steps sounded incredibly smug as he padded back towards his own room, his mission of humiliating you clearly accomplished.

The fucking asshole.

Of course he’d find something like this funny. It was probably completely fucking farcical from his perspective that quirkless girls had all the same body parts attached as quirked ones—minus the quirk-specific ones, like wings or horns or whatever the hell. If he could just do you a favor, crawl into a hole and die.

You avoided him for the rest of the evening, hiding away in your room and powering through assignments to keep your mind off of things, answering the occasional text from Megumi and your other friends, and working your way through a few more granola bars. Bakugou, mercifully, didn’t make a reappearance until dinnertime, and you were able to avoid him by keeping to your room, a stack of textbooks wedged up against your door lest he try to barge in again.

You barely saw him over the next few days, either, the two of you falling into some kind of avoidance-based routine.

Every morning, Bakugou would get up obscenely early and make himself a variety of breakfasts that smelled so good they always roused you from your own sleep. You’d hurriedly dart into the kitchen once you heard him leave, grab whatever non-perishable was tucked away in the cabinets—be it granola bars, cereal, or more peanut butter–a random fruit from the fruit bowl, and disappear back into your room.

While you dialed into your morning lectures, Bakugou would do what sounded like several hours of workouts in the living room. You didn’t dare peek for fear of seeing all that straining muscle on display—your circumstances were already dire enough. Then he’d make himself lunch, which always smelled just as irresistible as breakfast, and then he’d shower. You’d again dart out to the kitchen to scavenge, sometimes managing to boil a ramen packet, sometimes finding conbini lunches packed away in the fridge.

The only variety was when, once a week, a plainclothes hero from Genius Office would show up with a haul of groceries. Bakugou and the hero would make conversation in low tones–although sometimes it was high tones with a lot of insult flinging, particularly when a haughty-looking blonde with pointed features and judgmental gray eyes showed up–he seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to get Bakugou to almost blow your cover, and seemed to very much enjoy pressing them. You gathered just enough to learn that this was the infamous Monoma, who Bakugou had wanted to fob you off on.

He seemed almost just as annoying as Bakugou, but at this point you’d have taken anyone instead.

In the afternoon, you’d do your homework, or attend afternoon lectures. Sometimes you’d chat with friends, sometimes you’d call into your TA’s office hours just to speak to someone, but it all paled in comparison to going outside, having fresh air, and actually speaking to real people.

Over the course of a few weeks, a feeling began to mount in your gut, creeping into your shoulders, a slow, insidious kind of tension. As the days went on you felt more brittle—like a dried out twig pressed under a boot, straining, almost ready to snap.

It didn’t help that you hadn’t heard much on when you could return home. As far as you could tell, the churn around your video was already starting to die down, and Megumi had told you people had stopped turning up to the dorm looking for you. But there was no word from either the police or any hint of a change from the heroes at Genius Office.

It was just you, still trapped alone with Bakugou, who was beginning to irk you more and more each day.

Bakugou mostly ignored you, which you had wanted at first, given the pains you were taking to avoid him too, but even that started to annoy you. But you were so starved for human company, real human company, at this point that even he would do. Eventually, you abandoned your project of avoiding him, going out of your way to cross his path.

Pretty quickly, you found the one thing guaranteed to nettle him enough that he spoke to you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demanded one afternoon, watching you incredulously over one powerful shoulder. He’d been hovering over the stove, pan-frying beef and veggies for gyudon when you’d joined him. You’d dug out a potato from the pantry, scrubbed it down, and then poked it over with a fork and stuck it in the microwave.

Bakugou watched you intently, wearing an expression like you were committing a war crime right in front of him.

“I’m making lunch,” you replied, nosing around in the fridge for butter and some melty cheese.

“A microwaved potato?” He demanded, in the tones of an interrogating officer.

“I used my brain too much,” you said, thinking back to your morning lecture. “I’m starving. Granola is not gonna cut it.”

He continued staring, his mouth a grim line. Like you had literally murdered someone and he’d caught you standing over the body. The microwave beeped and you went to it and turned the potato over.

Bakugou was still staring when you turned back around.

“Your beef is gonna burn,” you told him.

“You’re gonna get fucking scurvy,” he informed you imperiously. “What the fuck are you doing.”

The last part was not phrased like a question, more like an accusation.

“It’s called college cooking,” you told him, your hackles raising defensively. So what if it wasn’t a full, traditional spread? Some people had lectures to attend and homework to do and a death threat to contend with! And also some people had never actually had the time or resources to learn to make a full, traditional spread! Some people were just hungry and needed some carbs in their fucking stomach!

Classist asshole.

Actually, make that classist, quirkist asshole. Knowing him, he probably thought this yet another symptom of your quirklessness, another deficiency borne of your genetic inferiority. The disdain on his handsome face spoke volumes here. It was just a motherfucking potato. People made potatoes all the time.

As soon as the microwave dinged again, you decorated your meal with a pat of butter and some cheese, and scurried over to take Bakugou’s usual spot at the coffee table, seating yourself there defiantly.

Bakugou looked up from where he was scraping his meal out of the pan, scarlet eyes narrowing. “Get out of my spot, brat.”

“You don’t own it,” you informed him haughtily, digging into your potato.

“And you think you do, princess?” He asked.

His tone grated on you, like sandpaper on skin. You looked up at him, glaring. All of a sudden it felt like the tension of the last few weeks was rising to a head, Bakugou the only human outlet you had for your emotions. Your hands curled into fists beneath the table, digging little half-moon indents into your palms.

“You know what,” you said flatly. “I’m a princess? Fine, then I command you to shut the fuck up.”

The pan clattered into the sink, and suddenly Bakugou was rounding the counter, mouth pulled up in a snarl.

“You want to play it like that, princess?” He demanded as he prowled closer.

For a wild moment you had the thought that he really meant business. You considered grabbing your potato and lobbing it at him like some kind of butter-soaked hand grenade. But then he stopped before you, his socked feet stamping angrily on the yellow wooden floor. You stared, momentarily fascinated by the incongruity of a bloodthirsty pro hero in something so pedestrian as ankle socks.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t back themselves up, brat,” he pointed out, leaning down to catch your eye. His irises were blood red, fixed unwaveringly on your face. “You’re lucky I’m paid to protect your mouthy little ass.”

You scowled up at him. “Or what, you’d fucking join forces with Matsui? God, I’m so tired of your fucking indignation over having to protect someone you think is lower than dirt.”

Bakugou’s blonde brows knit together. “So you don’t get your fucking ass incinerated when you say stupid shit like this, shitstick. Like you fucking understand anything about anything.”

“I understand plenty,” you informed him tartly.

He growled. “You understand less than nothing, you fucking idiot. Shit like this is how you got yourself targeted in the first place. Now shut the hell up, and get the fuck out of my seat.”

You did get out of his seat, but only so you could shoot to your feet, stretching to your full height and pointing a finger in his stupid face.

“Let’s get one thing clear, asshole,” you pronounced tightly. “I am not going to shut the fuck up. I’m not going to keep my mouth shut and eyes down, scurrying around like some meek little mouse who’s just lucky to fucking be here. I might be quirkless, but I am a human fucking person, who deserves all of the same respect as everyone else. And no one—not you, not Matsui, and not those quirkist assholes from campus—get to make me feel otherwise!”

In the corner of your vision, you saw his hands flex, clenching and unclenching reflexively like he was barely stopping himself from putting them around your neck.

God, and wasn’t that just so typical? Your school years had been filled with this same type of little asshole too, who just itched to get their hands on you, to make themselves feel superior by bringing you down.

All of them were exactly the fucking same.

“You know what,” you said, suddenly exhausted and exasperated. “You can have your seat. You can have the whole fucking apartment. I’m fucking over this.”

You whirled around, stomping over to the door. You stamped on your shoes angrily, flinging open the door, and stormed out into the fluorescence of the hallway.

“Oi—” Bakugou’s voice chased after you, but you slammed the door before he could say more, stomping over to the stairwell. You fumed as you made your way down and back onto the street, almost blind with rage, uncaring of where you were going.

The afternoon air was cool as it washed over you, chilling some of your anger instantly. You let out a heavy huff, taking in the street as you stepped out onto the pavement. A few people trudged slowly down either side, and the scraggly trees waved wearily in an afternoon breeze. At the end of the street, a group of students were ducking into the convenience store you’d seen when you first arrived.

You set out in their direction, following the sidewalk until it spat you out in front of the store. You made your way inside, beelining for the refrigerators. A cool drink would help, and maybe some kind of snack. You hadn’t finished your potato before Bakugou started acting like a fucking asshat, and your stomach grumbled at you discontentedly.

You took your time browsing the shelves, selecting a bottled water and a pre-wrapped sandwich, toying with the idea of also getting yourself dessert for your troubles.

It was only as you deposited your items on the counter that you realized you’d stormed out without any of your personal effects—including your wallet and phone. You almost groaned out loud. You did not want to have to walk back in there just yet, didn’t want to face another round of Bakugou’s incredulous ire, his sanctimonious judgment.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you muttered to the cashier, moving to exit the store, just as two men turned the corner of a shelf. One man was tall and lithe, sporting jeans and a dark blazer that washed him out in the fluorescence of the convenience store. The other was smaller and darker, with lilac irises, dressed in a gray coat.

You might have ignored them completely had they not both froze when they saw you. There was a beat of stunned silence, and then a snarl overtook the smaller man’s face.

“You’re that drunk bitch from the video,” he spat, with such force that it made you jump.

You stepped back, alarmed. You couldn’t tell what had surprised you more, his recognition or his tone. The taller man’s face pinched, as if he too had finally realized who you were, and wasn't pleased.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” The smaller man demanded, stepping forward into the space you had just yielded.

You bristled, put off by his aggressive manner. “Getting a drink, though I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you said tightly.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business, you fucking freak,” the man said, advancing further. You turned to look at the cashier, disturbed by this man’s agitation, but the cashier looked similarly unnerved. He’d scooted back from the counter, pressed up against the rows of medicine behind him.

He’d be no help to you, it seemed.

You chewed your lip, resigned. Fine then, you could handle this on your own. You were used to this.

You turned back to the pair of men, your shoulders squaring. “Pretty sure my right to exist is absolutely my business,” you said acidly. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, fingernails digging tightly into the skin of your palms. “Now why don’t you mind yours?”

The shorter man seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes tracking across your face as if in some confusion. But then the moment was gone, and his expression went murderous. His lilac irises flashed with some unnatural light, and then skin on the back of your neck prickled with foreboding. Your skin shivered into little goosebumps as the air around you changed, suddenly becoming thinner, sharper, stranger…

The feeling was unnatural, the texture of the air beyond anything you’d felt before. You knew what was happening instantly.

A quirk.

He was about to use a quirk on you.

Blind panic settled over you. You hesitated, unsure whether you should duck, hide, or rush him—when the door banged open, slamming into the glass store front with a crack that shattered a ragged line right up the window. There was a whirlwind of black and blonde, and before your eyes could properly register what you were seeing, Bakugou was there, gripping the shorter man’s wrist so hard you could hear the bones in it creak.

“Drop the fucking quirk now and I won’t blow your hand straight off,” Bakugou demanded, even as you realized you were having trouble drawing in a breath, the air around you almost resisting you. Your eyes went wide, and you stepped back, taking another frantic breath, only to be met with the same resistance.

Your fingers fluttered in panic, and you stumbled.

“NOW,” Bakugou snarled, the man’s jacket starting to hiss and smoke, a white light flickering under Bakugou’s palm.

Almost immediately, the air flooded back into your lungs, almost choking you with its force, and you staggered against the counter, winded.

Bakugou twisted, a movement almost too fast for you to follow, wrenching the man’s arm behind him. In a flash, he’d shoved both men against a shelf, and was locking a quirk suppressor around their wrists, feeding it through the steel caging of the shelving.

Your vision swam strangely as you watched him, puffing in air.

“Call the fucking police right the fuck now,” he barked at the cashier. You heard a clatter behind you, the rattle of several pill bottles dropping to the ground as the cashier presumably dislodged himself, rushing to obey. The plastic clicking of phone keys followed quickly.

You watched as Bakugou tightened the restraint, a weird weakness making itself known around your knees. You gripped the counter tightly, refusing to sink to the ground, either in front of the men or Bakugou.

Bakugou finished up quickly and strode over, his expression tight.

“When they get here, tell them to contact Genius Office,” he demanded, looking over your shoulder at the cashier. He gripped your shirt at your shoulder, hauling you off the counter. “Come on, you little idiot, we’re getting you back to the safehouse. Don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, coming here.”

His tug had you tripping over your own feet, and you reached out to grab him for stability, gripping the front of his shirt in a frantic fistful. Your vision lurched again.

Bakugou paused, frowning, and looked you over. “He hurt you somewhere, brat?” he said, stilling. His grip shifted under your elbows, propping you up. “Your leg?”

“I’m fine,” you garbled out, trying to get your legs under you again. They felt strangely stiff, like you might accidentally snap them if you didn’t stand exactly straight. You tested your step, sucking in another large breath as you did. Your skin still prickled, as though the man’s quick was still active…

But that couldn’t be right…

You’d seen Bakugou put a quirk suppressor on him, hadn’t you?

Bakugou’s head dipped, and he looked you in the face, scarlet eyes picking over you intently. You startled at the proximity of his face to yours, almost stumbling back. He made a grunting sound, and then suddenly the floor went out from under you. You gripped him in panic as he hefted you into his arms, tucking you neatly against his front.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You gasped. Your voice sounded strange to your ears, almost slurred.

Bakugou shouldered his way out of the door, maneuvering you through it with a surprising amount of care. “You’re in shock, princess. Pupils dilated like a fucking lunatic.”

The insult registered first, and you wondered if you should be offended, until his full message sank in. “Shock? I’m not in shock,” you informed him, motioning for him to put you down.

Bakugou ignored you, striding down the street back towards the safehouse with no more trouble than if you were a bag of groceries. “Pipe the fuck down, brat. We’re gonna get you inside.”

You made an affronted noise, which quickly turned into a groan as Bakugou shifted you to key in the code at the door.

The last thing you remembered was passing through the front door. And then the world around you prickled gray at the edges.

And suddenly, without warning, everything went dark.