#she has yet to become 100% spiky
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Instead of having anything interesting for the very first Form Change Friday, have this very unfinished scribble of these two being absolute dorks
They’re talking about (and testing) how Cool™️ (sharp) Asteri can make herself look.
#she has yet to become 100% spiky#so they don’t know but#I mean cmon if you were a shapeshifter wouldn’t YOU want to mess around with the options?#for fun?#they were having a whole discussion about it hence Gaster’s enthusiasm#seeker draws#(barely)#seeker oc#asteri#⁂ gaster#seeker gaster#⁂ art#⁂#form change friday#I know it’s not as catchy but#I’m giving it a shot
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Related to your DBZ/Pokémon series, what Pokémon would Chichi, Bulma and the others have?
Ooh oh, ok, so I already have pokemons picked for Bulma! :D She has a Slowking, Snubbull, and Margnezone!
Slowking is known to be as smart as some world-famous scientists, and Bulma really is smart when she works on a project.
Magnezone I picked it because it looked very mechanical, I liked the idea of it matching her tinkering side, and I imagined that she would try to mod it. It's also used as a generator in case of a power outage.
Snubbull is a pokemon who barks a lot but is really kind of cowardly, but it also loves its trainer very much, and I thought this matched parts of her personality! We've often seen Bulma being all bark but then hiding behind the Z fighters, and I believe she genuinely cares about everyone.
Capsule Corps also owns the market on pokeballs. The technology is similar to capsules, so they invented them too. Bulma's working on a prototype for a master ball. Her dad has a collection of ancient pokemons roaming the interior gardens instead of dinosaurs.
I haven't seriously thought about anything for Chichi yet, but she would most likely have pokemons who help her around her daily life. She would definitely have one or more milktanks.
Raditz has a Heracross because of the whole thing with him playing with beetles as a kid in the manga. She's very shy and has a messed up wing, so she's can't fly. He has a Jolteon because, of course, it's spiky, but it also goes well with his electric personality, although that's more of a HC with him since we don't get to see Raditz a lot in the anime. He's also got a Sandslash because I thought it visually fit him.
Gohan is 100% a pokemon professor! If I had to pick a pokemon for him, it would be Infernape who has the potential to enter a rage-like state and tremendously increase its power. (it did in the anime and I really liked that)
Everyone's favourite green dad, Piccolo, owns and works at the pokemon daycare centre.
Frieza seeks powerful pokemons to add to his forces. He owns a mew, mewtwo, mewtwo X, mewtwo Y and a shiny mewtwo who's actually a ditto. And yes, together they do the Ginyu pose.
Vegeta's pokemon represent parts of who he is. His Primeape is his rage and fury. Mega Lucario is his Pride. Luxray is his asshole side, for lack of a better word. Also, it has the same colour scheme and hair as Vegeta in his Saiyan attire, and shiny Luxray is golden like a Super Saiyan, so it just felt right.
Goku's pokemons are meant to be more related to him. His Arcanine is his strongest pokemon, and in the early pokedex entries, it was treated as a Legendary creature. As a Growlithe, she wanted to grow and become stronger because of her drive to fight strong opponents. His Aipom is for his silly side (also, I wanted him to have a monkey), and it has attacks that a younger Goku would have used like tickle and sand-attack. And his Bidoof, let's be real, Goku is a himbo; there's no question about that. Goku's Bidoof comes from Piccolo's daycare centre. It was born there and abandoned by its previous trainer. Goku wouldn't like a weak pokemon but he saw in this little bidoof a drive to fight, and he took a liking to him! Along the way, Goku lost his pokeball, so it lives forever by his side like Ash's Pikachu. Goku has no idea that, through breeding, Bidoof actually knows some killer moves like double-edge and skull bash, so he keeps on using tackle instead.
I included everything I've ever drawn for this AU!! It's been dormant for years, but it still means so much to me, so THANK YOU FOR ASKING! <3 <3 <3
#DBZ crossover#PKM crossover#My AU that i love so so much!#LONG POST#I had fun writing this out and gushing about it TY for asking!!
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This time on miscellaneous Metroid Prime trivia: dead things and/or molluscs, moth attraction strategies, and the crunge.
Incidentally, I updated the theme and added a tags page. If you’d like something tagged lmk.
Prime
Y’all seem to be super into Prime 1 specifically, so I wish I had more to say about it, but... I don’t. Sorry!
I’m sure someone else has noticed this, but... the eponymous Metroid Prime has more eyes than I thought she did. They’re kind of silly-looking, honestly? Like conch eyes. (Please google “conch eyes” if you’ve never seen them, they’re ridiculous.)
You can catch a faint glimpse of the crashed Frigate through the small cracks in the walls in Temple Transport C (which connects an elevator from Chozo Ruins to the Frigate Crash site.) Well...
Rather than painstakingly calculate what the player could and could not see out of the cracked walls, the good folks at Retro decided to put just a whole lotta environment out there. Everything outside the red is just set dressing. It doesn’t look like they put a ton of effort into it (which is good), but I kinda wonder about how it affects performance.
Echoes
A friend reblogged this post by @tallon-underworld about how the Torvus Catacombs aren’t named that for no reason. I figured I’d take another look at the “coffins” ingame.
Yep, there sure are some dead bodies in there. Based on size comparison with our handy Flashlight Forme (~1 meter diameter), these appear about the right size to be Luminoth. Maybe a little small? The legs might be curled up. The shape is certainly right - each larger end must be the head and torso.
Quick look inside. I wonder if there’s a different cultural meaning to shrouding the departed in silk, given that the Luminoth likely spin coccoons in adolescence...?
Speaking of Flashlight Forme, moths find it irresistible. This applies to the moths in a lot of different rooms.
If left alone, U-Mos will generate an orb of light in his hand, which also attracts them. If you can’t become a glowy orb, homemade is fine too.
Anyway, back to the catacombs. This save file I’m using is already at 100% item collection. And... and yet...??? There... sure is a missile expansion there!
I did it... I got 101% in Metroid Prime 2: Echoes, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve...
Missiles are nevertheless capped at 255, so it does absolutely nothing. Thanks, Echoes!
Quick comparison of grapple beam from intended perspective, and from...
...the side. It’s just a bunch of flat circles, plus the beam effect... I mean... Sure. If it works...?
Also note that it layers under the gun. I think the gun model has priority over everything except the HUD.
This hollow under the save station at the entrance to the catacombs looks pretty deep, right?
Nope, just pointy.
Deep??? Right???
Pointy. I think it’s safe to assume most deep things in these games are actually just pointy. If it works!!!
Corruption
Just to hammer home the titcam thing, here’s the biohazard scanner in the ship (like I said, this ship has a lot of buttons), which you are ostensibly looking straight into...
...from the PED. OK.
The pirates have put up some cool art of Ridley on the wall in Command Station, presumably as a reminder of what will eat them if they fuck up.
A couple views of the cargo-carrying critters that flit about the landing sites on the Space Pirate homeworld.
Well. “Critters” is... Not... Uh, correct, technically speaking. I...
Ok look, there’s no easy way of saying this. This... is... a Space Pirate. See the head inside? Looks just like the standard Pirate Militia in this game. Yeah... yeah.
The exact scenario here is unclear. Is this is a standard Pirate Militia member surgically implanted into a drone? Or, was she grown that way from the start?. To me the entire thing looks like it could be carapace, but... who knows. Either way, uh, this is happening, and it’s weird!
Anyway. Bryyo has these chains holding the spiky round things in the background, right? (The chain links have surprisingly detailed textures because of course they do...)
They get incredibly thin and distorted in the distance. This looks like a shit photo but it’s impossible to get a decent one because they’re so tiny. I imagine this is to sell the illusion of greater distance without taxing the poor Wii even harder by actually making the background that big.
You might have noticed that this shot of Bryyo has rain. Bryyo has a weather cycle; if you idle in a room long enough, it’ll start raining. This never happened to me while playing, but it takes me a while to set up a shot sometimes, so... yeah. Seems to reset when you change rooms.
Hunters
Did you know that Metroid Prime Hunters is a real video game for the Nintendo DS that you could even play? (Whether or not you should is another matter.) I don’t post pics of it on this blog often, but I do have a soft spot for it and it doesn’t look bad.
Well, it doesn’t look bad when you view things at full resolution, anyway. Above is a screenshot of the single-player version of this room, on emulator.
Now, those of you who have never played Hunters might be asking, “Wait, is this screenshot for real? Is your computer trash? Is the emulation bad? Why does it look so terrible?” WELL,
There’s no error. It looks like that because it’s Metroid Prime Hunters for the Nintendo DS and there just aren’t enough pixels on that tiny screen. Above is an approximation of this shot on 3DS - which looks a little nicer imo, but still. You know. Crungy.
The point is, don’t be fooled into thinking anything posted on this blog is accurate to The Real Metroid Prime Hunters Experience, TM. I do bump up the resolution quite a bit for all games I post, but the improvement with Hunters is massive.
Bonus picture of Sylux that I think is funny. (The green dot in the background is their back. I promise.)
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blue hour.
demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here
Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃
i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!
Minors, go away. This content is not for you.
Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?
Words: 14k+
Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?
Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.
Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.
You were far from alone.
The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.
The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.
Now you were regretting it again.
If only you hadn’t gone to the club.
If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.
If only you hadn’t left your apartment.
You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.
Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.
He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.
You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves?
A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer.
“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. “Filthy human.”
“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”
You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now.
You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.
“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.
You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.
He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.
“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.
“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?”
“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient - nonexistent, mind you - gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”
The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.
Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”
You blink. What? How? Why?
“You piss me off.”
Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.
You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.
His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.
Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.
“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.
You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?
Everything fades to black.
:·•·:
You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-
Also gone were any wounds.
It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.
You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.
“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.
“Enough to nearly get evicted.”
Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.
He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.
The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.
Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.
“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.
“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?
He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”
‘Ouch!’
Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.
“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?
“Dabi.”
“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.
“That’s it, dollface.”
:·•·:
He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.
You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.
Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”
Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.
Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.
Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.
And a bit of a horny one, at that.
If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.
Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.
You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.
But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.
It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.
And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”
Defile? Really?
And treat?
‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’
Would you, though?
Nah...
Right.
One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.
You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.
“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”
“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.
A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.
Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.
“Ah-“
The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.
Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.
“Back then... did you... y’know...”
“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”
You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”
Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.
Yet it still riles you up.
That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!
“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.
“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.
You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.
Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”
“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.
Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?
That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.
He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.
Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.
Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.
Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.
Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?
What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.
You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.
And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.
This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.
Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.
Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.
Aw, you poor dear.
With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.
“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.
You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.
Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.
But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.
“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”
The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.
The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.
Why bother, right?
The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.
“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.
“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...” Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.
“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”
Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.
“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”
“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.
That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”
Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.
But who cares? Not you.
“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.
Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.
A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”
You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.
“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.
“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.
“Daabi! Why would you-
“Oh god!”
You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.
“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”
Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.
“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”
“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.
The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.
“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.
In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.
“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.
“Good. Now hold still.”
You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.
Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.
“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.
You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.
The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.
“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”
Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.
“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”
“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.
Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.
Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.
“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.
Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?
“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.
“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”
Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.
You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.
“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.
“My cock. What else?” he jabs.
Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.
“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.
“Oh.”
Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.
Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.
“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”
Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.
Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”
Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?
Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.
Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.
“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.
“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.
You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.
The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.
“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”
A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”
“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.
“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.
You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.
Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.
You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”
“Changed my mind.”
“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.
“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.
You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.
“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”
With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”
You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”
Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”
“Talking like... that.”
He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.
You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.
“I’ll carry you, for a price.”
Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.
“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.
“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”
The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.
It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.
Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.
“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.
Had he used another demonic spell on you?
When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.
This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.
Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.
The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.
Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.
“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”
You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.
The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.
“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.
“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
In response, you huff at him.
“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”
“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.
“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.
Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.
“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.
You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.
“Use your words, babydoll.”
You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”
“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.
Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.
That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.
Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.
“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.
His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.
...is what you thought he would do.
But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.
You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?
With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.
He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.
With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.
“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.
A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.
“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.
Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.
“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh... polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.
“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”
“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”
A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.
“‘Please,’ what?”
“Go faster, please!”
Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.
“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.
The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-
It stops.
You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.
The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.
Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.
“Wh-why...?” you whine.
The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”
Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.
You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.
“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”
You nod.
Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.
“Just...” you pant, “for you.”
Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.
The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.
“Get on your hands and knees, love.”
That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.
Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.
You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.
With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
It was just an effect he had on you.
So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?
He certainly wanted them to know.
Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.
Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.
“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.
The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”
The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.
Ah, fuck.
With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.
Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.
“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.
“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”
Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.
“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”
“Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.
Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.
“You good, doll?”
He’s definitely not sincere.
Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.
“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”
Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.
The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.
You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”
You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?
“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.
“Will you... hah, leave... me?”
The grin against your neck is dark.
“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”
His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.
“Don’t go.”
Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.
“If you can handle me, dear.”
You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.
“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”
“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”
You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?
“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”
A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.
“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”
Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.
You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.
As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...
“Fuck, little one...!”
As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.
“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.
“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”
Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.
“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.
“Atta fuckin’ girl.”
Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...
“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#dabi x reader#dabi x reader smut#dabi#mha#bnha#blue hour.#*throws candy* happy halloween have some mediocre smut!
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Single-Parent!Headcanons
Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, and Bakugo Katsuki
A/N: Inspired by y’all. Enjoy <3
Warnings: fluff overload? one tiny curse word
Kirishima Eijirou:
the day his son was born was both the worst and best day of his life
his wife died upon delivery and he almost fainted when he heard the news, bakugo caught him before he could hit the floor
it took him 24 hours before he could gather the courage to go to the nursery and see his baby. he thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach the reminder of losing the love of his life
but when he held the small boy, who instantly nuzzled into his father’s chest, sighing with relief, kirishima was hooked for life
he just continued to hold his son into his chest and cry until he couldn’t anymore
from that day on, he swore he’d be the best parent he could be for his wife and his child’s sake
bc kiri is such a youthful and loving person, taking care of his son was easy, fun, and rewarding
ofc there were hard days, but it was all worth it when his baby would wake up with an adorable laugh, smiling up at him like he was his entire world
they’re two peas in a pod
he and his son are just the cutest pair
he takes his son everywhere, strapping him on his chest with a baby carrier
you bet your ass he’s taken him on (a safe) patrol around the block
kirishima is the kind of dad that puts his kid in a laundry basket, sits them in front of the tv, and acts out rollercoaster sounds
he lives for that loud laugh of his son’s
blows raspberries into the kid’s stomach whenever he starts getting cranky
his son’s first word was “manly” and kirishima spent the entire day bothering the bakusquad about it
everyone has 12 different copies of the video—y’know...just in case
when he takes his first steps, kiri’s swinging him around the house and giving him so many kisses on his chubby cheeks
when he saw his son had one spiky tooth growing in, he almost drowned from the cuteness
the kid gets himself into a lot of trouble tho. he’s always crawling towards the edge of something and putting his hand in things that could totally cut it off. kiri has a heart attack at least once a week
calls him, “son” “bud” and “buddy”
I hc that even though he’s lively around his dad, his son is very shy with new people and in new environments so school is kind of tough for him
but kirishima is always understanding of his troubles and tries his best to let him know that as long as he’s his son, he’ll always be his biggest supporter
if that doesn’t work, they go buy their fav meats and have a random bbq (kirishima just looks like the bbq dad™️ lmao). that always seems to do the trick
when his son enrolls in U.A., he’s there with a banner, his fav meat, and a bunch of tears when he sends him off
his son wears their matching crocs only to cheer up his dad. nothing else
aka he lowkey likes them but you didn’t hear that from me!
kirishima always has the urge to ft his kid, like, every hour. but he won’t bc he knows he’s busy training to be a hero
but he does send him uplifting snapchat videos from time to time
his son still wonders how in the world his dad even knows about snapchat
he makes sure nobody knows about this
when his son calls him about his insecurities, comparing himself to his classmates, kirishima is right there to lift him up. he also dealed with those same issues and tells his son that even on his worst days, he’s strong for just facing the day and he needs to believe in himself before others can believe in him
the next day, the bakusquad is watching the tournament together
kirishima has manly tears in his eyes as his little boy places second place in the sports festival
bakugo is threatening to kill him if he ruins his shirt
Kaminari Denki:
denki becomes a dad from adopting a pair of four year old twins (one boy, one girl) that were left homeless and without parents after a villain attack
he kinda knew the parents from hero work and felt it was an obligation to at least make sure their children were okay
he wasn’t planning on necessarily adopting them. he was young and inexperienced with children. how could someone like him raise a kid when he could barely raise himself?
but after two visits to the orphanage and seeing how miserable they looked, he couldn’t leave the building without signing the papers
the transition was awkward. the twins were not only traumatized, but distrusting and scared. they didn’t really know kaminari and now he was suddenly their adoptive parent
kaminari tried everything from ice cream, to late night movie snacks, to hide n seek to get them to relax but it wouldn’t work
he almost gave up hope, and thought maybe it was a better idea to take them back to the orphanage. but that was before the night he woke up to them crawling into his bed, scared from the thunder storm that rumbled on outside
kaminari froze, scared that he’d frighten them away with any sudden movement, but he soon relaxed and hugged them close to his chest when they snuggled into his sides. he sleeps with a peaceful mind that night
although, he’s awoken to them bawling their eyes out over the nightmares they had. he panics but takes comfort in how they still grip to his shirt, face in his chest, seeking his comfort
therapy becomes a regular thing after that
kaminari finds more focus in his life
and as those helpful sessions go on, kaminari finds the twins beginning to open up more and more
they all sleep together now bc cuddle piles always scare the bad dreams away
the boy starts asking for kaminari to help him pick out his outfits
and the girl starts asking him about his quirk
it’s small things like that that lead up to things like this:
they’re in the midst of playing tickle monster when they scream with laughter, “stop! stop, daddy, you caught us!”
the twins stare at him in confusion (and slight worry) when he scoops them up and cries like he broke his leg or something
they got two huge scoops of ice cream that night so they don’t question it
dad jokes are a must
he wears typical dad outfits like hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, and flip flops
he calls them his “little rockstars” and yes, it’s still embarrassing
kaminari is a playful dad who doesn’t really take things too seriously
his children are always laughing at his dumb jokes and are never afraid to talk to him about anything that crosses their minds
although, they won’t talk to him about love interests bc he likes to play match maker
the last time his daughter told him about some girl she was crushing on, she found out she left her a personally signed chargebolt poster for the girl in her name
kaminari called it a little boost in spirit
her brother found it funny
she was horrified
kaminari swears up and down he’s the cool dad. his kids think otherwise, but their friends LOVE how much of a jokester he is. and he lets them stay up at sleepovers
plus, he’s literally chargebolt
how could they not love him?
denki has a little trouble being serious when he needs to be, but he has good kids so it’s not that much of a problem
there was that one time his son tried to help him during a villain attack. even though kaminari ordered him to get to safety, he didn’t and ended up getting hurt
the twins had never seen their father so angry. it was kind of scary. however, in the next moment, he gathered them up in a big hug and made them swear not to scare him like that again
overall, kaminari is the sweet, fun loving, dad that everyone wishes they had
Bakugo Katsuki:
katsuki became a father the day he found a baby and a note at his doorstep
the note read: “surprise! you’re a dad. i gave you all the legal rights, but you can place her up for adoption if you want.”
least to say, bakugo was pissed
he was even more pissed at himself for getting someone so cold and unloving pregnant
however, he decides to put the baby up for adoption. he cant take care of a baby! he’s at the height of his career. he can basically taste the number one hero spot on his tongue
he’s dead set w the decision, but as he stands outside of the orphanage, he freezes. he just can’t move
bakugo looks down at his daughter as she opens her eyes for the first time. he sees an identical pair of red eyes that make his chest tight with a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time
he turns back around and heads back home. it’s easily the best decision he’s ever made in his life
ngl though, growing into the dad role for bakugo was tough
before the girl, he only ever had to think of himself. he was still used to doing everything on his own time and for his own benefit. so being forced to put 100% of his attention to a small helpless human being was not easy
katsuki admits that the first couple of years weren’t his proudest. he was still short tempered, angry with the world, and frustrated bc he felt like his life was ruined
one time, the frustration and sleep deprivation would hit him all at once and he’d just start going off at the baby to just “shut the hell up!” before breaking down and crying with her
it was a dark moment for him, and yet, even after that, his little girl still curled up in his arms to rest when the tears tired her out
it had been a while since he felt unconditional love like that, and so he decided to change for the baby’s sake
you cant tell me that little girl isn’t spoiled rotten
bakugo is a hardass, but he’s all bark no bite. no matter what, he just can’t resist his little girl’s puppy dog eyes
he’s a girl dad to the t
yes he played the princess that needed saving from the big bad dragon. what about it?
his daughter is a firecracker. she started sassing him as soon as she could gargle
he pretends he hates it but his daughter is lowkey funny asl
they go at it when they fight. bakugo’s learned to be a little more patient, but he still has a bit of a temper and it doesn’t mix well when his mini-me has the same explosive anger
is the kind of dad that says sorry by asking her what she wants for dinner
they totally talk mess about other heroes together. he ignores the fact that she admires deku as long as she keeps it to herself
emotional talks are...awkward, but he forces himself through it
she finds it embarrassing (yet oddly endearing) that he got kicked out of a PTA club meeting for threatening to light up some mom for saying the art program didn’t matter
his daughter absolutely won’t talk to him about potential love interests unless she wants them coming up missing
bakugo won’t admit to watching baby videos of his daughter when he sends her off to U.A. and no, he didn’t cry, he got dust in his eye
doesn’t bother her too much, but jumps for his phone when he hears her ringtone
kirishima says he getting soft, but that’s just his little princess
#I had wayyyyy to much fun doing this#all my uwus just BURST out of my heart#imma make my rounds with the other characters soon enough#just something little to warm myself up#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons#bakugo katsuki#kaminari denki#kirishima eijirou#bnha parent!hcs#bnha single dad’s club tbh#domestic bnha#they cute or whatever#also adoption literally doesnt work like how I wrote it. like#at all#but yall knew that#okay im done#come get yall’s juice
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BNHA Chapter 310 Spoiler Thoughts: “The First and Second Holders”
Some fan translations are out and it’s time to flex some thoughts out again! I couldn’t do them last night because I didn’t have all the scan images with me and I didn’t want to jump the gun with only text descriptions. Anyway, this was mainly an exposition chapter that properly introduces us to the second and third OFA Holders, especially the 2nd and what his relationship to the 1st is. This might not be as long as others “Spoiler Thoughts” I’ve written, but let’s see:
First off, we have a colored cover page by Horikoshi-sensei himself! It’s a solo page featuring Vigilante Deku and he looks badass! Deku looks ready to kick ass and take names. And, his Mid-Gauntlet is colored red like a lot of us thought and it adds to the theory that Melissa Shield did create it like she did with Deku’s Full-Gauntlet back in Two Heroes.
The chapter starts in a dark and rainy night. A large woman (she’s like maybe 10ft tall; she’s taller than All Might who I think is 7ft) with a mutant-type quirk who’s getting attacked by some civilians because they think she’s a villain. Deku jumps in to stop the attacks and the woman explains that she was just trying to go to one of the evacuation centers at a hero school. Deku is kind enough to give her her umbrella back and reassure her that things will be ok.
I gotta say that this whole situation is scarily close to real life right now. I don’t like getting too political, but we live in a scary world where discrimination is, unfortunately, alive and well... If you are a POC, you can be attacked from anywhere with the only reason being that “you’re a danger because of the skin you were born with”. It’s horrific, it’s disgusting, and it’s been around for a long time. Even in the BNHA universe, there used to be cults solely dedicated to discriminating against mutant-type people (we learned this back in the My Villain Academia Arc). So, like in the real world, this problem has risen again. Thankfully, there are people like Deku and All Might who are more than willing to help someone in need regardless of who they are. BNHA hits too close to home sometimes.
Anyway, going back to the BNHA story. Before All Might leaves to help the woman in his Batmobile, he hands Deku some Pork Katsu in a cute bento box wrapped in a bunny cloth! Deku is visibly happy and thanks All Might for the meal. This is so cute! I’m so glad to see that All Might is making sure that Deku is being properly taken care of. Boy needs to eat if he’s going to save the world. I’m also glad that Deku can still show signs of happiness despite, well, everything. I swear, if All Might doesn’t legally adopt Deku as his son by the time this series is over, I’m going to jump into this manga and force him to sign those documents myself.
The next panel shows Deku standing on what looks like Tokyo’s famous Sky Tree (or Sky Egg if we’re going off what Vigilantes showed us). He’s back to talking to the OFA Holders like they’re angels on his shoulders. Banjo talks about how it’s like the world’s reverted back in time when things were worse and Deku responds that if he doesn’t use all of OFA’s power, he’ll never be able to defeat Shigaraki and AFO. I know we’re in the final act, so Deku’s gotta get to 100% fast if he wants to win this war. Last we checked, he was at 45%, but he might be at a higher percentage now since he’s unlocked En’s Smokescreen. Also, Deku’s looking more and more like Batman each chapter and I gotta say that it really suits him.
Back to the Vestige Dream back when Deku was still in a coma after the war. The 1st Holder begs the 2nd and 3rd to corporate with him so that they can provide their power to Deku. The 1st calls the 2nd and 3rd “My Heroes” which causes some awkward silence lol. Neither one is responding, so Banjo breaks the silence by suggesting that Deku learn everyone’s Quirks so that he’ll get used to them once he starts using them. We learn why the 2nd and 3rd are the 1st’s heroes soon, but it’s actually a good idea for Deku to learn about all these different Quirks while he’s sleeping so that he’ll get a good idea on how to execute them when he wakes up. It’s kind of a way of training for Deku just without actually using the Quirks themselves.
The 3rd Holder (the one with the spiky ponytail and headband) starts to talk. He says that the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd came from the “Harshest era of history”. It was a time where AFO ruled all and peaked in power and control. He was going to take over the whole world if the first 3 Holders didn’t step in to stop him. My guess is that after AFO was defeated for the first time, society started to calm down and become more or less the world we knew before the War Arc. So, things weren’t as bad during the 4th Holder’s era and so forth. This would explain why Shinomori was able to hide in the forest for so long without being detected.
And now the big part of the chapter: the 2nd Holder. Who does in fact look A LOT like Bakugo. Big difference is that he has a massive scar across his face. I am aware of the whole “time travel” theory that people have going on with Bakugo and this dude, but I’m not on that train. Instead, I think that the 2nd Holder is one of Bakugo’s ancestors. Like, a really, really-great-grandfather. Horikoshi doesn’t just design his characters for no reason. The fact that the 2nd user looks so much like Bakugo, has a costume similar to Bakugo’s, and that future panels in this chapter straight up parallel that iconic scene with young Bakugo and Deku in the river only add fuel to this fire. Unless Horikoshi says otherwise, this is the theory I’m sticking to: this “Ancestor” theory.
And we know of the 1st user’s real name now too, which is Yoichi! If Horikoshi is keeping up with the “numbers in names” theme, then I’m positive that Yochi has the kanji for “One” somewhere in it. And, if we’re going to believe AFO at all, then that means that the 1st user’s full name is Yoichi Shigaraki. We don’t know AFO’s full name yet. But, again, AFO could be lying with his last name, so I’m taking this one with a grain of salt.
Back to the 2nd Holder, he tells Yoichi that a lot of lives were sacrificed in order to stop AFO back then. He believes that there is only victory or defeat in battle; that there’s no hope of saving their archenemy. He has doubt about putting his faith in Deku because of this. Given how the 3rd Holder still has his back turned too, I’m lead to believe that he also thinks Deku is crazy for wanting to save Shigaraki. I don’t exactly blame them. Really, none of us know if Deku will be successful in saving Shigaraki. He might have to kill him in the end. I think they should offer Deku help, but I don’t blame them for being at least a little skeptical.
But, Yoichi reminds the 2nd and 3rd users that they saved Yoichi back when AFO locked him up to die. They found Yoichi with the intention to kill him it seems, but the 2nd Holder showed sympathy for Yoichi and lent him a helping hand despite Yoichi being AFO’s little brother. This is the parallel panel I was talking about. Yoichi is kneeling down on the floor and the 2nd user is standing up extending his hand to help Yoichi. I don’t even need to look back in the manga to know what inspired this. Hell, I don’t even need to tell you! We all know what Horikoshi was doing when he drew and wrote this.
Yoichi convinces him that he should believe in Deku as Yoichi does think Deku will save the day. If the 2nd user didn’t extend his hand to help Yoichi, OFA wouldn’t have begun. I think that the trust between these two is ultimately the reason why the 2nd user finally agreed to help Deku; the same with the 3rd user too. And, kind of a tangent, but I really like how Horikoshi draws Yoichi and the 2nd user’s hands as they’re reaching for each other. Horikoshi has always been really good with drawing hands like they’re facial expressions (something my ass could never do 😭) and this one shows kindness and empathy. It’s almost like what would’ve happened if Bakugo accepted Deku’s hand for help when they were young instead of letting his pride and ego get in the way. Oh, the parallels!
Finally, the 2nd user speaks in present day telling Deku that they’re going full speed ahead now. My guess is that Deku’s going to have to improve on OFA and the rest of his Quirks quickly in order to find and beat the LoV. We are in the Final Act after all. The chapter ends at a good place if we want to switch to the UA kids, which is honestly what I’m hoping for. Again, I love Deku and his Vigilante adventures, but I miss the rest of the kids. The new BNHA Exhibition in Japan apparently has a giant drawing of the main class, All Might, Aizawa, and Shinso in his new hero costume! Which tells me that 1. Shinso probably took Deku’s place in the class for the time being, and 2. We’re definitely going to see the other kids again. I’m hoping soon. But, I wouldn’t be surprised if Horikoshi decided to continue focusing on Deku’s Vigilanteism and have him practice with he 2nd and 3rd Holder’s Quirks now that they’re working with him. We’ll just have to see.
So, that’s it! Solid chapter overall. I’m glad we finally got to see the 3rd and 2nd Holder’s faces. I think the “Kirishima is the 3rd Holder” theroy has been debunked at this point, but I’m still on the “2nd Holder is Bakugo’s ancestor” train. The similarities and parallels are too strong for me to deny it. Horikoshi-sensei, please confirm or deny soon 🙏. We are getting break next week for Golden Week BTW! All of Shonen Jump is actually, so no One Piece or JJK either (I’m not sure about Jump+, so we might still be getting some Spy X Family for example). So, basically all our favorite mangakas are getting a well-deserved break as they should! I hope they enjoy their vacation! Waiting’s going to suck tho, I’m ngl about that... Oh well, I’m willing to take the sacrifice if it means having healthy mangka. Thankfully, we still have the anime and the new exhibition to tide us over until then.
Edit: OR NOT SINCE THE EXHIBITION IS TEMPORARILY CLOSED BECAUSE OF A CERTAIN PANDEMIC GOING NUTS IN JAPAN AFTER ONLY BEING OPEN FOR 2 DAYS 😭
Edit: I went back to re-read the chapter and I completely missed the date for the next chapter (chapter 311) which is set to release on May 9th! So, we’re actually getting a 2 week break instead. Damn... Sucks for us, but it’s good for mangaka to get breaks when they can especially considering their absolutely insane schedule.
Me reading this chapter:
#My Hero Academia Spoilers#Boku No Hero Academia Spoilers#MHA Spoilers#BNHA Spoilers#MHA 310#BNHA 310#Deku#Izuku Midoriya#All Might#Toshinori Yagi#One For All#OFA#All For One#AFO#things are getting intense#things are getting interesting#what's going to happen to our boy#where are the rest of my adopted kids#I miss them#bring them back pls#Kohei Horikoshi#my thoughts#my post#my writing#theories#spoiler thoughts#spoilers#you get a theory and you get a theory and YOU GET A THEORY
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Todoroki Kids Quirk Theory
Enji Todoroki, AKA Flame Hero: Endeavor, who has a very strong fire Quirk called “Hellflame”, wishes to beat the Symbol of Peace: All Might at all costs, but he realized that his Quirk and strength alone wouldn’t be able to do that since All Might was always two steps ahead of him.
So, he decided to create the “perfect” offspring that will be able to defeat All Might in his name. A child with a devastating strong Quirk that will take the spot as Number One Hero and never let anyone take it away from them.
Enji searched for a woman with a Quirk as strong as his or that will complement it in the child, and he found one.
A woman with snowy, pure white hair with — ironically — an ice Quirk, Rei. He saw an incredible display of said Quirk if he took the decision to make a child with her, that or her family is one of generations of strong ice-based Quirk users.
Enji then bribed Rei’s family into allowing her to marry him and create a powerful successor. And as Rei didn’t have a say in this, their Quirk Marriage set sail. And eventually they had four children, few of which we already know of, if just slightly.
And in this post, I will theorize said children’s (possible) Quirks.
(I wrote this jazz on a notebook like,, three or two years ago so I thought why not post it here as wrong as I may be with it,,,have patience fam,,)
From older to younger would be; Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto, with each of them having an age gap of 3-4 years (a bit on the fence with Touya and Fuyumi here, since we don’t know how exactly old he was, so there could be tidbits of the theory that those two are twins).
A rundown of the kids, starting with the firstborn;
Touya Todoroki
Very little is known about Touya, even simple yet crucial facts like his hair color are confusing due to the Manga and Anime adaptation. What we do know is;
He had red hair.
A fire Quirk stronger than Endeavor’s but a body that couldn’t withstand it.
He died at a very young age of either 12 or 14/15 by causes most likely related to said Quirk.
To add to his weak constitution inherited by Rei, Touya looks to be the shortest out of all his siblings, despite being the oldest. I’d also say he was he meekest of them all, if only for a few years if I go by his body language in the two (2) full images we’re given ( i.e. clinging onto natsuo’s shirt, keeping his arms close to his body, hair covering his face— namely his eyes, likely to avoid making direct eye-contact with endeavor):
I’m personally inclined to believe that he had Enji’s turquoise eyes too, seeing as either his eyes or hair seem to be a distinct telltale sign of the fiery factor of his Quirk. and then boom he had gray eyes all along,, or either sectoral-heterochromia, or central heterochromia and the manga is deceiving us
Fuyumi Todoroki
The one and only girl of the four siblings while also the second born of Enji and Rei. Like her older brother, Fuyumi’s colors (her eyes) differ from the Manga and the Anime, but since we’re following the latter’s palette...
She has gray eyes like her mother behind a pair of red glasses.
Has mostly spiky/messy white hair with red streaks.
She is a primary school teacher.
Her behavior is more like Rei’s; soft-spoken and kind.
As another color-fact, out of everyone else in the family, she’s the only to use colors related to red (any color of that palette, contrary to her younger brothers that deliberately seem to avoid anything related to that color, and so use mostly cold tones).
She can’t handle hot weather.
Her Quirk is unknown, if she even has one, but it should’ve been deemed weak or useless by Endeavor if she wasn’t put through the training Touya was, therefore becoming the first of her brothers to suffer from his neglect.
Natsuo Todoroki
Natsuo seems to be the most hellbent and prominent out of his siblings on his hate for their father, voicing his thoughts about him at any given chance, and also the one that looks closest to Rei.
Pure snowy white hair, but spiky like Enji’s.
Gray eyes, fully resembling his mother with nothing red that could remind him of his father, unlike his frame which is bulky like Endeavor’s.
Repressed anger issues.
He feels sensitive towards warm weather.
The tallest out of all his siblings.
Funny enough, Natsuo is a combination of Rei’s looks and Enji’s muscular build. Any signs of a Quirk are unknown, but either way he was deemed useless and thrown into the burning pile along with his big sister.
Shouto Todoroki
The golden egg of the Todo Children. The one Enji could, after so much time, call his masterpiece, the perfect offspring to finally topple All Might off his high horse. Everything Touya failed to be, Shouto is. A perfect combination of both himself and Rei.
Perfectly split white and red hair.
A gray eye and distinctive turquoise eye.
Ice and fire.
Shouto’s Quirk is Half-Cold Half-Hot; allowing him to create ice and fire from his right and left side respectively. He needs the two sides of his Quirk to nullify their drawbacks; too much of the right side leads to frostbite or hypothermia, too much of the left side leads to either overheating, dehydration or self-burns.
Now that we know the Todo-kids, their personalities, and Quirk too (or lack thereof), let’s dive into theorizing of the lacking two;
Fuyumi and Natsuo — The Flukes
Going off of appearances, I’d say Fuyumi could be the exact opposite of Touya. While having Rei’s eyes and most of her white hair, I’d say she could have her same ice Quirk but not being able to withstand it. Contrary to Touya that has Enji’s fire Quirk, but a constitution more adapt for ice.
I.e. She could create ice as strong as Rei’s, but the constitution of her body is weak and causes her to easily fall into a light to severe case of frostbite or hypothermia. Or on the other hand, she can create ice, but isn’t as strong as Rei’s, thereof a disappointment. On the third hand I just pulled out of my ass; an extremely weak fire Quirk, a constitution more suited for ice.
Natsuo is a more complicated case here. He looks nothing like Endeavor aside from his jock build, He looks like Rei down to a tee, and that makes me think of three possibilities for his Quirk.
He is resistant to ice AND fire, but isn’t able to manipulate them in any way.
He is able to resist and create ice, and seeing as he only had Rei’s part of the Quirk, labelled as an immediate failure for Endeavor.
Or the option I have no compelling argument for but I’m really bias to believe: He’s Quirkless, plain and simple. If this one’s the real deal, then it’s likely that he’d be the BIGGEST disappointment out of all the other kids to Enji. I mean, one thing is having just one side, but not having neither? In a world were 80% of the world has a Quirk as useless as it may be?? In his house??? Outrageous!
Any of these options lead to immediate alienation of his family so either is acceptable tbh.
SO! To try and wrap this whole mess up with some nice percentages!
Touya is a 100% of both of his parents’ 50%
Being able to create fire but with a constitution more adapt to ice.
Fuyumi could be/is a 100% of her parents’ 50%
Being able to create ice — that could or not be stronger than Rei’s — but having a constitution more adapt for fire. Therefore, if Endeavor ever tried to train her, she’d have no visible burn marks whatsoever.
Natsuo could be/is a 100% of his parents’ 50%
Being able to withstand fire and ice but not manipulate them in any way.
Or the unfortunate one, being part of the 20% of humanity that doesn’t have a Quirk.
Shouto is a 200% of his parents’ 100%
Being able to resist AND create both fire and ice to an extent as long as he uses one to counter the side effects of the other. I.e. using too much fire might get him a third-degree burn if his ice doesn’t cools down the effects and keeping his body temperature at bay. Having a constant balance between the two, one not being able to work fully well without the other — as much as he hates it.
yeah that’s it thanks for coming to my ted talk please message me with things to write gdi i’m bored and scared for the hobo man
#BNHA#todoroki enji#todoroki rei#todoroki shouto#todoroki natsuo#todoroki fuyumi#todoroki touya#the todoroki family#bnha meta#my meta#meta talk#tf i have no idea if this shit counts as meta#but whoops there it goes#bnha theory#shoto todoroki#toya todoroki#this is so messy tbh#apologies fam#my writing
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PASH! ILLUSTRATION FILE 2017 (January 2017) - Character Designer Kameda & Director Tachikawa - Character Design Notes
Here’s Director Tachikawa & Character Designer Kameda’s notes on a few Mob Psycho character designs from PASH! ILLUSTRATION FILE 2017 (January 2017). Includes a bunch of interesting info including Reigen’s shoujo manga love interest roots, Ritsu’s hair changes, and Teru’s connection with Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Characters covered; Kageyama Shigeo, Reigen Arataka, Dimple, Kageyama Ritsu, Onigawara Tenga, Hanazawa Teruki, Mezato Ichi, Kurata Tome, Tsubomi, Gouda Musashi, Kamuro Shinji, Suzuki Shou.
KAGEYAMA SHIGEO
Tachikawa; “Deciding how big to make Mob’s irises was something that often caused a bit of trouble. There were plenty of times where I’d look at him on paper, or I’d draw him and think that his irises were an OK size, but then actually looking at him animated they’d be too small and a little scary...”
Kameda; “I’ve become aware that when I draw him, I make his irises not too small, but so that they reach about half-way down the whites of his eyes. I think Mob’s face around volume 9, 10 of the manga is really good!”
REIGEN ARATAKA
Kameda; “I paid attention to the way he stands, so that just by looking at his silhouette his character would stand out. In contrast to Mob-kun’s spaced-out standing pose, Reigen exudes confidence. I pay attention to the line his body follows, so that it resembles an S shape. I imagine Marmalade Boy’s Matsuura Yuu-kun, and apply that coolness to Reigen.”
Tachikawa; “Sakurai-san’s performance as him is also great. There’s a slight shadiness to his voice, so to say…”
Kameda; “It gives Reigen this handsome vibe (laughs).”
DIMPLE
Kameda; “I wanted his form to sway in the anime, so I drew him like a fireball with his edges spinning clockwise. Actually, the way his edges move differs depending on the episode; in some, it’s an anti-clockwise spin, and in others it’s a movement from both sides that spits off at the top, and so on (laughs). Also, when he possesses the security guard, he has wrinkles under his eyes. Without those lines, he’s too fresh-faced. He’s the sole adult within this work * - I’m also conscious of that.”
Tachikawa; “I’m glad that Ootsuka-san’s cool voice was able to add a liveliness to this work. I wanted there to be some weight when he plays the funnyman.”
KAGEYAMA RITSU
Tachikawa; “The volume of his hair proves a struggle.”
Kameda; “Actually, when I draw him, I have two ways of doing so. From episodes 1 to 8 I gave his hair a big volume and made the ends pointy, but episode 9 onwards he rounds out a little. When he reconciles with Mob-kun and the darkness in him fades, the spikiness of his hair also decreases (laughs). I kept that a secret. So this amusement park art takes place during a time in which Mob-kun and Ritsu-kun have reconciled.”
Tachikawa; “So, when you look at Ritsu’s hair, you can see how he’s doing mentally (laughs).”
ONIGAWARA TENGA
Kameda; “What stands out in his design is the plaster on his left cheek. I proposed his design should have something that identifies Onigawara as some king of the punks. In the manga, he only has the plaster when he first appears, and following that it’s typically gone, but I think the plaster is good in that it gives him this delinquent vibe.”
Tachikawa; “Also, he has eye bags and two lines there.”
Kameda; “Yes. Much like the manga, I gave him those two lines.”
HANAZAWA TERUKI
Kameda; “When I draw Teru’s hair, I imagine Neon Genesis Evangelion’s Nagisa Kaworu-kun, & I give it that kind of square silhouette. What also stands out in his design is the way that bundle of hair jumps at his parting. Also, when his hair is at 150%, I have the ends of his hair be a little wriggly. Seems like plenty of our staff thought that drawing that ‘bundle of hair’ feeling was difficult.”
Tachikawa; “There were also people who made the ends of his hair bounce cleanly.”
MEZATO ICHI
Kameda; “She’s cute.”
Tachikawa; “That’s right. I also love her.”
Kameda; “When I drew her, I did so with the impression that she’s one who’s got her eyes open. She is sharp sighted, after all.”
KURATA TOME
Kameda; “Tome-san strikes me as a character who pulls a lot of blank faces.”
Tachikawa; “She appears in this amusement park art… and yet she seems bored, doesn’t she.”
Kameda; “She’s at an amusement park, and yet, she’s playing a video game (laughs).”
TSUBOMI
Tachikawa; “Tsubomi’s anime design is completely different to how it is in the manga.”
Kameda; “She’s /the/ bishoujo. However, with each character in the Mob Psycho 100 manga they have distinct lines that mark their upper and lower eyelids, so I drew the anime’s Tsubomi while respecting that rule.”
GOUDA MUSASHI
Tachikawa; “I feel I really put my all into drawing Gouda.”
Kameda; “He’s got plenty of special aspects to his design such as his faux hawk and centipede eyebrows, but contrary to expectations he’s difficult to draw. I tend to give him droopy eyes…”
KAMURO SHINJI
Tachikawa; “Onigawara has them too, but I think Kamuro’s eyebags are his special feature.”
Kameda; “I agree.”
Tachikawa; “I suppose those lines under his eyes that go toward his cheeks are also a feature.”
SUZUKI SHOU
Tachikawa; “Shou distinctly has pupils, so when you compare him to the others characters he looks a little different.”
Kameda; “Definitely! Since he has pupils, he’s the only character who looks like a foreigner.”
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* Cast have taken digs at Reigen being an adult ‘only in age’ before
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Originally posted on twitter here.
The interview that comes with these notes was translated by Kaga, here.
#mp100#mob psycho 100#kameda yoshimichi#tachikawa yuzuru#too many characters to tag#my stuff#translation
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Premiere Nebula Faction Concept Chapter 1-2
NOTE: This was partially made before the events of the recent chapter, so assume that A) it hasn't happened yet or B) Promised Blood is hiding something very big from the Premiere Nebula.
* Valka and Phea, our girls from before, have all gone to meet with the Kamihama Magia Union about their presence in the city. In the meantime, that one fancy-ass transition the game has wipes across the screen, changing the symbol from from KMU to Promised Blood.
* The Promised Blood girls are in Kamihama to scout out potential Kimochi, but to no avail. It's getting late at night and they're about to withdraw when they feel a Witch's presence.
* Even though it's just one Witch, Yuna and the others choose to go after it like always, since I headcanon that they're never 100% sure when they'll come back to Kamihama and hey, might as well steal some enemy Witches while they're at it, right?
* The Labyrinth disappears right when the three sisters get to it, and Juri, frustrated at the night's lack of results, is about to charge straight at the purple magical girl who comes out of the Labyrinth. Judging from the purple MG's reaction, the feeling is mutual.
* Yuna remarks about how new magical girls still seem to pop up in a place that can barely even sustain them. However, she stops short when a brown magical girl, with a military outfit slightly like Hikaru's, also steps out of the Labyrinth. While the purple magical girl has spiky blue hair and looks like she could logically be from Kamihama, the brown one is clearly a foreigner, as she's dark-skinned and is speaking another language.
* As Yuna's Soul Gem attempts to translate, Hikaru explains that Livia had told her about some new refugees who'd be staying with her during her last Coordinator visit.
* The brown magical girl, whose name is Koto, confirms this and states that they are under a neutrality pact. Juri (disappointedly) stands down after hearing this, while Io, the purple magical girl, still shows an aggressive stance.
* Before Io can attack, Koto runs over to her and begs her to assess the situation, as the Coordinators can take away their privileges if they get into a fight with Promised Blood. Io basically says "fuck the pact, these guys are bad news like all the other magical girl gangs."
* Ao, attempting to deescalate the situation, asks what other magical girl gangs she's seen. This fails, as Io just says, "We need to crush these guys before we have another Firebrand problem. Or do you even care that they're acting like those bitches who cursed Stelle?"
* (Side note number one: Koto is a military clone whose emotions were severely suppressed before joining the Nebula, and even now leans toward the stoic side. Side note number two: Koto and Stelle are a canon couple, so Koto is about as mad at Io for suggesting this as she can really show.)
* Koto relaxes for a bit before telling Io that according to the Coordinators, this is just a border skirmish and they shouldn't get involved. In a stern voice, she adds that she doesn't care if Promised Blood stays in Kamihama, as long as they don't "overrun the city," in her words. She simply doesn't want to see Kamihama, or any city, turn into a place like her hometown, Parnassus.
* Yuna asks if Koto and Io have also faced bloodshed in their city. Koto admits there was a shortage of Witches and briefly explains the odd predicament surrounding the Actresses, but Io stops her from there.
* Koto feels that for diplomacy's sake, PB deserves to know about the situation that made them so hostile, but Io thinks they'll use that information against them. Koto still believes that their story can serve as a warning to PB about what they could become, so Io reluctantly relents, and Ao assures them they wouldn't harm a neutral party.
* Koto goes on to explain the Firebrands, an Actress gang who has made several attempts on government figures' lives (since the Manufacturer who created the Actresses is a high-ranking official in their country). Their leader, Alarice, rules by draining other Actresses of their magic, often to the point of death, to enhance her own power. To justify this, she claims the Actresses she kills are former brainwashed forces who cannot be saved.
* Then Koto drops a bombshell: Alarice herself has captured and brainwashed several magical girls who stood in her way. In the process, she also cursed them with a small portion of her power, which makes them need to drain magic from other Soul Gems to survive.
* Io says that if the PB needs any more evidence of what their kind can do, they can go to Puella Care and check for themselves. Stelle, a former brainwashed soldier of Alarice's, is still there recovering from her severe magic loss, and could be there for days, if not longer.
* Yuna states that her group has no intention of doing that to people and only cares about righting wrongs, not brainwashing or curses. Io tells her that's what Alarice used to tell herself, that she was going after the Manufacturer to free the Actresses. Can Yuna really keep herself from going down the same path of revenge that ended up leading to greed.
* Yuna reaffirms her position from before. Koto tells Io that they've wasted enough time and they need to meet up with the others, and Io reluctantly leaves.
* "You better remember that promise, Kureha Yuna. Or else the next time you see me, I'll have to defuse that bomb inside you for real."
#magia record#premiere nebula#sorry for the wait guys#in which io is the only member of the team who can't remain neutral#but hey that's part of what makes her my favorite character to write
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Crimson|Ink. (m)
↳ chapter six: unknown soldier
❧ genre: tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima
❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending
❧ chapter warnings: blood, bile/puke, implied character death
❧ chapter song: Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin
♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles | artist credit
[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]
The air outside was way too cold for your liking as you walked out of the tattoo shop with Kirishima following close behind. Your bones shivered and snow lightly fell from the dark sky, hands bunched at the collar of your jacket and you breathed out and chuckled.
Kirishima quirked a brow, head turning from locking the door to look at you, his breathing hitched in his throat and his heart skipped a beat.
A pink dusted the tip of your nose and cheeks, random locks of hair blew in the small gust of wind and snow flakes danced around as you pursed your lips and blew into the dimly lit darkness, getting a kick out of seeing your breath. Your body did this excited little bounce like a child and you bit on your pink lips, making Kirishima exhale finally, his own deep breath becoming visible. Your (e/c) eyes finally looked in his direction and you smiled, like you always fucking do. No matter how many times he never returned the simple gesture, you still had this need to smile at him anyway. Maybe it was to piss him off or maybe you just really weren't that phased by his cold shoulder.
"Should we get going Kiri?"
Your sweet voice stole his attention from your eyes and he blinked before clearing his throat and looking anywhere else but you.
"Uh – yeah, I parked down the street, this way," he motioned stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat and pulling the collar up around his slowly blushing face.
You trailed behind closely, crossing your arms, slowly starting to shiver from the cold and bumping into Kirishima's side. You apologized quickly before he could spout off but he only shrugged. Once the two of you got to his vehicle you hummed. You didn't know what you were expecting, you knew he probably didn't drive a car being as massive as he is. In fact he drove a blacked-out truck, and by blacked out, everything was blacked out. Rims, trim, tint, everything!
Your heart dropped seeing there was no stepping bar to help you climb your way into the unusually tall vehicle. As you stood there staring, it shocked you when Kirishima opened the passenger side door and patiently waited while you thought.
"I can do this by myself," you internally chanted, walking closer to the vehicle.
Your hand gripped the handle bar on the inside and you lifted your leg high to brace the edge of the frame. Taking a deep breath you grunted and hopped with all your might, only to slip when your foot lost balance and moved over a minuscule piece of ice. Positive that this was how you were going to die, you gasped when feeling a set of strong warm arms catching you.
"Goddamnit," a husky voice swore from above as the hold on you tightened.
Your back was flush with Kirishima's chest, hand gripping his arm. The male could feel his heart beating faster than the speed of light as he held you so close. Your intoxicating and sweet chocolate scent engulfed his nostrils and your head moved against his chest to look up at him. He stiffened and wanted to drop you honestly, to get as far away from you as possible. Kirishima felt like some sort of vampire who was trying not to feed off of the one he cared for the most.
"I – I'm so sorry Kiri, I'm sure the last thing you want to do is touch me, just let me – whoa!"
Out of nowhere Kirishima grabbed a hold of your hips and lifted you without any effort, placing your butt into the seat of his truck. You were in total shock from everything happening so fast, the next thing you knew the door was being shut harshly and the red-head disappeared from sight.
Kirishima groaned, walking around the vehicle, his hands going to brush through his spiky locks and stopping abruptly as your scent hit him again. It was seeped into his clothing and lingering.
"Fuck," he sighed and clenched his fist.
You waited in the cold vehicle, jumping when the backseat door opened and Kirishima quickly tossed his bag into the seat. He then opened the driver's side door and got in, turning the vehicle on and making sure the heater was turned on. You watched him mess with the vents, aiming a majority of them to you and turning them up to full blast. A small smile tugged at your lips and you both put on your seat belts.
"Thanks for letting me ride along with you Kiri."
"It's nothing. We're going to the same place, why would I make you ride one of those shitty trains?"
You shrugged and looked out the window, Kirishima pulled into the street and started to drive.
"I don't know, maybe so you wouldn't have to be so close to me for more than five minutes."
Kirishima noticed the slight hurt in your tone, his heart sunk and his hand gripped the steering wheel tight. He looked over to see you with your head resting in your palm, watching the street outside of the truck as it passed by. Your fingertip followed snowflakes that hit the glass.
You really knew how to make him feel like shit without even trying.
There were so many times where Kirishima second guessed his actions, wondering if some of his insults over the past month were really necessary, if those glares of disdain in your direction were too over the line.
Some moments he thought he'd just get over it and push aside this cowardly act and try to start over with you, but then he'd walk in on you and Kaminari dancing in the kitchen together, you smiling because of him.
Or he'd see Sero playing with your hair, your head laid in his lap on the shop couch and the two of you discussed movies and music together, you smiling because of him.
Then there were the blood boiling moments with Bakugou that he'd catch you in. The blonde smacking your ass like it was his to claim, his filthy mouth kissing your skin blatantly in front of him and his arms pulling you close into his hold like a snake wrapping around its prey - yet you still fucking smiling because of him!
He couldn't blame you for being hurt and for thinking that he'd rather be anywhere else than around you.
"This is what I wanted after all," Kirishima thought before looking back at you, looking so out of place and uncomfortable. "... Isn't it?"
Taking a breath and looking back at the road, Kirishima propped his elbow on the windowsill and leaned his head on his fist as he drove. "Maybe I'm just trying to see if I can top five minutes."
Your head turned from the window, looking at Kiri with a confused expression. He looked back at you and smirked, making you smile wide in return, biting your bottom lip.
"I bet you can't last a few hours without being a total asshole to me."
The male chuckled, his red eyes lighting up, "Are you challenging me?"
"Maybe I am Red. It's your life's purpose to be an utter dick to me, I bet you $50 that you'll end up insulting me or some rude shit say – three hours after we get to Sero's place?"
Kirishima let go of the steering wheel, crossing his arms behind his head at a stoplight and smiling wide. "I bet you $100 I can last the whole night little one."
"That's what she said," you cackled and pulled your knees to your chest in the seat. Kirishima smiled and relished in how small and adorable you were.
"Alright Michael Scott," he replied and held out his hand, "Deal or not?"
You smirked and firmly took Kirishima's hand in yours, shaking it and sealing the deal. His cocky grin softened and his red eyes looked at your small hand in his.
Unconsciously his thumb brushed your skin, you froze not sure what to do. It wasn't like the Kirishima to let his touches linger but you weren't exactly complaining or pulling away. You turned and looked to see the light had changed. Slowly you started to remove your hand from his, letting your fingertips linger on his palm.
"Uh – the light changed Kiri."
Kirishima turned to see you were right, his hand left and went to the steering wheel along with his eyes. You smiled softly and sat back into your seat, satisfied.
The drive out of the city was quiet, too quiet and you racked your brain for a topic to discuss. It was actually nice chit-chatting with the spiky haired jerk at first and you really hated awkward silence. Your mind thought back to earlier, to the wound on his neck. You weren't sure if it was a good subject to bring up but it was worth a shot.
"Hey Kiri, what the hell did you do to get such a gnarly wound earlier?"
"I told you, it's nothing to concern yourself with."
You huffed and looked to the side at him, pouting your lips.
"Maybe, but that's not the first wound you've showed up to work with Kiri. And you're not the only one who has, I've seen Katsuki, Sero and Denki show up with bruises or cuts. Sometimes you guys look beat to shit, I think it is something I should worry about."
A dark brow quirked and Kiri's jaw tightened, you were too fucking perceptive for your own good. He knew he couldn't just make some bullshit excuse, you'd more than likely see right through that.
Your quirk really was a bitch sometimes, being a healer you knew wounds like the back of your hands. You could tell if they were caused by fists or weapons, how long they had been there, whether they were fresh or not. So some stupid 'we spar together' excuse wouldn't work.
"Look – I'm not even going to try and make up some excuse hoping you'll believe it because I know you won't, you’re too smart for that shit. But I'm also not going to tell you the truth. It's honestly none of your business and I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just – it's best that you're kept in the dark for now."
You swallowed thickly and narrowed your eyes.
"So you think I'm not worthy enough to know, or that I can't take it huh? Even though I work at the same place as all of you and I'm part of your lives, which indirectly involves me in whatever the fuck it is you're doing. I'm sure as you can tell from personal experience, I'm a lot tougher than I look."
You then turned back to the window and started to bundle up into a ball, lips pouting with a huff.
"Whatever Kirishima, don't tell me. I'll just keep watching as you all walk into the shop day after day with these wounds that you expect me to heal them without question and not worry for your sorry asses."
Kirishima winced when his last name fell from your lips with even more hurt. He hated how things were going from actually good and back to shit. The man went to talk but you held up your hand, signaling that you didn't want to talk any further.
"I'm taking a nap, I need all the energy I can get to piss you off and get that hundred bucks. Wake me when we get there."
"Young lady, can you hear me? Please, let me know that you can."
You groaned, body feeling cold as you felt frail arms holding you close, cold fingers brushing your cheek.
It was so cold, everything was cold.
Going to move you felt an intense and agonizing pain shooting from the back of your shoulder. Face contorting, you went to scream until a hand firmly covered your mouth, muffling the sheer cries of pain.
"Shh, I know it hurts but you have to be quiet. I'm going to get you out of here, I promise," a deep and warm voice cooed.
It took every ounce of strength to peel your eyes open, to find a pair of black eyes with small blue iris's looking down upon you. If you had any energy you may have jumped, the pair of eyes were so sunken in, blonde hair hanging before them.
Your hand felt on the chest of the man, it was baffling how this febrile person was even holding you up. There was blood dripping from his mouth, bruises and cuts covered his face. Looking down you could see that the shirt he wore was in shreds, revealing the colorful ink that dressed his skin.
A smiling oni mask stretched across the front his throat, beneath it and on each of his pectorals were two different ships. One was withered and wrecked, it's sails had tattered holes and the wood of it breaking, almost complimenting the condition he was in himself. The other ship was in more pristine condition, strong and mighty, its sails full of wind.
"I'm so c-cold – it feels like something is stuck in me."
The man sighed and grabbed your wrist, feeling the pulse weakening fast.
"There's a knife in your back shoulder, I didn't remove it because you've already lost too much blood."
Your eyes widened and you squirmed, arms suddenly finding motivation to move and reach behind for the blade. The man stopped you though and shook his head. He quickly turned his face to cough, blood sputtering from his mouth. He wiped the back of his arm to clean it off before slowly standing and helping you struggle to your feet as well. You hissed and whimpered, feeling the blade inside of your flesh.
"Go lean against that wall, let me find something really quick to patch you up."
Nodding you did as instructed, feet dragging, you took in the familiar surroundings of your boyfriends basement. It didn't exactly strike you as odd yet, body too wrecked with shock from being impaled. Slumped against the wall, your voice was shaky when you informed the skeletonized man where he could find some duct tape and rags. He located them quickly and made his way to you, asking you to face the wall while he handed over a rag.
"Bite on this, I'm going to remove the blade and it's gonna be painful."
Placing the rag between your teeth, you took a deep breath when the man's hands braced your opposite shoulder and the hilt of the blade. He counted down to the moment of removing the object. You gasped and bit down on the rag hard, nails digging into the cement wail so fiercely the nail-beds were breaking and started to bleed.
It felt like time slowed and you could feel the blade, inch by inch sliding back out from the thick flesh. Your body went ice cold all over, head falling to the wall once the last inch finally came out. The rag fell from your mouth and your jaw dropped open and panted for air.
"This is going to hurt like a bitch but I have to put as much pressure as I can on the wound. Just bear with me please!"
Tears flowed steadily from your eyes when you felt the man pressing rags to your wound with all his might, tightly taping them down with multiple strips of duct tape. Your entire body trembled once it was done and you turned to lean against the wall again.
Looking at the blade in the strangers hand made your weak heart stop and your sobs worsen. You knew that blade, seen it many times and even felt it slice your flesh before, so why did it still come as a shock to see that same blade pulled from your back.
"That's h-his blade...d-did he do this to m-me?"
The man before you sighed and placed the handle of the blade in your palm, wrapping your fingers around it tightly.
"I think you already know the answer to that sweetheart ... I'm sorry."
Your chest tightened at the realization that the wound in your back was a gift from the man you loved, shared a bed with, a life.
Choking on sobs, the blonde male grabbed your face and shushed you. Through tearful eyes you were able to look closer at him and at the tattoos that littered his arms. His left had a lighthouse that looked like it was shining bright in the direction of the ships on his chest. Everything looked like American styled tattoos until you noticed the thick boldness of waves that took on a more Japanese style. A beautiful siren sat on his right arm, beneath her were a pile of bones and a skull in her hands as she serenaded. An entire story was being told on this man's body, a story you'd love to hear but knew you never would.
"I know this is a cliché saying but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? You're gonna get out of here, I'll make sure of that and when you do I want you to run, run as fucking far as you can. Keep this blade just in case, until you get a few miles away. Skip town and start a new life, one where you aren't some prisoner like you have been."
"What makes you think that," you replied with a sniffle.
The man gave you a warm smile and pinched your chin. "I just know young lady. I probably won't make it out alive and all I ask is that you run and you never look back, you go forward with your life. Don't bother sending any help because in all honestly I've been dead to the world for a while now. Just think of yourself for once and live. Once you settle down, maybe get a tattoo or something, really signify the start of your new life."
A small smile actually tugged at your lips and you nodded. It was heart-breaking to hear this man talk about how he knew he was going to die saving you. This man that knew nothing about you but was willing to lay down and surrender his life on the spot just for you. You went to thank him until the sound of footsteps could be heard from above. Your heart dropped and your already cold blood turned to ice.
Panic was settling in, you could picture it, those sea-blue eyes that fucked up your life being the last thing you saw before dying, hands clutching for life around his charred and beautiful face as his own hands crushed your throat.
"Hey," the man's voice called snapping you out of your premonition, "Come on, I have to get you out quick."
Going along with the tattooed blonde, you followed him to a small break in the wall. You've been in this basement countless times before and never once saw this hole that was perfectly sized for you to slip through.
"How did that get there?"
Shaking his head the man commanded you hurry to the floor and towards freedom. "There's no time for that now dear, please."
Nodding, you slowly went to your knees and placed a hand on the wall, before crawling into the hole you looked back and placed a hand to the strangers cheek.
He smiled and pet your hair, "Hey, I know you're scared but it always helps to smile it tricks the fear inside of you, inside of anyone!"
After pouting and wiping tears from your nose and lips, a half-decent smile grew, it pleased your savior and he nodded with a chuckle.
"You have a wonderful smile young lady, make sure you keep it and wear it proudly."
"I will, I promise," you measly replied with quivering lips knowing this inked hero was about to meet his fate, "W-what's your na –"
Before you could finish, the door to the basement was heard being kicked open along with booted feet, followed by others, walking down the steps.
"Go," the tattooed man mouthed and hurried you into the hole.
Heart pounding you started to crawl and escape, hearing voices almost immediately. There were shouts and yells, things being thrown and destroyed.
"Where the fuck is she!"
The familiar deranged voice caused you to crawl faster until reaching the other side, crisp and cool air hitting your face and drying the cold sweat from your skin. Your nerves were so wrecked that bile made its way up and out onto the grass. Quietly you panted and heaved, stabbing the blade in your hand into the earth.
Turning to look down the hole you escaped out of, shouts could be from the man that saved you, he was fighting hard you could tell but soon a deafening and blood curdling scream filled the air and knocked the breath out of your chest.
It was silent ... so silent.
Right when you were about to get up and escape, a set of maniacal turquoise eyes looked back at you down the hole, a sinister smirk crossing a set of familiar stitched features.
"I'll find you darling, and when I do I'll make that pretty little mouth scream my name one more time as the breath leaves your fucking lungs," he cackled before blue flames were sent your way.
"No, no, no! Please ... no! I won't tell anyone, let me go," you cried.
"(Y/N), (Y/N) wake up, it's okay! It's just me!"
Your eyes shot open to see crimson red hues looking onto you with fear and worry. Your chest heaved and heart hammered, blinking several times you focused on the pair of eyes.
Slowly the numbness you felt was fading and being replaced by the feeling of strong and protective hands holding your face. Hot tears were also dripping from your cheeks. A shaky hand reached up to touch the vaguely familiar face before you.
“Smiling tricks the fear,” you remembered.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, a shitty and half-assed smile crossed your lips.
"K-Kiri," you spoke with a broken voice before collapsing into his chest.
He froze when you buried your face into his clothes, a hand clutching at the fabric and another wrapped around him, gripping at his back. Your frame was literally trembling violently with sobs.
Kirishima was panting himself, his brain trying to decide what to do, his hands struggling to decide where to touch you.
"To fucking hell with it," he internally growled.
Soon his arms were wrapping around you tightly, petting your hair and rubbing your back as he held you so close against the seat you fell from.
Kiri had parked in front of Sero's place the moment whatever you were dreaming was starting to escalate. Once he started to hear you whimpering and saw your body twitching, he acted and bolted from his seat to go around to yours, opening the door and shaking you awake.
It was tearing his heart into pieces to have you crying out into his chest, full of so much fear and paranoia.
"It's okay little one, it was just a dream. I'm right here."
Your face nuzzled deeper into the warmth and safety of Kirishima's chest. It felt like an entire net of security was wrapped tight around you. Sniffling and pressing a cheek to his body, you stayed there letting him comfort you for however long he could manage.
Eyes blinking you tried pushing back the nightmare of your past. One of Kirishima's hands came up to wipe a snowflake from your cheek, the small action making his heart jump for joy. Every time he'd watch Sero do the same thing he'd be overly jealous, now he was able to and you instantly leaned into his touch with a hum.
The red-heads thoughts were going hazy for a second from being so fucking close and touchy with you, but its like all of it was so normal, like the two of you weren't sworn enemies at each other's throats anymore.
Your arm left his back and went to wipe your face clean, Kiri stopped you, his fingers hooking under your chin and making you look up. In shock still from your nightmare and from this nurturing side of Kirishima, you didn't register that he was using his own coat sleeve to wipe the tears and mess from your face.
"I – I'm so sorry Kiri, uh you can go on in without me, I just need a moment," you quietly spoke, eyes looking anywhere but his beautiful and worried face.
"No, I'm staying here until you calm down, plus I wouldn't feel right just leaving you out here alone. There's no telling what could happen," he replied.
Sniffling, you cupped his face, brushing his warm cheek with your thumb before leaning forward and placing a kiss to it.
Kiri went still, not sure whether he should be elated or shoving you away, he was paralyzed. This was the first time you ever gifted him such a gesture, not like he deserved it anyway. You were so giving and so – fucking friendly, no matter what.
Your hand soon left his face and your head fell back into his chest, a deep sigh leaving your lips.
"Thank you for waking me up, usually that nightmare plays on an endless loop until my body is just to exhausted to keep going."
Instinctively, Kiri's arms wrapped back around you and one hand went to pet your hair, "I'm not gonna lie little one, you really scared the shit out of me. It's just a nightmare though, it's not real."
You huffed a laugh and sarcastically nodded in agreement. Kirishima didn't like your response, it gave him this overwhelming bad feeling. Clearing his throat the man prompted to ask you the question that had been weighing on his mind.
"What exactly were you dreaming about, you won't tell anyone about what?"
Pulling away from Kirishima you flashed him a small smile before grabbing his forearms and squeezing them, signaling you wanted to be let go of now. He was reluctant at first but he did release you. After wrapping your coat tighter, you swung your feet and jumped from the vehicle, almost stumbling on the slick ground. Thankfully though Kiri was quick to catch your hand and steady you with a warning about the ice.
"Thanks Kiri, for everything. We should get inside, I'm hungry and cold."
Blinking rapidly, Kirishima quickly closed the truck door and bolted after you, grabbing a hold of your arm, "Hold on – I'm not letting you get off that easy. Answer me will ya?"
Looking away a sigh escaped, your breath visible in the dark air.
"Let's just drop it please."
"Like hell I'm gonna just drop it, (Y/N) you were screaming bloody murder just a few minutes ago, begging for your life. If that was more than a nightmare and something is going on, you need to tell me, we can help you!"
Within a flash you arm snatched away from Kirishima and you finally looked his way, there was impatience and yet a blank look in your eyes.
"I don't need to tell you anything Kirishima, you have your secrets right, remember that? Well so do I. Now I'm going inside before I die of starvation and hypothermia, it'd be nice if you joined me, you're doing good so far on this bet."
Before walking away from him, your expression changed and you smiled. An aggravated groan rumbled in Kirishima’s chest and he went after you once again. His red eyes narrowed when you picked up your pace and quickly entered the house. He tried his best to grab you again, but the sounds of overly excited greetings signaled that he was too late.
There was no getting your attention for the rest of the night, you'd more than likely smile, like you always fucking do, and act like you weren't just crying your eyes out into him only minutes ago.
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
If you were smiling now, hiding the evidence of the episode that just unveiled outside, then what else were you hiding every time you smiled. Was every single one of those heart stopping gestures just a mask for your fear and pain, or were they genuine?
Removing his coat, Kiri hung his head low and he pondered all this, until his ears perked up at a severely pissed off sounding Denki and Sero coming straight for him.
"Why is it that every time you're left alone with her for more than five fucking minutes, she ends up crying," Sero hissed.
"Yeah man, do I gotta kick your ass again, what is your problem?"
Kirishima held up his hands, face contorting with confusion. "What the fuck? I didn't –"
A hand to his chest made him stop talking, his red eyes looked to see you standing between him and your two overprotective friends. You gave him an apologetic look and turned to face Denki and Sero.
"Guys chill okay? He didn't do anything, I just had a bad dream on the way here, that's all."
Sero titled his head and looked at Kirishima, the red-head nodded, agreeing with you. Denki slowly lowered his fighting ninja stance, his face showing that he was still weary of his friend.
"Okay then," Sero replied. He placed a hand on your lower back and lead you back into the kitchen, "You okay? Need to talk about it or something?"
"No Sero, really I'm fine," you replied with a smile.
Kirishima rolled his eyes and looked to Denki, his golden eyes narrowing.
"I'm watching you bro," he replied and motioned two fingers from his eyes and towards Kiri.
The sounds of Denki yelling for help could be heard from the kitchen, causing you and Sero to look and see him in a headlock under Kirishima's arm.
Another door could be heard slamming open from the right, turning your head, Bakugou, Deku and Shouto appeared. All three of them in different clothes than what they left in. The smile on your face grew bigger as you went to greet the men, hugging Shouto first gently then moving onto Deku. He smiled wide and hugged back. Pulling away, his arms stayed wrapped around your waist and his face was soon in your hands, his freckles being littered with kisses.
"Oh, I'm so glad you're here Deku! We gotta catch up, I wanna know everything about you!"
Izuku chuckled and pinched your cheek, "Whatever you wish!"
Before the two of you could continue, strong and possessive arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you away from the green bean with a whimper. In a flash, your back was against the wall, head trapped by the same two arms. Red hungry eyes and a devilishly attractive smile made your skin heat up and thighs slightly rub together. Bakugou chuckled and moved one hand to trace his fingertip under your chin to push it up.
"And where is my kiss princess?"
A brow quirked and you giggled, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of Bakugou's neck, "Aww, are you jealous Katsuki?"
"Tch, I'll never be jealous of that fucking nerd. But if you're just handing shit out like that, you gotta be fair, right?"
A hum left as you shrugged your shoulders, hand pulling Bakugou's face close enough to kiss his cheek. He grinned and returned the favor, but kissed the corner of your mouth instead, making you smile at him with a cynical look.
Pulling away he grinned at the affect he had on you and turned to see everyone else chatting, eating and drinking, also another pair of red eyes on the two of you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he walked back over and into the kitchen to join the others. Pulling you close as he leaned back against the counter.
Bakugou chuckled and smiled wide, "Anyone up for a game of strip poker?"
#crimson ink#kirishima eijirou x reader#eijirou kirishima x reader#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha x reader#mha x reader#angst#slow burn#enemies to lovers#tattoo shop au#hitmen au#bnha fanfic#mha fanfic
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Lily liveblogs: “Resistance Reborn,” part four
When we last left off, Finn and Poe and friends were about to go to a birthday party for one of Maz's smugger friends who has the list macguffin they're after. Please note they're not actually crashing this party for once - Maz got them actual invitations, lol.
Meanwhile, Bratt the Brat comes back to the office and beats Yama to a pulp, only to be taken aback when his superiors commend her for her loyalty in reporting Monti's theft. But he's offered a chance to prove his loyalty if he can fix the mess, even though he's still in denial about Yama and Monti's true allegiances because he’s a sexist asshole.
The party is awesome - ocean and fish and rich people and smugglers, with the First Order providing security (??). Poe and Finn eat a bunch of sea-themed canapes and banter. It's delightful and I want entire fics of this instead of, like, three pages. They had to bring presents, and one of the other members of Poe's team got the gifts, so it's a surprise to him too when the birthday girl opens it, but it's a dwarf lylek, a spiky hermit-crab/praying mantis creature that stays small "as long as you don't feed it flesh".
The guest of honor is delighted because--who would have guessed?--she used to be an entomologist! I love her, and I'm kinda sad she's a throwaway character, because she's a member of the Collective, the Corellian techie version of antifa, which sounds wayyyy more interesting than the actual book.
(I was also hoping that the lylek would start devouring canapes when the First Order inevitably breaks up the party and the shooting starts, only for the lylek to get HUGE and start going after stormtroopers... but alas, no, that doesn't happen either. DON'T TEASE ME LIKE THAT, OKAY??)
There's an auction to get the list macguffin as a fundraiser for the Collective and Poe is trying to figure out what the trick is because they're rapidly running out of cash. CorSec breaks up the party in the name of the First Order, which is weird because I thought the FO was providing security, but whatever.
Wedge, Norra, Snap, and Tasa Nasz, the ex-Imperial badass, go to the shipyards to steal ships for the Resistance. There's a Baleen-class freighter, and I love it. They run into Yama Dee, badly injured from Bratt's beating, and we learn that Yama is 15, so Bratt isn't just an abusive asshole, he's a child abuser, ughhh. Our heroes are rightly incensed and vow to help Yama, who is uniquely positioned to give them what they need.
Leia and Rey are sitting around on Ryloth, when... Rey has a bad feeling seconds before the First Order starts taking over (for totally unrelated reasons) and the Resistance forces have to GTFO.
Back at the party, the birthday girl is devastated because her husband was shot in front of her, so she agrees to give Poe the list macguffin for revenge (it's hidden in her jewelry in the form of a snake, which is a nice touch). They jump into a pool to escape the FO, and Finn hauls them out. Poe is afraid she's lost the necklace, but it turns out to come when called, which everyone agrees is awesome.
Bratt attacks the FO officer accusing him of treason and runs back to his office to track down information about Monti the Traitor--only to find Wedge and company with Yama and the escaped prisoners (including Leia's old political friend). Yama confronts Bratt, who denies everything, and Yama is appalled when she realizes she's parrotting his exact same arguments, that she is becoming the same as her abuser.
They fight, only to be interrupted by Teza, who is unsympathetic when she learns Bratt is the one who beat Yama in the first place. She tells Bratt he has a choice: either let Yama continue the beatdown, or she shoots him. Bratt is aghast at the idea of letting Yama beat him, so Teza shoots him and he bleeds out on the floor in astonishment while everyone else walks out. Leia's senatorial friend tries to offer him a hand up, but Bratt bats it away and dies alone and confused.
(Please note that the main reason the ex-Imperial comes along seems to be so she can be the agent of divine justice without our "good" heroes having to get their hands dirty. For all that ST fans like to talk about "edginess" and "grey Jedi" and "moral complexity" in TLJ, this is still Star Wars and our heroes don't shoot (usually) shoot people at point-blank range and leave them to die even when they're assholes.)
Wedge and company meet up with Poe and company, who have lost their own ship, so they steal a FO shuttle and escape with the prisoners and the full list. Since Ryloth is no longer safe, Poe makes a deal with the Collective for a safe haven in exchange for the rest of their credits.
Leia and her old friend have a tearful reunion. Poe makes an inspiring speech about scattering to the winds to become the spark that will burn the FO down. I don't know how much sense that makes in terms of strategy and tactics, but everybody is impressed. Poe has overcome all his angst about Crait and is happy to be--in charge? Second in command? I have no idea how the chain of command even works right now.
Wedge and Norra leave to do their own stuff; Snap wants to go with them, but Poe won't let him. Finn says he's coming with Poe, and that's Rey's cue to show up.
"Where are we going?" Both men turned to find Rey, looking expectant.
Finn grinned. "I didn't want to ask."
Rey grinned back. "You didn't have to."
The two friends laughed, leaning in to touch shoulders in acknowledgment. Rey looked at Poe, eyes narrowed as if unsure. "You don't mind?"
Poe pressed a hand to his heart, giving Rey a small bow. "I'm honored."
She flushed, pleased as he'd hoped she would be.
This is great, and I love it, but this doesn't have as much emotional resonance as it could have because THIS IS LITERALLY THE SECOND TIME IN THIS BOOK THAT ALL THREE OF THEM HAVE BEEN IN THE SAME ROOM WITH EACH OTHER AND REY AND POE HAVE SPOKEN TO EACH OTHER and so it feels like... it wasn't really earned??
Leia is smiling at the three of them in satisfaction because "the Resistance is in good hands" and "she's got us".
Poe slung an arm around Finn's shoulders and pulled Rey in close on the opposite side.
"That's right, Poe said. She's got us.
"Now let's go and save the galaxy."
Again, this is all A++ good, but I don't feel like any of this has been earned. At all. Like, does Poe know anything about why Leia believes in Rey, what Rey can do? They're just all friends now because of Finn even though Poe and Rey barely know each other?? Is he this affectionate with everyone?? I don't mind this closeness, but... it would have been nice to have more of this earlier so it doesn't feel so out of the blue and forced.
Also, what did this book accomplish? So the Resistance has some ships now. It has a few more fighters, they freed a bunch of influential prisoners from the New Republic that the First Order had taken into custody, and they have a list of current and future targets to warn. And they're not dead yet, so that's good.
But Leia and Rey barely got to do anything in this book, Rose is barely there at all, and Finn is only tangentially involved at the end. Most of the plot features Poe, Wedge, and occasionally other characters like Bratt, Snap, and Dross Squadron.
So despite the marketing, which makes it sound like this is an All-Resistance Adventure featuring our main trio, I would say Poe is the protagonist, because he's the only one with a character arc: moving from depressed and angsty over the failed mutiny at Crait to letting go of his failures and moving on to be a leader. There's also a smaller arc with Wedge moving from retired warrior and active farmer back to warrior again, but it's much less nuanced.
Outside of that, though, the book feels like it's tugging in too many direction and not going anywhere near the ones I find most interesting. There are lots of characters I'm expected to care about who are not in the films, and little in the narrative itself makes me want to. (The only reason I know about Leia's friend, for instance, is because I read a summary of Bloodline on Wookieepeedia.) It feels like Disney made a very deliberate decision to make all the plotlines 100% more convoluted and confusing than they needed to be, just so you'd read/buy all the supplementary material, and that is a... choice, I guess. But it makes me grumpy.
Honestly, if I wasn't writing a ST fix-it fic, I wouldn't have bothered with this. I found Resistance Reborn to be adequate, but mostly unexceptional, and occasionally frustrating. The few really delightful bits are when major movie characters are together in the same room, but that is weirdly and woefully rare, and I honestly do not understand what the story group/Disney was thinking here in not making those the meat of the book.
Question: who is Disney's target audience for this book? I'm honestly not sure, and I'm not sure they know, either, and I think this book demonstrates that. Which is... really weird for a billion-dollar corporation intent on milking every last cent out of the franchise, that's all. I don't get it.
TL;DR:
The Good:
Stormpilot feels (brotp or otp depending on your preferred ship)
the Collective (Corellian techie antifa)
Poe’s fabulous hair
fancy dress party heist
Wedge’s garden and space chickens
barely any mention of Kylo Ren whatsoever
The Meh:
loads and loads of characters that are not in the movies and therefore hard to keep track of or care
macguffin plot macguffin
cooler plot threads and story ideas are teased and never followed up on (in this book, at least)
The WTF:
movie characters barely interact with each other
assuming they have a role at all
does any of this matter?
feels like filler
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More Shiemi theories, this time, genetics
Just posted this on Blue Knight, but figured I’d do it here, too, since not everyone goes there. It ties in with some other things I’ve posted as theories, so forgive anything that feels repetitive from my previous ones.
And here we go…
What if Shiemi’s grandmother was actively involved with section 13, not just in sanctioning it as a Girgori (potentially), but using what Nephilim abilities she had (powers of creation and life) to help begin the cloning process. As time went on and things got more successful, perhaps she herself started either donating samples for her own cloning or reproduced with a genetically enhanced Lucifer clone [given Shiemi’s coloring] to revive the Shemihaza Nephilim line’s potential, meaning she would have had two daughters: the one who runs the shop and another.
The resulting daughter, Maria, (not the one we see at the shop), when she was old enough, was either mated to another enhanced Lucifer or Azazel clone in section 13 or after things split off into the Illuminati, OR gave birth to a further enhanced clone of herself.
THAT daughter [Shiemi, a second generation clone or naturally produced daughter of enhanced clones] was kidnapped or given to the grandmother for safe-keeping and to be raised in a garden with little contact with the outside world in order to attune her with nature and keep her personality at a minimum. I was thinking to either be a temporary host to Shemihaza (for a final battle situation) or be pushed into the state that Nephilim originally were: immensely powerful, potentially rivaling the powers of the mid/upper level Demon Kings or maybe just the lower level. Who knows. Maybe not even that strong.
I think Shiemi would become “ascended” or “further empowered” should she reach the Garden of Amahara, which I theorize is Shemihaza’s domain. She’d still be mortal, but a huge asset for Mephisto to have at his disposal if he can’t have Shemihaza him/herself.
Both her “mother” (one who runs the shop) and grandmother have both tried to find it, and failed, however the grandmother thinks Shiemi will reach it one day. I don’t think it’s a fairytale situation.
In any event, I feel her grandmother isn’t the nice lady she pretended to be, at least not to the extent Shiemi believes. Besides, why would she live in a shed when a perfectly comfortable, sizable house was meters away. She was hiding crap, even if it’s not like the secret underground garden in the anime.
As an aside: Another thing that makes me kinda think this is that Maria Yoshida from the Illuminati looks REMARKABLY like Shiemi, and would have wanted to save Izumo, who was the age her own daughter [Shiemi] would be, and her younger sister. Maternal grief at not having her own daughter in her life and the thought of her own daughter being subjected to experimentation would possibly make her want to sacrifice her safety and assist in Izumo and her sister’s escape.
It would also explain the “mother” at the shops apathy for Shiemi: Shiemi is not her daughter (actually her niece, and why they still look similar enough to be related) and Shiemi is a “chosen one,” being cultivated and groomed by both her mother [the grandmother] and Mephisto. She [“mother’] may be a Nephilim as well, but she’s not special like Shiemi, which would potentially make her turn to the Illuminati and possibly be involved in the elixirs and demon eating, herself. I think she wants power, much like Yukio’s jealousy of Rin, and Saburota Toudou. She might have hated Maria and her mother, as well, for not thinking she was enough and saddling her with the shop.
I also think she’s the current Shemihaza Girgori, as well as the spy the Order is looking for, 100%. But that theory has already been covered several times.
The image should cover all generations and Shiemihaza theory things in a simplified, if not already assumed manner. All of their hair is light colored with bangs swooping to the left side of the face. Shiemi’s hairstyle is far more in line with Maria’s (practically a carbon copy at this point) than her “mother’s” and grandmother’s, and while that can be an easy fix by pulling it up and rolling a solitary trailing curl, it’s drawn that way on purpose. All of them having similar face and eye-shapes.
It’s hardly a coincidence for Maria Yoshida to look the way she does.
So far, every family we’ve been introduced to looks like they are truly genetically related. The Shima clan’s sleepy eyes and unruly, spiky hair, the Todou family’s eyes and hair, the Okumura twin’s eyes and hair (though they have the most differences out of all of these examples, esp post 98). Bon distinctly looks like a blend of his mother and father… these are not generic manga faces Kato draws.
I ascribe to the above, but it could also go as follows….
An alternative family tree to the above:
Shiemi’s “mother” (one at the shop) looks significantly older than Maria, soooo, if Maria is related, it COULD go more like this:
In THAT case, she’d be a 3rd generation enhanced clone by-product and pedigreed, whether males were used or not.
If the alternate is the case, the “mother’s” apathy could also be that she already lost her REAL daughter [Maria] first to the Illuminati and then death, and she’s distancing herself emotionally from her granddaughter [Shiemi] because she knows what her mother and Mephisto were/are planning for her, to some degree. The Illuminati ties could still be plausible in this case, but more in the vein of having a vendetta against her own mother and Mephisto for the inhumane treatment of their family (genetically designed and groomed for the sole intent to use as a tool), despite the Illuminati being just as guilty AND being the ones that killed Maria. Or, it could apply that she is a jealous, untalented Nephilim, and wants power, as in the first scenario as well.
Or a third possibility:
In which Maria and Shiemi are clones and sisters, born many years apart, and Maria was a failed experiment (no/lackluster abilities).
OR, weirdest yet…
and I won’t make a graphic for this one: Shiemi, Maria, and Shiemi’s “mother” are all sisters born from the grandmother being enhanced and cloned (even if she didn’t give birth to them herself) many, many years apart, a new one being born after they failed to “ascend” or weren’t powerful enough, with a lot of genetic tweaking done in between. So much trial and error: wait 15 years only to find the kid you’ve created is a “dud,“ tweak the DNA, then try again.
#fan theory#ane.fan theory#ao no exorcist#shiemi moriyama#shiemi's mom#shiemi's grandmother#maria yoshida#mephisto#clones#genetic cultivation#pedigree#demon science#nephilim#shemihaza#so twisted#kiellessa#illuminati#lucifer#demon kings#shady as all fuck#genetics#wait#who is your real mother#i'm so confused#too much time on my hands
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Biological!Family AU
Sooo, basically family au, which can be viewed here- https://snatchersnatched.tumblr.com/post/167129633183/family-au-so-a-couple-days-ago-i-got-inspired-to
But, Harriet (AKA HK) is Snatcher and Vanessa’s biological daughter. Basically an au of an au. Also! My personal HC is that the Prince is named Lucas (because haha the va is named Luke and the long version of that is Lucas) so if I mention him as Lucas there’s your explanation.
So summary is that nine months before everything goes into a downward spiral, well I think you can guess what happened. Vanessa finds out she’s pregnant about three months into it and tells Lucas while he’s back at law school. Lucas definitely wanted children ever since he figured he was going to marry Vanessa. He didn’t expect to have them so soon, but either way he’s still elated he’s gonna be a dad. But Vanessa on the other hand is only going through with this so Lucas will be her’s forever. Lucas doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to pack up and run away when his s/o is pregnant, especially when it happens to be, well, his.
So anyway about three days before everything happens, Vanessa ends up giving birth to Harriet (Also full name is Harriet Katherine. Haha, Hat Kid, HK). Lucas falls in love pretty much the moment she’s born. Vanessa loves her too, but in the center of it all Harriet is still her reason for Lucas to stay with her. And he does. He considers giving up on law school and staying at the castle to help take care of Harriet and marry Vanessa, blah blah blah.
And then Tale of Queen Vanessa happens.
Vanessa at first is annoyed at Harriet’s crying, but decides to take care of her so Lucas can eventually come crawling back. After all, he promised to love them forever. If not, she could always torture Lucas with the prospect of being there with Harriet at her milestones while he’s not, right?
Well, Lucas finally escapes obviously. About a day before this time, Vanessa had sealed her away in her crib with a barrier sort of thing. Lucas gets her free and escapes with her. He then, obviously, becomes Snatcher.
A few HCs-
-Harriet is not quite immortal, but not mortal anymore either. She has a longer lifespan than a usual human, looking like she’s 10 when she’s 100, basically.
-Because of her parents, she has powers as well. Snatcher has fire-like power, and Vanessa has ice powers, right? Harriet, out of this, gets electricity. She can’t quite control it fully and sometimes it gets out of control.
-Harriet also has slightly more curly hair, not fully curly, but when out of the ponytail it’s more... spiky? You know like Vanessa’s.
-Speaking of, she looks more like her dad. I hc the Prince having blue eyes and Vanessa having green, thus Harriet inherited his brown hair and blue eyes. Which annoys Vanessa, and does more than anger her when she chains the Prince up.
-Some things from the regular family au are still canon, like the fact Harriet eventually meets Duncan and such. Honestly a lot is still canon, except a few things of course.
-Snatcher is the one who buys her her top hat! I’m not quite sure how just yet, but we’ll get there eventually.
That’s it for now! Thanks to @pheonixia-nocturne for some awesome pointers, the whole discord for falling in love with this general au and helping me stay confident in it!
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Episode 118 - eGemony, Part 2: “The Cavelands”
Time is irrelevant and imaginary.
And yet, somehow it seems we are out of it.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Listeners, I have just returned from an odyssey. As you know, a case of Canadian Club whiskey was hidden in Night Vale over 40 years ago as part of a contest. And now, e-gemonee… edge-meny, edge-meny, edgem- eedgemon- e- that tech startup wants it back, so they can drink it and thus drink the soul of Night Vale. It turns out that the alcohol was spirited away by – oh, ahaha, spirited, that’s a good one, Cecil… by baristas.
I knew I had to warn them before the corporate prize contest and sweepstakes buzz marketing street teams located them. But that would mean going to a place from which no one has ever returned: the remote Cavelands of the baristas, deep under the Earth, where (Eritrean pourover) drips gently from stalagmites and latte foam rivers froth and bubble in cool stone cracks. We’re all pretty sure the Cavelands are under that crate behind the Ace Hardware, but no one goes down there because of the stench of espresso and the chilling sounds of Carly Simon’s greatest hits CD.
The underground society of the baristas is an insular one, and no outsider has met their king. Did you know that baristas have a king? I mean I didn’t, but my niece Janice knows all about which professions have monarchs and which like mm, ride sharing services, only have serpents wearing crowns. Janice still has her barista costume from last year’s careers parade.
So in order to investigate the Cavelands, I cloaked myself carefully in the necessary animal skins, as Janice directed, and slung over my shoulders the ceremonial spiky coffee hammer and the sweater vest with the correct number of arm holes. Janice and I took a quick online course in latte art. Janice was great at it. She made a photorealistic aspledium nidus fern, and I uh, I made a, rock of some kind.
Janice said she knew exactly how to finish my disguise, and she was right. I regarded myself in the Ace Hardware window, and I knew I was meant for that boldest, unruliest, most outlaw of mustaches: the rolly fingers! The final touch of a true barista. Rolly Fingers was the most famous king in barista history, and now every barista grows a long thick mustache that swirls at the ends, just like the former king Rolly. From these curls, baristas often hang sweeteners and spoons for customer service.
I flexed all my facial muscles tight, and within minutes, I had finessed my new thick mustache into lovely coils. It was sunset, the time when all the baristas return to the Ace Hardware parking lot, from their day labor jobs, or as they call them, “gigs” throughout greater Night Vale.
My plan was to simply blend among them. Blend [chuckling] oh my god blend, oh Cecil you’ve done it again. And so one by one, I smiled and waved at them, and we teased each other with sprays of hot steam, as is the way of baristas at the end of a long day. There were 10 of us, then 15, then perhaps 20, then 30, then 40, then 100 baristas. Baristas as far as the eye can see. So many baristas, all laughing and scalding each other with joviality. Then a very tall barista, whose animal pelts were dusted in silver, looked at me with suspicion. I put her mind at ease by calling out one of their familiar jokes. “Your mother is so tasteless, she orders her eggs ristretto!” I cried. The barista’s hardened face softened into a laugh and she called out: “Time to ride!”
Our steeds made quick work of the steep mile and a half descent below Ace Hardware. I could hear the faint echoes of Norah Jones, as we passed cuneiform style sketches of French presses on the rocky walls. Once we were in the caves, by the lights of torches dipped in (pinch), the baristas ambled to their bed rolls, their knapsacks, their (bindles), and all around the cave, I could see them unwrapping and dusting off and (-) [0:07:41] their instruments. I saw harmonicas, violins, ocarinas, banjoes, mouth harps, mouth pianos, mouth banjoes, (lip scissors), and those who had nothing to play brought out pots and pans to keep time. And we began – to sing.
[singing] “I’m a-dreaming of someone whose love is so swee-ee-eet,
[echoing] like (--) (cronut), 4000 fee-ee-eet,
oh my perfect love gives me endless bli-i-iss,
[another voice joining] never wants the wi-fi password
without puur-chaa-a-ase
I said he never asked for that wi-if password
Without a puur-chaa-aase.”
And then, without warning, one of the baristas made a gesture and the rest fell silent. They were all looking at me, listeners.
“He doesn’t know our anthem!” she said.
“No, I totally do,” I said. “I mean, I was definitely singing… something.”
The baristas closed in on me. “Don’t talk to me til I’ve had my coffee! Amirite?” I pleaded.
From the back, I heard a quiet but authoritative snarl. “It’s Cecil!” The baristas parted, all of them, and in the silence, I heard the shuffling of leather shoes, and I was face to face with the king of the baristas.
Listeners, we are all made up of goodness and not-so-goodness. We have conflicting impulses and we struggle to do right. We care to a lesser or greater extent whether our actions are moral, and if they will strike other people as immoral. This is true for all of us, you and me. Corporeal and otherwise. Everyone.
Except the King of Baristas. When I saw him, I knew immediately he had never once hesitated to do right. How did I know this? Maybe it was his beard, as his beard seemed kind. Or it was the way his eyes, his purple eyes crinkled with empathy. Or it was who the light glinted off his horns. In any case, listeners, he reminded me a little of a buffalo. And it’s hard not to trust a buffalo.
“Cecil,” he said. “We have been waiting for you. And by we I don’t mean the royal we, as we don’t believe in that, and I didn’t mean the royal we that second time either. All of us have been waiting for you, and not one of us believes in the royal we. And I love your mustache sooo much!” the king added in a baby voice as he pinched my cheek.
I explained that I came to the Cavelands for the booze. He said, “We’ll talk about that. But first, we need to talk about something more important. Your new sponsor.”
I said, “Our sponsor, you mean money? Did you know it’s available in twenties now?”
He said: “Do not speak to us of the attractiveness of money! Money is cursed! And of course everything that is cursed is attractive, otherwise the curse wouldn’t be a problem.”
He said that and I thought it was pretty smart. I mean, all of the cursed objects around the station are really fun to play with. Until an intern gets hurt. Like Gustav the other day, who found radium squish ball from one of our old statin promotions.
Oh, quick aside: to the family of Gustav, he was a distracted intern, and he will be missed.
The king said, “How many times has a person done something awful and you can’t understand why it happened? Only for the reason to be – money! If there were a drug with the same side effects money has, it would be illegal.”
“Um, maybe we can talk about this later?” I said. “There are eGemony corporate prize contest and sweepstakes buzz marketing street teams heading this way now! You’ll be defenseless against them! They’ll round you up into tech campus relaxation zones and make you play videogames and drink energy shakes and and learn PowerPoint! You’ll be trapped for eternity!”
He said, “OH Cecil. They came already. There was a squadron of them, hideous and flickering shadows with smiles of black fire, driving branded cars with terrible posture. And all of them were cheery and wearing shorts and saying things like “devOps”.
I asked if the street teams found what they were looking for. The King of the Baristas said: “We have taken care of them.”
And with his big hands, his big nimble hands, he reached into the matted animal skins on his chest, and he sorted through necklaces made of tiny bird skulls and Splenda packets.
He fished out a thin badge that was embossed with the eGemony logo. It still had the rampant weasels and the cheerfully crossed (--) [0:13:52] mushrooms. But the name, the name on the badge, was ground away.
“This,” the King of the Baristas said, “is all that’s left of them.”
And he let out a little chuckle. If I could grade it on a scale between mirthful and mirthless, it was on the mirthful side of things. But there was also a bit of self-knowledge in it, as if the person chuckling were aware that to completely abandon himself to pleasure was to be unmoored from the realities of existence.
He said the street team had covertly arrived over four years ago, in the dead of night, and worked their way to my desk. They recovered the case of Canadian Club and in celebration they opened a single bottle. They passed it around, and each one drank from it. But when they drank the soul of the time, they became infused with it. by the time each had finished a single sip, they had become a part of this place, and the place had become a part of them.
“Do you understand, Cecil?” he asked.
And I exclaimed, “I get it! Rather than absorbing Night Vale’s soul, Night Vale’s soul absorbed them! So… We’re all good. Problems always solve themselves. Thank you, King of the Baristas!”
There was an uncomfortably long pause. Every barista was staring silently at me. And I worried that maybe this was a disrespectful way to address the king. I coughed a bit and then tried again with a classic barista joke to lighten the mood. “Your mother’s so overcome with ennui that she-“
“Cecil,” the king interrupted. “We, the baristas, are the eGemony corporate prize contest and sweepstakes buzz marketing street team! Once we had become a part of Night Vale, we knew what we had to do,” he said.
And I said, “Ooooooo, I can’t wait to find out! But can I check the weather report just really quick?”
And he said, “Sure. Go ahead.”
[“Glitter” by Charly Bliss]
The king repeated: “We knew what we had to do.” He cackled a bit. “Have you ever noticed how, at one point, there were no baristas here, and then suddenly there were many, many baristas? Did it seem strange to you that every café now had a barista? And every restaurant and market, pawn shop and dry cleaner’s? And how the vacant lots are no longer truly vacant, because they are populated by baristas? Have you noticed baristas at the Antiques Mall, in the DMV, and close to but not in the Dog Park? And the ones who run alongside cars as they’re leaving the highway, to offers drivers shots of espresso? Have you noticed how no new buildings pass the city planning department, unless ther’es a four-foot-by-four-foot space for a barista to stand? Didn’t that strike you as strange?
Did it strike you as strange that your choices at any coffee establishment were only espresso, or espresso with a shot of Canadian Club?”
The king said to me, wisely, carefully, giddily: “Cecil. After being absorbed in the soul of Night Vale, we knew we needed to save our city. So we served it to you. We served Night Vale, its own soul. Night Vale has drunk itself, and in the process become as much itself as any town could ever be.
By then, the sun was starting to rise, and some of the baristas had settled down and were cuddling and grooming each other in their little barista beds, as the fire in the cave was now turning to embers, and there were small ashes flittering like moths around the sierra cups and chemex graphs and wind-powered aeropresses that cluttered every surface.
I felt relief knowing the baristas were safe. And also confusion, knowing they had once been a tech company social influence marketing effort. But also, civic pride, as Night Vale is darned good at defending itself against people who want to steal and drink our souls. But also itchiness, because of the animal pelts and long twirly mustache.
“The time of worry isn’t over, Cecil,” the king said. “In fact, it is only beginning. eGemony won’t care that Night Vale’s soul is safe. They’ll send another street team and another, until they’ve figured out how to distill our souls. And do you know why, Cecil? It’s because of – money.”
Listeners, this is terrible news! Mostly because I really don’t like to hear bad things said about our station’s sponsors.
“Cecil, we need you to renounce money as a sponsor. Do you know what’s more important than money? We do. We have taken steps this night, while you were here, your show is now sponsored not by but by – love. Love is the way forward against eGemony!”
I said “Uh huh,” but I said it with skepticism, like exactly the way a cashier would if someone were about to buy something clutching a handful of love. Then I said, “suuuure,” but like really sarcastically like you do after a poetry reading.
He said: “Your battle is not yet over. eGemony wants that case of Canadian Club, even if it no longer exists. They’re going to use every one of their tools. They’ll use violence, intimidation, social media, dreamfluencing, viral marketing, even science! They will win, unless you figure out a way to repel them!”
And I said, “Um pardon me, did you say that they’ll use science?”
And he thought about it and agreed that he had at some point said that. Science, he said, was one of eGemony’s mightiest weapons, and the King of the Baristas said that he wished he knew of some way to fight against it. As soon as he said, I stood to my full height, which is one third taller than my three-quarters height. Listeners, I must admit I was moved enough to actually put my hands by my hips, and my hands were fists, listeners. fists! And I said, “Oh, I know how to fight back. There is only one weapon mightier than science, and that is – more science.”
And the king looked at me with amazement, as if I had unsuspected depths, and he said, “Do you know science?”
Do I, listeners, do I?
Next time, I’ll answer that question, but spoiler alert: gosh, heck yeah, of course.
Stay tuned next for Adolescent X-team Karate Bedbugs, the show your grandma thinks you like, because she never understood you.
Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night.
Today’s proverb: Why would you wanna think outside the box? The box is steel and locked and buried deeply underground. It’s so safe here. Why would you want to leave?
#welcome to night vale#wtnv#wtnv transcripts#egemony#egemoney part 2#the cavelands#this episode had a number of difficult words#i didn't find some of them on google#so if you can figure them out let me know
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The Name Of The Doctor - Doctor Who blog
(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)
I remember at the time there was a lot of panic within the fandom. The Name Of The Doctor? Oh God! He wouldn’t! Is Moffat actually going to reveal the Doctor’s real name?! Heresy! Sacrilege! The end of Who is nigh!
Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I recognise that was just silly. Of course Moffat isn’t brave enough to reveal the Doctor’s real name. He’s stupid enough, but he’s not brave enough. And in some ways that provides a small comfort. While The Name Of The Doctor is without a shadow of a doubt the worst series finale in the whole of New Who, at least the Doctor’s name has been left untouched.
So the Paternoster Gang, Clara and River Song (yes she’s back again. Sigh) meet up via a hallucinogenic trance to discuss the Doctor. Because it’s always about the Doctor isn’t it? And I want you to bear this in mind as we continue.
So some gibbering serial killer has revealed that ‘the Doctor has a secret that he will take to his grave, and it has been discovered.’ This is soon revealed to be yet more of Moffat’s pretentious bollocks because it turns out the grave has been discovered, not the secret. So why didn’t the serial killer just say ‘the Doctor’s grave has been discovered’? And how the fuck does he even know about it anyway? Did the Great Intelligence tell him? Why didn’t the Great Intelligence talk to the Paternoster Gang directly if he wanted to lure the Doctor to Trenzalore?
This leads me to quite possibly the only thing about this episode I actually liked. The Whisper Men. They never give an explanation for where they came from, but I like them. They’re very creepy. At least at first. Unfortunately as the episode goes along, their threat is diminished dramatically because all they ever seem to do is just stand around hissing at people and spouting stupid nursery rhymes. Also they kill off Jenny, which made me sit bolt upright in my seat as I realised that the characters are actually in danger for once, only for Strax to magically bring her back to life with his remote control. So what was the point of that?
So off we go to Trenzalore to visit the tomb of the Doctor. I have several problems with this. For starters, I really don’t want to see the Doctor’s grave. I think in Moffat’s zeal to massage his own ego and pull the rug out from under our feet, he’s now at serious risk of stripping too much of the Doctor’s mystery away. Also I get why the Doctor would be reluctant to find out where he dies, but how can he possibly avoid information like that? He’s travelled to so many places and helped so many people to the point where he’s become one of the most well known people in the universe. He’s in recorded history. Surely he’s bound to come across the date and circumstances of his own death at some point whether he wants to or not. Besides, haven’t we done this already in Series 6? Why are we doing this again? And if the Doctor was always destined to die at Trenzalore, why bother killing him at Lake Silencio? And if him dying at Lake Silencio is a fixed point, how could he possibly die at Trenzalore? This makes no sense.
Still, at least Trenzalore is nice to look at. There’s some gravestones and a giant TARDIS. Then it gets ruined by yet more Moffat idiocy. Who put the River Song grave secret entrance there? They never explain that. And if this is post Library River Song, I’m not 100% sure how she can be taking part in the Paternoster Gang’s ‘conference call.’ Nor how she and Clara can be communicating with each other when it’s been firmly established you need to be unconscious to make the conference call. I certainly don’t get how in God’s name the Doctor is able to talk to her at the end when he hasn’t even had a whiff of hallucinogen. Truth be told, I haven’t the faintest idea why River Song is even in this. She’s basically there to open the tomb because she’s the only person who knows the Doctor’s real name. Moffat’s ego working overtime yet again. It’s funny how Moffat likes to make fun of RTD’s obsession with Rose when his obsession with River is infinitely worse. I mean I wasn’t too fond of Rose neither, but credit where it’s due, at least Rose was a three dimensional character. River is nothing but a Mary Sue who always has to be better than the Doctor at everything and yet displays no actual character or agency of her own. The fact she apparently made the Doctor tell her his name should tell you everything you need to know about Moffat’s mindset as a writer. The Doctor didn’t tell her because he trusted her. She made him. She’s always the one who has to have an advantage over the Doctor, the title character, because she’s Moffat’s special creation and he wants her to be oh so important without putting in the effort to properly justify it. Plus she’s not really that strong or independent because, like every other female character Moffat has ever written, her life still utterly revolves around the male protagonist. At least one silver lining we can draw from this episode is that it looks like River Song might finally be gone for good at last. Thank God.
Then the Great Intelligence shows up, played by Richard E. Grant, to give us his bullshit evil plot. Apparently when the Doctor died, he left a wound in time that stretches right back to when he was on Gallifrey (I don’t get it either. Just go with it), and now the Great Intelligence wants to use this wound to kill the Doctor because of... reasons.
Now if you’re not familiar with the Great Intelligence, I imagine you must have been pretty confused as to why he hates the Doctor so much. And do you know something? As a die hard Whovian who has seen both the new and classic series multiple times, I’m pretty confused too. Seriously Moffat, out of all the villains you could have picked, why the Great Intelligence? For one thing, his prime motivation has always been to try and find a body. He clearly has a body now, so that’s his motivation gone. And second, why does he hate the Doctor so much that he’d be prepared to kill himself in order to unwrite the Doctor’s entire life? I’m not saying the Great Intelligence and the Doctor don’t have history, but compared to the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Master or even the Sontarans, the Great Intelligence seems like a really odd choice. Outside of ‘it’s the 50th anniversary’ I honestly don’t get why the Great Intelligence is the baddie. They don’t even give a good reason for what he’s doing. He’s basically doing it just because he’s evil and killing the Doctor would be an evil thing to do, so he’s going to do it I guess. I don’t even understand how the Great Intelligence is able to unwrite the Doctor’s life. He steps through the wound and then just stands there scowling. And how does Clara manage to stop him in the end? She steps through the wound, multiple versions of her appear throughout the Doctor’s life and then... what? It’s all so vague and utterly moronic.
Sigh. I suppose I can’t put this off any longer. I know @prettycanarynoir and @thealmightytwittytwat have been really looking forward to me tearing Clara’s story arc a new arsehole, so here goes.
Clara, the impossible girl, was born to save the Doctor. Now the funny thing is I could see this arc actually working (you know? In an alternate universe where Steven Moffat was a long distance lorry driver rather than a showrunner and someone with an actual brain was writing this episode instead). The problems is, like with a lot of Moffat’s idiotic series arcs, the buildup has been so poor. Outside of the Doctor constantly bellowing how impossible she is, there’s no effort to actually explore this or get Clara involved in her own arc. She never finds out about her alternate selves until the very end and she doesn’t so much choose to sacrifice herself for the Doctor rather than be forced into it by circumstance. Clara has the same problem as River. Moffat is determined to make her better and more important than the Doctor, but he never gives her any real character or agency of her own. Just look at the scene where she makes the decision to jump into the wound. Flinging yourself to your death isn’t exactly something you take lightly, is it? But the way Jenna Coleman performs it, you’d think she was just popping off for half an hour to do a spot of bungie jumping. You don’t feel the emotional weight of her sacrifice whatsoever because there is none. Clara isn’t scared or apprehensive or anything. She’s just her usual smug self. She doesn’t behave like an actual person would, and that’s because Clara isn’t a person at all. She’s a plot device. And to make things even worse, despite establishing that once you jump through the wound, there’s no way back and you’ll be lost forever, Moffat once again changes his own rules so that the Doctor can rescue her, thus making her sacrifice completely meaningless. it’s just utterly dreadful writing.
But the worst thing of all is what this whole Impossible Girl arc ends up doing to the Doctor. I completely resent the implication that the Doctor is utterly ineffectual without a companion to help him. What? Did you think the Doctor got out of those situations using his wits and his brains? Nope. Turns out Clara was the one responsible all along. (And as for the scene where Clara tells the First Doctor which TARDIS to steal, I would like to take this opportunity to tell Moffat to grab something long and spiky and to shove it firmly up his own rancid, self indulgent arse).
Finally I’d like to go back to something I touched upon at the beginning of this review. It’s all about the Doctor. Remember the good old days when the Doctor was just some guy who went on adventures across time and space and helped people out? Now he’s become this ultimate puzzle piece that completes the universe. Whole star systems blink out of existence just because he dies. He’s that special and important now. There have been quite a few times during the Moffat era and indeed this very series where the action has ground to halt in order to talk about just how special the Doctor is. To a certain extent I can understand why Moffat is doing this. It’s the 50th anniversary. Things were bound to get a little nostalgic and no doubt Moffat sees this as a fitting tribute, but the problem is the show is starting to become too insular. Doctor Who was never just about the Doctor. It was about the worlds, cultures and people he met, and we learnt about his character through his interactions with them. By making the Doctor the centre of the fucking universe that everything revolves around, it actually constricts and restrains the rest of the show. That’s what Moffat really can’t seem to understand and it’s this reason, among others, why I have such a low opinion of his work on Doctor Who.
The Name Of The Doctor doesn’t make any sense on any conceivable level. A lot of it just comes across like really bad Doctor Who fanfiction. In fact the majority of Series 7 felt like that. Most of the episodes were badly written, under-developed and/or poorly thought out, and at this point Moffat had become so pretentious and so ego driven that he was actually starting to put a serious dent into the franchise. I honestly can’t think of a worse candidate to write a 50th anniversary special than him. I mean the insulting way he introduced the War Doctor alone was... No. I’ll save that for next time.
#the name of the doctor#steven moffat#doctor who#eleventh doctor#matt smith#clara oswald#jenna coleman#river song#alex kingston#the great intelligence#bbc#review#spoilers
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How Pop Music’s Teenage Dream Ended
A decade ago, Katy Perry’s sound was ubiquitous. Today, it’s niche. How did a genre defined by popularity become unpopular?
Story by Spencer Kornhaber
“I am a walking cartoon most days,” Katy Perry told Billboard in 2010, and anyone who lived through the reign of Teenage Dream—Perry’s smash album that turned 10 years old on August 24—knows what she meant. Everywhere you looked or clicked back then, there was Perry, wrapped in candy-cane stripes, firing whipped cream from her breasts, wearing a toothpaste-blue wig, and grinning like an emoji. She titled one world tour “Hello Katy,” a nod to the Japanese cat character on gel pens worldwide. She made her voice-acting debut, in 2011, by playing Smurfette.
Perry’s music was cartoonish too: simple, silly, with lyrics stringing together caricature-like images of high-school parties, seductive aliens, and girls in Daisy Dukes with bikinis on top. Kids loved the stuff, and adults, bopping along at karaoke or Starbucks, enjoyed it too. (Maybe that’s because, like with so much classic Disney and Looney Tunes animation, the cuteness barely disguised a ton of raunch.) Teenage Dream generated five No. 1 singles in the United States—a feat previously accomplished only by Michael Jackson’s Bad—and it went platinum eight times.
Perry wasn’t alone in achieving domination through colorful looks and stomping songs. Teenage Dream arrived amid a wave of female pop singers selling their own costumed fictions: Lady Gaga, a walking Gaudí cathedral, roared EDM operas. Beyoncé shimmied in the guise of her alter ego, Sasha Fierce. Nicki Minaj flipped through personalities while wearing anime silhouettes and fuchsia patterns. Kesha, glitter-strewn and studded, babbled her battle cries. Taylor Swift trundled around in horse-drawn carriages. Each singer achieved impressive things, though arguably none of their albums so purely epitomized pop—in commercial, aesthetic, or sociological terms—like Perry’s Teenage Dream did.
A decade later, that early-2010s fantasy has ended, and Perry and her peers have seemed to switch gears. Rihanna has put her music career on pause while building a fashion and makeup empire. Beyoncé has turned her focus to richly textured visual albums that don’t necessarily spawn monster singles. Gaga, after a long detour away from dance floors, has returned to sounds and looks comparable to those of her early days, but she cannot bank on mass listenership for doing so. Swift keeps reinventing herself with greater seriousness, and little about her latest best seller, Folklore, scans as pop. Perry’s latest album, Smile, came out Friday. Regarding her new music’s likelihood of world domination, Perry told Apple Music’s Zane Lowe, “My expectations are very managed right now.”
For the younger class of today’s stars, Teenage Dream seems like a faint influence. The Billboard Hot 100 is largely the terrain of raunchy rap, political rap, and emo rap, with a smattering of country drinking songs thrown in. Ultra-hummable singers such as Halsey and Billie Eilish are still on the radio, but they cut their catchiness with a sad, sleepy edge. A light disco resurgence may be brewing—BTS just strutted to No. 1 on the American charts while capitalizing on it—but that doesn’t change the overall mood of the moment. Almost nothing creates the sucrose high of Teenage Dream; almost nothing sounds as if Smurfette might sing it.
The recent state of commercial music has led to much commentary arguing that pop is dying, dead, or dormant. That’s a funny concept to consider—isn’t popular music, definitionally, whatever’s popular? In one sense, yes. But pop also refers to a compositional tradition, one with go-to chords, structures, and tropes. This type of pop prizes easily enjoyed melodies and sentiments; it moves but does not challenge the hips and the feet. It is omnivorous, and will spangle itself with elements of rock, rap, country, or whatever else it wants without losing its essential pop-ness.
The early-2010s strain of it seemed like the height of irresistibility, and yet it’s mostly faded away. There are many reasons for that, but they can all be reduced to what Perry’s journey over the past decade has shown: Life and listening have become too complex for 2-D.
Pop has seemed to die and be reborn many times. When the 21st century arrived, the music industry was near the historical peak of its profitability—in part because of slick sing-alongs catering to teenagers and written by grown-up Swedes.
But over the first few years of the 2000s, CD sales crashed thanks to the internet, boy bands such as ’NSync began to splinter, and Britney Spears’s long-running confrontation with the paparazzi reached an ugly culmination.
Around the same time, women such as Pink, Kelly Clarkson, Ashlee Simpson, and Avril Lavigne began scoring hits inspired by mosh pits but more appropriate for malls. Gwen Stefani moved from rock-band frontwoman to dance-floor diva during this period as well. Such performers, though often assisted by the same producers and songwriters who helped mold Spears, flaunted unruly personalities to a reality-TV-guzzling public hungry for a kind of curated grit.
Katy Perry capped off this rock-pop boomlet. The California-born Katheryn Hudson had kicked around the music industry for years, first as a Christian singer—her parents were traveling evangelists—and then as an Alanis Morissette–worshipping songwriter.
She finally hit on a winning combo of sounds for One of the Boys, her delicious 2008 major-label debut, whose spiky rhythms, crunching guitars, sneering vocals, and juvenile gender politics earned her a spot on the Warped Tour, a punk institution. But the gooey, sassy hooks of “I Kissed a Girl,” “Waking Up in Vegas,” and “Hot n Cold” really made her a household name.
Some of those songs benefited from the touch of Max Martin and Dr. Luke, songwriters-slash-producers of 2000s pop legend. (In 2014, Kesha filed a lawsuit accusing Dr. Luke, her producer and manager, of rape and abuse; he denied her claims and eventually prevailed in a years-long, very-public court battle over Kesha’s record contract.)
By late 2009, when Perry set out to record her follow-up to One of the Boys, the musical landscape had shifted again thanks to the arrival of Lady Gaga, a former cabaret singer with mystique-infused visuals and an electro-dance sound. What made Gaga different was not only her thundering Euro-club beats, but also her persona, or lack thereof.
Gaga’s work overflowed with camp fun while keeping the singer’s true nature hidden under outrageous headpieces. By forgoing any attempts at banal relatability, Gaga seemed deep. In this way, she updated the glam antics of Prince, Madonna, and David Bowie for the YouTube era. Many of her peers took note, including Perry.
Teenage Dream was lighter and happier than anything Gaga did, but it was electronic and fanciful in a manner that Perry’s previous work had not been. The cartoon Perry was born.
The conceit of Teenage Dream’s title track—“you make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream”—really boils down pop’s appeal to its essence: indulging a preposterous rush while also reveling in its preposterousness. “It is Perry’s self-consciousness—her awareness of herself as a complete package—that makes her interesting,” went one line in an NPR rave about the album. Even skeptical reviewers gave credit to standout singles such as “California Gurls” and “Firework” for being effective earworms. Perry had laid out her intended sound by sending a mixtape of the Cardigans and ABBA to Dr. Luke, who was part of a production team that pushed for perfection.
“People on the management side and label side were pretty much telling me that we were done, before we had ‘Teenage Dream’ or ‘California Gurls,’” Luke told Billboard in 2010. “And I said, ‘No, we’re not done.’”
Such efforts ensured Teenage Dream’s incredible staying power on the charts through early 2012. The album’s deluxe reissue that year then generated a sixth No. 1 single, “Part of Me,” which also provided the title of a self-produced documentary that Perry released around the same time. Much of the footage showcases the stagecraft behind her 2011–12 world tour, a pageant of dancing gingerbread men and poofy pink clouds that would presage her hallucinatory 2015 Super Bowl halftime show. Perry comes off as charming and willful, and the film currently sits as the 11th-highest-grossing documentary in U.S. box-office history.
Yet the movie is best remembered today not for the way it shored up Perry’s shiny image, but for the way it complicated it. Over the course of the tour, Perry’s marriage to the comedian Russell Brand dissolved, and the cameras captured her sobbing just before getting on stage in São Paulo. It’s a wrenching, now-legendary scene. But elsewhere in the film, the viewer can’t help but experience cognitive dissonance as the singer’s personal dramas are synced up to concert footage of grin-inducing costumes and schoolyard sing-alongs. By hitching Teenage Dream’s whimsy to real-life struggle, the movie seemed to subvert exactly what had made the album successful: the feeling that Perry’s music was made to escape, not amplify, one’s problems.
Perry released her next album in 2013, a year that now seems pivotal in mainstream music’s trajectory. That’s the year Gaga pushed her meta-superficial shtick until it broke on the bombastic Artpop, which earned mixed reviews and soft sales.
It’s also the year Lorde, a New Zealand teenager whose confessional lyrics and glum sonic sensibility would be copied for the rest of the decade, released her debut. Then in December, Beyoncé surprise-dropped a self-titled album whose opening track, “Pretty Hurts,” convincingly critiqued the way society asks women to construct beauty-pageant versions of themselves.
Later on the album, Beyoncé sang in shockingly explicit detail about her marriage to Jay-Z. Tropes of drunken hookups, simmering jealousy, and near-breakups were reinvigorated as specific and biographical, thanks in part to Beyoncé’s fluency with rap’s and R&B’s storytelling methods. She ended up seeming more glamorous than ever for the appearance of honesty.
The title of Perry’s album, Prism, not-so-subtly advertised her trying, too, to show more dimension. But the songs’ greeting-card empowerment messages, hokey spirituality, and awkward genre hopping made it seem as if Perry had simply changed costumes rather than had a true breakthrough.
Still, both the cliché-parade of “Roar” and the trap-appropriating “Dark Horse” hit No. 1., and Prism’s track list includes a few examples of expert, big-budget songcraft.
The album would turn out to be Perry’s last outing with a key collaborator, Dr. Luke. While she has maintained that she’s had only positive experiences with the producer, Perry hasn’t recorded a song with him since Kesha filed her 2014 lawsuit.
The Kesha-versus-Luke chapter added to a brewing sense that the carefree pop of the early 2010s was built on dark realities: Perry and Gaga have both described their most profitable years as personally torturous. Broader social and political developments—Black Lives Matter, the #MeToo movement, and the election of Donald Trump—also proved impossible to ignore for even the most frivolous-seeming entertainers.
“When I first came out, we were living in a different mindset in the world,” Perry said in a recent Rolling Stone interview. “We were flying high off of, like, life. We weren’t struggling like we are.
There wasn’t so much of a divide. All of the inequality was kind of underneath the mat. It was unspoken. It wasn’t facing us. And now it’s really facing us. I just feel like I can’t just put an escapist record out: Like, let’s go to Disneyland in our mind for 45 minutes.”
If that point of view sounds blinkered by privilege—who wasn’t struggling before, Katy?—Perry probably wouldn’t disagree. Her 2017 album, Witness, arrived with a blitz of publicity about how the star had become politically awakened and had decided to strip back her Katy Perry character to show more of the real Katheryn Hudson. A multiday live-stream in which fans watched her sleep, wake up, have fun, and go to therapy certainly conveyed that she didn’t want to seem like a posterized picture anymore.
Yet neither Witness’s attempts at light sloganeering (the anti-apathy “Chained to the Rhythm”) nor its sillier side (the charmingly odd “Swish Swish”)
connected with the public. It’s hard to say whether the problem was more temperamental or technological: By 2017, streaming had fully upended the radio-centric monoculture that stars like Perry once thrived in.
Her new album, Smile, is an explicit reaction to the commercial and critical disappointment of the Witness phase. Over jaunty arrangements, song after song talks about perking up after, per Smile’s title track, an “ego check.” There are also clear nods to her personal life. “Never Really Over” ruminates on a dead-then-revived relationship much like the one she has had with Orlando Bloom. “What Makes a Woman,” Perry has said, is a letter to her daughter, who was born on Wednesday. But she’s still mostly communicating in generic terms—lyrics depict flowers growing through pavement and frowns turned around—and with interchangeable songs. The explosive optimism of Teenage Dream has been replaced by ambivalence and resolve, yet the musical mode hasn’t really changed to match.
This leaves Perry tending to longtime fans but unlikely to mint many new ones. That’s because pure pop, the kind that thrives on doing simplicity really well, is largely a niche art form now. The delightful Carly Rae Jepsen will still sell out venues despite not having had a true hit in years. Today’s most acclaimed indie acts include the likes of 100 Gecs and Sophie, who create parodic, deadpan pastiches of pop clichés. Fixtures such as Lady Gaga do still have enough heft to ripple the charts (and thank God—her sense of spectacle saved the VMAs on Sunday). But her recent No. 1 single, “Rain on Me,” benefited from Ariana Grande, whose ongoing success comes from smartly channeling R&B.
The current status of Dr. Luke, who has retreated from the public eye but still works with lesser-known talents and while using pseudonyms, seems telling too. He can’t land a hit with Kim Petras, a dance diva in the Katy Perry lineage. But he can land a hit with a rapper: He’s behind Doja Cat’s recent smash “Say So.”
Streaming, now the dominant form of music consumption, does not reward bright and insistent sing-alongs that demand attention but offer little depth. It instead works well for vibey background music, like the kind made by Post Malone, who’s maybe the most cartoonish figure of the present zeitgeist. It also works well for hip-hop with an obsession-worthy interplay of slangy lyrics, syncopated rhythms, and complex personas, all of which are presented in a context that feels like it has something to do with real life.
Last week’s No. 1 song in the country, “WAP,” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion, radiates some of the fantastical thrill of the 2010 charts. But it delivers that thrill as part of a lewd verbal onslaught by women whom the public has come to know on an alarmingly personal level. The video for “WAP” is bright and pink, yes, but also immersive.
It’s not a cartoon—it’s virtual reality.
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