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#mha fix it fics
nutzgunray-lvt · 8 months
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I love how instead of just not reading my fic, salty Bakugou stans decided to ignore the tags and criticize me for writing an anti Bakugou fanfic.
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mangostarjam · 4 days
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knot happening (part one) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "brat" and "pipsqueak" as pet names, smut in the second part (coming soon), omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 1.2k words
your new company has some... interesting policies for employee heat cycles. you do your best to find a loophole.
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"I can't do it."
"The hell d'ya mean, you can't do it?"
You give your Pro Hero boyfriend and resident alpha A Look. Bakugou Katsuki has the grace to shut his mouth, but he rolls his eyes and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders, yanking you into him on the faded yellow couch you picked out together years ago.
"This is my first heat at this new job, and it's just... embarrassing. Do you know what they do, Katsuki?"
He raises a sharp blonde eyebrow in invitation.
"They..." your voice drops with horror, "they announce it to the whole company."
"Hah?" Katsuki sits up a little, strong thighs flexing beneath his gym shorts. He came in on the tail end of your mental breakdown, finding you pacing in the living room of your apartment with your hands tugging incessantly on your borrowed shirt. "What the fuck?"
"I know," you wail, "it's ridiculous! The president sends out a company wide email explaining your absence, and the HR team sends you a care basket, and the Sales team sets up a pre-heat drinking party! Do you know what's in the care basket, Katsuki?"
"Do I wanna know?"
"It's filled with sex toys, babe! SEX TOYS! From my company! They're branded!"
A spark lights up in Katsuki's otherwise vaguely concerned expression. "Don't they know you're mated?"
"Yes, of course, that was in my file," you wave him off, still seeing horror images of company branded sex toys floating in your mental vision. "I heard from Sasaki in Accounting that the toys are for when your mate needs a break. Y'know, from fucking."
Katsuki's derisive snort is loud and breaks you out of your personal hellhole. "What kinda fuckin' alpha needs a break when their mate needs 'em?"
"Well, not every alpha is a big strong Pro Hero like you," you point out, poking him on one annoyingly firm bicep. The familiar scent of caramel and smoke fills your nose. "And actually, maybe I should ask if they've got any onaholes for when you're the one in heat. Last time I needed another two days to recover."
"Hah?! There's no fucking way I'll use one of those!"
You peer up at your boyfriend reproachfully. "I like being able to walk, Katsuki."
"You don't need to fuckin' walk if I'm carryin' you everywhere, brat."
"Hmm, we'll see," you say. Katsuki's red eyes flash as you tap your bottom lip with your finger thoughtfully. "There's gotta be a way for me to take a week off work without telling them I'm going into heat."
"There's no way you'll be able to avoid it," Katsuki rumbles, leaning forward to catch your finger with his teeth. He nips at it lightly before leaning down more to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. That, more than anything, finally makes your anxiety simmer down. "You always smell so fucking good before it starts. Everyone's gonna notice."
"You're the only one who can do anything about it, though, so you'll have to keep it in your pants or quit picking me up after work."
"Not happening," Katsuki presses another kiss along your hairline and noses into the strands, sniffing deeply. It tickles, and you laugh, trying halfheartedly to shove him off of you. "What else do they give in these care packages?"
"Actually, besides the super cursed sex toys, they include really good snacks and electrolyte drinks to keep your energy up," you say, "and I'm really glad my company is so open about it all, but it's just so embarrassing!"
Katsuki hums, letting you vent out your worries. You look really pretty like this, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of pajama shorts, some soft cotton thing that barely covers your perfect ass. He pulls your legs onto his lap and you flop backwards on the couch, moving on from your minor breakdown to sharing a funny story that happened to one of your new coworkers the other day. He had missed hearing about it then, stuck on overtime for a patrol, so he basks in your attention now as the two of you laze around on the couch.
The afternoon passes into evening. It's a rare lazy Monday together — your new job lets you have three day weekends in exchange for slightly longer work days, and Katsuki's patrol schedule happened to line up this week. You're digging into a pint of ice cream after polishing off a plate of his delicious (but spicy) curry and rice when it comes up again.
"What're you gonna do about your heat?"
"Well, I was thinking," you slide your spoon into the thick cream and wave it at him, "I'll still need to use my authorized heat cycle time off, since I want to save my vacation and comp time for real uses, so there's no avoiding the company finding out..."
Katsuki raises an eyebrow and accepts the spoonful of ice cream you're dangling in his face. His tongue pokes out to chase a bit of cream lingering on the edge of his lip and he grins, sharp, at the way your eyes track the movement. "But...?"
You have a feeling Katsuki hasn't fully thought through the horrors of corporate sponsored pleasure items, but you have, and the thought of everyone at your new company knowing you'll be getting fucked within an inch of your life makes you want to shrivel up and die. All companies have policies in place to protect time off for heat cycles, as society couldn't function otherwise, but this is the first place you've worked where impending heat cycles are declared company-wide. Normally it's just marked as time off.
"But they don't have to find out until after it starts, right? So as long as I can get through the pre-heat stuff without anyone noticing, I can avoid the cursed care package and company-wide email!"
"Ain't happening," Katsuki says flatly.
"We've been mated for sooo long now, babe," your gaze flicks up to meet his and you pout. Your boyfriend outright snorts when you start batting your eyelashes at him. "Surely you can resist the pre-heat symptoms this one time? I swear I'll get over my company's shenanigans once I see it happen to a few other people. It's really great how supportive they are, but I need some time, that's all."
"Your heat is in like. Two weeks," Katsuki says.
You pout up at him some more.
"During your last heat cycle we broke the mattress frame when I missed your first few pre-heat days."
"Yeah, but that was because you had that mission that went long," you say. If you could just... convince him... "C'mon, babe, this will be different! You're such a strong, powerful alpha — resisting me will be a piece of cake! Unless..." you pause and scoop another bite of ice cream into your mouth, "you're too weak to resist me."
"Are you callin' me weak?" Katsuki narrows his eyes. You wave your spoon casually and shrug.
"I mean... all you've gotta do is ignore my pre-heat. I'm just an itty bitty omega..."
Getting into a staring match with Pro Hero Dynamight is not on anyone's Top Ten Good Ideas list, but you match your boyfriend's red glare steadily.
"Alright, pipsqueak, you're on," Katsuki scoffs. "We'll see who's beggin' for who by the time your heat rolls around."
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mishy-mashy · 1 month
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Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list
He's:
Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)
Long-legged
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Has a straight nose bridge
Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)
Has a strong jawline
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Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)
Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features
Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)
Even has a thick, muscly neck
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He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)
(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-
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-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)
The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one
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Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute
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Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:
Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)
Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO
Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor
Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.
Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.
Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?
Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor
He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.
Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.
These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.
Is logical, analytical, and calm.
He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.
Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).
Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.
We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.
Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya
While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.
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Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.
He actually communicates a lot
When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.
(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])
When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.
He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".
Is strong-willed and loyal.
He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.
Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.
AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.
Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.
Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.
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Idk who I saw it from but someone was talking about how Bakugou is one of those people who mates for life and being the sad bitch I am could not stop thinking of distressing headcanons….
After your breakup, he tries to give you space, he really does. He forces himself to delete paragraph after paragraph of texts telling you he’s still there when you change your mind. In a way, it’s funny. All you’d wanted was to feel like you were important to him when you were together, and now, after, all you want is for him to leave you be.
He finds you in every little part of his day. Where the excitement of getting to see you used to invade his thoughts at the end of his workday, he now feels that dread of going to the quiet apartment. Everything is just as you left it, except now your things don’t fill the empty space. He can’t bring himself to spread his clothes out to the drawers that used to be yours, can’t force himself to throw away the jar of pickles you’d left in the back corner of his fridge. He knows it’s silly, but part of him wants you to know you still have a home with him.
He doesn’t hate you, though he thinks it might be easier. In fact, having you gone just makes him realize he’s never going to love someone like that again. He’s not ashamed to admit it. He hates the way his friends look at him with barely veiled pity when he talks about how you might just need time and he’s willing to wait. If they’d ever felt the way he did with you, he knows they’d understand.
But they haven’t. And they don’t.
It’s been almost a year since your breakup when he sees the paparazzi photo of you in a magazine. It catches him by surprise as he’s getting coffee at the little cafe you showed him, hoodie pulled around his head to shield him from the cold.
It’s a grainy picture, but he’d know you anywhere. What he doesn’t expect to see is the arm wrapped around your waist or the way you’re laughing, despite the fact it’s a post-fight picture. It’s clear you had no idea it was snapped, he knows the difference between your posed appearance and your natural one like the back of his hand.
He knows the man holding you against his side is your new partner, as much as he tries to stay out of your work business, he can’t help occasionally misusing the privileges being the Number 2 hero gives him. He stares at the magazine cover for a while, until the baiting title no longer looks like words.
‘Has the Number 2’s ex found her new number 1?’
He doesn’t know how long he stands there, his mind blank, blinking at the picture as if that would make it shift. He wishes he would feel angry, or betrayed, but all he feels is that familiar ache start to consume him.
He doesn’t mean to get that drunk that night. He definitely doesn’t mean to walk to your new apartment. He never intended to knock on your door and wake you. But he does.
He knows he should shut up when you open the door, knows he should apologize profusely and just leave, but his heart and his brain aren’t on speaking terms it seems.
“I’m still here.” The words rush out before he can stop them, not nearly as slurred as they should be with how drunk he is. You blink sleepily at him, mouth opening to speak and he forces himself to continue.
“You left, but I’m still here. I’m still waiting. Still in love with you, and I’m going to wait the rest of my life for you.” He hates the way his throat tightens when he sees the hurt flash in your eyes, hates that he’s picking at an old wound, but you have to know he loves you. You have to know he’s yours.
“I can’t let you go. I can’t-“ his voice cracks and he has to take a second to clear it, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. “I can’t love someone else. I miss you. I miss being loved by you. I just. I know you’re probably with someone new, but you’ve got my heart. And you need to know that,” he’s rambling now, losing the fight against his tears as he breaks, hanging his head. He opens his mouth again, having so much to say still, but nothing comes out.
He grinds his teeth as he looks down at his shoes, shame filling him that even after all this time, all this heartbreak, he still can’t just tell you how important you are to him. He watches a tear fall from his face down to the carpet between his shoes, watches it soak into the fabric as heavy silence settles into the space between you.
He’s sure this was a mistake now, sure he’s going to lose you forever all because he can’t get his fucking mouth to work.
He jumps when your hands cradle his face, soft fingertips brushing away tears as you step into his vision, your eyes reflecting the pain in his.
He breaks then, fully breaks, as you stretch to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and his large frame collapses against you. He clings to you as you walk him back into your apartment, struggling to close the door with him clinging to you so tightly.
“I’m still here,” he repeats through a choked sob, face pressed into your neck.
“I’m still here.”
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mysteroads · 20 days
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Chapter 419 Prediction/Fixit Fic!
Sooo, My Hero Academia Chapter 419 really ticked me off, though I've cooled down slightly. HOWEVER, I still have... feelings.😑 I can see one to two acceptable way out for Tomura, and I am willing to accept bittersweet. Even so, make sure I get closure, I already started a fanfic! Let's see how close I get to what happen in the manga! 🤓Here's an excerpt! (I hate tumblr formatting, forgive me.)
Tomura opened his eyes and found he was not alone. There were... things? beings? all around him. Some looked human or at least human-shaped; others looked like they'd started out human, but had been broken apart and the pieces reassembled with new parts like Frankenstein's monster on crack; and a few were nothing but smears of color and light.
Rivet Stab and Air Cannon! he realized, seeing one with wings made of jagged red and black spears, and another with little tornadoes for hands. These were quirks! All the quirks All For One has stolen. It kinda made sense he’d be here with them. Quirks were a piece of a person, after all, and right now Tomura was a fragment of himself. As he pulled more of himself together, his vision sharpened and something else came into focus: All the quirks were wrapped in chains colored the ugly red-brown of dried blood. His eyes lingered on those chains, following the links as they stretched up into an infinity of roiling dark, then back down to the mass of stolen quirks.
Stolen and broken, he thought. Just like me. A smile began to grow on what he assumed was his face. 
"Hey!” The quirks turned toward him, and his smile turned into a grin. “You guys interested in a co-op?"
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Oh yeah, and AFO gets dead in the end. Don't you worry about that, my darlings. AFO wanted a weapon of hatred, he's gonna GET a weapon of hatred. 😈
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pleathewrites · 1 month
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bellow the fire into my deadened lungs
chapter 1 excerpt — what are your thoughts on child abuse? + burncare read full story here
September
Meeting semi-regularly with Hawks has been… ‘Strange,’ Dabi thinks. 
The Number Two’s got a bad temper, hates being out of the loop, and hates it more when Dabi can’t be bothered to spare more than a few words at him. Dabi mostly makes Hawks do small jobs — gather bits of mild information and tail certain lower-ranked heroes. Dabi doesn’t ask for any top secrets because he has a feeling Hawks would only feed him lies. ‘Why?’ Because that’s what Dabi does. 
But the Bird has interesting thoughts. 
Dabi will admit — seeing Hawks’ speech during the Hero Ranking ceremony was wildly entertaining. Dabi assumed the hero had a flair for the dramatic, but he never thought the guy would be so bold to make such a scene on national live television. 
“Who’s gonna be happy hearing that? Stain?”
Dabi remembers Spinner’s spit-take at Hawks’ interruption of Edgeshot trying to seem oh, so humble. 
“You don’t think we need to change how we do things?... Why are those less accomplished than me playing it safe?”
Dabi remembers the way Toga’s eyes sparkled, the way even Shigaraki started to tilt his head in consideration. Dabi thinks the raining feathers were a bit over the top since the guy was already fucking floating, but he’ll admit it was a nice touch.
But his favorite — “Now, go ahead, Number One Hero, with a lower approval rating than me.”
Dabi actually let out a snort, at that one. 
It’s been a few weeks since that broadcast, but ever since, Dabi’s interest in the hero has been considerably piqued. 
He sent Hawks a set of coordinates and a time to meet about an hour ago. He’s late himself, but only by thirty minutes, and, well, he’s a villain.
He immediately spots the stupid little bird because, in an industrial town full of grey, that stupid yellow suit is an absolute eyesore. 
“You don’t own any other clothes, Hero?” 
Back turned, with only crimson wings in his view, Dabi hoped the guy would have jumped. Dabi’s been told he can be as quiet as a ghost, but then he remembers Hawks telling him something about telepathic feathers and sound vibration. 
“Dabi!” Hawks twirls halfway with that stupid grin of his, “You’re actually early. For you.”
“Say my name louder, would you. Might as well dial up the Commission right now and let ‘em know you turned, while you’re at it,” The words are worried, but Dabi’s tone stays neutral because they both know the Commission is already informed about every single one of their meetings. It’s just Hawks who thinks Dabi’s dumb as rocks. 
“We’re in a literal alleyway in one of the sketchiest towns in Japan, dude.”
“Tch,” Dabi’s nose scrunches in a sneer, ‘Of course he’d consider this town to be sketchy, just because it’s a little run down.’
Hawks scratches at the back of his head, “Though, I guess you got a point. I — uh, heh, I didn’t have time to change. Patrol and all.” 
Dabi deadpans, “You can spare ten minutes. It’s not gonna kill you,” and Hawks still looks weirdly apologetic so he adds on, “Birdy, you’re acting like I’m the one who’s gonna be waitin’ up on you. Has that been the trend, so far?”
“You know, now that you bring it up…” And Dabi just thinks, ‘oh, Gods, no,’ while Hawks puts a gloved finger to his chin, “Why are you always late?”
Dabi doesn’t answer. 
Hawks puts his hands up in mock surrender, “Alright, fine. Be mysterious, whatever,” Then clasps his hands behind his back. Dabi thinks that’ll be the end of that, but Hawks loves the sound of his own voice too much, “You villains are so dramatic.”
Dabi gapes, and lays his hand over his chest in offense, “I’m dramatic?” He scoffs — he cannot stand half the shit that comes out of this smart-ass’s mouth. His hand leaves his chest to point at the Number Two, “This coming from the guy that not only interrupted a rank ceremony but made it rain feathers while he did it? Braggin’ about his own approval rating while floating in the fuckin’ air?”
And — ‘oh shit’ — Dabi should have kept his mouth shut. 
Because he sees the bastard’s golden eyes fucking gleam, and crimson feathers ruffle, “Eh? You keepin’ tabs on me, Hot Stuff?” and he starts to lean in, close enough for Dabi to feel the need to reel back, his nose a mere inch away from Dabi’s own, “Ya like watchin’ me?” Pale eyelashes flutter.
Dabi’s had enough. 
He hears a muffled ‘oomph!’ as his scarred hand pushes Hawks’ face away, “Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, the ceremony was national news.”
Hawks pulls back and laughs a little. It’s a breathy sound, almost a rumble with how deep the guy’s voice is, but it’s always quiet. Tired. 
Dabi’s stomach chooses that moment to let out a loud and horrifying grumble. 
Hawks’ bushy eyebrow lifts in question, and Dabi can feel the blood gather in his cheeks, humiliation warming his usually cool skin. 
“So, there is a reason you look like a bag of bones,” Hawks says.
Dabi knows the guy is trying to be cheeky, but it hits harder than intended because, ‘Yeah, I haven’t eaten all fuckin’ day,’ and the only thing he does remember eating is cheap instant udon, yesterday. He put a boiled egg in it for protein, but that stuff only goes so far.
Luckily, Hawks continues without needing a response from Dabi, “C’mon, I’m hungry, too, and I saw a chicken place around here. On me, the place is probably cheap, anyway, considering,” and waves his hand around broadly, referring to their current location.
Usually, this is the part where ‘Person B’ says something like, ‘I don’t need your charity!’ but Dabi isn’t prideful enough to deny free sustenance, especially since he can’t even remember the last time he ate real meat. 
So, he shrugs, “Lead the way. But first, button up your fuckin’ jacket and take off your glasses, for fuck’s sake. I know you can move your feathers, so — I dunno, move ‘em under your jacket, or somethin’. Hide them.”
And Hawks actually has the audacity to pout, “I hate compressing my wings.”
“Gods,” Dabi groans to the sky, “It’s just for the walk there.”
After grumbling some more, mostly to himself, Hawks relents and leads the way to a mostly empty chicken shop with neon signs and shiny wooden floors. They sit in a booth at the farthest corner, and order. 
Hawks is somewhat right — food is cheap in a town like this. Dabi’s not well-versed in all things economics, but he knows an underfunded town is a wanted-villain’s safest haven. The residents of such towns rarely call for police — police mean heroes, and heroes mean collateral damage; the residents of this town already struggle to make ends meet with their healthy bodies and standing businesses. One bad fight can end in dozens of collapsed buildings, and an overflow of the nearest already-at-capacity hospital. 
‘As long as you don’t cause too much trouble, the residents here won’t even bat an eye at you, no matter how wanted you are.’
Dabi takes off his facemask and hood when their food is served, and Hawks lets his wings out with a ruffle. The hero begins to dig in, but his gloves stay on.
“Isn’t this cannibalism, for you?”
The previous expression of excitement on Hawks’ face drops, “Ha ha. You’re so clever. I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Fuck off.”
“No, seriously, you should be a comedian.”
“Go to hell. It was actually a semi-serious question.”
A smile quirks at the corner of Hawks’ lips, “Just let me eat in peace, man.”
And so, they eat for a bit, mostly in silence, until Dabi decides the silence feels suffocating. Hawks isn’t asking any questions, not his usual, ‘so whaddya got for me, today?’ and it leaves Dabi with his own thoughts.
After finishing about half his plate, Dabi finally asks what’s been on his mind since watching the Bird on television. 
“What are your thoughts on child abuse?” 
Hawks freezes, a chicken piece halfway through his open mouth when he looks up at Dabi, muffling out, “What?” 
Dabi lets his chin rest on his palm, curling his greasy fingers inwards to avoid his seams, “Humor me, Hero. Got a penny if ya need one.” 
Hawks swallows and puts down his fork — ‘eating chicken wings with fuckin’ utensils, what a priss.’ 
“Uh, gonna need a little bit more context here, man…”
He looks so wary.
Dabi sighs and spells it out for the dumb bird, “What would you do, as a hero, if you received a report of child abuse?”
Hawks takes a moment, scratching at his goatee, “Well, investigate, then hopefully make an arrest,” He shrugs, “Abusers should be jailed. I dunno what you want from me beyond that. Random question, dude.”
Dabi, more or less, ignores the confusion in Hawks’ eyes, but he does take note of how Hawks hasn’t continued eating. The hero is sat back, waiting for Dabi to provide the clearly missing context. 
Dabi has to know what kind of person he’s dealing with, because meeting Hawks this past month and seeing his actions on live television make Dabi… tentatively hopeful — about what, he’s not sure, but Dabi doesn’t like surprises, so he has to ask.
“Mm. But, what if that same abuser shows kindness to everyone else, outside those few people?” 
At that, Hawks lets out a scoff, “It’s usually an act, man. Why are you asking me this? I mean, like, yes, yeah it doesn’t matter if they treat others differently. Doesn’t make up for what they’re doing, the people they’re hurting.”
“Uh-huh,” Dabi’s eyes never leave Hawks’ face, noting the expressive curl of blonde eyebrows, bushed up in earnest to match his glinting frown, “And if other people are, say, ‘counting on them’?”
Those blond eyebrows furrow closer, wild hairs almost touching, “What do you mean?” 
Dabi tilts his head away from the palm it rests on and unfurls those fingers one-by-one to count off, “World leaders, presidents, peace figures.... heroes,” and even Dabi knows his voice took a sharp turn at the last item, and he doubts Hawks had missed it.
“I… No, no, it’s still wrong. It’s complicated, yeah, but... it doesn’t matter how much good someone does if that same person is going off to abuse someone else. Especially their own family.”
Dabi doesn’t know why, but hearing that come from a hero does something to him, speaks to a too-short past life, and validates the soft blindspot of his otherwise iron conscience.
Dabi picks off a piece of his own chicken and takes a bite, “Yeah, we’ll see.”
Meanwhile, Hawks looks completely out of sorts. He’s biting his lip, his hand coming up to rub the knuckle of his gloved index right underneath it. 
Dabi waits. 
“I… I didn’t spend a lot of my life with my birth parents. They were abusive. And they were… y’know, what everyone would call ‘bad people’. Drug addicts, thieves. Probably other things, too, I dunno,” and Dabi is listening to every single word, food completely forgotten. Hawks isn’t looking at him, lidded eyes are directed more towards Dabi’s shoulder, and that’s okay because Dabi hasn’t spoken a single word of his own abuse, so he���s not going to judge how others do it. 
The blond’s head shakes, “Ah,” and clearing gold eyes look back to Dabi, “Point is, even they didn’t face consequences for what they did to me. My dad… He’s in jail, but it’s not for what he did to me. And my mom… Commission paid her a hefty check to adopt me, so she's probably off living an even better life — or maybe dead from overdose, I dunno.” 
“Sounds hard,” it’s a shitty response, but Dabi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to reveal his own story, but for all that’s broken and wrong and rotted inside of him, he still feels empathy towards this guy, towards the Number Two Hero.
‘Birds of a feather, ‘n all that.’
“Yeah, well. Just makes me think, if apparently ‘bad people’ can get away with the crime of child abuse — people with practically zero social or economic influence — then, how do the same institutions hold someone with real status accountable?”
Against his desire to appear aloof, Dabi feels the sharp tug of his own lips pulling into a small smile, “Askin’ all the right questions. Best ones have no answer.”
Hawks laughs, and it's the same one as the alley, low and quiet. Soft. 
Dabi wonders if the guy lets himself laugh often. He smiles a lot, that’s for certain, but smiles are always easier to fake than laughter.  
“I have a feeling a lot of villains have this kind of backstory, or something similar, huh.”
“As you?” Dabi raises a brow, the easiest kind of expression he can do to the lack of staples there, a constant reminder of his ‘backstory,’ like he’s a fucking manga character,  “Maybe. ‘Cept they weren’t saved by anyone. No one’s jumpin’ up and down to take care of us. That’s the difference between us,” his index finger flicking back-and-forth in the space between them, “Heroes ‘n villains.”
The laugh that leaves Hawks is wrong this time. It’s bitter and booming — dark, and not nearly as lovely as Dabi found the others.
“Saved. Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
Dabi’s stomach churns something sick. He hopes it’s the chicken.
*
The next time Dabi is supposed to meet Hawks, the skin around the staples of his hands feels like it’s on fire. Red, itchy, and, ‘Oh Gods,’ Dabi thinks he’s starting to see something white seep out the seam of his right wrist.  
He used up the last of his supplies two weeks ago. Right now, the only things he has in his apartment are gauze, soap, and tap water that can be boiled. 
Dabi thinks about calling one of the League members, any of them, but after Kamino, there’s been wanted posters of their faces plastered everywhere, mostly definitely around cities nice enough to have open pharmacies.
He calls Hawks. 
“Hello! Where are ya, hot stuff? I’ve been waitin’ for half an hour, and I even took the time to change my clothes.”
Dabi rolls his eyes at the nickname and grips the phone tighter. It makes his wrist burn. He doesn’t waste any time, “Do you have access to any antiseptics or disinfectants right now? Strong ones. Or maybe even antibiotics, like silver sulfadiazine?”
“Burn cream? Uh… not, like, I don’t have any on me. I could get some? Is everything alright?”
Dabi closes his eyes and rubs his brow, “Yeah, I’m gonna send you some new coordinates. Bring the supplies here. And hurry.”
He hangs up and sets to boiling some water. 
Three loud knocks later echo through Dabi’s apartment, and he yells, “Come in!” as he pats his wrists dry with a paper towel. 
“Dabi?” Hawks’ voice rings through the apartment and his large wings come into view from where Dabi stands in the kitchen. Hawks takes his shoes off at the entryway — ‘how well mannered.’ — and perks up when he spots the scarred man.
“Hey! So, I got an assortment of things. Hydrogen peroxide, saline, antibacterial ointment, got the silver sulfadiazine like you asked — that shit is expensive without a coupon — and, oh! I got these, like, film coverings, pharmacist calls ‘em ‘nanocrystalline silver dressing’ , supposed to be better for fighting infection,” He shrugs, “I also went ahead and got some other things like gauze, dressing, Q-tips, pins,” and sets the plastic bag on the countertop,  “Here, take a look.”
Dabi does, with his eyes because he doesn’t want his freshly cleaned wrists getting even more infected with whatever bacteria could be on the plastic bag or any of these items. 
“... Damn. Thanks, Birdy,” He’s honestly shocked Hawks got this much stuff. 
He ignores the way his heart beats faster, ‘Might finally be the sepsis.’
When Dabi looks back up at the guy, his feathers are wiggling again, something Dabi has come to understand what the hero does when he’s somewhat pleased, “Uh, can you wash your hands over there in the sink and pull out the… Hm, the silver dressing, white dressing, and the gauze? Just set it on the counter, I’ll be right back.”
Dabi walks over to his bathroom, hearing the affirmative, “Sure!” from the hero, and closes the door with his elbow. 
He needs a minute. 
‘I can’t believe I just let an undercover hero into my apartment. Am I going to have to move? Fuck… fuck, fuck!’
“Shit,” he whispers to himself as he opens his medicine cabinet and fetches a pair of tweezers and a box of latex gloves.
‘I can’t believe he bought all that stuff. Dude’s loaded, that’s fine and all, but… what the fuck? I only asked for the burn cream…’ 
Dabi shakes his head, closes the medicine cabinet, and is greeted with the reflection of his own confused expression, etched by a small crack at the upper left side. He takes a minute to look at the man staring back at him, looking at his scars and his freshly dyed roots. He knows he’s a frightening sight, something out of nightmares and horror movies. 
He hates looking at himself, sometimes. He knows others do, too. 
Some nights, the vulnerability of his upsettingly-human psyche will claw its way out like the vicious beast it is, and force him to understand his loneliness. On those nights, he will understand why people turned away a half-dead teen, why store owners chased him out with their bats and mops, and why heroes will always, always attack on-sight upon seeing Dabi’s face. 
He will understand why the League’s bar is really the one place he can ever sip his drink in peace and enjoy the burn at the back of his throat without some prick trying to slip him paper bills in exchange for things he can’t even say out loud. On those nights, the righteous anger will leave his body like steam from boiling water, and leave him hollow and cold and so, very, very alone. 
He wonders if tonight will be one of those nights. 
“Uh, Dabi? You alright in there?”
Dabi blinks out and away from his reflection, ‘Maybe not,’ and leaves his bathroom. 
When he comes back to the kitchen, all the supplies he asked for are out and ready to use. Hawks sits on Dabi’s only stool, waiting.
Dabi didn’t get a chance to really look at the guy, until now. The hero did end up changing his attire for tonight — black sweatshirt, normal jeans that are still on the baggier side, and black boots closer to the kind in fashion magazines than those hideously yellow rainboots he normally tends to wear. When Dabi lifts his eyes back up, he notices the hero’s hair looks a bit different, a little more chaotic, and a little less stiff — it looks soft. 
‘Oh, pull it fucking together.’
Dabi clears his throat and hands over the box of latex gloves, “Do you mind helping me out? I just need you to do this wrist, and then I can work on the other.”
Hawks is nodding and stretching the gloves over his hands before Dabi even finishes his sentence. 
“Y’know, your place isn’t anything like I’d thought it’d be. ‘S nice. Clean.” 
Dabi hears a snap! and a muttered, “shit.”
He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong before he looks at Hawks’ hand, and sees matte black claws curving out fingers loosely lined with tattered blue latex.
“Oh.”
“Heh,” Hawks laughs, a bit nervously, “Sorry ‘bout that. My own gloves are so thick, I forget I have these.”
“Why am I just now seeing these?” Dabi wonders out loud, eyes glued to the tips of talons he could have sworn that, for a split second, sparkled at him, “Shit. Those are fucking sharp, man. You’re tellin’ me you don’t fight with ‘em?” He doesn’t really pay attention to broadcasts of hero fights but from the ones he’s seen, the Number Two’s hands were always gloved.
“Ah,” Hawks starts to pull a fresh latex glove over his hand again, leaving some space between the ends of each finger for his talons this time, “That wouldn’t be very heroic, would it? There’d be a lot of… blood. Kids don’t need to see that kind of gore in the news, y’know.”
Dabi raises an eyebrow, “I… guess....” 
Honestly, Dabi thinks that’s a bullshit excuse, to not use something so clearly advantageous in serious combat, especially when the hero's life is on the line practically every day, ‘Even if he doesn’t want to use them, why does he cover them?’
He lets the matter be, for now, and looks over the directions on the box of the nanocrystalline silver dressing. He reads it twice, just to make sure. 
Hawks speaks up, apparently needing to hear his own voice again, “The directions say that for exudative wounds, you should apply the dressing dry.”
“Yeah, I see that.”
“So... Let’s get started!” 
Dabi huffs. He hates that he needs help but he’s always been shit with his right hand, and he doesn’t want to risk dropping anything. He lays his left hand out towards Hawks and critically watches every move the man makes. 
Hawks is extremely gentle, and he dresses the wound as if he’s done this a thousand times over. The hero’s eyes never leave Dabi’s wrist, except for the few times he’d go over and read the instructions again to make sure he’s doing everything right. He cradles Dabi’s forearm with one hand as he uses the other to smooth the silver dressing on, the pressure of his fingers light around the staples and firm around the skin. After he applies the secondary dressing, he briefly looks up at Dabi to ask, “You alright?” 
Dabi can only nod. 
When the gauze is wrapped and firmly pinned in place, Hawks finally lets go and Dabi takes a step back to breathe.  
He immediately sets to work on his other hand, moistening the silver dressing with the clean water he’d boiled earlier on. 
“You sure you don’t want help with the other hand? I’ve been trained in this kinda stuff, first aid. I don’t mind.”
‘Well, that explains a little.’  
Still, Dabi shakes his head, “I prefer to do it myself,” and there’s truth in that, it’s the absolute truth, Dabi likes to do things himself. He likes things done his way, and he doesn’t like being touched. 
But the gentle feeling of Hawks’ fingers on his skin urges him to reconsider. 
He won’t, but some part of him wishes he would. 
As he starts to apply the silver dressing with his tweezers, he hears Hawks ask, “Can I ask you something really personal? Like, probably boundary-crossing?”
Dabi’s eyes never leave his working hands, “You got a lot of nerve, Birdbrain, thinkin’ we’re cool like that.”
He hears a small squawk, “C’mon, dude! I’m in your apartment, per your request! I think we’re along the lines of something, ‘like that’.”
Dabi snorts, “I won’t stop you, but don’t be surprised if I tell you to fuck off.”
Hawks laughs — the same small breathy one that makes Dabi’s own mouth quirk up.
Hawks asks why his body is full of scars.  
And Dabi… Well, every passing day, Dabi feels himself getting closer to death and, tonight, it makes his lips a little loose. Maybe he just wants someone to know his story, maybe he wants to try saying it out loud. And if he’s gonna tell his tale, it might as well be in the company of his favorite little double-agent.
When he finishes wrapping up the gauze around his right wrist, he digs for the cigarette packet deep in his pocket, takes out a stick, and lights it up. 
“My father,” He begins, “He’s the reason I’m like this, the reason I look like this, act this way. I know the whole ‘daddy issues’ thing is overrated but, well,” He shrugs, not daring to look up from his apartment floor. He takes another puff, the nicotine in his veins calming him, the smoke down his throat grounding him. He remembers his conviction, “That man took everything from me, left me like this, and he only ever got rewarded.”
He briefly glances at Hawks, the man’s gold eyes filled with an empathetic sorrow that only people like them could give each other, “I’m sorry.”
Dabi shakes his head and looks away, because he can’t deal with this, can’t have someone looking at him like that, not after all these years, “Not your fault. Nothing to be sorry for.”
“He’ll burn,” Hawks says, and Dabi sees the man’s fists clench from the corner of his eye, “Wherever he is, one way or another, he’ll burn.”
Dabi doesn’t know what kind of feelings are running through the hero right now. He thinks that maybe if he looks up, he might see.
‘Is he angry? Is it for me? Does he pity me, feel sorry for me? Is he triggered by my story the way I was by his? Or is he just telling me what he thinks I want to hear?’ — but Dabi doesn’t want to see. 
Because if Hawks only knew who Dabi’s father was, who made him like this, and did this to him, he doesn’t want to know if the hero would look at him the same way gold eyes do now. 
“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Birdy.”
Dabi walks over to his worn-out couch and sits down with a tired sigh. Hawks follows. 
For the next ten minutes, Dabi relays small bits and pieces of League information to Hawks, and the hero returns with tidbits of hero business. 
It honestly just feels like a way to fill the time. 
When a moment of silence reaches them, and Dabi’s cigarette has burned all the way through the filter, Dabi speaks up about something he kept quiet to himself last time, “Say, since you asked me a deeply personal question, grant me the same privilege?” 
“Sure, as long as I get the same privilege of tellin’ you to fuck off if I want.”
Dabi snorts and ashes his cigarette, tilts his head towards the hero.
“Was I wrong? Back then, about the Commission saving you?” 
He sees Hawks bite his lips and sink deeper into the sofa cushions, tilting his head back. He sighs, “You’re an observant fucker, aren’t you?”
Dabi smirks, “What villain isn’t?” 
“The ones that get caught.”
And at that, Dabi barks a laugh and is honestly shocked at the sound of it. He thinks Hawks is, too, by the way his blond eyebrows round up, and his previously conflicted eyes soften. 
Hawks lifts one of his clawed hands up, and if Dabi didn’t know better, he’d think the gesture was some kind of show-and-tell, but at the way Hawks’ own eyes glaze over his talons, Dabi thinks the movement is more for the hero’s own comfort. 
“I lied earlier, about the reason I don’t fight with my claws,” Hawks finally says, softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. 
Dabi knows to keep quiet. 
“I do care about wanting kids to live in a safer world, to… spare them. Of the horrific consequences that come from battles, traumatizing images ‘n all that stuff. Of course, I care about that. But… But I know my abilities. If allowed, I know I’d be able to use my claws in ways that wouldn’t end in some kind of, fucking , feral episode.”
Dabi’s eyebrows slowly knit together, “Allowed?”
Golden eyes flick over to Dabi’s and the vulnerability swirling in them makes the scarred man want… something.
To gasp, reach out, put his own wrapped hands over the talons, and warm them up a bit, just — something.
He’s horrified at these new and intrusive thoughts. 
Instead of doing anything, he waits. 
“The Commission,” Hawks drops his hand to his lap and averts his eyes there, “They have an image of what they believe society wants a hero to look like, along with other things. They… told me they were ‘correcting’ my flaws.”
There’s a beat of heavy, waiting silence.
“They appreciate my quirk — it’s strong and versatile, good for offense, defense, rescue — stuff like that. But they don’t… They hate my raptor genes, the mutations. Like, the only thing I’m allowed to have and show are my wings — everything else has to be hidden or removed. I’m a mutant, but I have to do everything I can to look as ‘humane’ as possible.”
‘What is even considered ‘humane’, in a society of quirked-people?’ 
Dabi is immediately reminded of his hatred towards hero society, “Shit, what the fuck, Birdy. Is that why you wear those stupid-ass gloves?”
Hawks sends a bitter and sad smile to Dabi, “Was the only way to convince them to let me keep my talons. They used to clip ‘em or file them down, but that fucking hurts and they grow back wrong, so. Yeah, got these gloves and told them I’ll never take ‘em off.”
“Tch,” Dabi feels so disgusted right now, at the people who run this society, “So they make you nice ‘n pretty for everyone to look at while they profit of’a’ya. Sick.”
“Yeah, well,” Hawks huffs a laugh, and it’s the one that makes Dabi feel sick to his stomach, “I’m the Number Two Hero, with my own agency! All at the tender age of twenty-four — oops, sorry, twenty-two, Commission fudged my age to make me look even more impressive. An eighteen-year-old success story is prettier than a twenty-year-old one.”
Bile threatens to well up in Dabi’s throat at that — the effort to make this hero fit into society’s obsession with the ‘barely legal’ trope.
“I should be grateful, right?” Hawks bitterly smiles, “Everybody wants to fuck me and every hero wants to be me.”
“Fuck outta here if you’re gonna talk like that, Birdbrain.”
Pink lips bite themselves into a smile, one so much more shy and on the edge of mischievous, “Wanna see my feet?”
“What the fuck?”
He does. He really does.
read full chapter here
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jamiethebeeart · 4 months
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⊂⁠(^‿^)⁠つ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠ω⁠・⁠*⁠⊂⁠)
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sprinklesau · 3 months
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Another au but this one is about hawks, because i love him
In this au keigo dies moments after all for one stoles his quirk, and then he wakes up in the past
In this au hawks eyes are just black like void to represent the part of him that was stole from him in the future and they will only go back to normal if he stills has his full wing and his quirk in the future.
Also he broke lady nagant out of jail.
This is my excuse to put three characters i like very much together (hawks, lady nagant, stain)
The red things in the bed are hawks feathers
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super-paper · 1 year
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Pictured: Tomura, upon seeing Yoichi in the OFAFO realm for the first time.
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nutzgunray-lvt · 6 months
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The MHA fandom can be so fickle and strange about the stupidest things, that it's honestly laughable.
On the one hand, you can have pressed stans accusing you of writing a "hit piece" against Bakugou, even though your characterization of him is 99% lifted off what he canonically says and does. You can have these same stans harassing someone into getting rid of the Dumb Bakugou Katsuki tag on A03, despite All Might Is An Idiot and other variations being on there.
Then you have Shinsou stans excusing away his Quirkism against Ojirou with "he was just trying to rile Izuku up!" without realizing that excuse absolutely does not fly in the real world. Someone tried doing something like this on Survivor, and it got them promptly criticized to hell and back and kicked off the show.
On the other hand, you can have pressed stans accusing you of going too easy on All Might, even though you have him actually acknowledge and apologize for his mistakes with the explicit promise of making up for them.
And then you can completely absolve Bakugou of all of shitty behavior like he had no agency in his decisions and punish Izuku for being a bullying victim, all while insisting that you're not biased towards Bakugou.
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scarlet-traveler · 8 months
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Thanks to everybody who's been reading my krbk month fics throughout the last few weeks! I really wasn't sure how well they would do over here but I was really surprised at all the attention they got <3
If you happened to miss any, you can find them all below:
Day 2: Rain (Tumblr | AO3) - Bakugou's experiences with rain Day 5: Fantasy (Tumblr | AO3) - runaway prince Bakugou meets dragon shifter Kirishima Day 9: Confession (Tumblr | AO3) - Kirishima unexpected confesses while he and Bakugou are up late at night Days 7+11+14: Sunshine, Long Distance, First Kiss (Tumblr | AO3) - Kirishima and Bakugou have a hiking date and their first kiss Day 17: Free Day (Tumblr | AO3) - mini sequel to previous fic feat. cuddling for warmth Day 18+20: Dancing, Moonlight (Tumblr | AO3) - Kirishima and Bakugou dance together under the stars Day 21: Coffee Shop (Tumblr | AO3) - art student Kirishima uses chemical engineering student Bakugou as his drawing muse Day 22: Alternate Careers (Tumblr | Twitter) - Bakugou and Kirishima open a joint bakery/florist business after retiring from hero work Day 25: Bakusquad (Tumblr | AO3) - Kiribaku tells the rest of the squad about their relationship Day 27: Royalty (Tumblr | AO3) - prince Kirishima meets baker Bakugou while escaping from royal duties Day 28: Soulmate (Tumblr | AO3) - Bakugou's experiences with Kirishima as his soulmate Day 29: Mutual Pining (Tumblr | AO3) - Bakugou and Kirishima confide in Deku about their feelings for each other Day 31: Quirk Accident (Tumblr | AO3) - Kirishima temporarily loses his memories
And for those of you who followed me within the last month, welcome! I hope you enjoy the mess of content here XD
I'll be taking a writing break for the next few weeks since I'm feeling a little burnt out, but I'll still be around! And I've got plenty more fics to share later on, kiribaku or otherwise, so keep an eye out :D
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emeraldsage98 · 1 year
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Summary: Hawks died. He died in flames and chaos, panic around him. He died with ash in his lungs and blood on his lips, and loss dragging his soul down. He died with screams echoing in his brain, hands too-far away reaching for him, and no wings at his back to catch him as he fell. He died with Dabi shouting his name, clear across the battlefield, that familiar voice curling in his ear.
And then, against all expectations, he woke up.
Part 1/14 of run it back again 
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ghostdoctor · 10 months
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monodeku actor au where they are supposed to act like they hate each other on set cause yk, monoma hates 1-A. But, they’re not very good at it and fans can tell. In the background where monoma and Midoriya are, you can tots see them flirting. plus whenever monoma has to deliver a line to Midoriya specifically it always has undertones that it should not have. like why do you sound romantic saying that he’s a piece of 1-A scum. 
the entire sports festival arch is a mess in this au. every time Midoriya is in a scene you can see monoma in the background ogling him and it’s actually kinda funny. the final cut of one of the episodes accidentally left in a bit where Midoriya does something and Monoma was so busy staring at him that he full-on faceplants. they just. didn’t cut that out. 
and during the cavalry battle you can totally see team monoma run by team midoriya more than once obviously intentionally and each time he says something to midoriya which results in midoriya making a scandalized face while ochaco has to stop herself from giggling. 
ugh and what if monoma was initially meant to make it into the 1v1 fights but the producers saw how he and midoriya were and decided that actually team kendou should make it instead. they didn’t want a homo fight on their hands. 
and like that one scene they show where monoma is taunting iida, ochaco, and midoriya at lunch had to be reshot several times because monoma could NOT get his lines out without it sounding like hes actually asking midoriya out. like at one point he fully leans on the chair midoriya is sitting at the and the director goes “bro. are you serious right now.” 
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crow-gothtree · 9 months
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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Nedzu, Midoriya Izuku & Nedzu Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku, Nedzu (My Hero Academia), Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, U.A. Faculty (My Hero Academia), U.A. Students (My Hero Academia), U.A.'s Big Three (My Hero Academia), Class 1-A (My Hero Academia) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Aged-Up Midoriya Izuku, Adult Midoriya Izuku, Top Midoriya Izuku, Bottom Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Underground Hero Midoriya Izuku, Tired Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Anal Sex, Loud Sex, Tall Midoriya Izuku, Secret Identity, White-Haired Midoriya Izuku, U.A. Teacher Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Time Travel Fix-It, Quirk Accident (My Hero Academia), Established Relationship, Protective Nedzu (My Hero Academia), Confident Midoriya Izuku, Dirty Talk, Accidental Voyeurism, Fluff and Smut, Not Beta Read, Makeover, Nedzu Knows Everything (My Hero Academia) Summary:
Aizawa and Izuku are thrown back in time 13 years into the past, 2 years before Izuku is set to start UA. They have to plan and find a way to use this opportunity to prevent the pain of the incoming years. Luckily for them, Izuku is in his normal (adult) body and they have more than enough time to set things in progress to change the future.
This could be great, it's unfortunate it happened due to a stray quirk going off on Aizawas Patrol leading to it activating while in bed. Leading them to get walked in on by a younger version of Nemuri and Hizashi.
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mysteroads · 1 month
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World Building Post-War MHA, aka:
How Mr. Compress survives, thrives, steals all of AFO's money, and gives a big ol' "Fuck You!" to the heroes by doing a better job at saving people... All while staying classy. 😉
tltr: Mr. Compress steals AFO's money, creates a non-profit, names it all after the League to remind everyone why it's important and also to thumb his nose at the heroes.
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So, mostly for my own edification, I started wondering what a Post-War MHA world would look like, and since MHA is a dystopia, how people would go about fixing the problems.
So, MHA dystopia can be described as: "Questioning the root of systemic issues brought about by a society grown both compliant *and* reliant on the protection of superheroes-- who have been elevated to celebrity/godlike status while ignoring 'Heroes' inherent humanity and all the flaws that come with being human-- while ignoring their own responsibilities as humans to help each other."
There's a reoccurring theme of Bystander Syndrome. Regular people growing compliant and being unwilling to step up to help their fellow man. Well, Post-War, I'm betting that's going to change, and that's where our boy Atsuhiro Sako can come in.
We all know Mr. Compress is going to survive. I really hope more members of the League do as well, but we know Atsuhiro Sako's going to make it. More than that, he's going jump headlong into making damn sure the past doesn't repeat itself, even if that means playing nice with the heroes (for awhile). There's going to be some sort of Villain Rehab program, or even a pardon/parole for the surviving LoV member(s). Sako's going to to be the perfect little ex-villain right up until his exit paperwork is processed.
And, since he was 1} in Tomura's inner circle, 2} he's clever enough to get Garaki to talk to him, and 3} he's an excellent thief... I'm going to assume he's smart enough to get the info he needs to access enough of AFO's accounts. 💸💸💸 And even if he's not, he's savvy enough to find the money somewhere.
I see Atsuhiro at the head of a Non-Profit Organization with several subsidiaries dedicated to different problems. Furthermore, as a unashamed former villain, I can see him naming the whole thing after the League... just to spite the heroes and remind everyone why he's doing what he's doing.😈 It's what his friends would've wanted.
The League for the Lost, and it's subsidiaries (colored for funsies):
Dabi’s Fire, for the campaign against domestic abuse and protection for the abused. 
Himiko’s Hope, assistance for so-called villainous and other maligned quirks, with a special emphasis on blood quirks and others with unique dietary requirements. 
Spinner’s Stories, support for mutation quirks and heteromorphs. 
Jin’s Friends, for free access to mental health resources. 
Big Sis’s House, safe spaces for queer youth and adults.
Tomura’s Soldiers, for the war against the trafficking of children with powerful quirks.
Honestly, this is probably the best way for the problems to be solved, and the best way to put AFO's ill gotten gains to good use. I mean, the money is there! It's going to be found eventually. Might as well use it to do whatever they can do to prevent a problem before it happens! And what better way to keep the memory of the League of Villains alive, get civilians involved in helping each other, and provide a warning for future generations-- than to put their names on Japan's biggest non-profit?
And, if he manages to piss off the old-school heroes and cops, while attracting the new generations, then that's just a bonus. 😎
If you made it this far, you are a most excellent person, a ✨gem✨ among readers!💖 And I want to hear from you! All... probably two, maybe three?... of you! What would you like to see from Post-War MHA? How would you fix the problems? Who from the LoV do you think's going to survive, and what are they going to do with themselves in the new world?
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pleathewrites · 1 month
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bellow the fire into my deadened lungs
chapter 4 excerpt — aizawa & class 1a on what makes a villain read full story here
‘PRO-HERO ENDEAVOR TURNS HIMSELF IN FOR THE ATTEMPTED MURDER OF HIS ELDEST SON: IS THIS OUR SYMBOL OF PEACE?’ 
An article of Dabi and Endeavor’s arrest gets leaked Wednesday morning. Every station, paper, and social media platform picks at the exposed meat of it like vultures to a fresh carcass, fighting over favored limbs and surprise bites.
Class 1A has never been so loud. There’s chatter everywhere.
“Oh my Gods, did you hear — ”
“ — about Todoroki-san —”
“ — his own father — ”
“ — and can you believe Dabi — ”
“ — that crazy villain is Shou’s — ”
“ — brother! The guy who kidnapped — ”
“ — kugou, hey, Bakugou!”
The gentle hand on his shoulder shakes Bakugou from the one-sided staring contest he was having with, ‘that fucking Half ‘n Half — coward hasn’t looked up from his desk the moment he sat down.’
It’s Kirishima, the boy who rescued him, the boy who doesn’t leave his side, who holds his hand and smiles like Bakugou hung the moon and the stars and everything in between.
The boy Bakugou had unknowingly given strength to when Kirishima needed it the most.
“I’m fine.”
Red eyebrows curve upwards in worry, and, ‘fuck,’ Bakugou hates worrying people, “You sure? It’s ok if you’re not. I don’t think anyone is.”
Kirishima looks at, ‘that fuckin’ Half ‘n Half,’ with those same sympathetic eyes, and Bakugou feels something ugly bubble up inside him. 
He scoffs, “Please, he’s known this entire time — fuck him!” 
Kirishima’s eyes squint, “Why do you think that?” 
“Because, if I knew, then there’s no fucking way he didn’t!”
That gets Todoroki to look up, both eyes blown so wide, Kirishima can see his scar visibly stretch, “You knew?”
Kirishima smiles fondly at the angry blond, “Bakugou’s smart like that. Of course he’d figure it out before any of us.”
And, well, Bakugou was about to run up and punch Todoroki in the face right then, but the way Kirishima is looking at Bakugou roots his feet to the ground he desperately wants to sink into. He breathes in deeply, counts like his therapist taught him, and with his exhale, his pounding heart starts to settle into something that feels more like stability. The only thing he’s got the energy left for is to huff and cross his arms, mumbling a pathetic, “Damn straight,” and leaning into Kirishima’s broad shoulder. 
Ironically, Kirishima’s warmth cools the fire in his chest. 
Todoroki shakes his head in something like disbelief — which, ‘Fuck him, because who is he to not believe me?’ — and asks, “When did you figure it out?” 
Bakugou didn’t notice until now how the whole class had quieted down.
He rolls his eyes, “Like, the minute you told Deku and I about Touya at your family’s sad ass dinner. Between that, Dabi’s deranged speech to me, and spending two minutes with Endeavor, it was pretty fuckin’ obvious.”
“Why didn’t you say anything!” Todoroki looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.
And, ‘oh,’ Bakugou rolls his eyes. He is so done with this conversation, “I just said, it was obvious. ”
That gets Todoroki to shut up and slump back into his chair. 
‘Hm. Fine. I guess IcyHot didn’t know. I can still blame him for being an idiot.’
At the back of the class, Sero chews the end of his pencil and wants nothing more than to offer Todoroki a hug, a cigarette, some kind of an out, but he feels as if he’s been taped to his chair by the paralyzing shock of a lost piece shoved into a puzzle he didn’t know until now remained unfinished — ‘everythin’ makes so much sense now.’
A minute later, Aizawa Shouta walks into his classroom, and prepares for the lecture of his life. Quite possibly, his last.
‘Depending on where Principal Nezu’s loyalties lie,’ Shouta thinks to himself, ‘Well, I’ll find out soon enough.’
The students quiet down with his presence, looking more like deers caught in headlights, waiting, waiting for —
“Everyone, take a seat,” He instructs, and as his students do so, he writes the lesson of the day on the board: Why Do Villains Exist?
Before the last squeak of his underline, before he even turns around, a myriad of answers fill the classroom.
“Free will?”
“Greed?”
“The Devil?”
“Shitty families, apparently…” 
Shouta holds up a hand, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I was not asking you all, directly. At least, not yet.”
His students sheepishly settle into their seats. A flurry of swished notebooks to clean pages hiss and evaporate into a long beat of silence. 
Shouta takes a deep breath, and a mental note of the way Todoroki Shouto’s shoulders are hitched up to his ears. Shouta cannot imagine what the child is going through. The minute Shouta saw those articles first thing in the morning, he knew his students would have so many questions — and as their teacher, he has a responsibility to answer them the best he can.
He doesn’t know what is going to happen, now that the secret of Todoroki Touya is out, but here, in these four walls of his classroom, he has a control and a capacity to at least prepare his students for the changes to come — the hopeful good and the anticipated bad.
“I understand some, quite frankly, shocking news has come to light. I know you all have many feelings about that news, and probably many questions.
“I was going through your Hero Curriculum over the last few days, and I’ve realized something — our school does not provide one social class. We teach you all how to fight, how to strategize, how to build your image and your portfolio, but we don’t teach you the ways our society functions. The way it was built to function. You learn Quirk history, but you don’t learn about the very social movements that have gotten you, and me, to where we are today. Our society has a twenty percent non-quirk-user population, yet we don’t teach you about their history, psychology, or sociology. 
“We separate the pre-quirk era and the present day, but every study shows that our society functions in the same way, more or less. That’s a bit odd, don’t you think? For our society to be so similar to the pre-quirk era? There’s a saying from that era. ‘Those who refuse to learn history are — ’”
“‘— doomed to repeat it’,” Midoriya finishes. 
Usually, Shouta would reprimand Midoriya for speaking out without being called on, but today, a small smile ticks at his lips. 
“That’s right. Everyone, write that down. I’ll put it on the board.”
He does so while thinking of the frightening duality of identical blue eyes; resolved azure and guilty cerulean. He turns around and spots a yearning cobalt, surrounded by the thick scar tissue of why he’s doing this. His fingers clench around the marker.
“Today, I’m going to throw a lot of information at you guys. And I know when you hear this information, you all will feel many different emotions, as did I. I want you all to know my classroom is a safe space, and there are no wrong feelings. However, I want us all to respect each other to the end,” Shouta looks at both Bakugou and Todoroki when he says, “We are on each other’s team.”
He waits for his students to nod and give him their go-ahead. 
“Now, legally, in my contract, I am not allowed to... theorize to my students — you guys — the relationship between the rise of villainy and a, vastly, failing society. Bit strange, don’t you think? We ask you all, everyday, to risk your lives for this society, but you are not encouraged to learn about it. And I am not allowed to teach you the ways in which this society operates. 
“Well, that doesn’t sit right with me anymore. Today, I am going to risk my job. And in return, I just ask you all to listen with open minds.”
There is a collection of distressed ‘Aizawa-sensei…’s that fill the room. It pulls together the pieces of his broken heart.
Shouta starts to write on the board, “Our society is based in cycles — wealth cycles, abuse cycles, poverty cycles, etcetera. Note, I am talking about the majority, not the single bootstrapping underdog. Now, I am asking you all directly — are people born bad?” 
Bakugou pipes up, “Fuck, no.” 
Shouta witnesses the small uptick of Todoroki’s lips, and nods in approval.
“Correct. Reality is, we look at people who have committed horrible crimes, people like Chisaki Kai. We see a fraction of the pain he inflicted on Eri — and the twisted thing is, he most likely was given the same treatment when he was of that age. Fortunately, with the help of our young heroes, we managed to save Eri from that environment.”
He witnesses the pride in Midoriya’s smile and the dignity in Kirishima’s posture. Shouta prays his lesson will not strip them of it.
He rhetorically asks the class, “But, what would have happened if she wasn’t saved? If she stayed in that environment for another five, ten, maybe fifteen years?” He is answered with blinking, waiting eyes, “Trauma physically changes the brain, especially during your developmental years. Does anyone know when the brain fully develops?”
Kirishima tentatively raises his hand, and Shouta calls on him, “Well, I mean, if we’re considered adults at eighteen, is it because that’s when our brains are fully developed?”
“You bring up an excellent point, Kirishima,” Shouta commends. “Society considers you full, functioning adults when you reach the age of eighteen. However, studies from both pre-quirk and our era state that the brain finishes development as late as age twenty-six, even longer for people with common neurodevelopmental disorders, like ADHD.”
“Wait, shit, I have ADHD — ”
“ — Dude, me too — ”
“— does my sister, that makes so much sense — ”
Shocked murmurs flitter around as Ashido raises up her hand, and cuts through the noise, “Wait, Aizawa-sensei, then why do we use eighteen as the age of being an adult? That’s the age when we’re allowed to make so many life-changing decisions…”
The murmurs stop.
“Why, indeed? You’re asking the right question, and you deserve a truthful answer. Because eighteen is such an important age. It is the age you vote, the age you register to become a Pro-Hero, the age people join our civilian military, the age you are allowed to engage in intimate acts with people older than eighteen… And it is the age you are tried as an adult for any crimes committed.
“Which brings me to my next point — has anyone ever heard of the term, ‘private prisons’?”
To Shouta’s surprise, it is Sero who answers his question, “They’re prisons that’re bought by corporations. Don’t have to follow all the government policies, can make up their own rules and stuff. Profit off the prisoners, too — I read somewhere that it’s compa-comparable? To slave-labor. Is that true?”
Sero Hanta is a student that Shouta would argue is actually immensely intelligent, despite his limited vocabulary. Sero’s file states that he comes from an unremarkable school within one of the lower-income districts, but through the academic year, Shouta has learned that Sero’s knowledge is oddly vast.
Shouta hums in approval, “In a nutshell, that is true.” 
He goes to the board and begins to explain the prison industrial-complex using diagrams and metrics that blew his mind the first time he researched into it.
“ — Various people will argue how private prisons are the solutions to overcrowding in federal prisons, ignoring the root causes of mass incarceration, like what we’ve already discussed — police bias, three-strike policies, harsher sentences for non-violent crimes, politician bribery, and so on.”
Kaminari raises his hand, “Is Tartarus privately owned?”
Shouta feels the grim pull of his expression, “Yes. Any guesses as to who by?”
Bakugou answers, “Probably the HPSC.”
Shouta nods, “Correct,” and writes down a grotesquely large but accurate number on the board, “This is how much the HPSC profits off Tartarus, annually.” 
Amongst the scritch and scratch of his students’ furious note-taking, Yaoyorozu’s hand shoots up, “I have a question about what you said earlier, that perhaps ties into what you’re teaching now. Are you saying any traumas we endure up until age twenty-six will physically change the way our brains develop? And if so, in what ways?”
“Thank you for noticing that connection, Yaoyorozu. That brings us back to my example of Eri, and if she had stayed in that environment, raised by Chisaki Kai. Anger and hurt feeds the soul just as love and affection does, but the needs of that person changes based on what they are given. What if Eri had grown up to be one of the villains you face? Would you still want to save her, or would your first instinct be to lock her away? You wouldn’t know who she is, where she comes from. You’d only know her crimes, but never what brought her to that point.” 
“Sensei... It’s really not fair to use Eri-chan in this example. She’s just a child,” Midoriya defends.
Shouta nods in understanding, “So was every single villain I’ve ever arrested,” His mind goes immediately to that day in the interrogation room with Dabi, the scarred-villain fighting for Himiko Toga’s immunity, the reminder that she is a child before she is a villain.
“But, we can’t excuse villainous actions!” 
“You’re right, Midoriya,” Shouta confirms, “Actions have consequences.”
“So…” It is Tokoyami that speaks up this time, “What’s the solution?” 
Shouta shrugs, “What is the solution? Two-hundred years of hero-society hasn’t figured that out. Two-thousand years of human society never figured out how to stop their own criminals.”
Silence.
Shouta knew it was a shit answer, but, well, he only started this research a few days ago. His conclusion is that the solution will take a collection of heroes to figure out, and it won’t happen in a day, and most devastatingly, not in his lifetime. He believes in planting the seed, though. He believes in his students to water it with the information he’s given today, believes in them to let it soak in the rays of enlightenment he wished he’d bothered to bathe in twenty-odd years ago.
He believes in his students, in this generation, so much more than his own.
“You are here to learn how to be heroes. You’re not here to learn how to fight — yet, somewhere along the lines, we’ve all forgotten what being a hero meant. So,” He writes on the board: What Does it Mean to be a Hero?
“Saving people!” Kaminari.
Obvious, but — “Good,” He wrote it down, “Saving who?” 
“Innocents!” Ida.
“Hm,” This is where Shouta will have to make his poor students think deeper, “Why just the innocent?” 
“Because they don’t deserve to be hurt,” Ida answers.
Shouta nods, “So, when does someone lose their innocence?” 
There’s a moment of thinking before Asui tries, “When they’ve hurt someone who didn’t deserve it?”
‘Deserve’ is the interesting word here.
“Who deserves to be hurt? Is abuse something that is earned? Who gets to make that judgment, and on what basis?”
Uraraka is the brave one to weakly ask, “Police?” 
“Ah,” Shouta almost facepalms, “I realize I never assigned proper reading for this topic, my apologies. Right after class, I will email you all some studies that have mostly been kept underground. Here are only some statistics pulled from those studies. I’ll write them down now.”
‘70% of villains come from abusive homes and below the poverty line.’
‘40% of policemen self-reported to being domestic abusers - how many unreported?’ 
‘80% of sexual-assault offenders are not arrested, despite evidence that murder convictions have been sentenced for less on.’
‘73% of federal prisoners are serving time for non-violent offenses and have no history of violence.’
‘60% of the top fifty heroes have committed criminal acts, yet remain unpunished.’
He waits as his students write down these statistics in their notebooks. He only continues when every single face has looked back up at him.
“Earlier on, I spoke about how people’s needs change, based on what they’re given. It is against the law to steal. However, basic necessities like food, shelter, water, diapers, pads and tampons are not free. Everyone needs to work in order to make money, yet our society’s job markets are often closed or extremely restricted to convicted felons, equally for both violent and non-violent offenders. 
“The law makes no difference between someone shoplifting a luxury handbag, and shoplifting a sandwich. So, what our current justice system is essentially telling our society is that people should starve, because of pre-defined morality. That people should let themselves descend to slow death, because that is what our society has deemed is ‘right’. 
“I am not trying to make you all feel shame for the way our society works. You’re just kids. You are all incredibly gifted, and incredibly privileged, kids. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. To pick yourself up from your bootstraps, you first need to have a sturdy pair of strong leather boots. Many are born without.
“Everyone wants to be a hero to ‘stop villains’. What I want you all to think about is prevention. How can our society lower these numbers? How can we stop a crime before it’s committed, rather than immediately punish someone once that crime is committed? How can we help reintegrating convicted felons into our society, so that they don’t end up in these prisons a second, and a third time? 
“And I want you all to also question — who actually benefits from a criminal being punished? Our society, our governments, or our heroes?”
His students look conflicted. Worried, sad, betrayed, afraid and confused. 
Shouta looks at the clock and realizes he’s almost out of time.
He puts the marker down, “I want you all to do the reading I’ve emailed you, and write a one-page reflection on how you would like to be a part of villain prevention once you debut as a Pro-Hero. No goals are too big or too small. I encourage you all to use your imagination, use your empathy, and use the information you’ve learned from me, and your classmates. Does that sound alright?”
His students slowly nod.
“Alright. Thank you all for listening. My door is always open if you have questions or just generally want to talk. Class dismissed.”
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