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crissiebaby · 2 months

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Bab Rats: Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, gender transformation, breastfeeding, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Strawberry

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“Hi dewe, Sam…chus feewin’ any bettew?' ' said Hanna with her partially perma-regressed vocal cords, receiving no response as Sam shied away from her. Undeterred, she shifted her approach, “Hey, I has an idea. How bout chu take chus mind off evewyfing and twy one of da new diapees dat da hazmats dwopped off dis mownin’? Ish a diapee dat can onwy be removed by da pewson who puts it on. See?” She tugged at the hem of her diaper with all her might to no avail before giving the simple lock print on its front a hardy slap. Sadly, her attempt at levity earned no reaction from Sam. Lowering her head, she took a step back from Sam’s crib. “Sowwy. I-I’ww jus weave chu awone until chus weady.”

“My life is ruined,” muttered Sam, his words lingering in the back of his throat and choking him up, “I thought I knew what I was signing up for. Now…I might be stuck as a girl forever.” He lowered his head between his knees, sulking.

Walking around to the side of the crib Sam was leaning against, Hanna reached through the bars and gently placed a hand on his head. “I sowwy,” she said, reaching through the crib bars and gently patting Sam’s shoulder sympathetically. Thankfully, he seemed receptive to her touch, allowing them to ease their tension slightly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she decided to inject some fun into the situation, “Ya know, doh, bein’ a girl isn hawf bad. Take it fwom me: a fuww-time girl since da day I was bown. Suwe, da pewiods suck buh we gets wots of fwee dwinks.”

“Being as we’re stuck here, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cash in on those drinks. Good to have in the back pocket, though,” said Sam, unable to suppress his reaction to the mild humor being lobbed his way. He sighed hard, ridding himself of as much negative energy as he could, “Sorry, I’m sure you were hoping for a more playful playmate. It’s just…I always dreamed about being locked away in a nursery for as long as I can remember. I want to enjoy this…I just can’t get out of my own head. And now, I have to deal with this!” Using both hands, he grabbed onto his ridiculous double-Ds.

Had it not been for the lactation drug Hanna was testing, she was fairly certain Sam would have bigger assets than her. It was always the lucky ones who were never grateful. “Iswa says dey wowkin’ on da antidote so dis pwobabwy isn fowever. Why not enjoy it a widdwe?” she said, hoping to raise Sam’s spirits by showing him all the benefits of being a girl, “Wike finks about it. How many peepo wud do anyfing to swap gendews even fo one day? Fo aww dose poor twans girls out dewe, live a wittwe.”

Once again, Sam found himself in stitches over Hanna’s abrasive yet sincere comments. It was clear that she cared about his well-being, at least to some extent. “Oh…I-I’m not so certain that's a good idea,” he said, squeezing his thighs together to subdue the faint stirring in his unfamiliar loins. It was strange but for some reason, although Hanna and he had only met a few days ago, he felt like he’d known her all his life. Blushing as he caught himself staring at her in silence, his eyes darted away from his attractive roommate.

Yanking her hand away from Sam’s shoulder, Hanna too was in the midst of a flustered response as she quickly realized the reason for Sam’s abrupt head turn. As a bisexual woman who leaned toward liking women, she hated to admit Sam was exactly her type. Well, she didn’t exactly hate it per se but she did feel guilty about it. If he was even slightly into it, she would ravish him without a second thought; an intrusive concept that only intensified whenever she looked his way.

Trapped in a state of growing arousal, both Hanna and Sam were sweating multiple days of pent-up sexual frustration. Especially Sam, who hadn’t masturbated a single time since arriving at CrissBaby HQ. The same couldn’t be said for Hanna, though her steady use of the various vibrators made in-house at CrissBaby for testing purposes had certainly upped her sex drive.

Biting his lip, Sam knew if anything kinky was going to happen, he as the emotionally vulnerable one was going to have to initiate it. Mercifully, he had the perfect icebreaker stationed right between his legs. “O-Okay, we can try some stuff,” he said, shying away physically in spite of his bold words, “How about we start with my first diaper change as a girl? I think mine should definitely be put out to pasture.” He gave his overly ripe diaper a soft poke, demonstrating how absurdly used it was after more than three days without a change.

Lowering the crib bars, Hanna’s heart was threatening to leap out through her throat. How she was going to manage to conceal her lust while changing Sam’s diaper was beyond her. She didn’t even want to change him. She wanted to mash her face into the base of his ultra-squishy diaper until he came for her over and over again. “Hmmm…I not so sure chu neesa changie yet afta aww. Seems wike dere’s stiww pwenty mowe room in hewe,” she said, lightly dragging her hand along the muck balloon around Sam’s hips while passing off her desire to knead his diaper like a ball of dough as nothing more than playfulness.

*GASP!*

Having avoided touching himself at all costs for three days, one touch was all it took to amplify his need for relief. A shaky breath exited his plush lips as waves of sensitivity, unlike anything he’d ever experienced as a guy spread across his entire body. Now, he was the one wondering how on Earth he would survive a diaper change in this condition.

The strained silence from earlier reared its ugly head again as Hanna and Sam waded through extremely awkward waters. It couldn’t have been more painfully obvious what was on each of their minds. All they needed was for one of them to say something. Luckily, Hanna’s filter was nowhere near good enough to stay quiet, “Fuggit. Be honest, chu jus wanna do howny diapie stuffs wif me?”

“Yes,” said Sam without a hint of hesitation. Even he was a tad shocked by how rapidly the simple affirmation fell from his mouth. That shock served only to elevate his carnal needs as he opened his legs wide in preparation for the profusion of pleasure coming his way.

Unsurprisingly, Hanna wasted no time jumping into Sam’s crib and kneeling over him now that she had the green light to get freaky. Two wet spots began to form on her shirt thanks to her hyperactive titty lactation, triggered by an uptick in arousal over Sam’s approval. She paid it no mind, her passion too powerful to slow down over some slight humiliation. “way back and twy not to scweam too woud if chu can hewp it. I’ww take cawe of evwyfing,” she said, returning her hand to the center of Sam’s comically full pamper. Only this time, her touch was anything but light. Her fingers sunk into nearly a foot of the swollen wadding and its semi-soft, messy core. “Wowza! No way I cooda kept my hans off dis fo thwee days. I nuh seen one dis messy befo. Chu mus be one pwoud baby,” she cooed, adding some verbal teasing into the mix while her sensual hand motions cut through Sam’s defenses like a knife.

Sam responded in kind as his face transitioned through various hues of red until his complexion was cherry-colored. However, Hanna’s words, while embarrassingly seductive, were nothing in comparison to the shockwaves impacting his nether region. His body felt weak as he leaned against his crib bars, allowing his new, female hormones to take over his senses. Everything from the way his hair brushed against the back of his neck to the softness of the blanket beneath his thighs turned every part of his figure into an erogenous zone. “I-Is that what…s-sex feels like for you?” he muttered, stricken by the stark difference between men and women when it came to the Big Bang. For men, all stimulation was housed within the pelvic area leading up to a large explosion at the end. The arousal women experience, on the other hand, is far subtler, spreading throughout the entire body the vagina acting as an epicenter.

It was hard for Sam to necessarily say which was superior, especially since he had yet to lose his virginity as a guy. That being said, he was certainly finding a lot of appeal in the female side of things if his libidinous moans were anything to go off. Even the pitch of his feminized voice was turning him on, sounding akin to something one might hear in a porno.

“I gonsa make chus addicted ta bein’ a girl,” said Hanna, intensifying her hand motions as she whispered the horniest things in Sam’s ear; her breath sending pleasure signals from his brain to his slit. With her free hand, she grabbed onto his left breast and began rubbing it softly, ensuring her delicate touch never got too harsh enough to cause pain, “Chu boobas awe gonna be so sensitive cuz imma pway wif dem aww da time. Fink of aww da dwess up games an tea pawties we can have. I wonder how long it wiww be befo chu beg me ta fiww da widdwe pocket between chus legs. You wanna have somefing inside chu, doncha?”

Done in by Hanna’s bedroom skills, Sam couldn’t argue with what Hanna was saying even if he wanted to. It was as if his feminine side had a magnetic field around it, pulling him in and refusing to let go. Maybe it was the sex talking but the more Hanna talked, the more alluring the idea of exploring the opposite end of the gender spectrum became. He’d already given up being an adult and accepted the fact that he wanted to live the rest of his life as a horny baby. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he would throw away his birth gender for the same reason. “Y-Yes! I-I want it all! I want to be your girl! Oh fuck!” she shouted, mounting her first female orgasm.

Hearing Sam say those fateful words was all that Hanna needed to push her over the edge. She scooted her padded butt forward and mashed her wet diaper into Sam’s messy one, joining her in ecstasy. “Come here,” she said, wrapping the hand around Sam’s neck that had previously been massaging her mooshy diaper, she pulled him into her lactating chest, “M-My boobs are so sore. Please s-suckle them.”

Hanna’s pleas were immediately answered as Sam pried open her play partner’s top and planted her lips on her right nipple. Her cheeks puffed up with fresh cream, unable to keep up with Hanna’s flow now that he had engaged her milk sacs. “Ish sho yummy,” she said between swallows. Even her subsequent orgasm wasn’t enough to unlatch her from Hanna’s tit. The flavor was just too good.

Lost in the deepest depths of passion, Hanna and Sam had entered CrissBaby HQ riddled with uncertainty. No longer was that the case. Every horny thing they’d read online or dreamed up in their heads was now at their fingertips. Letting go of the last of their reluctance, they embraced what it truly meant to be a Bab Rat as they climaxed together over and over again.

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“Okay, I’ll admit when I’m wrong. This first batch of testers, while untrained, have given us more data to work with in a mere three days than anything the official testing team could pull off,” said Mark, sitting behind the glass partition of Hanna and Sam’s nursery as he watched them go to pound town with each other. He may have been skeptical of the Bab Rats Program at first but the numbers didn’t lie, “The only downer news at the present is that we still need to tinker with the aphrodisiac formula. It definitely shouldn’t have taken three whole days for these two to go to bone town together. But that can wait for tomorrow. Take your victory lap. You’ve earned it.”

Smiling proudly thanks to Mark’s praise, Dr. Madrigal was thrilled to have her superior’s approval, especially after he outright dismissed her idea initially. Soon, the rest of the test nurseries that had been assigned to her program pending final approval would be filled with useful idiots like Hanna and Sam who were willing to give up everything to be a market research dummy for an ABDL company. Where she’d go from here was anyone’s guess. Heck, for all she knew, Mark’s job might be hers in the near future. “Thank you, Mark. Coming from you, that means a lot,” she said, playing up her gratitude to ensure her rise to the top was as subtle as possible.

THE END.

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

#ab/dl #ab/dl art #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #crissiebaby #diaper art #diaper stories #diaper humiliation #dirty diaper #diaper messy #wetting diaper #diaper hypno #hypnosis #crissbabydiaperco

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writeshite · 2 years

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Im on my knees begging for more Homelander stuff

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

Summary:

You flick his forehead, “Yeah, well, at least I don’t wear hair gel, which, fun fact, is flammable.” You chase him around the room, hands in the air, and your little suns rush past him, leaving dents in the walls, “I’m gonna fry you, John,” you cackle when he tries to fly away and ends up with his head through the ceiling, you fall to the floor in full-blown laughter.

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Supe!Reader | Childhood Friends to Lovers | Crack Treated Like Fanfic

Words: 1816

Author's Note:

Do I know what this is? No. Hope you like it.

Your room in the Vought labs is average; you’ve counted every dent, corner, and scorched burn mark a hundred times over, so it’s strange when you see the new face. The face in question belongs to another boy, about your age, his hair is swept well, and he looks normal enough. He looked tired, though, like he’d just been running from someone and hadn’t expected his hiding place to have someone else in it. His confusion was replaced by curiosity when he realizes the shiny glow of your skin, like the sun, your skin is quite literally like the solar celestial. The burn marks, your outbursts, the human shape in the burn marks, Vought employees that thought it’d be fun to piss off a child with the power to turn you to ash. Your eyes are just white, with no pupils, no color, just glowy white things in your head.

“Wow! You’re shiny!” He reaches out to you, but you flinch back and try to warn him off, but he ignores you, grabs your arm, and he marvels at it. “That’s so not fair! You got a better power than me!”

You just stare at him, he’s not burning or screaming; aside from the edge of his sleeves charring up, he’s perfectly fine. “You can touch me?”

He huffs, “Yeah. My name’s John; what’s yours?”

John was a curious case, he was a lab rat like you, but he had a lot more freedom - mainly because he was a little brat and used his power to get what he wanted - he was also your only friend, well, technically, he was the only friend you hadn't turned into barbeque. As mentioned, if John wanted something, then he would get it, so he wanted to be your friend, and there was nothing the scientists could do about it.

“John, what are we doing?” He'd rushed into your room, and dragged you away without explanation.

“Just trust me,” he responds.

It’s way past curfew, and if you get caught, you might get in trouble; you’re pulled into another area, and your light fills the room; John moves to stand in front of you, hands spread out in a ta-da gesture, “Surprise! We’re gonna be roommates!”

“Really? How? Vought wouldn’t….”

“Fuck Vought—”

You put your hands on his mouth, “That’s a bad word.” John licks your hand, and you draw back with a disgusted look on your face.

“See, this is our drawing wall, and this is our bed, and I even got more blankets in case you get cold.”

“How would I get cold? I’m the sun, you dodo,” you remind him.

His face scrunches up, “I know that! I was just trying to be nice,” he huffs, punching your arm; you smack his face and laugh when he flies into a wall. “Meanie,” he pouts. The two of you play fight for a bit, and when the Vought scientists come in the morning, they find you side by side, hands together. When they try to separate you, John breaks a few arms before they get the hint, and John’s room becomes your room.

It doesn’t end there; pretty soon, John decides it’s not enough and demands to have you by his side at every instance. So you clap when John gets his training done, and he catches the little suns you throw in the air. When he doesn’t pay attention to the education side of things, you stay up tutoring him, and sometimes, when you’re upset, he’ll make his shitty shadow puppets, and you wipe away the tears laughing.

You go from child to teenager, and both your powers grow with you; John’s eyes hurt when he opens them, the red beams are more powerful now, and he sucks at flying. Parts of your body will flicker, and you'll have human skin for a brief few moments, but those moments are few and far in between. John says it’s stupid, “Why would you want human skin? You’re cooler than that,” he insists, but you sigh.

“Don’t you wish you were normal, like normal, normal?” you ask back; his face does the little scrunchy thing when he’s confused, “you know, like the kids we see on TV, parents, cousins, grandparents, normal birthdays and actual rooms, not this.” You gesture around you, your shared ‘room’ had seen minor upgrades, with the inclusion of a larger bed and actual drawers, but it still wasn’t a proper room. “Sometimes I wish I could actually touch things without worrying they’ll melt in my hands.”

John headbutts you, “Maybe, but if I were normal, then I wouldn’t have you, and I’d be a nobody.”

“With a face that ugly,” you joke, “I doubt it.”

He huffs, sticking out his tongue, “At least I’m not a lightbulb.”

On occasion, this lady comes to see you, well, not you, mostly John; she babies him every chance she gets. Coming in between you and him whenever she can. Madelyn Stillwell, if you heard the others right, she must be high on the totem pole if they let her take John anywhere she wants, whenever she wants. Despite John's reassurances, you don’t like her; any time she comes too close, you make sure her outfit of the day gets burned somehow. It’s probably why she hates you. Once John comes back from one of their field trips looking lost and barely utters a word for a few days, but after every other field trip, he gushes about her like the mother he never had.

The childhood euphoria doesn’t last long; Vought decides to make the two of you the faces of their brand, and they wind up some bullshit about the two of you finding some calling in an ordinary childhood. You don’t care about the details as much as they do and roll your eyes every second they force you to memorize it. Then they get you costumes; that was your favorite bit, watching John squirm as they fit you in various suits - his hero costume looks like the American flag took a shat all over it; yours is like a solar eclipse like it absorbed all the light, a contrast to your abilities, and between the two of you, you share a gold accent.

“I feel ridiculous,” John grimaces, “I mean, look at this thing; why are there so many stars?!”

“Yeah, you do look stupid,” you agree with him; holding the ends of your cape, you turn on the spot, marveling at your starry pattern, much smaller than his; it resembles the night sky, and every time you move it looks like it’s moving on its own. “I look amazing, they said my Supe name’s going to be Eclipse because I take away the light for myself.”

John sulks, “How come you get the cool stuff?” He sits on the floor, arms folded as his cheeks puff up childishly.

You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead, “I was only joking; you look fine.” That doesn’t stop the pouting; in fact, John just turns away from you, so you resort to plan B. You’d seen something like this once; one of the Vought employees had made her girlfriend happy by kissing him, so that’s what you do, you kiss John’s cheek. It doesn’t make him happy per se, but he stops sulking, and now you’re not sure what to do because you just stare at each other. John’s cheeks have a slight tinge of red to them.

“You kissed me,” he mutters.

“Yeah, don’t expect me to do it again,” you shove him and run off; John sits there, hand on his cheek, as he watches you leave.

Vought brings in other Supes over time; some survive, some don’t, and those that do survive get put with you and John in the Seven - the world’s greatest team of Supes. The lineup changes one or two times, but right now, it’s you, John, Queen Maeve, Stormfront, the Deep, Starlight, A-Train, and Black Noir. You go from a lab rat to a celebrity, interviews, paparazzi, fans, merch, the whole nine yards, and you get moved up to the 99th floor. Your room is ever bigger, and you spend the first few days just staring out at the city, John sneaks into your room a lot, and the two of you just sit.

You talk, but sometimes, John is too busy staring at you to respond; unlike before, you could switch the glowy skin off. The first time you did it, you practically cried in relief; back then, John had said you looked weird, but now he just stared at you like you were the most remarkable thing on Earth. You snap your fingers in his face, “Hello, Earth to John.”

“Huh?”

“You were staring again, weirdo,” you tell him.

“Sorry,” he says, looking away. Your hands are intertwined, and you’re leaning back on him; when you glance over at him, he’s got a red blush creeping up his skin. You grab his chin, tilting it down, and you kiss him again, this time on the lips. It’s fleeting and brief, but it’s enough, and John’s face is entirely red for a while.

You don't have a relationship per se; more like brief rendezvous in the hallways, tag teaming for missions; Edgar makes his displeasure pretty clear, but you don’t pay him any mind, and he, at the very least, does the favor of keeping it to himself. The general public is equally as perceptive, and before long, the internet blows up over it; Madelyn is very much displeased by it and makes it known.

“It’s a distraction to your careers and dedication to Vought International.”

“And trying to set him up with Starlight and having me with the Deep isn’t?” You ask, creeping close to her, “John may hold a soft spot for you, but I don’t, try and come in between him and me, and I’ll turn you to barbecue.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges, stepping back anyway; she goes to say more, but the doors slide open, and John enters the room. He looks beat and barely pays her any mind; coming up to you, he kisses your forehead, Madelyn clears her throat when he starts to rant, and he turns to her in surprise. Their conversation is brief, but John ends it with a yawn, and as Madelyn leaves for the elevator, you smile, drawing a line across your neck to get the message clear.

End Note:

Reader is a living sun btw, if I didn't make it clear enough. I don't know what this is, I just wanted to write some childhood friends to lovers kinda thing. Hope you enjoyed reading this shite, stay hydrated.

#homelander x male reader #the boys imagine #shiterequests #homelander x reader

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swiftiebookwormlogastellus · 8 months

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ATYD Characters As Stuff My Friends Have Said:

……..

Sirius: Is it Arthritis when your heart clenches?

James: I’m pretty sure that’s love

Remus: No, that’s a heart attack

………..

McGonagall, about the Marauders: I wanted to say no but they didn’t give me enough time

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Lily, during potions: BOILING WATER WILL NOT CATCH FIRE

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Remus, when asked about money: I have 1.90 plus a paper clip

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James: Keep my dog’s name out of your barking mouth. Woof.

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Peter: Is lactose intolerance ice cream phobic?

………..

Lily: Pregnancy is not a birth defect, Sirius.

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James, when asked about quidditch: Hustle. Slay. Repeat.

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Grant, concerned: Remus is like thank u, next to my next life

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Regulus: History is one big meme and we’re all fools in it

……….

*texting*

Regulus: Who’s drowning Debbie?

Regulus: wait

Regulus: that says downer

Regulus: nvm

Voldemort: I mean if someone’s drowning it’s gonna be you

……….

Sirius: You’re gonna be proud of me.

Regulus: Doubtful, but go on.

………

*while doing a presentation*

Remus, just before a full moon: Lily, if you see anyone talking, throw your shoe at them.

Sirius, from the back: You sound like my mom

………

Sirius: *rapid French*

Peter: Si?

……….

Sirius: I will sue my bloodline

……….

Remus: I met 5 people today. I hated this experience. I’m an introvert.

………

Walpurga: What are you gonna sue me with?

Sirius: ….A lawyer.

……….

Snape: It’s not racially motivated if you hate everyone equally

………

Peter: I’m attracted to cheese

……….

Remus: I traded intellect for chocolate.

……..

Chris: 10/10. I’m recommending it to the person who recommended it to me.

……..

Grant, about Sirius: And that, my friends, is what we call materialistic.

……..

Sirius, during PoA: This is animal abuse at it’s finest! *kicks rat*

……..

Sirius to Professor McGonagall : Have you tried hop on?

……..

Remus, holding up a scrabble tile: Stop giving me D!

……..

About Fenrir: His favourite food is gay people.

……..

Sirius, when trying to become an animagus: I have a condition in my hair where my mouth won’t move.

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Lily, trying to explain muggle technology: Do you know what a gigabyte is?

James, completely lost: Gigachad?

……..

Mary and James about English cuisine: Isn’t it ironic how you colonized places and started wars over spices but still have the blandest food ever?

……..

Sirius: *kicks snow at James*

Remus, narrating: As you can see, the Cold War has begun

……..

Sirius, drunk: J’ai no stupid

……..

James: What does KFC stand for?

Sirius, to the tune of California Girls: KaliFornia Curls

……..

Remus: *starts beatboxing*

Peter: *starts dancing*

Sirius: *raps about peppa pig*

James: BUM BADA DA DA BADADADA DA DA

……..

Snape: Pigeons are fat and ugly.

Sirius: Look who’s talking

……..

Walpurga: You can punt kids without legal repercussions.

……..

Sirius: I’m gonna do what the Canadians did to the First Nations. *stabs someone with an exacto knife a wand*

……..

Sirius: Applying cell theory to my hair to dye it…

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Marlene, after meeting James' mom: GUYS I JUST MET A MILF

……..

Dorcas: Lucrative! That's a big word for...

Barty: Elmo?

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James: A PUNK ROCK DRUMMER AND HE'S SIX FOOT-

Sirius: *tackles James*

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Pandora, about Barty: Evan! Talk some sense into this British goblin!

……..

Sirius to Snape: I will drain your spinal fluid and shove it up your butt.

……..

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chaotic-orphan · 6 months

Note

Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I apologize if you don’t take asks, I wasn’t sure!!

I absolutely take asks! It’s confusing because I made Orphan a secondary blog by accident, and I don’t think the ask shows up but please don’t be afraid to send them!

This looks fun thank you very much!

*~*~*~*~*

When Superhero brought Supervillain to the Supermax prison, Jack and Rufus were on duty to bring Supervillain to his specially made holding cell. Fabricator had been in the Daedalian all week, making sure that Supervillain’s cell would hold him for his entire sentence.

Rufus was impatient after getting word from Superhero that Supervillain was apprehended and on route to secure him in the Daedalian.

The prison was called the Daeds colloquially, or at least that’s what Jack and everyone around him had always called it. The Daeds, not a very terrifying name but its idea was that the prison was like the labyrinth that Daedalus made in Greek mythology, keeping the minotaur at bay. Or in this case: keeping the Villains away from the rest of society and keeping the rest of society away from the Villains.

“Do I look okay?” Rufus asked for the seventh time since Superhero’s warning. He was sitting at the reception desk while Jack stood behind the reception desk, arms folded leaning against the wall, eyes focused on the doors.

“You look fine,” said Jack without looking at him.

“We’re going to meet Superhero; I want to make a good impression.”

“I’m sure Superhero will have other things on his mind than to notice you,” said Jack, voice dry and mocking. Rufus turned in his seat to throw a glare Jack’s way.

“I know you’re new here, Rookie,” said Rufus, knowing Jack hated the name, “So let me give you some advice if you don’t want to be a Rookie for the rest of your life. Superhero sees talent and professionalism as commodities and if you get on his good side then you get promoted.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, raising his brows, taking his eyes off the door and looking at Rufus.

“Yeah,” Rufus said, a superior smile gracing his ugly, rat-like face.

“How’s that working out for ya?”

Jack suppressed a smile when the insult landed on Rufus’s ears. He opened to his mouth to argue back but stopped at the noise. Jack’s eyes went to the doors as they heard the familiar buzz of the prison doors, followed by commotion.

Rufus’s retort was lost on his lips as he straightened, standing up to greet their guests. Even Jack fixed his uniform before the double doors opened in front of them.

Sidekick came in first, tall, skinny, face hidden behind a mask that covered his mouth. Jack couldn’t remember his power but could tell from the way they held himself that Sidekick wasn’t one to be messed with.

Maybe the superiority came with the job description as Superhero’s assistant.

“Hello, Superhero will bring Supervillain in in a moment. They told me to warn you again, not to look Supervillain in the eyes.”

“Of course, Sidekick,” Rufus said, bowing his head solemnly.

Jack tilted his head. “Doesn’t Supervillain have power dampeners on?”

Sidekick looked back at Jack, eyes narrowing slightly at being questioned.

“Always good to be cautious,” said Sidekick coldly.

“Of course, Sidekick. You are absolutely right. You will have to excuse Rookie here, they are new.”

“Right. This is the way things are, Rookie,” said Sidekick with a roll of his eyes.

“My name’s Jack,” said Jack flatly. “Maybe with you heroes this is the way things are, yeah. However, in the Daeds your job is done, respectfully, Sidekick. We’ll handle things our way.”

“Jack!” Rufus chided, and at this point Jack didn’t care anymore. If Sidekick was going to be rude, then Jack could be too.

Sidekick narrowed his eyes further at Jack’s comment but couldn’t speak further on the matter when the doors opened again, and Superhero walked in.

A hush fell over the room. Superhero had a hand on Supervillain’s elbow as they escorted him in. They both looked like shit, but Supervillain was definitely the worse off of the pair. Jack noticed the Sentinels from the permitter of the prison follow behind.

Two stayed on the other side of the door, two more followed Supervillain and Superhero inside, standing like statues with guns ready to fire at any point. Their faces covered by visors, and Jack wasn’t entirely sure they were human, but they gave them the creeps, nonetheless.

Jack noticed Rufus bow his head and make a point of not looking directly at Supervillain, but Jack stared at his ruffed-up face as they entered. Supervillain’s face was covered in bruises, some an old, fading green like the one on his jaw, and the newer ones angrier looking, a mix of purple, blues and reds.

Blood was crusted on Supervillain’s upper lip and chin from what Jack could only imagined came when Superhero broke Supervillain’s nose. The broken nose and busted lip and blood trails only added to Supervillain’s already roguish appearance. A devil-may-care smile made its way onto his lips when he saw Rufus bow his head on Superhero’s command.

His grey eyes widened slightly when he met Jack’s, and he tilted his head slightly, smile growing more bemused than smug.

“Hello Rufus, good to see you. Have all the arrangements been made for the security of Supervillain like I asked?”

“Yes, Superhero. Uh good to see you too! All requirements for, um, the prisoner’s cell have been fulfilled.”

“Marvellous,” Superhero sighed, then nodded at Rufus. “If you will show me the way I can escort him.”

“Of course, Superhero,” said Rufus, grabbing the keycard from behind the desk and nodding. “Right away, Superhero.”

“Actually— “said Jack without thinking, and then instantly regretted it when all eyes turned on them. Two pairs unfriendly, one set tired, and one set of eyes curious, surprised even. “The protocol is you sign in the prisoner here and we take it from there.”

Supervillain suppressed a laugh, lips curling in on themselves as he turned his head away with a slight breathy huff.

Superhero cocked an eyebrow, glancing from Jack to Rufus for an explanation. Rufus was instantly at Jack’s side, slapping him on the arm.

“Forgive them, Superhero… they— “

“They’re new,” informed Sidekick curtly.

Superhero blinked. “I— okay? Nice to meet you, we can discuss this further after I have made sure that Supervillain is secured.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you beyond this point,” said Jack, standing his ground. “No member of the public— “

“I am not just a member of the public,” Superhero interjected, more confused than angry. Although Jack noted, Sidekick’s stare had enough hatred in his gaze for them both. “I am— “

“Not just a member of the public,” said Jack coolly, cutting them off, “but a member of the public no less. Unless you are officially authorised— “

“Of course, they are officially authorised,” Rufus said through gritted teeth.

Jack shrugged. “Sorry, I just didn’t see any papers. I have no problem letting you through if you have the authorisation, Superhero.”

Supervillain let out a squeak before he swallowed the rest of his chuckle.

It was Sidekick who answered: “call the Mayor, she’ll give the authorisation.”

“Not political authorisation. Legal authorisation.”

Superhero was starting to grow more tired by the minute. “Listen, kid— “

“Officer,” Jack supplied helpfully.

Superhero grit his teeth at being cut off again. “Officer, I always bring in Villains. I understand there is a need to prove yourself, however— “

“However, section 38 of the regulatory arrests by Heroes act says that in regard to the apprehension of Villains, and or, Supervillains, by a Hero, and or Superhero, a Hero will be permitted to bring a Villain into the custody of [Supermax prison].”

“So let them in,” said Sidekick, but Jack just smiled at them.

“You are permitted only to bring a Villain into the custody of the Daeds. However, I realise you want to bring Supervillain into the cell and make sure he is secured. In that case, I assume that you have an order pursuant to section 38, paragraph 3A.”

Superhero blinked at Jack, while Sidekick stepped forward threateningly. “Do you know how long of a day we’ve had? Just forego the fucking Heroes Arrest Act and let us through.”

Jack’s eyes were cool when they found Sidekick’s blue ones that were blazing with hellfire. Jack stepped forward, matching Sidekick’s stance, and thankfully he was roughly the same height as Sidekick otherwise it would have been awkward.

“I’m afraid this is a prison, Sidekick. Laws apply here. I can’t just disregard statute, and unlawfully allow you to enter to satisfy your tantrum. Unless you want me to authorise everyone to be allowed entry to the most secure prison in the country?” Sidekick’s jaw set hard, but they were the first to look away and step back slightly. Jack turned his attention back to Superhero who was far more amiable.

“I am assuming by Sidekick’s anger that you don’t have the proper authorisation to bring Supervillain further. I will take Supervillain off your hands and make sure they are secured and properly handled under our care. You have my word. Rufus, here, will take care of the proper paperwork you have to sign,” Jack said, taking a bit of joy in Sidekick’s furious helplessness.

Superhero, who looked like shit too, just nodded, rubbing their temple at the many, many words Jack was spouting. To be honest, they didn’t want to sign paperwork. They just wanted to get home and have a long hot shower. Order a takeaway. Relax.

“Okay,” said Superhero with a nod. “We’ll do that. Stand down, Sidekick.”

“But— “

“We can talk to the mayor, tomorrow,” said Superhero, staring at Jack with a measured gaze and a neutral expression.

“Give the Mayor my best,” said Supervillain casually as Superhero handed Supervillain over to Jack.

“He’s your problem now,” said Superhero. “Good luck.”

Jack nodded at Superhero, then turned and brought Supervillain through to processing. Only after the doors closed with a loud beep did Jack let out a breath, he didn’t know he was holding.

“Very bold of you to stand up to Superhero,” Supervillain mused, voice teasing. “What was your name again, Officer?”

“I didn’t give it,” Jack said with a shrug.

Supervillain hummed. “Of course, what is your name then Officer?”

“Officer will do just fine,” Jack replied curtly, heart hammering against his chest.

“Of course, Officer. And is your background in law, or do you just like to know your rights?”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk about me if it’s all the same to you.”

Supervillain went quiet for a moment. Then said, “alright. You’re a smart one, never give anything for free.”

“It’s just not professional,” Jack said after a hesitant pause. Why did he feel he needed to explain his behaviour to Supervillain of all people?

“Of course, I understand Officer. I’m guessing I never killed anyone belonging to you since you’re very calm and collected in my handling. Unlike Sidekick.”

Jack clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’d prefer if you stopped trying to get me to talk to you, Supervillain.”

Supervillain went very tense under Jack’s hand and Jack was sure that Supervillain was going to strangle him there and then. Then, Supervillain relaxed and nodded.

“I can respect that, Officer.”

That was it.

Supervillain didn’t speak again, didn’t put up a fuss or plead or try and persuade Jack to free him. He didn’t make another offer or attempt to start a conversation. He followed all the procedures up to, and including, taking his cuffs off when he was in the cell.

“This place…” Supervillain said, a shiver running down his spine. “It’s strange. Unnatural. With the power dampeners you can still feel your power underneath them, trying to escape but here— I just feel empty.”

Supervillain looked at Jack through the bars, grey eyes apologetic as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I just— I talk a lot. It’s strange.”

“I’ll bring by dinner and get the Doctor to fix you up in a while.”

“Thank you, Officer.”

Jack didn’t say anything to that as he left. He didn’t know how to respond and even if he did what would he say?

I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable?

This is what you get for the blood on your hands?

Neither of them seemed satisfactory to Jack so he left the room in silence. Leaving Supervillain’s words of gratitude lingering on the air.

*~*~*~*~*

Rufus didn’t talk to Jack for a few days after “embarrassing” them in front of Superhero and Sidekick. Jack honestly wished he knew how to get Rufus to shut up sooner, or he would’ve done it weeks ago.

Alastair laughed when Jack told him the story in the locker room two days later. Alastair was pulling on his steel toed boots, sitting on the bench in the middle of the locker room while Jack buttoned up the shirt of his uniform.

“Damn, kid,” he said in his rough, northern accent. “I don’t know if I would have done that.”

Jack furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

Alastair shrugged and said: “Superhero is a powerful enemy to have.”

“Superhero didn’t really have the problem; it was more Sidekick.”

“Same difference.”

“How?” Jack asked. “The law is the law. I can’t bend the rules for the superhero who seeks to enforce them.”

“I’m not saying you should. I’m just saying you’re braver than I am.”

Jack smiled at that, as he pulled his tie from his locker and wrapped it around his neck.

“Well, that makes sense. Your bones old and weary now.”

“I can still beat you in a fight ya wee shit,” Alastair said without hesitation. Jack let out a loud, bold laughter at that, and Alastair joined in soon after.

*~*~*~*~*

Alastair got off the phone later that same day and let out a sigh. Jack was just coming back from his lunch, and when Alastair’s eyes landed on him, he beamed with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Chef doesn’t want to give Supervillain his food,” said Alastair.

Jack wrinkled his nose at that. “Why?”

“Afraid he might hex them or something. Said he can’t afford to be fired if he tries to stab one of us later.”

“Just tell him that his powers don’t— “

Alastair waved Jack away. “Ya can’t explain all that high spec shit to the superstitious small-town folk, Jack. The only reason there’s a small town here is because the Daeds makes jobs, and jobs mean people and people mean towns and schools and — “

“So, what, did Supervillain not even get breakfast?” Jack asked, incredulous. Alastair shook his head with a resigned “Nope.”

“Fuck. Well…”

“That’s what I said too, Jack,” Alastair said with a mischievous grin. “I told Chef it’s fine. Jack is immune to Supervillain’s powers and that you’ll bring him his meals every day.”

“Everyday? I don’t work seven days, Alastair.”

“I guess he’ll starve then when you’re out, won’t he?”

Jack glared at Alastair. Then shook his head and sighed. “I’ll arrange something with Chef for when I’m not working. Maybe double up on meals or something.”

“God damn, kid,” Alastair grinned, beaming his handsome smile at Jack. “You just solve all my problems.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, waving him off as they headed for the Supermax ward of the Daedalian. “You just sit here and rest, wouldn’t want you breaking something if you had to actually work.”

“Come back and say that to my face,” Alastair threatened as Jack swiped his card to the iron bolt doors.

“Get hearing aids, old man.”

Alastair quipped something back, but the door had closed in that time leaving Jack alone in the hallway that connected the reception desk to the Supermax ward.

The closest ward to the Guard’s hut, and consequently, the Sentinels. Jack had to pass them at every corner once they got into Maximum Security. The cold, unfeeling things, always staring vacantly through his visors down at Jack.

Maybe they would bring Supervillain his food on Jack’s days off.

The thought of speaking to one of the sentinels scared Jack more than Supervillain starving to death on his watch. So, Jack would have to figure out something else.

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain’s cell was locked behind locked door on locked door, on a locked ward from a locked corridor and buried under 50 feet of concrete. If there was any signal going awry in the prison, Fabrikator would know and would be alerted with her strange power that there was a fault and come fix it.

The best repair woman to have around, but her eyes were always a little to the left of you in a conversation, like she was seeing things that normal people didn’t.

When the final doors opened up to get into Supervillain’s cell, Jack took a breath then walked in. The door closed and locked behind Jack and couldn’t be opened from this side anyway. He had to wait for the person at the desk to buzz them out.

Supervillain was sitting on his bed at the back of the cell. His grey eyes found Jack’s and they smiled. His colour was better, his face a little less bruised. Now just more swollen than sore looking.

“I thought you were going to starve me,” said Supervillain, voice dry and crackling from disuse.

“Oh, we are,” said Jack, and Supervillain froze. “This is my lunch. I just thought I’d torture you with it.”

Supervillain raised his eyebrows, questioning how stupid they look at moving to stand from the bed. “I— “

“I’m just joking,” Jack said, smiling and walking over to the bars of the cell. “Sorry. The chef is superstitious. Afraid you’re going to control his mind and make them do awful things.”

“Who can blame them, really,” said Supervillain. His tone was self-deprecating, but behind it, Jack detected something sad. He pushed the tray through the hole in the bars, and Supervillain took it. “Thank you, Jack. Your kind to bring me this.”

Jack stepped back and nodded. “It’s a basic human right, Supervillain.”

“Some people say I’m not human,” Supervillain said, bringing the tray to the table and sitting down at it. Plastic knife and fork and spoon.

“I think with all the shitty things you’ve done, Supervillain, you could only be human. You scare people because you’re powerful, yes, but I don’t think that’s the extent of the fear you get.”

“No?”

“No,” said Jack, “I think people fear you more because you’re a reminder of who we all have the capacity to be.”

“Hmm,” was all Supervillain replied as he cut into his roast chicken dinner. Jack stood there for a while, more because Chef said that he has to collect the tray and the dishes.

Supervillain didn’t leave him waiting long. It must have only been five minutes when Supervillain sat back with a big sigh and a satisfied smile. Those grey eyes found Jack’s and his smile almost softened. Or maybe Jack was just imagining it.

“Please give my compliments to the chef, Officer.”

Jack let out a little awkward laugh. “I would, but they’d probably think it was a spell that you were using to control them.”

Supervillain laughed a little at that too. He picked up the tray and brought it to the bars, sliding it through for Jack to take.

“Officer, if you don’t mind, can I request a favour?”

“I can’t— “

“Just some bottles of water,” Supervillain asked, voice low and kind and a little pleading. “I can go without food, it’s just— “

Jack softened and nodded, taking the tray from Supervillain’s hands. “I’ll bring some more back to you at Dinnertime?”

“Thank you, Officer,” he said, his smile genuine.

Jack waved at the camera and the room filled with the sound of buzzing, the door opening slowly for Jack to leave through. He waited until it was closed, a voice in his mind locking down his nerves and muscles and rooting him in place. Just to make sure the door closed properly, and sealed.

The light of the lock flashed from green to red, and Jack could move again. He was fine. Supervillain was secure. He made his way back to the kitchens to talk to chef and make sure Supervillain doesn’t go without food.

To get to the kitchens, Jack had to pass by the moderate security prison for powered individuals. They were far rowdier and more boisterous than Supervillain.

“What’s this? Jack, you get demoted to kitchen duty?” Other Villain jeered. Jack ignored them and kept walking.

*~*~*~*~*

Jack was off for two days after that, and all they could think about was Supervillain. If he was fed, if he was starving, if someone remembered to top up his bottles of water.

It was driving them crazy. He should be relaxing but no, here they were, forgetting his grocery list as they stared at the multipack bottles of water in the supermarket and all they could think about was fucking Supervillain.

He needed to figure out a better way to make sure Supervillain had his basic needs attended to before he could actually relax on a day off.

Jack shook his head and went back to his shopping list and tried to push thoughts of Supervillain from his mind.

*~*~*~*~*

“Was Supervillain fed?”

It was the first question Jack asked when they walked out of the locker room. Rufus was on with them today and didn’t move or do anything to acknowledge Jack’s question.

“Rufus.”

Silence.

Jack rolled his eyes and walked up to the reception desk, slamming his hands down on it. Rufus looked up, a horribly smug smile on his face that made them look like a goblin.

“Oh, hi Jack. How were your days off?”

“Great. Was supervillain fed?”

“Hmm, Supervillain… Supervillain… nope,” Rufus said, popping the P. “Doesn’t ring a bell Rooks. Are they a new admission?”

“You’re such a dick, Rufus,” Jack all but growled, walking behind the desk and scanning his key card to maximum security. The door buzzed and Jack slammed it open, half jogging to the kitchens to talk to Chef.

“Hi Chef,” Jack said a bit breathless. He must have looked a sight.

Chef turned and smiled a wide smile at Jack. “Ah! Jack. Thank God. I have the voodoo man’s breakfast prepared for you.”

Jack followed Chef’s hand to the tray set aside away from the rest. Jack walked over and picked it up, thanking Chef.

“Did Supervillain get food when I wasn’t in, Chef?” Jack asked, turning back to face them.

Chef nodded proudly. “Yes Jack. I recruited Rufus and Alastair to feed him when you are gone.”

Jack blinked. “And they did?”

“Yes Jack. Or they ate the tray and returned it. Either way, I am happy.”

Jack’s hands tightened on the tray creaking the flimsy plastic slightly. Jack nodded and said nothing, he didn’t trust his voice to speak so he left with Chef’s comment hanging in the air.

A seed of worry planted itself into Jack’s stomach lining and ricocheted out into a ball of anxiety at what he might find at Supervillain’s cell. If he’d be alive or not. Two days without water, Supervillain could survive that right?

The anxiety didn’t leave Jack, in fact it got worse the closer they got closer to Supervillain’s cell up to the very point that he was buzzed through and opened the door to Supervillain’s cell.

He barely registered the door locking with a buzz as he half jogged over to the bars of Supervillain’s cell. Jack’s eyes went to the lump in the bed under covers and rapped on the bars with the tray.

“Hey, Supervillain. It’s breakfast,” Jack announced, his mind reeling with the same mantra: please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

“Supervillain?!” Jack asked, voice rising in pitch. The lump stirred in bed and Jack felt the anxiety flood out of him, his shoulders sagging in relief.

He was still alive.

“Off— “Supervillain said with a dry throat, cutting himself off with a raspy cough.

“I have water,” Jack said quickly. Too quickly, too eager, why did Jack even care? Because someone had to so Supervillain doesn’t sue them, a pragmatic voice told Jack and he nodded.

It had to be that.

Totally.

Supervillain moved slow, languid. Each movement an effort. Jack frowned. Surely, he wasn’t that famished from hunger?

It was when Supervillain turned to face Jack that drew his expression into a horrified one and stepped back. Supervillain was bloody and bruised, but these weren’t the old bruises. They were fresh, new. The bandage that Doctor used to set the swelling on Supervillain’s nose was covered in blood, re-broken. The stitches from the cut through Supervillain’s eyebrow was reopened, dark blood crusting over it and his lips were bruised and darkened by blood.

“What— “Jack began but shook his head. “Who did this?!”

Supervillain managed a smile, cracking some of the dried blood from his lips and stood from the bed. The moment he placed weight on his leg Supervillain collapsed, coughing and sputtering dryly, barely catching himself before his head hit the hard floor of the cell.

Jack put the tray on the ground and opened the doors to the cell before sense told him otherwise and ran to Supervillain’s side with a bottle of water. He put a useless hand on Supervillain’s back and Supervillain flinched.

The scariest, biggest, baddest Villain of all time flinched from Jack’s touch.

Jack took his hands off Supervillain as if it burned and sat back, giving Supervillain some space. Jack looked on helpless, worrying his bottom lip and said: “I have water. I need you to sit up, if you can. I won’t touch you, but you need to help me here.”

Jack needed Supervillain to work with him so they could see the extent of the damage. Supervillain composed themselves, sucking in a sharp breath with an arm wrapped protectively around his ribs they sat up, pressing his back against his bed frame.

Up close everything looked worse; his bruises looked angrier, his blood looked black, and his face was far too pale to be okay.

Jack opened the lid of the water bottle and handed it over to Supervillain who took it with a wince of a smile and drank greedily from it. They were drinking so fast that some of the water ran down the corners of his mouth and Supervillain yanked the bottle away with a sharp hiss as the water hit some of the cuts on his mouth.

Jack leaned forward but Supervillain’s eyes shot to him, wild, wounded and angry and Jack stopped, pausing uselessly.

“Sorry— “Supervillain offered; his voice had a little more volume to it now. He sounded like an off-brand Supervillain instead of the real, terrifying one. Jack shook his head and got to his feet.

“It’s okay. I have food for you too.”

Jack felt Supervillain’s grey eyes follow his every movement and when he turned back to face him, Supervillain had a wry smile at the open door to his cell.

“No fear of me escaping like this, is there?” he asked with a dark chuckle.

Jack placed the tray down beside Supervillain and back up a few steps, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall.

“Who did this to you? Was it Rufus?”

Supervillain shrugged weakly and winced again. “How do you know it was a Rufus?”

“They’re the only ones with keys to your cell,” Jack spat. Supervillain hummed, picking at the food on his tray and then pushing it away.

“Maybe I did it to myself,” Supervillain mused taking another sip of water, being careful to drink slower this time.

Jack rolled his eyes and said, “if you want me to believe you just got up and beat yourself bl— “

Supervillain’s eyes cut Jack off. “I didn’t say anything about beating myself up, Officer. Just that maybe as a result of my actions this is what karma has in store for me.”

Jack’s frown deepened at Supervillain’s reply, brows furrowing.

“You— you can’t seriously think that!”

“And if I do?” Supervillain asked, voice more like velvet again. He tilted his head at Jack’s expression, grey eyes smiling smug. “Just because I am a villain, Officer, does not mean I don’t understand consequence. In fact, as a villain, I think I understand it more than the average civilian.”

“You’re not in a prison to be beaten by the people who are meant to ensure you serve your sentence, Supervillain.”

Supervillain pursed his busted lips. “Maybe not. Or maybe, I’m in a prison to serve my time and repent my sins. I’m in here for justice’s sake. Perhaps justice means different things to different people.”

“Maybe,” Jack replied hotly, stepping forward and dropping to a crouch, looking Supervillain in the eye, hands bawled into fists at his sides, “but standards of practice don’t, so tell me who did this to you so I can bring them to justice. Please?”

Supervillain smirked and sat back against the bed frame staring up at Jack with smiling eyes and replied: “Officer, I did it to myself.”

Jack shook his head with a huff and stood, walking towards the cell door again and locking it. Looking back through the bars, Jack said: “Try and eat some more, I’ll get the doctor to come and check you out. Hopefully clean the cuts at the very least.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Supervillain said politely, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

*~*~*~*~*

After the Doctor saw Supervillain, Jack returned to reception, fury winding every nerve tight and hot. They moved faster, anger spurring him on more than energy. Once he swiped his card to reception, he threw the door open and stalked out, eyes zeroing in on Rufus’s back and strutting towards Rufus, looming over him.

Jack grabbed the back of the chair and swung it around.

“Oi!” Rufus exclaimed in surprise, but his mouth shut when he saw the look on Jack's face and an ugly smile spread across Rufus's face. “Jack! You've been gone so long, tell me, how is Supervillain doing?”

Jack didn't think.

He reached forward and grabbed Rufus by the collar of his shirt with both hands and dragged him from the chair. The wide-eyed surprise was enough of a gift, but it didn't satisfy Jack's anger. He didn't want Rufus to be surprised; he wanted him to be scared.

Jack pivoted on his foot and brought Rufus with him, slamming the weasel back against the support beam of the door. Rufus let out a harsh oomph and gasped when Jack twisted his wrists, turning his knuckles in on Rufus's collarbone and pressing down hard.

“You want to fucking ask me that again you piece of shit?”

“Who are you to do this to me!” Rufus screeched, indignant. Jack just yanked Rufus back and threw him back against the wall with ease. Rufus gasped out again and wrapped his hands around Jack's wrists trying to remove them but failing. “I AM YOUR SUPERIOR!”

“You're a fucking idiot, Rufus. You attacked Supervillain in his cell. Admit it.”

“I only admit to doing what any rational person would do to a scumbag like him.”

“You are fucking psychopath! He isn't a threat in here! You abused your position of power by assaulting him.”

Rufus's eyes turned murderous. “And he didn't abuse his power when he was terrorising people in the streets, did he? When he was attacking businesses, people's livelihood? How many people died because he could abuse his power?”

“You should know better.”

“No, Jack. You should know better. Do you really think the rules apply to him? If he's willing to break them, he should be willing to have rules broken for him.”

Jack pinched his lips together at that, the logic was there, and Rufus was angry and Jack should just drop it. He sighed, grip loosening but not letting go completely. “You're not the law.”

“Either are you, hotshot. You glib know-it-all bastard. You just think you're so smart, don't ya? Well,” Rufus said, screwing his nose up in disgust and pressing forward against Jack's knuckles harder. Jack breath came out faster, heart beating harder, lips curled back. “I know you're just another bastard kid from the Daeds whose father probably abandoned him when he saw you in the crib after he left you and your whore mo-”

Rufus didn't get to finish because Jack had shot a swift uppercut to his nose.

“YOU FUCKING BRAT!” Rufus wailed, stumbling to the side and holding his nose as blood gushed from it. “YOU BROKE MY NOSE!”

“What's all the--” Alastair said, coming out from the break room along with the sentinels who had drawn his guns at the pair. Alastair's eyes went wide, taking in the scene within a second and was already moving towards them, telling the sentinels to “stand down. I got this.”

The sentinels obeyed with a heavy shuffle, returning to his eased position guns no longer pointing at Jack and Rufus. He left his sandwich on the counter and Rufus saw him and cried, “Alastair thank god! Jack's out of control! The little bastard-”

Jack didn't think. They just moved. His fist was caught before it could make contact and they almost growled his displeasure.

“Call me a bastard again you fucking coward!” Jack yelled as Alastair bent Jack's wrist behind his back and slammed his front against the wall. Jack struggled, head butting back trying to get Alastair off them, but Alastair was twice as big and twice as strong as Jack. He just placed a hand on the back of Jack's neck and held them still. “Get off me!”

Instead, Alastair turned to Rufus and said: “go get cleaned up. I'll deal with him.”

“Be careful,” Rufus sneered, “Jack's gone feral.”

Jack struggled more in Alastair's grip until his wrist was pushed further up his back and Jack hissed in pain through gritted teeth.

“Go to Doctor,” Alastair ordered, “and don't say another word or I'll let Jack break something else.”

Jack struggled futilely in Alastair's hold, trying with all his might to push back but Alastair had him effectively restrained so he had to wait for Alastair's orders.

“Ssh, kid,” Alastair said, voice gentle as he rubbed a thumb over the back of Jack's neck. Jack's struggles ceased, a warm wave of calm overcoming him. “Deep breaths, come on now. It's okay.”

Jack took deep breaths, in slowly, feeling his ribcage expanding against the cool wall and exhaling again. “You're okay. Relax, that's it.”

It took another three long deep breaths before Alastair said, “okay. I'm gonna let you go now, and you're going to tell me what happened okay?”

Jack nodded, even though it was hard to do with his cheek smashed against the wall but still somehow, he managed. Alastair released him then. The moment his contact ended Jack felt that warm calm that overtook them rinse away like cold rain and they turned wearily, rubbing his wrist which was already bruising and looked up hesitant at Alastair.

Alastair turned and walked to the countertop, grabbing his half-eaten sandwich and nodded for Jack to sit in the chair. Half fearing Alastair wrestling him into the chair, Jack sat obligingly and stared past Alastair like a bold child about to be scolded.

“What happened?”

“I went to see Supervillain today and he was beaten within an inch of his life.”

Alastair blinked and took a bite of his sandwich. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jack asked, incredulous. “I just told you that a prisoner was beaten up under our watch.”

“And you assumed it was Rufus?”

“Who else would it be?” Jack hissed.

“Me,” said Alastair flatly and Jack sat back in his seat, shock forming an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “Doctor. Chef. Nurse. Fuck, one of the many cleaners?”

“They don't have keys to his cell.”

“Okay. So maybe one of them came to Rufus and asked for them. Maybe it was innocent, maybe it was nefarious, and Rufus knew what they planned, but that doesn't make Rufus responsible.”

“It's his responsibility to-”

“To step in the way of people's vengeance?”

“That's not-”

“Fair?” Alastair asked, raising his brows into arches. “Listen kid, I'm gonna tell you some truths about your new best friend, Supervillain, okay?”

“He's not-”

“Shut up, don't speak and just listen,” Alastair ordered and Jack's lips closed at the command. “Your pal that got ruffed up in his cell has murdered people, Jack. That's something you should remind your righteous moral compass when you're exercising judgement on his behalf. He has killed many, many people. Doctor's husband and daughter was two of them when he collapsed the train lines on seventh.”

That fact hit Jack like a stab in the gut. “She...” Jack said and then swallowed. “Doctor never told me.”

“Why would she?”

“But Doctor's fixed-” Jack began, but the fire burning in Alastair's eyes shut them up again.

“Yeah. Doctor does her job. Chef still cooks him dinner even though his brother and nephew were killed in the central bridge crash because of fucking Supervillain. George, the cleaner for us, his sick mother was in Westfront hospital when Supervillain gave Superhero that impossible ultimatum between the elementary school and the hospital, so don't come in here, acting like a righteous prick and being Supervillain's number one fan when you have no skin in the game.”

Jack was uncharacteristically quiet. The silence was deafening. Jack swallowed, eyes down and the guilt started weighing heavy on his chest.

After a few minutes of a terse silence, Jack looked up to apologise and noticed the bruises on Alastair's knuckles. His eyes stopped and stared. It felt like his stomach ran right off a cliff and was in freefall to the choppy, unknown waters below because Alastair would never…

It did not go unnoticed.

Alastair looked down with a fond kind of smile as he ran a thumb over the broken and bloodied skin that was fresh, only just scabbing over.

“My sister-in-law was in Westfront hospital in labour, about to give birth to my nephew. I was about to be an uncle. My brother was about to be a father. He lost everything in the incident. It ruined him, he blamed himself. She told him to go home and get a shower and sleep, and then she was dead. A week later he took his own life.”

A tear ran down Alastair's cheek and trailed down his strong jaw like a gentle trickle. It looked so foreign on his face, his usually happy-go-lucky charming face and smile.

“So don't you blame Rufus and go guns blazing giving him credit for my work again, Jack. Ya understand me?”

Jack felt the threat in his words.

Jack swallowed and nodded and said, “yeah. I understand.”

“Good. Then we won’t have any more problems here will we?”

Jack let his displeasure show through his petulant gaze, cocking an eyebrow at Alastair. “Depends. Will you beat up Supervillain in his cell again?”

“If the mood takes me, yeah.”

Jack sucked in a breath and set his jaw, looking to the doors of the Maximum security murderously. A strong hand reached forward and grabbed the head rest of the chair and turned it until Jack was facing Alastair again. Except it wasn’t the same Alastair that he knew. This one was strange, something uncanny and off glinting in the corner of his expression.

“I’m sorry it’s not the answer you want, kid, but it’s the truth. I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m still very fond of you and your integrity. I’m just trying to paint the picture for ya,” Alastair said leaning down, forcing Jack to sit back into the seat until his back was flush with the cushion and head rest. He was trapped under Alastair’s arm and body, and all he could do was glower up at Alastair’s charming smiling face that had an edge to it. “If you stand by Supervillain in here, you stand on your own.”

Jack pursed his lips swallowing a witty retort.

“Understand?”

“Understood.”

*~*~*~*~*

@annablogsposts sorry this took so long, I had to split it up into parts to get it out this week, I hope you enjoy!

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ultimate-rat-bracket · 1 year

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Okay everyone I have some Giant Rat propaganda on behalf of my friend (who has been rooting for him since the very moment i started this blog) so LISTEN UP:

The Giant Rat Who Makes All Of Da Rules is not getting enough love. My friend, the self proclaimed rat pope (10000x cooler than the human pope) is spreading the word of Giant Rat and implores you all to vote for the giant fuzzy war criminal himself. Perhaps this may help sway you?

With hits such as We’re the Rats and Michael’s Birthday Mixtape, the Giant Rat could definitely fit in a band like Ghost

youtube

The bangers themselves can be heard here!

#the propaganda is also on behalf of myself for the record #he is falling behind and that saddens me. so we are spreading the good word #together #rataganda #jerma #jerma985 #rat movie #the giant rat who makes all of da rules #the giant rat #giant rat #I forgot what I tagged the giant rat before #the band ghost #Youtube

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diceriadelluntore · 9 months

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Storia Di Musica #288 - Frank Zappa, Hot Rats, 1969

Nella classifica di chi, facendo musica rock, ha sempre cercato una dimensione tecnica e strumentale da musicista “classico” (mi si perdonino le virgolette) al primo posto non può esserci che lui. Frank Zappa è stato uno dei personaggi più bizzarri e creativi della musica rock. Figlio di Francis, perito industriale originario di Partinico (Palermo), nasce a Baltimore. Per problemi respiratori suoi, la famiglia si trasferisce prima in Florida e poi a Los Angeles. Agli inizi degli anni 60′, bazzica studi di registrazione, con l’idea di fare musica orchestrale. Quello che però riesce ad ottenere sono solo jingle pubblicitari (determinanti comunque nello sviluppo della sua musica), qualche canzoncina da poche copie e due composizioni per gli Animals (il disco di riferimento è Animalism). Non si sa come, verso la fine del 1965 viene ingaggiato dalla Verve, la leggendaria etichetta del Jazz, e Zappa, che aveva fondato nel giorno della festa della mamma il suo gruppo, The Mothers Of Invention (chiamati in un primo momento provocatoriamente The Mothers, un gruppo di strampalati personaggi ma musicisti con i controfiocchi), sperimenta in pochi anni una quantità enorme di stili, musica, provocazioni che sarebbero bastate per intere carriere ad altri. Si inizia subito con il botto. Freak Out! (1966) e Absolutely Free (1967) esprimono al meglio l’ideale musicale zappiano: un miscuglio post apocalittico di generi, con canzoni doo-woop, canzoni politiche, collage musicali, cabaret. Alcuni pezzi sono già inni, come The Duke Of Prunes (1967) e i primi esperimenti orchestrali. Già da subito emerge la sua maestria impareggiabile nella chitarra (Invocation And Ritual Dance Of The Young Pumpkin, da Absolutely Free). Zappa ha il tempo di prendere in giro il sogno della stagione dell’amore facendo il verso ai Beatles con We’re Only In It For The Money (album grandioso, la copia pessimistica e sarcastica di Stg.Pepper’s sin dalla copertina 1968) e di scatenare la sua fantasia in Lumpy Gravy (1968, uno dei suoi dischi preferiti) dove, tra le altre bizzarrie, assembla assurdi discorsi di gente che parla nella coda di un pianoforte. La Verve, che non sa come ha a libro paga un tipo così, gli dà un’ultima possibilità, stanca di zero risultati commerciali. Nell’estremo tentativo di farsi trasmettere dalle radio (parole di Zappa) esce Cruising With Ruben And The Jets (1968), che fa un nostalgico pop anni ‘50, con annessa brillantina a go-go e abiti sgargianti, ma è l’ennesimo fiasco. Con il manager Herb Cohen fonda la sua etichetta, Bizzarre (nomen omen), e finalmente ha la libertà che cerca: Uncle Meat (1969) è il primo grande capolavoro zappiano, un doppio album dalla ricchezza stilistica e compositiva pazzesca, dominato dalla suite in 6 parti King Kong. In pieno furore creativo, scioglie i Mothers e pubblica sempre nel 1969 un album solo a suo nome, il primo della sua carriera solista. Hot Rats è una gemma assoluta.

6 brani manifesto tutti strumentali, eccetto uno, fu registrato con per l’epoca le più avanzate tecniche di registrazione, con i primi banchi mixer a 16 piste, per un suono pienissimo e coinvolgente per la gioia della perfezione zappiana. Peaches En Regalia è il brano più famoso, gioiosa composizione dove l’assolo di chitarra si snoda tra meraviglia tecniche, momenti blues e le solite chicche meravigliose (mi riferisco in particolare all’omaggio ai jingle dei cartoni animati della Looney Tunes), Son of Mr. Green Genes è un arrangiamento nuovo di Mr Green Genes presente in Uncle Meat, e ha una storia curiosa: non si sa perché, ma dopo che Zappa pubblicò la prima edizione della canzone, omaggio dei suoi a Green Jeans, star di una famosa trasmissione televisiva americana famosissima negli anni ’50, su Uncle Meat, si diffuse la notizia che Zappa fosse un figlio segreto di Hugh Brannum, l’attore che lo impersonava nella trasmissione (ovviamente una bufala ma Zappa amava queste cose e ci giocò su con la solita ironia); Little Umbrellas è dominato dai fiati di Ian Underwood, uno dei pochi Mothers che Zappa porta con sè. The Gumbo Variations (il gumbo è una zuppa di riso, pesce verdure e pollo del Sud degli Stati Uniti, soprattutto della Louisiana, fatta con l'ocra, un ortaggio di origini africane portato dalla colonizzazione forzata degli schiavi africani in quelle zone) è il lungo pezzo strumentale, di chiaro stampo jazz rock, dove la chitarra iperbolica di Zappa dialoga con i fiati di Underwood e il violino di Don “Sugarcane” Harris, il quale diventerà in seguito uno dei suoi musicisti più fidati. Due brani leggenda: l’unico cantato (forse meglio dire sbraitato) è Willie The Pimp (Willie il pappone) con la voce di Don Van Vliet, in arte Captain Beefheart, che sempre nel 1969 pubblica con Zappa il leggendario Trout Mask Replica; l’altro, It Must Be A Camel, che deve il nome alle particolari “gobbe” che l’andamento musicale faceva sullo spartito, vede la partecipazione del violinista francese Jean Luc Ponty, che diverrà grande amico di Zappa, tanto da dedicargli nel 1970 un meraviglioso disco, King Kong, dove riprende parti di precedenti pagine di Zappa e con il maestro compone una Music For Electric Violin And Low Budget Orchestra da mozzafiato. La copertina fu ideata da Cal Schenkel ritrae la groupie Christine Frka mentre fuoriesce da una piscina vuota di una villa a Beverly Hills, e fu scattata all’infrarosso. Da questo disco la parabola zappiana procederà sempre all’insegna della qualità musicale, spessissimo con relativa bassissima fama commerciale della sua musica, e qualche volta persino con qualche caduta di stile, ma rimarrà un percorso unico (e gigantesco, per la quantità di dischi, raccolte, compilation, i leggendari live) che ha avuto uno zoccolo duro di spericolati appassionati. Zappa continuerà per tutta la vita a lavorare al suo concetto di musica, spesso orientata alla massima cura dei dettagli e alla precisione delle esecuzioni strumentali, fin quando un tumore alla prostata non se lo porta via nel 1993, a 53 anni. Vale la pena scoprirlo o riscoprirlo perchè è uno di quegli artisti mito di cui tutti parlano ma pochi davvero hanno mai ascoltato.

#frank zappa #hot rats #1969 #recensione

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ashintheairlikesnow · 11 months

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I’m having a thought! So we all want to see Antoni smut cause we’re thirsty, but of course respectfully understand that he is Ace. But Artyom ….👀 OR Antoni remembers those things…. Endless possibilities there Ash

CW: At first NSFW for like... Four paragraphs, some initial consensual spice, more or less whumper POV in a way, death threats/murder, creepy whumper

Antoni allows no direct smut, Anon. This is as close as he will let me get.

Sweat trickles down the back of Artyom's neck, and his breath is hot and damp against hers. Her little cries are right against his ear, high-pitched. Her fingernails drag down his back, a little further with each rock of his hips.

He couldn't begin to describe how this feels. Hot, tight, wet - all the usual words come to mind but none of them are good enough.

Carly Riggs digs her nails so deep into his back he's sure he'll find blood later, whispering oh god oh god oh god as she comes. The way she goes tighter than ever around him, the prickle of pain near his shoulder blades, even just the way her voice sounds all overwhelms him and he follows her, eyes tightly closed as pleasure takes him.

The leather of her car's backseat sticks to his arms, his head nearly knocking into the door, but finally they slow and then stop, both of them breathing hard.

"Eto bylo khorosho," He groans. "Tak khorosho, tak korosho..."

Carly reaches one hand up to wipe the back of her hand across her forehead, smiling at him. It's a dopey expression, sweet and sated. He likes that look on her. "What?"

"Sorry. I mean... Very good. It was good." His accent is rougher just after sex, voice slightly breathless and rasping. He pulls back reluctantly, dropping a hand to dig around for his boxers and jeans. "We should do again sometime, see if I can be even better."

"Better than tonight?" Carly laughs, pushing herself up to seated, wriggle her jeans back up over her hips. "I might die."

"Only in little ways." He winks at her before pulling his shirt back on. "This is the idea, right?"

"Oh my god. Artyom, you are the weirdest." She's still grinning as he offers her a hand to scoot along the seat and finally stand. The breeze outside the car cools and dries the sweat on them both. Her hair is a rat's nest of tangles in the back, and they're both flushed and have a sheen of sweat. Not entirely subtle. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the party with me?"

"I am sure." He smiles, leaning back against the side of her car. She eases the door shut and follows suit, their elbows nearly touching. She yanks her tank top back down.

"Whenever somebody gets you to agree to a date, I bet you'll be an amazing boyfriend," Carly says, teasing and not-teasing.

"Maybe." He has no intention of dating anyone. Ever. But he doesn't say that to her. "Be safe at the party, eh?"

"Of course." She leans over to bump affectionately against him, as close as he allows to a goodnight kiss. "I'll see you at work on Tuesday, right? We both open that day."

"Da. You will see me then. Now I need to go inside. Keep off your lights until you are gone from my neighborhood, please."

"Just tell your mom to fuck off." Carly sighs, finger-combing her hair as best she can. "You're a fucking adult. Do what you want."

"Mmmn. Easier to say than to do."

It isn't his mother he is worried about getting a good look at Carly Riggs.

But he just gives her a hug, her perfume and the scent of them together a heady mix in the air, and opens her front door for her to settle inside and drive away, easing slowly down the road to make as little noise as she can.

His key in the lock makes only the slightest sound, and he oiled the hinges so the door never so much as squeaks. The house is dark and silent, the TV for once is off. He moves with perfect knowledge of every obstacle between him and his bedroom - avoiding the box of clothes for donating that has been sitting for three months now, his mother's little dog's pile of toys, even a kitchen chair out of place.

The vodka in the freezer pours easily into a shot glass, and he knocks it back to feel it freeze and burn, tasteless, down his throat.

Two more shots and the warmth spreads further than the cold, so he adds a little water to cover what he stole and puts it back, turning the bottle so the label is exactly the way it was when he came in..

He has long experience at this. His father will never know, never guess. The better for his health if his vodka turns more and more to simple water, anyway.

He showers, washing Carly off him as well as the smells of his job. When he checks the mirror after drying off and pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, he sees - yes, scratches, with bright red spots where blood welled up, from just below his shoulder blades down nearly to his waist.

He smirks at the sight, but then realizes the bathroom door is open. His smile fades as his eyes raise.

Reflected in the mirror, Misha stares at him, expression somehow both empty and avid.

"... The bathroom is taken," He says, after a breath. His younger brother, head tipped against the doorframe and mop of hair falling over his eyes, smiles. It's thin, and it doesn't reach his eyes.

None of Misha's expressions ever reach his eyes.

"Got mauled by a tiger at work tonight?" Misha's voice is light. He makes a little claw gesture with one hand, fingers bent. "Rrrrow."

"Misha-"

"Which girl was it? The cute brown-haired one?"

Artyom turns away. "None of your business. Go back to bed." He wets a toothbrush and gets toothpaste, hoping to stave off the conversation long enough for Misha to lose interest.

At first, he thinks he might have succeeded. Misha disappears from the doorway, and Artyom makes his way to his bedroom in the dark. His father's snores are deafening, down the hall. His mother will be sleeping in the guest room, and even if she snores, too, it would be impossible to hear it over his father.

He pads barefoot over the hardwood floor until he heads into his room, letting the door close behind him and collapsing onto his twin-sized bed with his feet hanging off the end. He can hear Misha's television in his room going through their shared wall, low murmuring voices.

There's a beat of silence. Artyom takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, slowly exhales. Outside, the breeze shivers the leaves into a soft rustle. His clock reads past midnight, but if both his parents are asleep already, they won't know to bother him about it.

Not that anyone ever minds when Misha misses curfew, but if Tyoma is late, oh, let hell rain down...

He groans and rolls onto his side, pulling the covers up. He can feel bitter tomorrow. Besides

"The blonde, then?"

Artyom shoots upright with his heart in his throat, eyes briefly wide. "Chto za khren', Misha!"

His brother is a shadow in the corner, leaning against the wall with his hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched.

Smiling.

In the dark, he has only even deeper shadows for eyes.

"Tell me which girl it was, Tyoma."

"I... Why?" His heart pounds, and he scoots until his back hits the wall, watching as Misha pushes lazily away from the wall and takes the two or three strides he needs to drop into the computer chair Artyom keeps next to his desk. No computer, but maybe one day. If he can save up.

"Because I want to know, dumbass." Misha laughs, leaning over. There has always been something strange about his laugh. "I want to know who's out there stealing my brother's heart."

"No one is." It's an honest answer. "Not sure I even have one to steal, Mishka." Less honest. But his voice is still too airy, and he can tell Misha enjoys the idea that he has frightened him. "It's just... friends with benefits. Da?"

"Is it?" Misha scoots the chair closer, clicking over the boards on the floor. Artyom feels strangely trapped, even though he could push Misha back and run. But he doesn't. His brother won't hurt him.

Not yet.

"It is." He drops his voice even further. "I promise, Mishka. There is no one outside the family. No one."

"No one but me." Misha is inches from him, his knees touching the side of Artyom's bed. Now light from outside, dimly white, glimmers over his dark eyes. "Right? Right, Tyoma? Family first."

"Right." Tyoma meets his gaze. Misha's eyes are like dead things, empty marbles in a moving face. "Family first. No one is more important than family."

"Right. And I'm your family. Me. So you can't run off to screw people if it means not taking care of me, right? If you get some girlfriend-"

"I don't even want one." Artyom cuts him off. Misha leans even closer, somehow. And there's a glint, a sheen of moonlight off metal. His little brother is holding a knife. "Carly and I are just friends who, who fool around sometimes."

"Carly, then." Misha's smile widens, like a skull's rictus grin. "The blonde. I figured."

Artyom winces, internally. But all he does is swallow the lump in his throat and nod. "Da, Mishka. She has a boyfriend at college. This is just for fun."

"Khoroshiy, Tyoma."

The silence draws out, and then Misha moves in almost a lunge forward and upright. Artyom flinches back, but Misha only ruffles his hair, giggling like he used to do when they were kids and he would push other children down the slide before they were ready.

"Relax. You are my family, too, Tyoma." He pats the side of Artyom's face. The knife in his other hand disappears back into a pocket, closed up into harmlessness again. "Family first."

"Family first," Artyom whispers.

Misha turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Artyom doesn't fall asleep until it's nearly dawn.

A week later, Misha calls him for help, and he spends the night digging a grave in the woods, just deep enough to cover two bodies with pine needles and fallen leaves without it being obvious. It takes hours, and his arms burn, muscles screaming for him to stop. He ignores the pain.

Misha helps, which he doesn't usually do. He digs, too, his eyes locked on Artyom's face. The dead bodies mean nothing, now. They've served their purpose.

"They're both pretty," Misha says idly. "Good luck I found them, huh?"

Artyom grunts.

"Hey. Tyoma." Misha snaps his fingers and Artyom looks up. Misha is only a couple feet away. He has the same look on his face as he had in Artyom's room the other night.

"Don't see her again outside of work, Tyoma. Don't. You don't need friends. You have me."

"... Mishka-"

"Don't 'Mishka' me. I said don't hang out with Carly Riggs anymore unless I'm with you. Okay?"

"... Yeah."

"Say you won't. Say it out loud. I can finish this myself, you know."

Artyom thinks of the knife Misha keeps, one he never uses on anyone else. He knows that knife is for him.

Artyom's heart pounds all over again, exertion and a dim terror beneath. "... I will not hang out with Carly without you."

"Good. Let's finish this up."

He goes back to digging, and Artyom follows suit, trying not to look too hard at the bodies.

A couple Misha saw in a bar and wanted to destroy. So he did. And now Artyom buries them for him, as always. Because his mother's heart would shatter if her youngest son was caught doing such evil things.

Because he knows what he must do to protect the brother who has been the center of his life since his birth. The brother who will one day, he thinks, be the center of his death, too.

He feels Misha's eyes on him like a brand as he dumps shovels of dirt over the open dark, slightly feline eyes and messy dark hair of the man. The tangled blonde hair and bright blue eyes of the woman. She has a t-shirt on from the restaurant where Artyom's been working.

It isn't a coincidence. It's a message, and Artyom understands.

Family first.

Or else.

#whump #box boy universe #antoni sings lullabies #artyom #burying a body #murder #death #horror fiction #misha the serial killer #some consensual spice #death threats tw #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #obsessive whumper #whumpers #bbu #mmmmmn backstory whump #consensual spice tw

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atonalginger · 1 month

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Snippet Sunday

This Sunday I have a sneak peek of an upcoming Bella fic Shrouded Certainty that centers on the Generdyne job, or what would be the generdyne mission if it weren't Bella...lady's got connections.

for this I used Guillemets (« ») when Bella and Rokov speak in Russian, similar to how I did in Sirens of the Stars so that's what's going on toward the beginning.

Sinking dread gripped Bella’s gut as they rode the elevator up to the boardwalk. It was almost funny to Bella how much this city still got to her after all the years she lived on the platform. She'd spent close to half her live on this platform working, surviving, fighting, living, growing as a person and yet anytime she came back it felt like the first time. The lights, the sounds, the smells, the crowds, all of it tore at her and threatened to overwhelm her.

«Are you alright, darling?» Rokov asked, leaning close with his lips brushing her ear, «you look troubled.»

Great, it’s noticeable, caution fussed.

Because we’re close, practical pointed out.

«I’m fine.» Bella said while staring at her reflection in the elevator door.

«Is it the meeting?» he asked, a strong hand tenderly rubbing up and down her back, «or something else?»

There was no escaping his questions, she knew that after months of working and traveling together. He might drop it for a time if she told him to but he would always circle back. Not because he was nosy or pushy but because he appeared to genuinely care about her well being.

It was for that reason he was the only Fleet captain, other than Huan Daiyu, to know about Sophie. And Daiyu barely counted since they’d known each other longer than either had run with the Fleet. He still hadn’t met Sophie and never once pushed to, respecting her desire to keep her little girl as far from the Fleet as humanly possible.

«Something else,» she said finally, «the meeting will be simple enough.»

«You know you are safe, yes?» Rokov asked before kissing her neck.

A warm shiver ran down her back, his hand relaxing her as much as it could in her current condition. She knew his words to be true, he took his role as her second and guard very seriously. She was still blown away that an established captain would demote himself to work beneath his station but he was happy and that was what mattered.

But even if he hadn’t been standing with her in the elevator, Bella would have been safe. She hadn’t been at risk walking the streets of Neon since she was 22 years old. She was a known entity to street rats and corpo suits alike and everyone knew not to fuck with her. And still the feeling of sinking dread gripped her tight.

“Da,” she said softly with a nod as the doors slid open.

Loud adverts blared from overhead speakers and glowing kiosks, the bright lights hurting her eyes and head alike. The stench of sweaty crowds and overfilled trash bins smacked at her nose, Bella swallowing hard to avoid gagging. It never ceased to amaze her how little Bayu cared about the first impression of his ‘fair’ city for tourists. Arrogant bastard was so confident in the draw of the Astral Lounge and other attractions that he didn’t bother to keep the streets clean and despite the horrid conditions he was right.

«Let’s get to the hotel so you can lay down before we get to work,» Rokov slid his hand from her back to around her waist, gently leading her toward the Volii Hotel, «see if we can shake the storm clouds.»

«Sweet idea,» Bella looked over to see Rokov glaring at something in front of them. «Zhenya, what’s wrong?»

“Cap didn’t mention you’d be here,” a nasally voice sneered from nearby. Bella suddenly felt surrounded as Rokov’s hand slipped away, “though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, all smart working girls keep muscle near to keep the Johns in line.”

Rokov let out a low, rumbling growl, his hands balling into fists. Bella looked toward the voice and found a rail thin zoner with faded multicolored hair and bloodshot eyes. He was dressed for the club with a scarlet suit and black shirt. Flanking him were two tougher looking men more in line with what she’d come to expect out of Crimson Fleet pirates.

“I take it ‘Cap’ is that drunk bitch stumbling around Madame Sauvage’s place?” Bella asked with a head tilt, noting the three men behind them near the elevator in the reflection of a billboard’s glare, “shouldn’t you be busy helping her pack? She was sent her orders before I left the Key.”

“We were sent to collect you,” the well-dressed pirate said with a sinister smile, “our captain has words for you.”

“Collect?” Bella scoffed, her practical side stuffing caution in her room for safety as she prepared for a fight, “I’ll give that drunk some credit, she’s got brass ones thinking she can order that.”

“She did warn us you’d got it in your head you were special,” the suit looked her up and down, “I don’t see it, honestly.”

The three behind them were closing in and a flash of white in the reflection told her they had novalights. Practical bared her pearly jaws, hissing liking a cornered cat at them while Bella did her best to remain calm. She blinked slowly as she turned her attention from the reflection to the suit, “Then you should head over to the Reliant Medical to get your eyes checked.”

“She warned us you thought you were funny too,” he took a step forward.

“Did she warn you that if your boys lay a finger on even a loose hair on my jacket that Delgado will feed you all your balls before dumping you on Suverov for attacking two captains?” Bella asked.

The two flanking the suit froze at the mention of Delgado, clearly remembering how vicious the big boss could be. A glance in the reflection showed the novalights were still aimed at the ground, but out all the same. The suit scoffed, “Neava endorsed Estelle’s orders.”

#snippet sunday #starfield #starfield fanfiction #the coemancer crew #atonalginger writes #crimson fleet #Bella Cherise #Evgeny Rokov

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thunderandsage · 1 month

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3 body problem episode 1 thoughts

[POTENTIAL SPOILERS AHEAD]

okay so quick summary before: i've read the book in the past month so it's still semi-fresh in my memory. i watched the beginning seven minutes or so of the cdrama but then school happened so i never got around to finishing it. my main worries are about the frankly baffling decision to whitewash many characters and the fact that they are advertising this as "from the creators of game of thrones" when we all remember how that turned out... but i am still intrigued so here i am.

starting thoughts:

teenage ye wenjie is 100% pitch perfect cast—the sheer visceral rage in her eyes before the credits roll was *chef’s kiss* and made me believe “yea, i can see how she’ll betray all of humanity”

credits:

uhhh… ok i guess? i would’ve gone for something techno and driving for the music. the zoom-out was pretty i guess? the strings section sounds like it was taken from garageband.

episode:

we’re in england now??? again, why

acting seems solid, dialogue so-so, and you lose a big part of the mystery present in the beginning of the book that i really liked. i don’t mind the genderswap with auggie, i view it pretty neutrally

i want to kick the two guys discussing jin during a funeral down the drain a little which is bad because it looks like they’re supposed to be sympathetic. mike evans foreshadowing was pretty cool though

the group ensemble could be interesting in how information is going to be revealed. whoops i now ship jin and auggie my bad. with all the references to god it looks like they’re building up the group as religious fanatics as well?

the work-camp segment does highlight the environmental destruction but it seems a little rushed? also without the detail that the reporter ratted her out it loses a lot of its dramatic potential. young ye wenjie continues to be a highlight.

ok but the helmet design is just silly. da shi is alright? not as caustic as in the book but there are seven more episodes. rosalind chao embodies the apparent gentleness of adult ye wenjie very well (also coming from ds9 seeing keiko o’brien say “motherfucker” is quite a schock)

the transmission scene with the dead birds is good at setting up the dread

jin tries on the helmet! nice foreshadowing of the dehydration process, though the visuals weren’t quite as impressive just based on basic proportion and color grading (i think? i don’t have the expert vocabulary)

the red coast reveal intercut with the universe blinking was a really cool choice, though i wonder at the choice of making it visible to everyone and not just as background radiation

overall i’m still not entirely sold—the writing and directing could have been stronger, especially with the quality of the original book. the location or race changes haven’t added really anything to the story so far so again—why. will watch more for ye wenjie to see What Crimes Will She Commit Next

#3 body problem #the three body problem #three body problem #tv review

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emmedoesntdomath · 11 months

Note

Hi prepare for the spam

🥰Snitch🥰

Who is def in love with Lorenzo (Itey)

don’t even get me started on my itey rant. one time was probably one time too many.

in current definitions, “snitch” means to essentially rat someone out. this definition doesn’t really transcend as far as 1990, as it also to means to steal. that’s likely the definition that was used by the newsies, so it’s the one we’re using.

snitch is an older newsie in 92sies, and yes, he’s definitely in love with his best friend, itey. does itey know this? debatable. mush and blink definitely know (he’s not exactly subtle), and tease him about it relentlessly (kind of hypocritical, honestly, considering how they act around each other). but snitch nearly broke his own nose the first time he saw lorenzo due to an unfortunately placed rock and the sudden lack of conscious thought occurring in his brain.

also, he’s one of those idiots who thinks flirting is insulting the other person. cue interactions with snitch going, “I like- I mean, you’ve got something on your face. it looks stupid.” and itey, who doesn’t actually have anything on his face, scrubbing at the spot snitch pointed out. “thanks, I guess?”

(mush and blink snickering in the background)

snitch became a newsie when his dad died, and when he and his sister were left on their own. honestly? he did it by accident. he was trying to nab some coins from a sleeping kid (who he didn’t know was a newsie named mush), and got caught with his hand in their bag by blink, who came in swinging a stick like a sword and yelling at the top of his lungs.

mush takes pity on the kid, because he’s clearly terrified, and they drag him to the distribution booth, introducing him as ‘the kid who tried to snitch some dimes from mush here’. and- ta da! snitch was born.

(yes, I’m making another name ironic for my own personal enjoyment. and what of it?) (also, remind me to do another mush post later. my first one was criminally small.)

he’s not the best at selling, admittedly. he doesn’t always know what to say, and is a VERY bad actor. but he gets better, at least enough to make a small living. he brings it home at night for food for him and his sister, and goes back to try to make a little more in the morning. it’s not fun, or sustainable by any means, but snitch makes due.

not by stealing, though. he’s still really bad at that.

when they go on strike, he’s one of the first to join the union. later, itey finds him in a dark alley, panicking about money and how he was going to explain himself to his sister. they bicker until he calms down, and then he (accidentally) (he doesn’t really do anything on purpose. he just has really shitty luck) trips into itey and they kiss.

the next time is less of an accident, but itey doesn’t need to know that.

#newsies #92sies #uksies #livesies #snitch newsies #manhattan newsies #itey newsies #itey #blush newsies #kid blink newsies #blink newsies #kid blink #mush newsies #mush #emme’s bad ideas

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storiesofsvu · 2 years

Text

Under Over Ch 27

Joe Velasco x reader warnings: language, thats basically it. welp, we're here. at the end of the line (for now) thanks y'all for coming along and being the best readers I could ask for! i simply adored all the comments and messages about stuff and am glad you all enjoyed! stay tuned for the sequel!!!

Wrapping up the cases ended up being easier than you had expected. Between the giant piles of evidence and most of the perps not wanting a public trial to further tarnish their images, most of them took plea deals. All in all, everything had worked out spectacularly and between the squads and the DA’s office things were looking up. You’d managed to get rid of a corrupt chief, and spirits were high when it was revealed that Chief Garland would be reinstated immediately. Your bust had also managed to clean house on more than a handful of dirty judges, lawyers, cops and the like, those higher up wanting deals flipping on other people they knew had been at parties, and it always felt good to get rid of the rats. You managed to stay out of the eye of the press during the entire debacle, and warned Joe to try and do the same, you wanted to make sure you’d be able to still work UC without getting any heat in similar situations and if your pictures were all over the papers, you wouldn’t be able to.

Today, you were on your way into the 16th precinct, flashing your shield to the desk jockey before making your way upstairs to SVU’s floor. The bull pen was relatively quiet, especially compared to how flooded it had been over the past couple of weeks with multiple squads sharing the space. It appeared Olivia was out of office, you were unsure if it was work or personal related, Amanda was refilling coffee in the breakroom while on the phone, Fin and Joe at their desks. The movement in the room cause Joe to glance up, a soft smile breaking out on his cheeks at the sight of you moving through the space, a warmth coursing through him at the fact that you were in a nice sundress and heels rather than your go to work outfits.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked and you let out a small laugh, placing a bag onto his desk as you perched on the side of it, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

“Figured I’d bring you lunch.”

“Yeah? Where’s mine?” Fin called with a tease and you shook your head.

“I dunno. Ask you wife.” You teased back and he chuckled.

“I would be she’s a little busy covering someone else’s workload.”

“It was her decision to put me on modified!” You retorted with another laugh.

“Yeah?” Amanda interrupted, crossing through the teasing match, “heard you blew a stitch in the field the other day.”

You shot her a playful glare before glancing down at Jose whose hand came to squeeze at your thigh. You had certainly blown a stitch, and you quickly learnt how painful that was, and even more so, how painful it was to get stitched up without any anesthesia. The ordeal was more than enough for you to finally agree to Phoebe and Jose’s insistence that you take it easy for a while. A minimum of one week paid medical leave followed by desk duty until the stitches were out, boring, but you’d manage it. Honestly, it was probably a good thing to have the extra time to readjust to your undercover op being over.

You heard the rustling of the paper bag as Jose began to pull the containers out and you turned back to him when he spoke.

“This looks fancy.”

“Le Bernardin.” You replied.

“Calhoun?” He asked, opening the container of truffle seafood pasta, figuring you’d been paying off one of your thank you’s to the attorney, your attire making much more sense now.

“David.” You smiled, reaching out to fix a piece of mussed up hair, “who was insistent on mini champagne bottle in there despite me telling him you were at work.” He chuckled at that, “he and Elaine fly out tonight and they have made it well known that we’re invited to D.C for Christmas and New Years.”

“Yeah? For those stuffy political events you all hate so much?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I told him the chance of it happening were slim to none but thanked him for the offer. Their guest house does have its own jacuzzi though.”

“Okay now you have me intrigued.” He admitted before taking a bite of the food and groaning over the taste. You let out a little chuckle as he raved about it, your hand cupping his cheek while you leant down to kiss him softly.

“I’ve still got a couple of errands to run, I’ll let you get back to work.” His free hand squeezed at your leg as you slid off his desk, “I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, a smile on his cheeks that was the silent I love you before you made a quick goodbye to the other two and disappeared from the room, stepping through the elevator doors.

Amanda waited a moment before she tossed a pen over to Velasco’s desk and he looked up at her confused at the cocked brow.

“What? Carisi brings you lunch all the time.”

“She said she’d see you at home.” She smirked and he let out a huff, especially as Fin began to chime in.

“You two really are movin’ fast, aren’t you?”

“She was living at the penthouse and a UC apartment.” Joe defended, “it’s New York, she had to sublet her place and didn’t know how long she’d be gone so there’s still someone in it.”

“Sure.” Amanda grinned, turning to face Fin over their desk, “yeah they definitely fucked while they were under.”

“Hey, I know nothin.” He replied and Joe let out a quiet swear before Amanda chucked an eraser at Fin who let out a laugh at her raised brow, “yeah that’s a straight up lie. They were definitely hookin’ up, Phoebe told me.”

“Oh my god.” Joe muttered, running a hand over his face despite the fact that he was already sure Fin had known, and Amanda had basically figured it out while he was still under. He was at least thankful Olivia wasn’t around to hear any of them.

“Ohoho! Velasco!” Amanda laughed, “you dog. You really are lockin’ it in.”

“What was I supposed to do? Send her off to a hotel? You help out the people you love, don’t you?” The drop of the ‘L word’ was met with more choruses of playful teases and jeers from the other two.

“In the love stage already?”

“Okay, you know what?” He couldn’t help the little laugh that accompanied his eye roll, “you’re married.” He gestured to Fin, then turned to Amanda, “you’re basically married, I shouldn’t be getting teased for this.”

“We’ve gotta live vicariously through someone.” Amanda replied with a shrug, turning to Fin, “so…what’d’ya bet? Two weeks til he buys a ring?”

“That’s it.” Joe huffed with a laugh, pushing back from his desk and collecting his phone and lunch, “I’m eating in the break room.”

Amanda and Fin let out a chorus of laughter, watching him go before Fin called out to him, causing him to turn around.

“Pretty boy, don’t take it too rough, we’re just teasing.” Joe rolled his eyes at the nickname but hovered in the doorway while he waited for Fin to continue, “and hey, sometimes we don’t do things in the stereotypical timeframes and that’s fine. I mean, this could be the ample time to ask her to actually move in.”

“He’s right.” She chimed in, “and you said it yourself, housing in New York can be a nightmare to find. This could be the sign that she give up her place when the lease is up.”

“I dunno…” He mulled over it for a moment.

“Take it from me,” Amanda started, “even the girls who seem the most fiercely independent like having a nice man to come home to at the end of a long day.”

“Yeah?” Joe asked with a grin, tease evident in his voice, “Carisi move in while I was gone?” Surprisingly, her cheeks turned pink and she nearly ducked her gaze while the other two men laughed.

“We’ve been looking for a place.” She admitted, “but he’s trying to convince me into one with a yard for the girls and Frannie.”

“You want a place like that you’re gonna need to leave Manhattan.” Fin commented and she groaned.

“Don’t remind me.”

With a chuckle, Joe disappeared into the breakroom, thankful for the distraction calming their antics.

When he got home that night he was met with a delicious smell wafting through the apartment and you in the open kitchen, your attention half on the stove and half on your phone before you glanced up to him. You smiled warmly, greeting him with a soft ‘hey’ as he shucked his coat, tossing his bag to the side table and made his way through the space. He wrapped himself around your back, pressing kisses into your neck and shoulder.

“You bring me lunch and you make me dinner, careful, you’re spoiling.”

You set down the spatula in your hands, turning in his arms to greet him with a tender kiss as you chuckled.

“I wasn’t going to bring you lunch, that was David’s insistence.” You laughed, “and it’s not much, some stuffed chicken, potato and veggies. Besides, I was bored out of my skull.”

“Well it smells delicious.” He ducked to kiss you once again, “you’re bored now? How’d you manage that penthouse life?”

“I had people to hangout with there.” You laughed in return, “lavish shopping trips to go on, parties to plan.”

“Blowjob seminars to teach.” He teased and you barked a laugh, swatting at his chest.

“I’m sorry, did you want your dinner?” You raised a brow and he chuckled, stealing another kiss as his hand raised to your cheek, caressing at your skin while he gazed at you for a moment.

“I can’t lie… it’s really nice to be coming home to you, or with you.”

“Yeah…” you smiled, your hands looping behind his neck, “far better than a quiet cold apartment.”

“Hey uh… when’s that sublet done?”

“Two months when the lease is up.” You couldn’t help the small grin, knowing what direction he was likely going.

“Well... I was thinking, considering you spend so much of your time here already, why not make it official?” The grin on your cheeks grew to one even wider as you let out a little giggle.

“Are you sure? I mean, I know things have been kinda…fast in the way we’ve been moving forward with things.”

“And I don’t care.” He smiled down at you, “I’ll admit I was hesitant before but… the squad might’ve gotten to me a bit after you left today.”

“You mean they were teasing the shit outta you?” You raised a brow and he laughed.

“Yeah.” His finger curled under your chin, tilting your lips up to his for a kiss, “but if I get to come home to you and wake up with you every day, it makes it all worth it.”

“You really are goin’ soft on me pretty boy.”

“Maybe that’s because I love you.” He murmured back and you felt your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you too.” You kissed him once again, letting out a happy sigh into the kiss before it ended, “and for the record, I adore waking up with you every day too. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

“So it’s settled then?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, “I told you; I want a future with you. I did when I said it and I still do now, no matter what life decides to throw at us, I know that as long as I have you, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“And now you’re going soft.” He chuckled and you did your best not to roll your eyes as he kissed you again, “and exactly like I said then, you’ve got me. You’re stuck with me, because I am not letting you outta my sight.”

“You okay with however long it takes you to set the table?” You asked as the timer went off and he laughed again, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he let you finally slip out of his arms.

You turned to the oven and stove, pulling out everything for dinner as Jose flitted around you to get what was needed to eat along with a bottle of wine. As you settled into the table that night it was more than apparent your love for each other and just how strong it was. You were seated perpendicular to each other, easily able to feed each other bites or have a quick caress of a cheek or hand resting on a thigh. The conversation was light, laughter and small grins bouncing between the two of you as you simply enjoyed each others company.

While the way you had come into each other’s lives wasn’t exactly conventional, you knew that there was no place either of you belonged but here. You consistently had each other’s backs and would always look out for the other, no matter what the circumstances. Jose had butterflies the moment he first set eyes on you and you weren’t far behind him, as you discovered just how sweet he was you fell hard and you would be forever grateful that he felt the same way. Somehow, the two of you had managed to find your future and everything you craved from life through an undercover operation, and honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

_____________ @witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girll @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @almatra @momlifebehard @dondivajadee @misscharlielulu

#joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #law and order svu #under over #law and order #svu #law and order special victims unit

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five-rivers · 2 years

Text

Danger First Chapter 12

@pocketramblr

Here we go again! This chapter wound up mostly dialogue, but it was fun dialogue, so I have no regrets.

AO3

The first thing that happened after the principal’s demand was surprised silence.

The second thing that happened was Mr. Aizawa jerking straight up out of his sleeping bag and shouting, “Don’t you dare try to poach my students, you rat!”

This caused Izuku to startle hard enough that the remote for the projector flew out of his hands and shattered against a nearby wall. This was nothing to Kaminari’s reaction, which was a flash of electricity that shorted out all the lights in the room.

There was silence again.

Tinny music began to play. Cat! I’m a kitty cat! And I dance, dance, da--

Mr. Aizawa answered his phone with a violent motion accompanied by the sound of a tearing plaster cast. “No!” he growled into the receiver. “So what? It isn’t as if--” He cut off, as if he’d been interrupted. “Fine. You five. Go talk to Nezu. Bring your lunch. The rest of you, go somewhere that hasn’t just had a major electrical accident. Except for you, Kaminari; let’s have a discussion about quirk control.”

Kaminari’s gulp was audible.

“I can’t believe that song is still popular,” said Yoichi. “It was ancient when I was born.”

“Clearly,” said En, “Aizawa is a connoisseur of the classics.”

Banjo stared at them. “What are you talking about?

“I wonder what Principal Nezu is like,” said Uraraka, nervously.

“He’s an upstanding and impressive citizen, according to my brother!” said Iida, his voice pitched a little closer to the breaking point than usual. “Very-” there was a long pause, “-passionate! Dedicated to his work!”

“As a principal should be!” agreed Monoma, his nervousness much more pronounced. “He does make sure UA is the best!”

“He’s nice,” said Izuku, “but kind of scary…”

“You’ve met him?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“Yeah, just before the USJ. I, um, my quirk was really- was really acting up, because, you know.” He hunched his shoulders. “Do you think we’re in trouble?” He’d been trying to focus on Danger Sense while they walked, but it wasn’t giving him a clear signal.

It hadn’t been going off when they’d been putting the presentations together, either, come to think of it. But then, would it? He vaguely recalled some spikes of anxiety when taking the written entrance exam, but he also picked up low-level danger from improperly fastened doorknobs and things like that. Maybe getting scolded by the principal wasn’t enough of a danger to register to him past the ‘background noise.’ He had a quirk now, he had to pay more attention to things.

“Wouldn’t you be the one to know?” asked Monoma, expression one of genuine curiosity.

“Talking to the principal is a lot different from being ambushed by villains,” said Uraraka.

Izuku giggled nervously. “Y-yeah, there’s also the whole being based on how- how anxious I’m feeling, and sometimes a person just feels anxious, right?”

“Ow. Those’re sure some pitying looks.”

“We had no idea Danger Sense was such a difficult quirk,” said Nana.

The vestiges turned their own pitying look on Hikage.

The doors to Nezu’s office opened on their own, before Izuku or any of the others could knock. It was a bit startling, given that they didn’t look like automatic doors, but Izuku didn’t get why his classmates jumped.

Maybe if he hadn’t come earlier, he’d’ve jumped, too, but he’d had different concerns, then, and… Well. Anyway.

“Come in! Come in!” said Principal Nezu, who was practically vibrating behind his desk. “Am I a rabbit, a chipmunk, or a weasel? One thing’s for sure, I’m Principal Nezu! And you five have presented me with a bit of a conundrum.”

“S-sorry,” said Izuku.

“Oh, heavens! It isn’t something to apologize for. As a matter of fact, I am quite pleased with the research you did. Please, sit down, all of you.”

They gingerly pulled chairs from where they were lined up against the walls to ring Nezu’s desk.

“Excellent, excellent. Now. In normal years, I wouldn’t have called you here at all except, perhaps, to congratulate you on work well done - which, mind you, I would like to do anyway. The gathering of intelligence and drawing conclusions from data is an important skill for heroes, particularly investigative heroes, to have. Few students or groups of students have been so accurate. We generally use a degree of randomness when selecting events. This year, however, is different.”

“Because of the attacks,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Quite so. The issue, you see, is that if you can so accurately guess the events--”

“Then so could someone else,” said Izuku before slapping his hands over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled, mortified.

Nezu nodded grimly. “It would seem that in our desire to make the festival more secure, we may have outfoxed ourselves.”

“You’re going to change the events, aren’t you?” asked Monoma with a sort of bitter, defeated twist to his words.

“I’m afraid we must,” said Nezu, apologetically. “But that doesn’t mean I intend to send you back to your classmates empty handed.” He leaned forward, a sliver of sharp tooth exposed between furry lips. “Tell me, how would you solve the sports festival problem?”

They left with an assignment (a formal, polished report on their analysis of the sports festival and the patterns found in it), an answered question (if a support student gave someone else a piece of gear during the event, it was fair game to use), and slightly wobbly legs.

“That was weird,” said Uraraka, “and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Iida, whose wobble was more vocal than physical. “This is a tremendous opportunity!”

“Well, yeah,” said Uraraka, “but I don’t know if I deserve it. I was basically just taking notes on videos. Anyone could have done that.”

“But not anyone did,” said Monoma. “You did.” He sniffed. “Just like any class could make a plan like ours, but clearly few of them ever have.”

“Mm,” said Uraraka. “I really need to show you my presentation. I think it’s more common than we realized. But, like. I know at least Tsu and Jiro are smarter than I am. The only reason I’m getting credit like this is because I live alone so no one can enforce bedtime on me.”

“Even if that were true, you still put the effort in. You’re hardly getting credit for something you didn’t do,” said Monoma.

“Yeah,” said Izuku, nodding fiercely. “And your suggestions were really good!”

“It’s not like he’s going to use any of them, though,” she said, slumping a little. “We’ve drawn a complete blank as far as the events go.”

“That’s not entirely true,” said Yaoyorozu. “While we may no longer have any good guesses about the specific events, our conclusions about their general nature still hold true. We will have an elimination event, a teamwork event, and a one-on-one tournament, and they will all be on a relatively open field.”

“That’s true,” said Uraraka, regaining some pep in her step. “We can make plans for the second event teams and stuff.”

“Or even the first event,” mumbled Izuku. “We really do need to see your analysis of what level of cooperation is generally allowed in the first event, Uraraka. Then, depending on the event, we can organize and practice teams optimized for speed or strike capability… Obviously we want some balance rather than one powerful team…”

“Well,” said Nana, as Izuku continued to mumble, “that’s scary. Adorable, but scary.”

“Mostly adorable,” said Yoichi.

“Not really,” said Hikage.

“He sounds like your brother,” said En. “Except with morals and a strange desire to win a high school contest.”

Yoichi blinked at them. “Right. None of you guys knew Hisashi when he was in high school.”

“Oh,” said Banjo, “that sounds like a story.”

Yoichi nodded. “I don’t know all of it, but the aftermath involved a fire truck, an ice cream factory, and the North Carolina National Guard.”

“North Carolina as in--?”

“The state, yes.”

“I thought North Carolina was a country,” said En.

“It is now.”

“Did you just imply that All for One caused the balkanization of the United States?”

“They aren’t really balkanized, they’re still a union,” said Yoich. “They still have a federal government. You know that. We were all with Eighth when he visited.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

They wobbled into Foundational Heroics, and All Might set them to basic combat drills, AKA how to punch someone without breaking your hand. An important skill for the sports festival and life as a hero in general. They were in pairs, switching between hitting a punching bag and acting as a spotter. After that, they spent an hour practicing clearing corners while infiltrating buildings, and, finally, All Might (somewhat pointedly) handed them personalized training and diet plans and set them loose on the weight training gym.

This left them with one course of action.

“Hagakure,” said Ojiro, one of many. “You have to tell us what your workout plan was.”

“Your gains are incredible,” agreed Sato.

“I want to lift Midoriya like a twig, too,” said Kaminari.

“I kind of am a twig.”

“No, no, Strawberry,” said Hagakure, managing to get past Izuku’s guard and ruffle his hair, “you’re pretty solid, just short. But it won’t be free! You guys have to tell us what Nezu wanted with you.”

“...and that’s when we were released to return,” Iida said, finishing his summation.

“Man,” said Ashido, “that’s a bummer. You guys did all that work for nothing.”

“Hm,” said Tsuyu, “did they? Kero. The basic assumptions should still hold true, so we can still strategize.”

“That’s what Midoriya said on the way back,” said Uraraka, who was taping her fingers.

“Y-yeah,” said Izuku, finishing his set and sliding off the bench. “But… there might be a problem.” A big one.

“Like what?” asked Uraraka. She took Izuku’s spot on the bench, hesitated, and then slid off again to remove some of the weights.

“Kacchan.”

“The rude boy from 1-B?” asked Tsuyu.

“When I was thinking about team match ups… Well. Anyone who works with me is going to have to deal with him, too. The thing he cares about most is winning, but if he can steamroll me in the meantime… I’m a liability for any plan we come up with.”

“Midoriya, part of the reason we’re working together is specifically to knock that guy down a peg,” said Tsuyu.

“O-oh,” said Izuku. “I guess… Yeah, it is, isn’t it? I hadn’t really…” What hadn’t he really done? Processed it? Thought about it? Realized what it meant?

What did it mean?

"It means that we're friends, silly!" said Uraraka, giving him a hearty slap on the back before settling back down on the bench.

"And that we find Bakugo's attitude to be unacceptable in someone who aspires to be a hero!" added Iida. A murmur of agreement echoed through the gym.

"Midoriya," said Tokoyami, "should Bakugo seek you out on the field of battle, we will show him true darkness."

"He means we'll beat him up if he tries to pick on you!" explained Dark Shadow.

Izuku felt himself tearing up. "You guys…"

"That's sweet," said Nana, "but it doesn't take care of the tactical issue."

"Shush," said Yoichi. "Let us enjoy the moment."

Izuku rubbed at his eyes with slightly shaking hands.

“We still need a strategy to deal with him,” said Izuku, surprised at how steady his voice was.

“We will need strategies for everything,” said Yaoyorozu, the sentence punctuated by strokes on the rowing machine she was using.

“Oi!” shouted Jiro from the racks on the other side of the room. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not going to remember a dozen different strategies for all sorts of scenarios or whatever! If we don’t know the events, we can’t make a plan to cover everything.”

(A few feet away from her, Todoroki had put on an expression that just screamed 'I'm not listening to this.')

“A conundrum indeed,” intoned Tokoyami.

“One of my martial arts instructors used to say that you can’t plan for your opponent doing anything - you just have to train yourself to act and react in the ways you can,” said Ojiro, helpfully. “Of course, then we had lessons on reading opponents, and that sort of undercut things a little bit…”

“Hey, uh…” Uraraka settled the bar back on the stand with a little oomph. “Maybe we can just… Work out how to work well together? I mean, focus on teamwork first, and then we’ll be able to adapt to, um, whatever our ‘opponent’ throws at us?”

“Ah,” said Yaoyorozu. “Very well put.”

“Ehe,” said Uraraka, scratching the back of her neck. “I try!”

“Did you just call the principal our opponent?” asked Iida, aghast.

“Well, he is, in this case, isn’t he?”

Iida was silent for a long moment. “He is,” he confirmed. Then he sat up on the leg curl machine he’d been using the whole time and buried his face in his hands. Izuku, not knowing what else to do, patted him on the back.

“Oh, hey,” said Kirishima, “did we ever make a decision about, uh… Support and gen ed?”

“Oh! Oh!” said Kaminari, waving his hand with as much energy as remained in his body after an hours-long workout. Which was to say, not much, but still more than Izuku would have thought. “I’ll get Better Purple!”

“Was that his name?” asked Kirishima.

“Nah. I don’t think he actually said his name. Huh.” He stared into the distance. “It could be his name. I mean, we’ve got some weird names here. My name’s basically thunder electricity. Makes you wonder what my parents were thinking.”

“Probably the same thing you’re thinking when you blow out your brain,” said Jiro.

“My feelings are hurt,” said Kaminari. “Terribly hurt. Wounded. Perhaps mortally so. Who gave your tongue such fatal barbs?”

“How are you so bad at your literature homework when your vocabulary is like that?”

“Talent.”

“Um,” said Izuku, raising a timid hand. “I’ll talk to Hatsume, since I kind of know her.”

“I’ll go with you!” volunteered Uraraka. “I want to see what she’s like.”

“Oh ho,” said Hagakure, grasping Uraraka by the shoulders and making her jump. “Scoping out the competition, are we?”

“W-w-what? Haha, no way!”

“Hopefully, she won’t be competition until the last event!” said Izuku. “I really think she will join us, if we can pitch it right.”

“Yeah, Hagakure,” said Tsuyu. “If we’re talking about the last event, people in this class are competition, too.”

“Actually,” said Monoma, if they do a standard tournament-style event for the finals, we’ll be competition in the second event, too. When they do tournaments, they only have sixteen people.” He paused. “We can all agree on trying to take Kacchan out first, though, right? And 1-B,” he added, as an afterthought.

For a moment, Izuku thought their alliance might fall apart. But then there were solemn nods.

“Let’s do a cheer!” said Monoma, leaping onto a treadmill. “For the crushing, humiliating defeat of 1-B and the eternal supremacy of class A!”

“That’s a little too far, actually,” said Yaoyorozu.

Izuku stopped, his heart in his throat, just a few feet down the hall from the support labs and grabbed Uraraka’s wrist.

Perhaps inevitably, the lab doors exploded outward. A girl with a ponytail and a headband with antennas on it jumped up, away from the warped metal, and ran back inside the lab, howling about her reaction while someone else cackled.

The cackle sounded a lot like Hatsume.

“Uh,” said Uraraka. “Is that normal?”

“It… seems so? It happened last time, too.”

Izuku cautiously peered inside. Danger Sense wasn’t going off, but that was no reason to be careless.

Yep. The cackle was definitely Hatsume.

“Uh,” said Izuku. “Hatsume?” He’d have to be louder to be heard over the machinery. “Hatsume! Hello!”

“Oh! Hey! Grappling hook!” The girl greeted, waving. “How’s it going? My baby holding up okay?”

“It was great,” said Izuku, shuffling into the lab. “Really. It saved my life. This is Uraraka, she’s in 1-A with me.”

“Nice!” Hatsume said. “So, whatcha here for? It better not be that you broke my baby.” Suddenly, the crosshairs in Hatsume’s eyes looked really menacing. “Just kidding! But you should bring it in for dedicated maintenance if you used it in battle.”

“I thought our hero costumes were brought in for maintenance automatically,” said Uraraka.

“They are,” said Hatsume, “but that’s like, spot checking and patching, and it’s assigned to random students. If you want to treat my babies right, you need to bring them home to mama. But I guess that’s not what you’re here for?”

“W-well, my class and I,” he gestured at Uraraka, “were wondering if, um, you’d be interested in more exposure for your- your babies. At the sports festival. We sort of have a plan.”

“Huh,” said Hatsume. Then she dragged him and Uraraka off into a small, padded side room. She tossed a box at him, and an identical one at Uraraka. Protective gear. “Put that on and you can pitch your plan to me while we test a few things.” She grinned, wickedly and hefted a… net gun? Izuku hoped it was a net gun. “Progress waits for no one, right?”

Izuku didn’t think that was how the saying went.

(The gun, unfortunately, contained glue.)

Staff meetings, even staff meetings of professional heroes, were infrequently exciting. More often, they were boring. Boring and stressful. Never a good combination. But still better than exciting and stressful. Which was what the meetings since the media break-in had been.

This meeting was not an exception.

“You want us to completely change our plans for the sports festival in under a week?” asked Kan, aghast.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” said Power Loader, who had dropped his face onto the table. “You're not the one who has to reformat the arena and add in all this… stuff.”

“Challenges, for our students!” said Nezu, far too happily.

“You aren’t the one with the biggest job, either, Maijima,” pointed out Cementoss. In contrast to his coworker, Cementoss was sitting up straight, looking at the handout Nezu had given them. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Does Maijima even have to do anything?” asked Yagi. “This look like mostly cement work…”

“The robots and traps.”

“Ah, forgive me,” said Yagi.

"Hey, hey," said Present Mic. "If I'm going to be on the field, now, who's going to do announcements?"

Nezu chittered. "Isn't it obvious? Shouta had already agreed to assist you in the announcement booth."

"Wait," said Shouta, reaching out of his sleeping bag for his packet that he had only scanned. "Wait. You're leaving me there? Alone?"

He was going to die.

Nemuri grinned at him. "What, you aren't scared, are you?"

"Only of the expectation that I'll have to sensationalize and exaggerate the abilities of children I barely know."

"You realize none of us are buying that act, right?"

"We are keeping the third event the same?" asked Yagi, oblivious to or uncaring of Shouta's distress. He was taking notes on a pad of paper to one side.

Nezu sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

Recovery Girl made an angry little humph.

"As much as we dislike the issues it causes when students become too enthusiastic, it is the most popular and most requested event. Especially this year, our students need the professional connections internships can bring."

"Alright," said Yagi. "Ah, young Aizawa, I almost forgot. Did you still want to have the students pick aliases before the festival? We should do that soon, yes?” He looked up. “Kayama, are you free to help with that this week?"

"Oh, no," said Nemuri. "Shouta, you aren't after that again, are you?"

"I'm after it every year," said Shouta, still going through his packet to find a way out of announcing. Announcing was a job for loud extroverts who could put a positive and dramatic spin on anyone or anything, no matter how illogical.

“Only the hero course students need hero names,” said Nemuri. “For everyone else, they’d only use the names three times, maximum. We’d have to get hundreds of names that are only going to be used practically three times. Come on, All Might, tell him. It isn’t worth it.”

“I tend to side with young Aizawa on this, actually,” said Yagi. “I don’t see any reason to make it easier for villains to target our students, whether or not they’re in the hero class. In fact, in some ways, students who aren’t in the hero course are more at risk than those who are, because they don’t receive combat training beyond a little bit of self defense.” He tilted his head. “Despite the best efforts of heroes everywhere, quirk trafficking is still a major problem.”

“You have to admit, though,” said Kan, “Six hundred and sixty hero names - if the business courses decide to compete - is a lot to deal with. What if there are duplicate names?”

Yagi stared, face painted with a total lack of comprehension. “Well,” he said, “if you think it would be that much of a problem, we could always use class seat numbers.”

“Sorry, what?” asked Nemuri.

“Class numbers. Like, say, young Midoriya for instance. He is seat number 17 of class A, so he could be identified as student A-17.” Yagi shrugged. “Something similar is done at conventions, sometimes, to call up particular attendees.”

How was it that Yagi could say something so logical in such an annoying way?

“What about recognizability?” asked Kan. “We are trying to build up our students’ brands, too. They can do that with their real name, but a number? Not so much.”

Shouta sighed. “Then give the hero course students a chance to pick their names beforehand, and give everyone else the default.”

“Oof,” said Hizashi. “That’d cause a bit of resentment. Maybe give everyone a chance to pick names, and anyone who can’t come up with one, or who makes a duplicate name, gets the default.”

“There’s also always quirk names,” said Yagi, now rolling his pen between his palms. “But I find forcing that on people to be… distasteful, at best. And it has many of the same issues as broadcasting student names.”

Shouta remembered what Yagi had mentioned about All for One and quirk names and suppressed a shiver. Yeah. He could see why he found it distasteful.

“All excellent points!” said Nezu. “However, how we implement this is, at least partially, up to Nemuri.”

Nemuri took off her glasses and made a show of cleaning them. “I can talk to the first year heroics and general education courses, if you can make room for me to speak to them in your classes, but the other classes…” She shrugged. “I’m just not going to have the time to get them done. Assuming we’ll need at least a couple days before the festival to get all the names plugged into the system?”

“That is correct,” said Nezu. “It sounds like we have our answer, then.”

Shouta would like to argue that they hadn’t really agreed on anything, but whatever. It was always going to be up to Nezu in the end.

“The first year heroics and gen ed courses will pick their hero names with Nemuri’s help. For the other classes, whether or not they have dedicated time to pick a name will be decided by their homeroom teacher, and…” Nezu paused dramatically. “An email to that effect has just been sent to all the students.”

“You don’t have a computer with you,” said Yagi.

As if that would stop Nezu.

“Right, so,” said Mr. Aizawa as soon as homeroom started. “We’re doing something different today. A special class.”

The tension in the classroom congealed immediately.

“You’ll be coming up with your hero aliases.”

The congealed atmosphere transmuted into shrapnel as the class exploded. Despite the extensive bandaging, Mr. Aizawa’s hair still went up. Some of the bandages started to float too. That was interesting, maybe he had a split quirk of some kind? A gravity nullifier?

“Midoriya, pay attention,” said Mr. Aizawa. “The aliases you pick today are only temporary, but you should still put in the effort to pick something appropriate--”

“OR ELSE YOU’LL KNOW TRUE HELL!” Ms. Kayama, Midnight, shouted, throwing open the door. “Like this guy, who’s been stuck with what he let a friend fill in on his application for years.”

“Do none of you people know how to enter a room without making it into a production?”

“Come on, we’ve got to give the kids a show. Let ‘em live a little.”

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Kayama will be leading a workshop with you today. Hopefully, you’ll have a name picked out by the end of the period, but if not, you have until the end of this week to submit a name, otherwise, you’ll go into the sports festival with a default alias.” He blinked slowly. “Of course, you’d know this if you checked your email before school this morning.”

Ms. Kayama rolled her eyes. "And with those encouraging words from your teacher, I'll start with some guidelines…"

"I bet you wish you had a class like this when you picked your hero name."

"What's wrong with my hero name?" asked En.

"I wasn't talking about yours."

"What's wrong with my name?" asked Nana, crossing her arms and looming ominously over Banjo.

"I wasn't talking about you, either! I was talking about him!"

Yoichi looked away from Izuku's class and blinked. "What hero name?"

"What do you mean what- ohhh." Banjo turned his attention to Third. "That explains so much."

Yoichi squinted suspiciously at Third. "What kind of monstrosity did you saddle me with?"

Third, who had begun to exude copious amounts of imaginary sweat, broke. "At least it's a better hero name than Banjo!"

"Hold up, do you think Banjo is my hero name? Did you pay any attention during my life at all?"

"It isn't much of a given name, either!"

"It's my family name, you Karate Kid ripoff!"

Some of Izuku's classmates picked their hero names quickly and easily. Clearly, they'd already put a lot of thought into them. Others, well…

Some of them had put too much thought into it.

"No," said Ms. Kayama. "You can't have an entire English sentence as your hero name."

"But Mademoiselle Kayama, it is a sentence that describes me perfectly!" protested Aoyama with a spin.

"Maybe trim it down to 'Can't Stop Twinkling?'"

"That's still really long though," said Monoma, not looking up from where he was doodling clocks on his paper. "No one is going to shout that in battle."

"Good point," said Midnight. "But if you're giving out criticisms, you should also propose solutions."

"Uh," said Monoma.

"Oh, oh!" said Kaminari. "How about Twinkling! That would work, right?"

"Hmmmmm," said Aoyama, still standing straight up in front of the classroom with his heels pressed together. Then he waved his board over his head. "I will accept it."

"Great," said Ms. Kayama. "Make sure you fill out and submit the proper paperwork."

"Okay," said Ms. Kayama with a heavy sigh, "new ground rule. Don't name yourself after terrifying movie monsters. You're going to be heroes, not villains."

"Aw, man," said Ashido. She returned to her seat with slumped shoulders. "This sucks. Do you know how hard it is to find anything non-villainous with acid powers? It just doesn't exist!"

"You could reference your appearance instead of your power."

Izuku winced. He wasn't what he'd call an expert on discrimination, but there was some overlap between quirkless discrimination and heteromorphic discrimination. If Ashido didn't bring up her appearance in the first place…

"I know! That's what the alien part was for!" She slid down in her seat. "Alien Queen is totally a cool name…"

Or maybe Izuku was reading too far into it. It happened.

"If you want to retain the movie reference," said Iida, "you could pick the name of the heroine instead of the villain. Ripley also gained acidic blood in later installments of the franchise."

Ashido pulled herself up. "You like the Aliens movies?"

"Is it that surprising? My brother and I enjoy watching vintage horror movies. It is quite educational!"

"I'm not sure how much of an education you can get from them if you hide in the bathroom all the time, kiddo," said Ms. Kayama.

"That-" sputtered Iida. "That was only the once! I was eight!"

"That's not how Tensei tells it."

Iida had changed a very interesting color. "This is highly unprofessional! I must object!"

"It's not bad," said Midnight, appraising. "But are you sure?"

Hagakure shrugged. "I mean, I was going to go with 'Invisible Girl' originally, but then it hit me, I'm not going to be a girl forever. It might feel weird to be called a girl when I'm like l, thirty, you know? Plus, this is funny."

"Still, Invisible Gorilla is… quite an image."

It sure was. Izuku almost wished he could turn one of Kacchan's insults around like that, but… the idea made him faintly ill. As long as Kacchan was Kacchan, he'd never completely stop being useless Deku, he had accepted that. But having everyone else know about it?

No thank you.

"I'm sure!" said Hagakure. "Anyway, I can always beat up anyone who makes fun of me."

"That would be illegal, in most cases."

"Could! Not will!"

Monoma presented his name with a flourish. "I shall be the undefeatable Phantom Thief!"

Ms. Kayama steepled her hands in front of her lips. "Just to remind everyone, you are in training to be heroes. So, no monsters, villains, or criminals in your names."

"A Phantom Thief isn't a criminal! They are an archetype of a hero that fights for justice!"

"I want you to think carefully about what you just said and come back to me on that." She paused. "With a new name."

"Todoroki, how about you? You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm not picking a name. I'll go with the default."

Despite his best efforts, Izuku couldn't hide from his own troubles picking a name forever.

"I think I need help," he mumbled, half scrunching up a piece of paper from his notebook. "All of my ideas are terrible."

Hagakure twisted in her seat. "They can't be that bad." She snagged the paper off his desk and straightened it out. Izuku cringed. "Midori," she said. "This is just All Might Junior and Small Might crossed out over and over again."

Izuku looked away, blushing and trying to escape from the weight of Hagakure's incredulity and disappointment. Unfortunately, two seats behind Izuku, past the seat that would have belonged to the expelled student, Monoma looked up from his own frantic writing.

(“Strawberry,” said someone, just loud enough for Izuku to hear it.)

"Are you serious?" he asked. "Midoriya, please tell me you aren't serious."

"I- I did say I n-needed help," said Izuku, wilting.

"Admittedly," said En, "that is pretty embarrassing."

"You're so insensitive!" Yoichi shouted at Third, pelting him with random small objects. "Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn't want to be remembered as that?"

"I thought you were dead!"

"I was dead! That doesn't make it better!"

"Somehow not as embarrassing as this, though."

"Eyup," said Banjo.

“Okay,” said Midnight, “let’s ask the class. Any ideas for Midoriya?”

Uraraka stood up, almost knocking her desk over. She caught it with one hand and it began to float. “Strawberry!” she said. “Strawberry. I think that’s a good name. For a hero.” She put the desk back down, her own blush making her as pink as the ovals on her cheeks. “Because strawberries are sweet.”

“Marimo!” said Ashido. “They float, and they’re green.”

“What about Rabbit? Kero. Because of the ears on your costume, and because you can ‘jump’ high.”

“Those are more of an homage to All Might, though,” said Izuku, flustered.

“I think you’d be the fourth green animal themed hero this year,” said Ms. Kayama. “You could make a team.”

“Fourth?”

“Yep, there are a few students in 1-B who jumped the gun and sent in their paperwork last night. Lizardy and Jack Mantis.” She tapped her chin with one finger. “And Long Weizi, if dragons count as animals.”

Huh. Izuku wondered if there might be some correlation between animal type quirks and color--

Wait. Izuku didn’t have an animal type quirk. He just had green hair.

“I have a beautiful name for you,” said Aoyama, prancing across the room. He pointed commandingly at Izuku. “The Green Rabbit of Wonderland!”

“Another incredibly long name,” said Monoma.

“It gets shortened to Rabbit again,” observed Kaminari.

“Just ‘Midori’ would be a cool name,” said Kirishima.

“I like it,” said Hagakure, “it’s cute and it fits with your costume! Or Green Rabbit!”

“It could also be shortened to Wonder,” said Todoroki.

What an unexpected contribution!

“Oh! Because he’s wonderful?” asked Iida, entirely straight-faced.

Todoroki stared at him. Then turned his gaze on Izuku, who was trying to avoid spontaneous combustion. “No,” he said finally, and looked away again.

Also, had he just been staring into space like that since he filled out his paperwork? Not even reading or drawing or anything?

Todoroki was a bit strange, wasn’t he?

Something tugged on Izuku’s pant leg and he just managed to suppress the jump that would have sent him flying across the classroom when he saw Dark Shadow under his desk.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Izuku repeated, faintly.

“Fumi wanted me to give you this,” she said, passing him a folded square of paper before retreating to the space under Tokoyami’s desk.

Izuku, shaking, unfolded the note.

Midoriya, my companion in darkness, it began in miniscule letters, I would like to offer my thoughts regarding your choice of pseudonym. Firstly, let us consider your ability to detect ill omens, a power much maligned even in ancient myth, with those who would give warnings either ignored or blamed for misfortune--

The (actually quite insightful and interesting) note was deceptively long, and Izuku scanned through it to the end.

--therefore, taking both parts of your quirk and your position in the class, I would recommend the names Augur, Augury, or Auspex, all terms which refer to the art of prophecy via the observation of the flights of birds.

Izuku looked up from the note and gave Tokoyami a shaky thumbs up. Tokoyami returned the gesture with a grave nod.

“Anything appeal to you, Midoriya?” asked Ms. Kayama, kindly.

“Y-yeah!” said Izuku. “They’re all wonderful! It’s just, I mean, it’s so hard to choose.”

“Well,” said Ms. Kayama, “you aren’t the only one with that problem. Remember, you have until the end of the week to fill out the paperwork and get it turned in. If you miss the date, you’ll have to use the default name.”

Honestly, A-17 didn’t sound all that bad.

The school day went normally after that. As normally as any day at UA could be, anyway. They zoomed through their normal classes, got another day of sparring and conditioning in heroics, and then it was the end of the day.

For Izuku, this meant quirk counseling.

But he had a few minutes, so he went to the bathroom and checked a book on quirk analysis out of the library (he’d been trying to find this edition forever!). On the way back, he checked his phone, and apparently Kaminari had informed the group chat that ‘better purple’ had agreed to come to the ‘Saturday sports festival cram session,’ which, perhaps inevitably, led to an argument about whether or not they could even have a cram session for a sports festival, or if it would better to just refer to it as training.

He wondered if a constant state of bemusement was just something that came with having friends, or if strange arguments were part of some intricate ritual he had no foreknowledge of. It could also be both, he supposed.

“Good,” said Mr. Aizawa, “you’re here. Find a spot to sit in. I have some worksheets for you on my desk.”

Izuku picked up the worksheets and read the first one. “How does using my quirk make me feel?”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Aizawa. “It sounds silly, but we’ve got to start somewhere. And these are the basics.” He sighed. “We will be getting into the whole ‘supposed to be superstrength’ thing eventually, but for now… No matter how weird of a quirk it is, it’s still a quirk.”

“R-right,” said Izuku, planting himself in the nearest seat and whipping out a new pen. “I’ll fill these in right away!”

“You’re not going to finish them all in one si-- Slow down, Midoriya, you-- Are you sure you don’t have a speed quirk?”

Izuku paused, baffled by the question. “Yes? Unless one of the early users had a speed quirk…”

“I wish,” said Yoichi, “that would have been so cool. And so much better than some of the users we did get.” The last was directed at Third. “I bet a speed quirk user would have lied to his successors about his friend’s name, death, and personality.”

“I was trying to make you look cool! Let it go already!”

As nice of a distraction as quirk counseling was, it didn’t solve the two very large problems looming over him. The sports festival and his hero name.

(He sighed heavily and let his entire weight hang from the subway overhead handgrip. Maybe he could figure out how to do pull ups of some kind from this?)

Arguably, the sports festival was the bigger problem, but no matter how nervous he was about it, how stressed he was about failing and dragging down his friends, they did have a plan to deal with it. He was already doing everything he could.

On the other hand, his hero name was all on him, and despite his classmate’s suggestions, he felt like he was caught in a whirlpool, about to be sucked under. A bad choice here could torpedo his future. It could expose him to vicious mockery. He knew what he was talking about! He’d seen Native get ripped apart for appropriation, and X-Less… Yeah. The internet was a scary place.

He hopped off the subway and started the jog home.

Even vigilantes from the Dawn of Quirks weren’t immune! The same forums that whispered about the quirk boogeyman in reverent tones always made time to poke fun at the apocryphal vigilante who went by Dumas. Yes, his namesake was a brilliant author, yes, it was pronounced du-mah, but that didn’t stop people from writing it as, well.

Dumb ass.

Come to think of it, wasn’t Alexandre Dumas the one who wrote the Three Musketeers? That was where the saying ‘one for all and all for one’ came from, wasn’t it?

Huh.

Could it be that…?

Nah. No way.

But back to the name. Izuku could ask his mother what she thought, but as a mom she was obligated to say that she’d like anything he chose unless it was really bad, so that would have limited utility. There weren’t really other people he could ask, except…

“Mom,” he called into the apartment, “I’m home!”

“Oh, good,” she said, emerging from her office. “How was your day at school?”

“It was good! We’re supposed to pick our hero names this week and, well, I’m a little stuck.”

His mother made a sympathetic noise. “Do you have any options?”

“Yeah. My classmates helped me come up with some. It’s just… hard to pick one.”

“Mhm,” said his mother. “I can understand that, but don’t let worries about offending someone keep you from picking what you want.”

Oh, no. Izuku hadn’t even considered that aspect. He swallowed.

“Actually,” he said, “I was wondering, do you think I could call Dad tonight even though it isn’t a scheduled day?”

“Of course,” said Inko. “Your father always wants to talk to you, you know that. But remember, the time difference means that he might not be awake to answer the phone. I’ll go find the number he gave us for the hotel he’s in now.”

“Right,” said Izuku with a small nod. Then he grimaced and tried to clean his ear out with his pinky. Growing up with Kacchan meant that he sometimes had a little bit of tinnitus, and he was used to it, even if it was annoying.

It was funny, though. Today it sounded almost like a bunch of people screaming in horror in the back of his head.

If any of you want to weigh in on Midoriya's hero name, please feel free to do so!

#danger first #danger first au #bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic

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