peacockstop | TDM 05

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!tdm

TDM 05

【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.

Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.

As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.

Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】

ARRIVAL

DIVINE AWAKENING

A cool breeze lofts across the room. Gentle, soothing. Cotton sheets and silken covers slip with the tired stretch of limbs. New arrivals dozing in the comfort of their king-sized beds wake to the balmy warmth of a hazy sun and the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore. Clouds mist around the floor, granting ethereal ambiance. Gauzy curtains flutter, revealing a majestic stretch of sky in all directions. This temple is nestled at the top of a mountain, one where the sea somehow meets its edge.

All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.

New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.

MARK OF THE GODS None of the traditional suits have manifested on these Wildcards. Instead, all new arrivals will discover intricate patterns winding their arms and legs, each one different from the next. Thorns, vines, stars, or moons — the commonality of these marks is that they come in either glittering gold or shimmering silver.

► BENEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of gold running along their skin have been identified as benevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the kind spirit within. All benevolent Wildcards may experience the effects of any RED SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

► MALEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of silver running along their skin have been identified as malevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the muck that lurks beneath the surface. All malevolent deities may experience the effects of any BLACK SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

MADDENING HUNGER Itchy throat, dry mouth. Headache. Hungry. It comes on slow, at first nothing of note. But, surely, it begins to deepen. Grapes don't feel filling. Water barely quenches thirst. All new arrivals will wake up in a state of hunger. They will find that despite the complimentary snacks left in their room by room service, nothing hits the spot.

No matter how much food they eat, these new arrivals, who have been dubbed as divines, won't find any satiation from food or wine. This gnawing hunger is exhausting; as it increases, their strength decreases. They cannot continue on like this for long.

All Wildcards, regardless of divine differentiation, will need to be worshipped for sustenance. Otherwise, they risk falling into a frenzied state.

There are many ways they can be worshipped. While having their bodies worshiped through sex is the most effective, they can find minor relief in acts of praise, affection, offerings, service, and so on. The longer a Wildcard goes without being worshiped, the more their god mark will leech their energy, and the faster they will lose their sanity. Loss of sanity can result in any kind of frenzy, from general mania to breaking from reality.

GILDED CAGE

AN ENDLESS FEAST

Doors to the grand banquet hall of Gilded Cage have been opened. A singular massive table stretches throughout the entirety of the restaurant, every available inch loaded with trays of food and goblets of wine. Waiters seamlessly dip in and out of the kitchens with platters over their shoulders, bringing delectable cuisine from all avenues of every earth around for guests to enjoy. Vibrant fruits, roasted meats, and decadent desserts funnel into the hall without end.

Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.

Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.

ROYALS ► Royal cards are King, Queen, and Jack ranks. All ranks beneath them must comply with their demands, no matter how whimsical or stupid. They are waited on hand and foot, with low ranks throwing themselves forward for the honor of pleasing them. Royals do not need to obey the commands of anyone aside from Wildcards. While it is good manners for a lower royal card to defer to a higher royal card they will not be punished if they decline.

► Royal cards are encouraged to eat, drink, and be merry. Be selfish! Be greedy! Take everything you want! There is no end to the pampering and indulgence offered to royals. Long-standing guests line up to flatter them and give them gifts. Resort staff are desperate to make them laugh or smile. A royal card frowning strikes terror every servant. Resort staff will insist that they seek their own pleasures and not worry about the feelings of those lowly cards. All numbered cards exist to satisfy the royals; being concerned about their peasant feelings is unnecessary.

► Royals can command any numbered rank. If they find a numbered rank they particularly like they may monopolize them for their exclusive use. The word no does not exist. Whatever a royal wants, a royal gets. They can also issue punishments to numbered ranks that do not please them. There are guards prepared to discipline servants at their command. They may also dominate unruly servants with their own hands if that pleases them.

SERVANTS ► Servant cards are ranks A - 10. Hierarchy exists within the servants as well. While a rank 10 servant must flatter and please the royals, they may issue orders to any servant rank beneath them. This continues down the line — a rank 6 servant must obey and adore any rank above them but may command and bully any rank below them.

► The Ace rank shows its fickle nature. All Ace cards are bottom-barrel servants sitting at Rank 1 that anyone can bully. They are automatically ordered to clean up trash, scrub sticky floors, and dance provocatively for any rank that demands a show.

► Servants must obey anyone that outranks them. There are guards standing along the walls waiting to discipline any servant that defies the hierarchy. However, the guards are mostly for show — suits enforce real compliance. Any servant that disobeys an individual who outranks them is at risk of their suit flaring. If their suit does flare, submitting and obeying or an orgasm can abate suit effects.

WILDCARDS ► Wildcards are akin to deities. There is no greater honor than to serve or possess a Wildcard. Royals want to own them and servants want to please them. All Wildcards are showered with endless adoration. Fights break out for the chance to feed them grapes or rub their calves. Wildcards may do whatever they want without consequences, even toward royal ranks.

► Wildcards are encouraged to indulge in the finest of everything. Servants must tend to them and obey their commands. While royals do not need to obey them, there is great prestige in claiming a Wildcard’s affection. Wildcards are encouraged to be selfish and enjoy themselves to the fullest.

► Any royal or servant that satisfies a Wildcard can collect a Wildcard token. This is an electronic token that appears in their bank account once a Wildcard has climaxed during sex. Physically pleasing two Wildcards bring about great blessings. Players may submit two Wildcard tokens under their rewards thread to collect a small item voucher.

PHOENIX CASINO

ALEA IACTA EST

Phoenix Casino has been reborn in antiquity. Stone pillars line the aisles and embroidered linens cast a gauzy filter over every corner of the gambling center. The number of statues has increased, with every corner decorated with marble figures in provocative poses. The feast continues into even here; scantily clad servants and waiters carry around platters of succulent fruits and pitchers of wine.

The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.

Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.

WILDCARD AUCTION ► All shiny new Wildcards have a unique number pinned to their robes. Early in the night these nubile virgin Wildcards will be paraded across the stage and asked to introduce themselves to the crowd. After, the bidding will commence. Don't miss this opportunity to claim a resort virgin and beloved divine!

► Bidding for a Wildcard can get intense! Numerous long-standing guests are already obsessed with these stunning new arrivals and are quick to bid high. Bidding wars can break out at any time. Some very eager long-standing guests are willing to get violent if it means they get to monopolize one of these Wildcards. Security is on stand-by for cases of Wildcard theft; some guests are so desperate for these Wildcards that they'll even try to kidnap them if they see the chance.

► The hierarchy is temporarily set aside for auction purchases. Any rank can dominate a Wildcard if they have the means to bid high enough and buy. In the case of Wildcard purchases, their god marks will force compliance to whoever buys them during the auction.

CASTING LOTS ► This special game of lots is designed for a high rank and a low rank to play together. In the case of guests of the same rank playing together, a coin flip will decide who plays the "low" rank for this game.

► The high rank guest will roll a six-sided die. The number rolled will reflect the game rule by which the low rank guest must try to satisfy the high rank guest. If the low rank guest manages to satisfy the high rank guest they will receive a large payout. If the high rank guest is not satisfied they may discipline the low-rank guest in any way they see fit.

ONE: Without using hands.

TWO: Using only mouth.

THREE: While blindfolded.

FOUR: Using only butt cheeks.

FIVE: Using only legs.

SIX: While remaining on knees.

► The high rank decides if and when they have been satisfied. Work hard, low rank!

HEADS OR TAILS

► What's a casino without a bit of risk? There's a special game of Heads or Tails happening at the game tables. All guests must bet their rank in order to play. Winners of the game will have the option to either swap ranks with the loser, or keep their rank as is and move on to another game. With a little bit of luck, even a Rank 2 can experience living the high life.

► All rank swaps are temporary. Winners that choose to swap ranks with the loser of their game will have 24 hours with their new rank before they revert back to normal. They may continue playing on with their "new" rank if they want to test their luck.

► Heads or Tails is played with a physical Golden Peacock coin. Players will take turns as the coin flipper, with their opponent guessing if the outcome will be heads or tails. The first guest to reach three correct guesses is the winner.

BEAK

ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS

A massive circular arena has been erected in the middle of Beak. Staggered seats rise up to the ceiling, where royals lounge in luxury viewing boxes. The gaping mouth of the arena is wide and desolate. An assortment of weapons, such as spears and shields, hang along stone walls. It waits for the taste of blood and stench of battle. The sound of the audience cheering and booing echoes throughout the Wellness Quarter.

Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.

A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.

BATTLE ROYALE ► Numbered ranks have been conscripted into battle for the amusement of the Wildcards and royals. While high ranked servants may be able to wiggle their way out of a fight, low ranked servants will be thrown into the arena without mercy. Warriors that win their battles will be showered in accolades and payouts while losers will be mocked and pelted with rotten tomatoes. Warriors that try to forfeit their match will be stripped naked, strung up on a pole, and mocked for 24 hours.

► Battle rules are simple. Any means and methods of fighting are acceptable when in the arena. The arena’s overseer will decide if a battle will end when first blood is drawn or if it will continue until one side can no longer continue. There are rare instances of battle to the death, typically reserved for warriors who have deeply offended a Wildcard or royal.

► Royals and Wildcards are welcome to join in the royale if they wish. They will not be forced and they will be given any armor they want before stepping into the arena. Low rank warriors are given no armor — some may even be forced to fight nude.

SUBDUE THE BEAST ► Any numbered ranks that have displeased a Wildcard or royal will be thrown into the arena to fight barehanded against hungry tigers and lions. If there are no troublemakers on hand to throw into the arena for entertainment, low rank servants will be forcibly volunteered instead.

► Those alleged hungry tigers and lions? They are other servants dressed up in sexy animal costumes. While staff will take genuine volunteers for this role first, they will forcibly volunteer low rank servants into the role if needed. All costumes are revealing and offer little protection. There is an assortment of looks to choose from, not just tigers and lions, though whether or not a servant gets to pick their outfit depends on how charitable the arena master is feeling.

► Matches will end when one party can no longer continue or the audience is sufficiently amused. Royals and Wildcards are permitted to partake if they please, and there will be no consequences if they decide to withdraw.

RACE TRACK ► Royals and Wildcards are invited to participate in horse racing. Only, there are no horses to be found — all the “horses” are servants! Any chosen servant must carry their master over the finish line. While piggyback rides may make the most sense for a race like this, many of the high class prefer more elegant positions, so anything goes. Horses are required to wear a bridle at all times during the race.

Servants are also allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. Servants may ride any servant of a lower rank. Aces are ordered to walk around with a poop shovel and bag, even if there won’t be any real horse poop lining the track (probably).

► Royals and Wildcards are also invited to participate in private horse racing. These races involve no track, taking place in the back of Beak in private rooms furnished with cushions and silks. Like with the public races, royals and Wildcards may select any servant that catches their eye. Unlike the public races, the goal here is to make their ‘horse’ orgasm as quickly as possible. Times will be saved on their Watches. The faster a master makes their horse come the more bragging rights they have.

Servants are once again allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. The higher ranked servant must make the lower ranked servant orgasm as quickly as they can. While the ‘horse’ may offer mutual comfort they will receive no accolades for their skills.

TALON

SHOW OF STRENGTH

Talon is bustling with warriors training for the arena. Several strength building stations have been set up, including benches for royals to perch on while warriors bench press them. Additions have been made to Talon as well; multiple mud pits have been dug for warriors to participate in some mud wrestling between arena battles.

Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.

The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.

MUSCLE CONTEST ► Who can appeal to the royals and Wildcards most? It’s a competition based on aesthetics! Strip down, oil up, and flex your muscles to earn a high score from the judges. Royals and Wildcards may issue a score between 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest.

Wildcards and royals are welcome to join in the competition. For some reason, their scores always end up being 10 no matter how skinny or noodly they may be! The flattery and praise for their stunning looks and bodies is endless. No need to work out, my lord, my lady. You’re stunning as is! Truly no body is more perfect!

► Servants are not only allowed, but encouraged, to bribe royals and Wildcards into giving them a high score. While chips and gifts can certainly be offered, isn’t the most compelling argument some hands on experience? Staff will hint to competing warriors that offering sexual favors to the judges may help improve their scores. What better way to prove their physique is the most superior than to put it to work?

► Royals and Wildcards may purchase warriors for their exclusive entertainment if they so desire. Staff are eager to impress these nobles and make a pretty penny in the process. While this isn’t an official auction, these sneaky staff aren’t above making sure the elite and their requested warrior are left alone in a locked room. You grease my palms, I’ll make sure that sexy warrior greases yours.

WRESTLING MATCHES ► Guests will find that a deep mud pit has been added to the front hub of Talon. Servants are stripped and oiled down before being thrown into the pit to wrestle for the entertainment of the nobles. While staff will take volunteers for wrestling matches, they will also grab whoever looks good, even if they’re just passing by! On-lookers place bets during the matches. The winner of the match will receive a small cut of the prize money.

► Wildcards and royals may enter as well. Servants are expected to throw their matches if they’re facing a noble… and if they don’t, they may be facing some unexpected consequences! All suits are sensitive to the hierarchy and will suddenly flare if a servant starts thrashing a noble.

► During a match-up of nobles, it is expected that the lower ranked noble will throw the match in favor of the higher ranked noble. While royal suits will not flare if this isn’t adhered to, discipline between royals isn’t unheard of!

► Some matches are held under “Special House Rules” — which means that the winner of the match gets to claim and fuck the loser. On-lookers will jeer and demand that the winner publicly fuck the loser where they can watch, but private rooms are available for the winner to claim their spoils of war without sharing.

WAYWARD ARROWS ► An archery range with targets has been established for warriors to show off their shooting skills. Like the arena, there are benches and boxes for the audience to admire this graceful art — or to throw tomatoes from when a warrior misses the mark! Both servants and nobles are welcome to participate as archers.

► Servants have been conscripted to act as moving targets across the range. They are told to heckle the archers while avoiding their arrows, and only advised that the arrows won’t pierce their bodies if they get hit. It’s all fun and games. We can’t have all of our servants dying en masse!

During this portion of the games, archers will be given an assortment of charmed arrows with chalk tips that elicit different effects:

RED ARROW: Chalk powder from red arrows will trigger an intense need for physical release by grinding, humping, or frotting.

BLUE ARROW: Chalk powder from blue arrows is pure aphrodisiac. Inhaling this powder will cause close spike to near-orgasm, one that the target will find that cannot be completed by their own hand.

GREEN ARROW: Chalk powder from green arrows will stir neediness. The hit target will suffer cravings to be sticky and hug, climb, and generally latch on to another person.

PURPLE ARROW: Chalk powder from purple arrows will cause a bad case of loose lips. This may manifest in a compulsion to loudly speak in pretentious purple prose, dirty talk, or say otherwise hilarious things for the amusement of the audience.

► Effects from the arrows will wear off within the hour. Multiple hits from differently colored arrows can create fun new effects so feel free to get creative!

INDULGENCE

DESIRES FROM THE VOID

The spirit of the festivities rouses something primal. With emotions heightened, the core of the Golden Peacock responds in kind. It drinks in the sweat of the warriors in the arena. Inhales the laughter of the royals using servants as furniture. Basks in the brilliant glow of fresh Wildcards. The portraits in the elevators are rowdier than usual and the chandeliers lining the hallways gleam with new vibrance. Energy is palpable.

Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.

And they’re coming out.

GALATEA ► Statues around the resort begin to stir. First it’s with a hazy blink, moving to the slow creak of their stiff mouths. Eventually they break off of their pedestals and out of their poses before clumsily making their way down the hallways, stone feet an emphasized thump with every step. They tremble, their cold stone bodies aching for warmth and human embrace.

► Statues around the resort have begun trying to kidnap guests for themselves. Once they’ve spotted a guest they want, they will stop at nothing to try and drag them back to their pedestal to spend forever locked in love’s embrace with them. They do not need food, drink, or rest.

► There are two ways to put a statue to rest. One is to engage the statue in battle and break off its head. Once the head is broken off, it will cease to have a spirit and crumble to dust. The second is to involve the statue in a physical act of intimacy — have a threesome with it! Or twosome, if someone is willing to watch. In the case of the second, statues will return to their pedestals satisfied upon completion.

► Statues that end up destroyed may drop a small lore hint. They will wheeze as their stone begins to disintegrate, their stone eyes dripping liquid gold tears. “I just wanted to feel alive again… I wanted to feel like you again… to be whole,” will slip past their marble lips before they crumble away.

NARCISSUS ► Gaze into the water. Admire your pretty face, the curve of your lips, the squint of your eyes... wait, are you winking at yourself?! Over the next few weeks, water-based reflections will begin acting of their own free will. They have the ability to move within the scope of the water and speak, their voices muddled but understandable.

► These reflections are extremely flirtatious and charming. They smile and bat their lashes, pretending to be innocent while drawing the original owner in closer. How about a smooch? How about more than a smooch? Their whispered promises are sweet. Salacious. Loving. Anything to get closer to you. Leaning in too close to the water is dangerous — these reflections will reach out and try to drag unsuspecting guests in. Whether this is out of malice or affection is unclear, but how can they possibly make love to you unless you join them in the water?

► Once caught, it is challenging to escape from their phantom limbs in the water alone. Several long-standing guests need to be saved from The Nest’s decorative fountain because they keep coming close to drowning after trying to kiss their reflections. Unfortunately, not every location with water is as prepared to save unsuspecting would-be lovers. No body of water is safe — not even a cup of it!

► Reflections will become increasingly indignant if they're ignored. Their sweet words will take a sharp turn into insults similar to, "I'm the better looking one between us anyway!" They may also let slip some personal secrets like, "This is why Johnny will never love you back! You're so cold, ignoring even yourself!"

Any mention of the fact that they'll end up drowning the character in question will earn a scoff and another small lore hint along the lines of, "Why are you being such a baby? Only the resort can really kill you anyhow. It's not like you'll die forever if I fuck you in here for a while!"

PANDORA’S BOX ► A spider's web threads through the resort. Invisible, but audible to those that are willing to listen. One of the Punishment Rooms on the maintenance levels is unlocked. Without the padlock on the door to keep them silent, silvery whispers drift up from the basement. A brush of thought, a tickle of an idea that won't quite go away — come down… come down and see… what is inside… don't you want to know?

► Those that heed the call and explore the maintenance levels will find the unlocked Punishment Room. The closer one comes to this door, the stronger these voices grow. They will continue calling, eagerly encouraging whoever stops in front of the door to step inside.

► The inside of this Punishment Room is plain. White walls, a single card table, and two plastic chairs. A single lightbulb offers a dusty glow. There is nothing particularly interesting upon first glance. Slowly, the door behind will creak closed until it is closed, locking itself in the process. That small lightbulb will begin to dim until everything inside the room is plunged into darkness.

► This Punishment Room senses the worst memories and fears of one of the captives inside and forces them to experience them in real time. The manifestation of memories or fears inside this room are realistic, to the point that it's impossible to discern whether or not this takes place in reality or the mind. The Punishment Room will randomly select which prisoner to dig from if there is more than one, but all guests inside will experience the room's effects.

► The door cannot be unlocked from the inside. Someone must either open it from the outside or captives must wait until the punishment is over and the door unlocks itself. How long that takes is random, ranging from a few minutes to a few hours. That’s what you get for listening to disembodied voices!

OOC NOTES

INVITES | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons

▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.

▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.

▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.

▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.

▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!

▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!

▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.

▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.

▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.

▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥

NAVIGATION • LOG • NETWORK • OOC • MEME

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Between the coughing and the wheezing and how mad he is at Bakugou, it takes Fuuta a few seconds to realize that there's a hand hovering at his back, and also he's not being yelled at any more. Which is ... confusing, mostly? Especially at first. Eyes still watering a little from the difficulty breathing, he only gives Bakugou a wary sideways glance at first, gaze skipping from his face, to his hands, then back up. And finally, after swallowing thickly, he manages to rasp out between ragged breaths, ]

-- you think I ... wanna go tellin' everyone I meet that I'm hurt?

[ This resort, and his life in general as of late, seem determined to trample it to smithereens, but he still has his pride. He's pretty sure he'd lose his goddamn mind if everyone he met treated him like some sort of poor, pitiful, wounded invalid. Recovery might be impossible, but at least he can retain a little sliver of his sanity by hiding in injuries to the best of his abilities and pretending to be normal.

Fortunately for the both of them, Bakugou's acquiescence in lowering the volume of his voice is met in kind; it's that lower growl, rather than the actual demand that he stop shouting, that has Fuuta going quiet for the moment.

There's a little cold sweat beaded at his brow, his jaw clenched as he works through the pain, but at least the worst of his coughing fit seems to have subsided, leaving him to even his breath out in hoarse rasps. And while he does flinch when Bakugou's hand first raises to start picking the bridle out of his hair, he doesn't shrink away completely; again, it's his pride that keeps him in place, because like hell he's going to give this asshole another reason to call him 'pathetic' or whatever. ]

... what's got you -- suddenly acting like a sane person, anyway. [ Of course he can't fucking behave himself fully, though. Fuuta might grudgingly permit Bakugou's help, but he still runs his mouth, muttering sullenly under his breath as he slowly unclenches his hands from his shirtfront. His chest still hurts, but at least it's starting to simmer back down to a familiar, manageable level. Mostly. ] You know it's kinda worse ... if you're actually capable of acting normal but choose not to, right? -- ow. [ Immediate karmic punishment in the form of some of his hair getting caught in the fastening of the reins. He deserves it. ]

[He even if he's angry at someone, he's still a hero, and he's going to take care of them. Whether that's telling them to shut the hell up as he carts their ass off to the medics, or in this case, forces himself to rein it in to avoid hurting the other person even more. Bakugo can't tell what the exact problem is, but he narrows it down to Fuuta's chest. The place he'd pressed a few seconds ago to get him off of that koala cling. Fuck. Now this is even more his responsibility.]

To someone who's getting your ass to a safer place, yes!

[Despite the emphasis, he's keeping his voice down. Fuuta could have said something when he was grabbing him, but considering the speed... Fuck, he hadn't even though the guy would be injured! A few minutes passed when they were arguing over the potted plants and he didn't get winded then or show signs of anything but fear and trying stay hidden. Bakugo should have looked closer, at least given a quick visual inspection. He's normally so observant.

Luckily he knows where the Broken Wing is (these names are fucking stupid, even if they keep well with the Peacock's theme). But before he takes Fuuta there, he wants to gauge whether he can make the trip safely. Watching him work through the pain is irritating, but it's better than the guy getting himself hyped up over it. Bakugo scans the hallway, scowling over the lack of a water fountain or anything to get Fuuta something to drink. Leaving him here to do so directly goes against the reason he jettisoned them all this way in the first place.

Back to the bridle.] Urusei! I'm not gonna have your shitty death on my hands. [There's your answer.] If you got time to talk, damn brat, use the stupid Watch to pull a map of this place. [If Fuuta doesn't know how, Bakugo will walk him through accessing it. He works the metal and leather out of a few locks of hair, not tugging or breaking. The more he frees, the easier it is to undo the rest. At least until Fuuta twitches wrong and his hair gets snagged.] Find the Broken Wing in relation to here.

[ Even knowing that every time he raises his voice he'll be paying for it with a fresh twinge through his diaphragm, Fuuta still can't helping shooting Bakugou a sideways glare as he barks, ]

How the hell was I -- supposed to know you were trying to help? All you were doing was giving me shit!

[ And here comes the pain. Fuuta quiets down for a few minutes, breathing through clenched teeth as he will the pain to subside. There's a faint sheen of cold sweat beaded down his jawline and dampening his hair, Bakugou might notice while wrestling with the tangled bridle, and Fuuta's shoulders are so tense that he's almost shaking before the sharp pang subsides.

A slow inhale and an even slower exhale before he rasps irritably, ] 'm not gonna die. I've been dealing with this shit for ages.

[ Another slow breath before he continues. At least he does start wearily opening the maps app on his Watch as he grumbles away, wincing when he loses a few strands of hair to the bridle. ]

S'not ... lethal or anything. Probably. I just can't run much. [ Hence his half-baked hiding spot; he'd basically collapsed into that corner with the potted plant, hoping to hide there until he could recover. ] And it usually hurts, but not this much. Not unless someone touches it.

[ To his meager credit, Fuuta doesn't shoot Bakugou a dirty look or anything with that last bit; at least he can acknowledge the prod to his chest had probably been an accident. He can, however, continue giving Bakugou shit about everything else -- namely, he pauses in his sliding around the map to give Bakugou a look, brow furrowed and eye narrowed. ]

And stop calling me a brat. How old are you? You don't look much older than me.

Why the hell else would I waste my time talking to someone in hiding?

[He could've left him where he was and stopped drawing attention to him, instead of talking to him and finally grabbing for his shoulder. Isn't it obvious someone's going to help if they're asking what's wrong?! Fuck. This kid's stupid! Maybe he should get his head checked while he's with the doctor...

As Fuuta checks his voice and gives himself some time to rest, Bakugo's eyes narrow at his chest. Winded voice, grimace of pain, the way his hand had gripped his shirt. the problem lies with that, doesn't it. Lung strain? A weak heart? He touched his chest before and it made him spring back. It had to be closer to the surface than having bad organs. Either his skin or his sternum, or the ribs surrounding it. Shit, if he opened or made a current wound worse... It's bad enough the guy's in a cold sweat.]

For ages? [Wait, so it is his lungs or something inside?] Chronic pain or did a wound not heal properly?

[Either one can at least be addressed. Hopefully. Bakugo finishes half the bridle and grips part of it in his teeth so it's not dangling and thus dragging on Fuuta's hair. His fingers continue to untangle and flick the leather and metal free of that auburn mess. Shit, what'd they do, weave this into his hair?]

You're going to the doctors regardless. [There's no compromise on that. Fuuta needs to get it looked at. Even if it's something he's dealt with for a while, Bakugo's concerned about what he did potentially worsening it. To clear his conscience, Fuuta's going to the damn doctors. Plus he wants to see if the doctors are also perverted... cause he'll get the other boy out of there if they end up being nothing but horny quacks. Hopefully it'll be a sane place, considering there's obvious danger in the hotel.

With a final, slow draw, he pulls the bridle off Fuuta's head and tosses it to the side.] I'm seventeen, ya damn brat!

[ Seventeen. Fucking seventeen. Fuuta's nose crinkles with clear irritation as he gives Bakugou a irate stare, spitting out sharply: ]

I'm twenty, you rude little shit. Over twenty. [ Says the rude little shit, to the youth who could probably break him in half with only moderate effort. ] I don't expect you to use keigo with me or anything, but stop calling me a brat. I'm older than you, I'm — was a university student. You're still in, what, high school?

[ Though, ugh. That makes him even more reluctant to require any more help from this asshole, even setting aside his absolutely atrocious attitude. He's not some weakling, he doesn't need a kid younger than him babying him. Fuuta shakes his head once the bridle's finally untangled from around his head, stiffly scuffing a hand through his hair to work out a few knots; that damn headpiece probably would have come off more easily if he hadn't knotted it up with his own panicked flailing, but whatever, it's gone now. Fuuta gives a small grunt in lieu of thanks before shrugging his shoulders a touch. ]

... I guess it's like it didn't heal right.

[ More like 'it's not healing at all because of supernatural nonsense,' but like hell he's going to get into the nitty gritty of it with this asshole. Fuuta frowns as he resumes tweaking the map on his Watch until he's mapped out a route from their current location to the medical wing. Depressingly, he's well used to getting himself there, so it shouldn't be too hard navigating, and he double-checks it once before closing it with a huff. ]

Whatever, I can handle things myself from here. [ Not really. He's still clearly winded and straining himself; his first attempt to straighten up a little to maybe get back on his feet has him wincing and setting back down, hissing another slow exhale through gritted teeth. But that doesn't stop him from looking back to Bakugou with brow furrowed, feigning as strong as he can. ] You can go back to dealing with whatever the hell it was. Or yelling at strangers, I guess. You're kind of an asshole, you know that? Don't act like it's obvious you were trying to help when you were talking to me like that.

[What the hell is with that reaction?! Bakugo bares his teeth in a snarl, irritation rising up hot inside him. This bastard's going to make a fucking issue over his age?!]

TWENTY?! You look like you're fucking fifteen, you brat! [He certainly acts like he's a 10 year old with a damn papercut. Fuuta has no right to be calling him a rude little shit when he's being just as shitty, if not more! It's very tempting to break him into pieces just to establish his superiority!] I'll call you whatever I fucking want, gaki na! [Especially since he keeps acting like one.] So what?

[University, high school, they're both in school learning for their futures. One just happened to be born a little earlier, that's all! There are probably subjects Bakugo knows more about than Fuuta! Pride prickles under his skin, suggesting he leave the "adult" to take care of his own problems. Don't adults usually do that? It makes taking care of him simultaneously more grating and pettily satisfying. Bastard's in this state and he's supposed to be the "adult" between them. (Not that he hasn't seen plenty of adults end up injured and needing aid in his life.) With the bridle gone, he can focus more on Fuuta's serious injury.]

Did you get it here?

[Once the map to the medical wing is done, Bakugo snorts at the idea of Fuuta handling it on his own. Damn idiot. Let him walk on his own and end up captured by some asshole from the arena or attacked by a lovesick statue! He doesn't give a shit if he wants to die in a fucking corner! ... Cloth shifts as the young hero pushes himself to his feet, not pulling Fuuta with him for obvious injury-related reasons. Between the straining pain flexing Fuuta's neck and his labored breathing, he's not going to make it to the Broken Wing on his own with any degree of safety.]

Shut up! You're gonna fuck your lungs if you keep talking. I'm taking you to the doctors even if I have to knock your ass out and drag you. [Carry him, but hell if he's going to say that. The only way he can carry him without messing with his chest is bridal style, so that sucks...]

Wh -- I do not?! [ Fifteen? Fifteen?! Sure, he'd been mistaken for a highschooler a few times even after starting university classes, but not a middle schooler?! Even when he needs to pause suck in a sharp inhale to ease the pain in his chest, it does nothing to hamper the clear indignity of his squawking. ] And you think I got to choose my fucking face? Fuck off with that shit!

[ At least ... for once in his goddamn life, Fuuta will be the adult in the situation and drop something instead of pettily continuing to argue over it. Because as intensely annoying as it is, being called 'brat' by some kid who hasn't even graduated highschool yet, he also has precious little breath to spare at the moment. Whatever. Like he cares what some horrible, loud-mouthed, bully of a teenager decides to call him. Was he this annoying when he was seventeen? No way. This kid has got to be a freak outlier pinnacle of being annoying. (Unfortunately, Fuuta was probably just as, if not even more, annoying as a teenager.)

Brushing aside the whole matter of ages and grades for a moment, Fuuta instead shoots Bakugou the stink-eye as he snaps hoarsely, ] And it's not my lungs, alright? You don't know shit, so stop acting like you do. [ A huffed exhale, a hard swallow, before he continues. ] ... it's a sternum fracture. Bunch of bruised ribs. Shit like that. Nothing internal. Got it before I ended up here, and a doctor gave me the diagnosis, so. It's got nothing to do with you. Doesn't even normally hurt this bad, it's just like this 'cause you shoved your goddamn hand against it.

[ That ornery grumble is accompanied by a strained grunt as Fuuta arduously hauls himself to his feet, aiming to prove that he's fine, see? He can definitely get himself to the Broken Wing without issue? -- except, no, he's definitely still in need of a bit more recovery time. His balance wobbles as his field of vision spins, and Fuuta grunts as he ends up stumbling sideways to sag against Bakugou, his posture slumped to try and protect his chest. ]

... nngh. S'just ... I was running before that, too. [ He doesn't even really know what he's arguing for or against; he just feels like he can't crumple and sit quietly. ] I just need a little longer for it to hurt a little less ...

[Have a really infuriating "nu-uh!" face from this so-called mature young man. Fuuta's momentary pain doesn't change a lick of it. All his yelling is his choice now and Bakugo's not about to coddle this brat for his own damn damage! Get him to the doctor's? Yes. Beyond that? NOPE! This guy's lucky he's not dropping his ass here and walking the fuck off even if Fuuta told him to do exactly that.] Then don't act like your face looks, dumbass!

[Yeah, someone can't do much for their baby face outside of changing it. Not recommended. But Bakugo's not going to sit here and let some idiot talk down to him just because he happens to be younger than him. With all Fuuta's squawking, he knows the "kid" doesn't have much to his name back home as far as doing anything impressive. No powers at least, so probably not running around as a police cop or military. What the hell does he do back home anyways? ... Forget it, Bakugo doesn't want to know. Once he gets Fuuta to the medical office, he can bail.]

You don't get out of breath because your ribs are broken, idiot. [You get out of breath because your ribs' breaking puts pressure and danger on your lungs! Even if his lungs are fine, other bodily damage can make breathing harder for your lungs. One way or another. Though Bakugo's suspicion about it being something chest related is confirmed. A sternum fracture? His eyes narrow at the news. They put a guy with known injuries of that caliber into the fucking master/servant bullshit? Bakugo grits his teeth when Fuuta reminds him of his literal hand in the issue, but doesn't say anything because of it. Dammit... When Fuuta stumbles against hm, that solidifies the decision.]

Put your arm around my neck. [That's all he's going to warn him, and gives Fuuta a few seconds to do just that, before scooping the guy clean off his damn feet. One strong arm around his shoulders, hand capped on one round, the other tucked under his knees to carry him bridal. His action's swift but gentle, avoiding more pressure on the ginger's chest, keeping his arms spread enough he's not forcing the guy into a curled-up crunch. Can't use his Quirk like this, but he's walked farther with greater loads.

Time to head to the Broken Wing.] If you got a problem with it, shut your mouth.

[ How many times has this kid called him some shitty insult by now? He's lost count. And while Fuuta's generally pretty happy to sling insults back and forth in the way that he and most of his internet-poisoned ilk are -- isn't this too much? What kind of highschooler is this shitty to adult strangers? (This is so extremely pot calling the kettle black that he truly deserves every iota of pain and stress being inflicted upon him during this whole interaction.) This kid's gotta be some shitty delinquent. Ugh. Truly, the worst.

And while Fuuta has every intention of snapping back some argument as soon as he's caught his breath and his field of vision stops going hazy from the tightness in his lungs, his train of thought's entirely derailed by that curt order. ]

Huh? [ Followed by a startled yelp when Bakugou just hefts him up; it's more reflex than obedience that has him putting his arms -- plural -- around Bakugou's neck to anchor himself, terrified of being dropped. ] -- you -- why the hell d'you people -- [ 'You people' being the too many individuals here who think it's just okay to pick him up for various reasons. ] -- you gotta at least warn someone before doing that!

[ Bakugou is saved the pain of any further yapping from too-close to his ears as Fuuta pauses for another break to steady himself, forcing himself to try and take deeper breaths so the pain in his chest eases off. And while he's not happy with this arrangement ... as Bakugou starts off down the hallway, Fuuta has to grudgingly admit that this is way easier to stomach than trying to make the arduous trek to the medical wing himself. The slow grind of the gears in his head is practically visible in the way his expression scrunches up nervously for a moment longer before he huffs a low sigh and loosens some of the tension in his shoulder, no longer clutching quite as tight around Bakugou's neck and resigning himself to the bridal carry. ]

... just don't drop me. [ It's not a complaint! Surely this is a reasonable point to make clear! Before Bakugou can tell him to shut up, he adds at a wary mutter, ] The hell's even your deal anyway, getting all shitty at me and saying you're trying to help. Is this some chuuni thing where you're trying to seem tough.

[A lot. Fuuta's not doing himself any favors by acting in ways that earn more of them. Bakugo's not one to be cowed by loud voices or someone yelling back at him. It only turns into a challenge he is zero intent in losing. Age doesn't matter if the blonde feels he's being insulted or looked down on. Though he's accepted he's to blame for Fuuta's current state, no one said his aid had to come all pleasant and down-feather soft. Besides, this brat's been giving him lip the entire fucking time, so he can piss off if he wants mercy from getting railed on verbally now!

Damn right Bakugo takes some petty satisfaction in shutting Fuuta up with that grab and sweep. If he didn't get his arm around his neck in time, too bad. He's in his arms now and that's where he's going to stay, even if the young hero has to knock him out with a blow to the back of his head. Luckily, that arm does go around his neck, both arms, and Bakugo turns to start down the hall, seemingly unaffected by the other guy's weight in his arms.]

Haa?! Why do you think I told you to grab on! [Does he need to spell out every blow by blow of his intentions?! FUCK NO! He warned him to hold on and that's that! Fuuta probably doesn't like it because he looks like a kid who gets picked up all the time anyways. Nar har har. He's gonna get a lot of mileage out of this. His steps are measured for the time being, voice quiet whenever his mouth is shut, so he can pay attention to Fuuta's current state. The sound of his breathing, the expression on his face, the tension in his shoulders. Signs that his injury is acting up further if Bakugo's carrying him in a bad position. Having him walk beside him would only tire the kid (KID) out more. At least he finally accepts his fate, however resignedly, and eases up the death grip around Bakugo's neck. Finally.]

As if I would. [Growled right back at him. Granted, he'll put him down if someone tries to accost them, but asides from that, he aims to carry Fuuta all the way to the medical wing.] I'm a hero, you idiot. I'm not going to let someone get fucked over by a damn hotel siccing masters and statues on them.

[Also he caused some of Fuuta's pain, so he's taking responsibility for his actions.]

[ It's honestly quite rare for Fuuta to ever run into someone who rivals him in terms of being an argumentative, shouty loudmouth; it's almost novel, being the one exasperated by all the noise for once. Enough that he only answers that admonishment with a roll of the eyes and a grudging sigh. He hadn't said anything unreasonable? And anyone would want to confirm that someone as aggressive and foul-mouthed and mean as this asshole wasn't just going to drop them? Whatever. 'He's seventeen,' Fuuta reminds himself as he quietly settles into Bakugou's arms.

He's plenty distracted by what Bakugou says next, anyway. ]

... hero?

[ He's immediately reminded of the explanation Dabi had previously given him, about the world he's from, where 'villains' and 'heroes' are actual things, not just titles arbitrarily assigned to people. Where becoming a 'hero' is an actual aspiration and a job. Is that what this kid means? Is he possibly from the same place that Dabi and his allies are?

Bakugou might notice Fuuta giving him an uncertain look for a moment, lips parted to say something. And while he does almost blurt out some thoughtless question at first -- he catches himself at the last moment, swallowing back the words that had reached the tip of his tongue. No, he should probably be a little careful. Even if this kid seems way too hot-headed and loud to be that sharp, and even if there's a chance he's connecting the wrong dots here, he still doesn't want to risk starting any trouble by saying the wrong thing. Dabi had categorized himself (and Shigaraki and Sako) as 'villains,' after all. If this kid really is from the same world as them, then there's a chance of friction there, right? ]

What, like ... a superhero? [ That said, Fuuta isn't the best liar around; his delivery's definitely a little awkward, and even caught in Bakugou's arms like this, his posture does stiffen a touch. The only saving grace here, probably, is that some of his trepidation is real, and thus more convincing. ] You sure don't act like a superhero, what with all the shit-talking and shouting. ... is that why you have that weird superpower? Whatever it was.

[HA! Brat lost! That eye roll and exhale are all the claimants of victory Bakugo needs. Though in response, he's not shouting at Fuuta as he carries the man through the halls. His pace is solid, yet there's a guard to his steps that suggests an unwillingness to blitz across the resort for the medical room. Between some "master" roving around looking for a servant and the statues attempting to capture people they come across, there are annoying obstacles. Ones he can blast through the walls if necessary, but that requires putting Fuuta down and handling the issue rather than dropping or throwing him over his shoulder.

Stay out of his damn way so he can get this done with.]

Are you ears not working now?

[Bakugo narrows his eyes as he stops in the entry to a hub. Not the busy one they met in, but there are still people in it. No statues from the looks of it. Forward. Eyes ahead, not wanting to give anyone reason to question him or his cargo. He's already met two people who had different reactions to his being a hero. One eager and awed by the idea, the other cynical and bitter towards it. Fuuta's voice sounds different from the two, almost guarded but tinged with familiarity. As if he's remembering something the word brought to mind.

A brief flick down of red eyes catches the dubious expression in Fuuta's gaze, his lips half open, the slight tension of his throat to say something before he hauls back on his proverbial reins. It's less the physical reaction and more the way his voice hangs that tips Bakugo off on some kind of resonance. Hn. There are a few reasons he can come up with, but he opts not to say anything at the moment as he passes into another hallway.]

Aa. Heroes in my world use their Quirks to combat villains, people who use their Quirks for selfish reasons, and rescue civilians from disasters. Battle, rescue, evacuation are the main focus of hero operations. [Yeah, he felt the way Fuuta tensed in his arms. It all but confirms what he thinks, but he'll wait for the brat to incriminate himself more, or bark at him in a bit. It's really not his fucking business anyways.]

Haa?! What the fuck do you think I'm doing right now?! You want me to drop you?! [Or are heroes only people who sweet talk to fragile little brats?! ... And yes, Fuuta, many people have commented on Bakugo's villain-like behavior and attitude.] That's my Quirk, Explosion. 80% of the population in my world have a Quirk.

[ And there it is, the word that confirms his suspicions. 'Quirks.' It's such a strange and specific term for superpowers that he can't imagine two separate worlds with heroes and villains both using it. So -- this kid's probably from the same place as Dabi and his allies, then? Ugh. Maybe that's bad. Maybe it's dangerous. Maybe he should ask about that, later.

Later, though! For now, he's jolted out of those grim thoughts by the threat of getting dropped. Fuuta promptly gives a nervous squirm, and -- sorry Bakugou, but you played yourself -- tightens the squeeze of his arms around Bakugou's neck in hopes of saving himself if the guy does try to drop him. ]

No! Are you insane?! [ It's barked nervously even as he tugs himself up a little closer against Bakugou's chest. Is it embarrassing? Yes. But it's still preferable to the prospect of getting dumped on the floor, and this kid seems like the type who'd actually pull some shitty move like that, so. ] You know, even doctors have to worry about a thing called 'bedside manner.' If you're really serious about being a superhero that's supposed to be helping people, you should probably work on that attitude of yours, or you're going to get sued out the ass someday.

[ Bitch bitch bitch, gripe gripe gripe. Though he's also sure he has a salient point to make, in this case. What kind of hero acts this shitty towards everyone? ]

... 'sides, you know you're not that special here, right. Practically everyone here seems to have some sort of special bullshit they can do. Magic, or whatever.

[ He can't help sounding ... just a little bitter as he says that last part. Most of the time, he's resigned himself to being the sole normal human stuck in this madhouse. But sometimes, like now, it does rankle at him, feeling so powerless and weak in comparison to everyone. ]

[The term "Quirk" has a bittersweet story behind it if Fuuta ever wants to ask about that. But this guy's reaction to his words more or less tells Bakugo he's heard of them before. Meaning he's met one of the other five from his world. Depending on which side he's interacted with... Mah, it's no concern for him. Two out of those three make it obvious they're scummy people. If Fuuta wants to interact with them, that's his risk.

Right now, he wants to get the guy to the medical wing and get him treated. The muscles in his neck tighten as Fuuta squeezes his arms around it even harder, earning a growl from the blonde as he crosses the open area.] You trying to strangle me or something?! [No, he's trying not to get dropped! Bakugo curls his arms a little more around the other guy's shoulders and under his legs, suggesting he's not about to follow through on that.

He would dump him, were situations different. They make it into the next hallway without any altercation. No statues or yelling masters, just the occasional curious glance wondering why this guy's running around with another guy in his arms. Is it cute? Maybe. They'd be risking death if anyone bothered to say that to him...] Like hell I will! If they don't want my help, then they can stay in trouble and die, dammit! [Right, saying that after he basically scooped Fuuta up and carried him off even when the guy rejected his help.] I don't have to change myself for them; my results speak for themselves.

[Ironically, Best Jeanist, Aizawa-sensei, and Midnight-sensei would agree with Fuuta wholeheartedly, but none of them have been able to do much to curb Bakugo's attitude. Alas... He scoffs the notion of being "special" in this place. Ducking his head a bit, he skirts around a trolley cart in the hallway, not clunking Fuuta's feet or butt against it in the process.] Aa. I know a lot of people have powers here. But I can kick all their fucking asses if I have to.

[So he believes, willing to prove it if he needs to. Or wants to. Fuuta's tone pings something inside him, a bitter sorrow over events in his past. Someone who has no powers...a Quirkless someone.] What did you do in your world?

[ The ego on this fucking guy. Maybe under different circumstances — namely, if he wasn’t in the guy’s arms, getting every retort practically shouted into his ears — he’d have some grudging respect for that level of brash confidence. But alas, here he is, being directly subject to all that attitude, so he mutters under his breath, ]

Hope someone does sue the pants off you someday when you’re older. Then you’ll know I was right.

[ Well at least he’s clearly feeling a little better if he can spare the breath for such shitty lip. Fuuta also cranes his neck to look around as they turn a corner, breathing a tiny sigh of relief at how smoothly this trip is going so far, if he can ignore the stray glances and curious stares being cast his way. ]

Huh? Me? [ A frown as he settles back down, not sounding particularly hyped about that question. ] I told you. I was a university student — second year. Just a regular student. Dunno if there’s normal schools where you’re from, but I just … studied. Went to lectures and stuff.

[ There is not an ounce of enthusiasm or love of learning to be found in his delivery! Fuuta mostly sounds resigned and a little defensive, very much expecting Bakugou to gloat about how boring that sounds. (It is.) ]

Unlike you, I was destined for the regular job market. Probably graduate and end up becoming some salaryman working some soul-sucking job. Like basically everyone does.

You wanna repeat that, brat?

[Not the question asking for an affirming answer. It's more a warning to shut the hell up. He's not going to get sued for anything! Whoever ends up with his attitude asked for it first, dammit! Whether it's a nosy reporter or some idiot demanding his attention. Bakugo shoulders open a door and starts down the stairs, careful to mind his step and keep Fuuta balanced in his arms.

Luckily it's only two flights down, so they're not in the stairwell for long. Beats going down the elevators Bakugo's been repeatedly warned not to use.] How long have you been in this place anyways?

[Might as well get that question answered as well. Fuuta sounded like he had some experience with the resort already, but from the people he's met, Bakugo figures their "group" started around six months ago. That's where he bases his expectations of when people began to arrive, at least those from this wave.

Figures Fuuta wouldn't be keen on the question. Grumpy.] I know that! You weren't majoring or focusing in anything? [From the droning sound of his voice, he can guess the answer. Even if Fuuta did have a focus, he obviously had no passion for it. Why would someone just "do" school with no drive? Tch... Then he has to go off and dive into a pathetic self-misery prediction of his own life.] Fuck your "destiny", idiot. You're the one holding yourself back.

[And if that's true, he has zero sympathy for someone who gave up before they even tried.]

U.A. has different departments: the Hero course, Management course, Support course, and General Education course, with compulsory subjects required each year. [There are "normal" schools, but they usually focus on one of those four areas, or a combination of them, depending on the size, focus, and scope of the school itself. With general preschool, elementary, grade, and middle schools before high.] Don't you have anything you want to do?

[ He’d cast his gaze aside after saying his (dour) part, not looking forward to seeing how Bakugou might look at him. Their passing surroundings give him plenty to look at anyway, and he’d perked up slightly when they’d entered a familiar stretch hallway. Not far to the medical wing, now, and he won’t have this guy shouting in his face any more.

Of course they need to exchange one last round of “pleasantries” though. ]

Haa? [ Fuuta’s expression is incredulous when he looks back to Bakugou. And he’s only being 80% derogatory — 20% genuinely taken aback — when he asks, ] Aren’t you kinda old to be talking like that? Like — about following your dreams.

[ It’s a privilege to be able to say that kind of drivel, he supposes, and Fuuta gives a long-suffering sigh like he’s talking to a much-younger child. Even his tone of voice is tinted with deliberate, weary patience. ]

Look, it’s normal for most people to give up on “what they want” and be more realistic. You think people become salarymen and office workers because it’s their dream? Most people do what they gotta to earn a living. I’m studying infotech, so I’ll probably end up doing tech support from some black company just so I can survive.

[ Ugh. Even if this is something he resigned himself to years ago, it still feels shitty to say out loud. Maybe it’s why he goes a step further than he knows he should, giving Bakugou a frown as he takes a more personal angle: ]

You know, you probably wouldn’t be talking like that if you didn’t have that superpower of yours. If you had something weaker, or didn’t have one, or if you had one but were too poor to train, or whatever — you really think you’d still be talking about being a hero and all that? Don't think you can talk for everyone, when you just happened to get lucky. Not everyone gets a chance like that.

[Good thing he's not bothering to look at him. Bakugo's focused more on walking through the halls and not stepping on anything or making a wrong turn. If he glances at anything, it's the map on Fuuta's watch, though he's expecting the guy to keep tabs on that. He has a general direction of where to go. At least the surroundings look familiar to the brat in his arms.

What, did Fuuta really think he'd be able to say that without getting some kind of response? Dumbass.]

And you're too damn young to give up like a shitty old man! [You wanna play the age card, he'll slap it right back in your face with extra force!] Doing what you wanna do isn't reliant on your stupid age.

[There's nothing "privileged" about encouraging someone to reach higher than they're currently at. That's the shit thing about rock bottom; the only way left to go is up. And you can always do "better" than you're doing now. Fuuta's tone of voice earns a dark scowl from the blonde above him.]

If that's what you're resigned to do, then do it until you die. But don't mope and bitch about your lot in life if you haven't done shit to improve it. [And certainly don't go blaming it on someone else. Villains do that a lot and it pisses him off! Fuuta's not a villain, but his dour outlook on life and continual low image of himself is fucking lame. The guy's his own defeatist worst enemy! Hiding behind excuses like realistic and survival and normal.

Yeah, now Fuuta's touching on more sensitive angles and Bakugo shifts his arms so he doesn't crush him.]

You idiot. Using "luck" as an excuse is just running away from your own lack of effort. I wouldn't need a Quirk to tell you you're being pathetic. I've known Quirkless people who refused to give up their dreams of being heroes, and poor people who trained themselves without any money to get stronger.

[A blazing glare jerks downward, his voice hard and intense.]

I've worked just as hard as anyone, if not more, to be as strong and successful as I am! Don't you dare look down on me or anyone else when you refuse to even pull your own head up!

[ Christ, this kid's getting on his nerves. He'd been listening to those rebukes with an increasingly sour look his face, and Fuuta just wrinkles his nose at those last words before snapping, ]

Are you fucking done? Acting like you've got it all figured out?

[ It's uniquely frustrating, hearing this sort of idealistic nonsense coming from someone who probably does have it all. How else could he maintain this much egotistical optimism? He'd bet anything that this loser's never had his hopes squelched before, has no idea how lucky he's been. ]

Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is? Telling people delusional shit like 'you can just do it if you believe in yourself' and 'hard work will let you accomplish anything'? Are you gonna be there to provide backup if someone gets their hopes up and then gets crushed, huh? [ The bitter edge to his voice definitely stems from personal feelings, obviously in the way his nails briefly dig in where he's still grudgingly holding onto Bakugou's shoulders, and Fuuta glowers for a moment before averting his gaze. ] Feels good gassing people up, doesn't it. Since you get to pretend you're being such a big hero, saying all that inspirational bullshit. But it's not your responsibility if things go bad, either. It's all their fault they're not good enough. Works out real good for you, doesn't it.

[ It's followed by a hard click of the tongue before Fuuta shoves at Bakugou's chest, trying to disentangle himself from that bridal carry. Up ahead, just a short length down the hallway, there's a sign on the wall -- BROKEN WING. ]

Whatever. We're here, so put me down, now. You can fuck off and pat yourself on the back for being such a good hero.

[ His chest still aches pretty bad, but he's at least caught his breath enough to talk, so he figures walking down the short stretch of hallway should be manageable. Probably. ]

[As if this brat isn't any worse! Bakugo could care less what kind of face Fuuta's making; if he can't take the correction and criticism, he shouldn't have opened his damn mouth before. Goddammit, he's still wanting to go at it?!]

Who the fuck's acting?

[Fuuta doesn't know a shit thing about his history. What struggles he's had to deal with, or how he decided to fight against reality smacking him in the face. Bakugo doesn't have some sob story in his past, nothing to blame his own failings on. But like hell is he going to let either of those things excuse people for being cowards or assholes.]

Blah blah blah. You're the delusional one, senpai. [Voice dripping sarcasm. Fuuta's had to struggle with those very walls he's throwing up now. More excuses and protests. Belief and hard work will get someone a lot farther than giving up and doing nothing.

He lets Fuuta ramble on, eyes narrowing as he hears similar words, bitter regrets, that plenty of villains and disillusioned people have snarled, spat, grumbled, and yelled at the heroes who are trying to help them. The shit part is, not all of it's exaggerated or lies.

Though none of that has any holding on what's happening at the moment. When Fuuta starts shoving at him, Bakugo lets him go, first by the legs to swing down to his feet, then his shoulders as the next push sends the ginger rebounding away from him. Passing people up, pretending, responsibility, that's a lot of shit Fuuta's projecting onto a person and world he knows nothing about.

Standing back, Bakugo lowers his arms, not intending to follow him to the medical hall. It wouldn't do any good to point out how responsibility is what carried Fuuta all the way here; at this point, he'll only twist it into Bakugo's arrogance or pity. Not worth his damn time to argue that level of self-depreciation. This brat really has it out for the world. Probably to avoid recognizing something harsher.] You can't even see how hard you're breaking yourself down.

[Or maybe he can and that enrages him. Someone who no longer believes in his own strength. Prompting him to move in any way beyond his current plateau only pisses him off. Tch... His chest isn't the only thing broken. Sounds like he's given up completely.

Bakugo won't follow him. Only stays where he is and waits to make sure someone takes Fuuta in before he leaves.]

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TDM 05

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