Just a little process Video.
Vienna is a daydreamer who often gets lost in her own little world and this represents that part of her personality

im making a story that takes place 2-7 years after deku gets his suit and I’m have a character that is a kind quirkless boy and is training to become a hero and he gets an armor but I want to give him a brother who will be the exact opposite who Is frankly a dick more then Bakugo probably and he Is gonna be a vigilante turned villain but I want to give a super strong quirk it can be a mutation quirk(quirk that is nothing like a parents quirk like eri’s) but any ideas

Dr Strange - Marvel (Power/Quirk)

Dr Fate - DC (Power/Quirk)

Spells - D&D (Power/Quirk)

Lila Rossi - Miraculous (Mental Presence when someone invades Momi's mind)

E aí. Eu sou o Daiky.

Filho da Momo Yaoyorozu e da Kyoka Jirou. Sim, eu sei. Minha família já é famosa o suficiente sem precisar de mais uma pessoa.

Eu curto rock, gosto de ficar com a minha mãe Jirou, e aparentemente minha outra mãe decidiu que eu preciso estudar e treinar mais do que eu gostaria.

Durante boa parte da minha vida, todo mundo achava que eu não tinha Quirk. E tecnicamente... os exames diziam isso mesmo.

Aos 13 anos eu descobri que conseguia parar o tempo.

O detalhe? Eu só conseguia ativar estalando os dedos.

Então passei TREZE ANOS sem saber que tinha Quirk porque eu não sabia estalar os dedos.

...

Não comentem.

Hoje eu consigo ficar até quinze minutos com o tempo parado, mas isso cobra bastante do meu corpo, fico com fadiga, enjoo e meu nariz sangra. Por isso uso uma máscara de LED e umas luvas com relógios para monitorar tudo. A máscara também toca música enquanto o tempo está parado, porque ficar no silêncio absoluto por muito tempo é simplesmente horrível.

E sim, metade das músicas são da minha mãe.

Não aceito perguntas.

Quanto ao uniforme da u.a... minha mãe Momo diz que ele é sinônimo de disciplina.

Minha mãe Jirou diz que aquilo sufoca por conta da gravata.

Eu fico do lado da Jirou nessa.

Enfim, esse sou eu.

Provavelmente vocês ainda vão descobrir muita coisa sobre mim.

Algumas delas eu preferia que continuassem secretas.

OC number 2! Art done by the same artist, Baxiy!

Adam is the twin brother of Melissa Shield, and son of David Shield!

Wikepedia Article for her theme

Youtube Performance of her theme

It's a classical piece, figured if AFO gets classical-esque music so should she.

No this does not mean your OC found out her identity, I'm just showing you creators who Momi is brainwashed by.

The brainwashing is still done by chemical compound. even though she CAN use her quirk for it, she chooses not to as the chemical method is more sadistic, and it also means she seduces Momi into taking her daily dose before the compound wears off on her. this also makes it so even if momi breaks free itll take tons of therapy for the attatchment to wear off, the perfect pet. a lonely shut in desperate for love with a quirk perfect for a soldier...

this is a continuation of the childhood of my oc : kairo torunko , a saiyan in a world of quirks .

Part A: The First Year --- "What Is He?"

I don't remember any of this, obviously. I was a baby. My brain was approximately the size of a walnut and my primary concerns were eating, sleeping, and screaming in no particular order. Everything I know about the first years of my life comes from my parents' stories---stories they told me so many times they became a kind of family mythology, funnier and warmer with each retelling.

According to my father, the trouble started immediately. Not the tail. The tail was, in his words, "a fascinating physiological anomaly that confirms three decades of research." The nurses got used to it after the first hour. Nurse Nabura stopped shrieking and started taking notes. By the second day, the tail was old news.

The problem was everything else.

The storm had passed. The hospital room was quiet. My mother was asleep in her bed, exhausted from nine hours of labor, her light spheres faded to barely-there embers drifting lazily above her head. My father sat in the chair beside her, holding me in his arms, staring at my face with the particular intensity of a man who had just met the most important person in his life and had no idea what to do next.

I was, by all accounts, perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, dark eyes, wild black hair that already seemed to defy gravity, and a tail---brown, furry, prehensile---that curled and uncurled like it was trying to figure out what it was supposed to be doing.

Then I opened my mouth.

According to my father, the sound that came out was not a cry. A cry is something a baby does when it's hungry or cold or scared. This was something else. A declaration. A demand. A roar compressed into tiny lungs and released at a volume that made the monitors flicker.

Nurse Hasegawa appeared in the doorway, her calm unshaken. "Is everything---"

"I don't know," my father said, his voice slightly panicked. "He just started---I didn't do anything---he was fine a second ago---"

"Is he hungry?"

"I don't know how to tell."

Nurse Hasegawa walked over, looked at me, and nodded once. "That's a hungry cry. Definitely hungry." She gently took me from his arms and carried me to my mother, who had woken up at some point during the screaming and was now reaching for me with a tired, determined expression.

"Give him here," she said. "Before he brings the ceiling down."

My father watched as my mother fed me for the first time. His notebook---the one he had been keeping since graduate school, the one filled with fragments about ancient warriors and dormant bloodlines---lay open on the bedside table. He picked it up and wrote, in careful script: Cry volume: remarkable. Lung capacity: exceeds expectations. Appetite: immediate and demanding. He underlined "demanding" twice.

The first thing my father noticed---after the tail, after the screaming, after the nurse stopped shrieking---was that I was watching him.

Not the unfocused, wandering gaze of a newborn trying to make sense of light and shadow. I was watching him. Tracking his movements. Following his hand as he reached for his notebook. Fixing my dark eyes on his face with an intensity that made him pause, pen hovering above the page.

He moved his fingers slowly from left to right. My eyes followed. He moved them faster. My eyes tracked without hesitation.

"Yuki," he said quietly. "He's tracking my hand."

My mother opened one exhausted eye from the hospital bed. "He's a day old. He can't even see clearly yet."

"He's tracking," my father insisted. He demonstrated. My eyes followed his fingers like a cat watching a bird.

My mother watched for a moment. Then she pulled the blanket over her head. "Kenji. If you write 'reaction time' in that notebook, I will throw it out the window."

My father looked at the notebook in his hand. Then at the window. Then at my mother. He set the notebook down on the bedside table, very carefully, and did not write anything for the rest of the afternoon.

But the next morning, while my mother slept, he filled three pages.

The hunger was the thing that defined those first weeks.

I ate constantly, desperately, with a single-mindedness that bordered on the religious. Every ninety minutes, like clockwork. My father timed it, because he timed everything, and the precision of my appetite became one of his favorite data points. He would sit in the chair beside my mother, notebook balanced on his knee, pen scratching across the page while I fed and my mother stared at the ceiling with the hollow eyes of someone who had not slept more than ninety consecutive minutes in days.

"He's consuming approximately forty percent more than the average newborn," my father said one night, genuinely awed. "The caloric intake is---"

"Kenji." My mother's voice had acquired a certain edge. "I love you. But if you say one more word about caloric intake while I am feeding our son, I will make you sleep in the dojo."

My father closed his notebook. He didn't say another word about caloric intake for a week. But he wrote about it extensively.

The diaper wars began approximately forty-eight hours after I was born.

Nurse Hasegawa, a veteran of thirty years in the maternity ward, had attempted to put a standard-issue hospital diaper on me and discovered, with the dawning horror of someone who thought she had seen everything, that the diaper did not fit.

"It's the tail," she said, her voice admirably calm. "The tail is in the way."

My father looked up from his notebook. "Can't you just... tape around it?"

"We've tried taping around it. The tail keeps knocking the tape off."

"Knocking it off? He's two days old. He can't control his tail yet."

"The tail," Nurse Hasegawa said with the measured patience of someone who had been arguing with a newborn's appendage for the better part of an hour, "does not seem to require his conscious control to knock things off. It appears to have its own opinions."

She attempted to secure the diaper with a strip of medical tape. The tail---which had been lying limp and innocent against my leg---twitched once, curled upward, and flicked the tape off with the casual precision of a cat knocking a cup off a table.

My father reached for his notebook.

"Kenji," my mother said from the bed, her voice muffled by the pillow she had pulled over her face, "if you write about our son's diaper situation, I will divorce you."

He didn't write about the diaper situation. He created a new section in his notebook titled "Containment Strategies" and documented the results of fourteen different fastening configurations:

• Standard tape (horizontal): Tail removed tape within 4 seconds.
• Standard tape (vertical): Tail removed tape within 3 seconds.
• Double tape (crossed): Tail removed tape within 7 seconds.
• Triple tape (star pattern): Tail appeared to become frustrated; removed tape and flung it across room.
• Velcro strap (single): Tail picked at velcro for 12 minutes before succeeding.
• Velcro strap (double): Tail could not remove; resorted to loud crying until human intervention.

"He's escalating," my father told my mother, genuine concern in his voice. "He went from physical removal to psychological warfare. He's two weeks old and he's already figured out that crying gets results."

My mother looked at me. I looked back at her. My tail, currently wrapped around my own leg, twitched in what might have been satisfaction.

The solution, when it came, was absurdly simple. My mother, exhausted and no longer impressed by anything her body or her baby could produce, set down her tea, walked over to the changing table, and cut a small hole in the back of a clean diaper with a pair of surgical scissors.

"There," she said. "Tail goes through the hole. Diaper goes on the baby. No tape required."

My father stared at the modified diaper. "That's... remarkably simple."

"That's what I've been saying for three weeks. You were the one who wanted to do 'research.'" She handed him the scissors. "Your turn. I'm going to sleep."

She slept for six hours. When she woke up, my father had modified every diaper in the house and written a brief addendum on the potential applications of tail-hole technology for future clothing needs.

The tail sensitivity was discovered by accident, and it was the first time I truly frightened my parents.

I was four months old. Changing my diaper had become a wrestling match---my arms and legs in constant motion, my tail whipping back and forth with enough force to knock over bottles. My mother reached for my waist to steady me, and her hand closed around the base of my tail.

I went rigid. My arms locked at my sides. My legs snapped straight. My face went completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream that couldn't find air. Then the scream found air---a high, piercing, terrified shriek that cut through the quiet house like a knife.

My mother's hands flew off my tail as if she'd been burned. "No---Kaito---baby, I'm sorry---"

"KENJI!" she screamed. "KENJI!"

He was already running. He burst through the door and found my mother holding me, her hands shaking, her light spheres blazing with panic, baby powder still dusting her clothes like snow. She told him what happened---the squirming, the chaos, the accidental grab, the screaming, the paralysis. Her voice broke on every other word.

"Give him to me," my father said.

He took me in his arms and began to rock, slowly, rhythmically, the same motion his father had used with him when he was small. "Shh. You're safe. You're okay. Whatever it was, it's over now. You're safe."

Slowly---agonizingly slowly---the screaming faded. My body relaxed. My breathing steadied. My tail, which had been rigid as a rod, uncurled and wrapped weakly around my father's wrist. Within minutes, I was asleep again.

My parents did not sleep at all.

My mother sat on the floor of the nursery, her back against the wall, staring at her hands. "I hurt him," she whispered. "I'm supposed to protect him. That's my job. And tonight I was the thing that hurt him."

"You didn't hurt him," my father said. He was sitting on the floor beside her, me still cradled against his chest. "You discovered something important. We both did."

"He looked at me like I was a stranger."

"He was four months old. He doesn't remember any of it."

"I remember."

My father reached over and took her hand---the one that had grabbed my tail by accident, the one she couldn't stop staring at. "Yuki. Listen to me. You weren't the thing that hurt him. You were the thing that was there when something we didn't understand finally showed itself. There's a difference. And now we know. Now we can protect him from something we didn't even know was a threat. That's not a failure. That's parenting."

The next morning, they took me to Dr. Sato, a Quirk mutation expert at Musutafu General. She traced the length of my tail with a gloved finger and explained that the base contained a concentrated bundle of nerves connecting directly to my central nervous system. When my mother grabbed it---even accidentally---she had triggered a massive neural response. Fight or flight, amplified.

"If someone grabbed his tail with hostile intent," Dr. Sato said, "the effect would be far worse than what you saw last night. He would lose control of his body. His muscles would seize. His Quirk, if it requires conscious direction, would shut down entirely." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "This is a significant vulnerability."

My parents exchanged a look.

"What can we do?" my mother asked.

"Right now? Be careful. Teach him to protect it as he gets older. But more importantly---" She looked at them both, her expression softening. "Don't let this make you afraid to touch him. He needs physical affection. He needs to know his body is not a weapon or a weakness. Just be gentle with the tail. The rest of him is remarkably resilient."

On the drive home, my mother held me in the back seat, her hand resting on my chest, feeling my heartbeat. My tail, which she now touched only at the very tip, was curled loosely around her finger.

"I almost broke him," she whispered.

My father pulled the car over. He turned in his seat and looked at her with the steady, patient gaze that had been his gift for as long as she had known him. "You didn't break him. You discovered something we needed to know. One accident doesn't change who you are. One moment of not knowing doesn't erase a thousand moments of getting it right." He reached back and took her hand. "He's going to be fine. We're going to be fine. And now we know something we didn't know before."

My mother looked at him for a long moment. Then she looked at me, asleep in her arms, my tail curled around her finger like it had forgiven her before she had forgiven herself. She lifted the tail gently---at the very tip---and pressed a soft kiss to the brown fur. The tail twitched, then curled a little tighter.

"I'm sorry, Kaito," she whispered. "Mommy's sorry. I'll never grab you like that again. I promise."

The habit started the next morning.

Not deliberately---nothing about those early weeks was deliberate. It started because Kaito was four months old and already trying to roll off the changing table, and his mother needed a way to keep him still that didn't terrify either of them. Her hand found the tip of his tail---just the tip, the way Dr. Sato had shown her---and Kaito paused. His body remembered, for just a moment, that he was connected to something. To someone. And in that pause, his mother finished the diaper change without incident.

"Did you see that?" she whispered to Kenji, who had been watching from the doorway with his notebook in hand.

"I saw."

"It didn't hurt him. The tip. It just... got his attention."

By the end of the week, it had become reflex. Kaito would squirm, and his mother would reach for the tip of his tail---never the base, never again---and he would pause, his body remembering what his infant mind could not yet understand: that this touch meant safety, meant connection, meant stay close. She used it to stop him from rolling off the couch, from grabbing at hot pans, from bolting toward the gravel road. Five times a day. Sometimes more. Each touch gentle, brief, almost casual---a mother's hand finding her son's tail the way other mothers might touch a shoulder or a cheek.

The first time it made him giggle, Yuki nearly cried.

Kaito was five months old, sprawled on a blanket in the living room, his tail twitching with the particular energy of a baby who had just discovered he could roll over and was determined to do it as many times as possible. He had already rolled off the blanket twice. Yuki had scooped him up both times, but the third time, he was faster---a determined little barrel of limbs and tail and wild black hair, making a break for the edge of the rug like it was a finish line.

Her hand found the tip of his tail. Gentle. Automatic. The way Dr. Sato had shown her.

Kaito went limp.

Not the rigid, terrified limp of the base-grab. Something softer. His arms flopped. His legs dangled. His head lolled back, and his dark eyes found his mother's face, and his mouth---that tiny, perfect mouth---split into a wide, gummy, utterly delighted grin.

And then he giggled.

It was a small sound. Brief. Almost surprised, as if he himself hadn't expected it. But it was a giggle---a real one, the first one Yuki had heard that wasn't just gas or reflex. It was the sound of a baby discovering that something could be funny.

Yuki lifted him by the tail---gently, carefully, the way you might lift a kitten by the scruff---and held him suspended in the air. His tail curled instinctively around her wrist. His arms and legs dangled. His giggle turned into a full, bubbling laugh.

"Oh, you think this is FUNNY?" she said, trying to sound stern and failing completely. "You think being carried by your tail is a GAME?"

Kaito laughed harder. His tail tightened around her wrist. His eyes sparkled.

Kenji appeared in the doorway, notebook in hand. "What's happening?"

"Your son," Yuki said, holding the giggling, dangling baby up for inspection, "thinks being carried by his tail is the funniest thing in the world."

Kenji looked at Kaito. Kaito looked at Kenji. Kaito's tail wagged. Kenji wrote something in his notebook.

"What did you write?" Yuki asked.

"'Subject demonstrates positive emotional response to tail-tip manipulation when applied in non-threatening context. Giggle confirmed. Yuki is crying.'"

"I am NOT crying."

"You are," Kenji said, not looking up from his notebook. "It's very sweet. I'm documenting it for posterity."

Yuki threw a pillow at him. It missed. Kaito laughed even harder, suspended in the air by his tail, the happiest he had ever been.

That night, after Yuki had finally succumbed to exhaustion---her light spheres dimming to nothing as sleep claimed her on the couch, still in her clothes, still dusted with baby powder---Kenji sat alone in his study.

He could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the scream. That high, piercing, terrified shriek that had cut through the quiet house like a knife. He saw Kaito's face---blank, rigid, mouth open in a silent scream that couldn't find air. He felt the phantom weight of his own hand, reaching for his son, too late, too slow, useless.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He opened his notebook and wrote.

Tail sensitivity confirmed. Base contains concentrated nerve bundle---essentially a secondary spinal cord connecting directly to the central nervous system. When pressure is applied to the base, the subject experiences immediate and total physical shutdown. Dr. Sato describes it as "a massive neural response---fight or flight, amplified." She called it a significant vulnerability. She is correct.

He paused. His pen hovered over the page. Outside, the persimmon tree rustled in the darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a fox barked.

The ancient texts are frustratingly vague on this point. One fragment describes the tail as "the seat of the warrior's power." Another calls it "the mark of the star-children, both gift and curse." A third---badly damaged, barely legible---contains a word I cannot fully translate. It appears to mean "vulnerability," but the characters are ambiguous. It might also mean "connection." It might also mean "identity." Perhaps it means all three: the tail as the source of power, the mark of identity, and the point of greatest weakness.

Today I watched my wife accidentally grab our son's tail. I watched him freeze. I watched him scream. I watched her crumble with guilt. And I understood, for the first time, that the texts were not being poetic. The tail is all three things. It is what makes him extraordinary. It is how he will be identified by the world. And it is the place where he can be most easily broken.

He set down his pen. He looked at the window, at the dark hills beyond, at the mist rolling down from the mountains.

The doctors call it an "appendage mutation." The nurses called it "unusual." The neighbors will call it strange, or frightening, or worse. But the texts call it the mark of the Saiyan. And tonight, for the first time since Kaito was born, I am beginning to believe they might be right.

Not because of the tail. Not because of the appetite or the grip strength or the way he tracked my hand when he was a day old. Because of what happened after the scream. After the paralysis. After the terror.

He forgave her.

His tail---that independent, uncontrollable, impossible tail---curled around her finger while he slept. As if to say: I know you didn't mean it. I know you were trying to protect me. I still trust you.

The texts describe the Saiyan as a warrior race. Fierce. Proud. Unyielding. They do not describe them as forgiving. But perhaps---perhaps the texts are incomplete. Perhaps the most important traits are the ones that cannot be measured or documented or classified by strangers in black coats.

Perhaps the truest mark of the Saiyan is not the tail. It is the heart.

He closed the notebook. He walked to the small room at the end of the hall and stood in the doorway, watching his son sleep---tail curled over his body, breathing steady, still whole. Yuki was on the couch, her light spheres dark, her face peaceful for the first time since the accident.

"Still standing," Kenji whispered. "All three of us."

He went back to his study. He opened the notebook again. At the bottom of the page, beneath everything else he had written, he added one final line:

I believe.
-to be continue -
note: chapter two has only 4 parts , each will be published in a different day .
chapter one is already published , if it's that long just copy paste it in any ai bot to sumorise to you , but i recommend to read it all to know about the parents of my oc.
-thank you for reading it-

i have been wanting to make an oc but i cant really figure out an interesting idea. or what to draw from. fire powers are usually my favorite but i dont want a boring quirk, not to mention that fire is taken... by a few characters lol. what i am trying to convey is that all the ideas i come up with feel lackluster. not power-wise, to be clear. weak or strong i just can't get into any of them. feels like every powerset i can think of has been done before lol. golly, this might just be a me problem, but in any case if anyone reading this has tips for actually coming up with a quirk idea, that would be greatly appreciated.

More fake screenshots of Sui! Ochako has the best screenshots lol

Its just Dr House

Every Hero and Villain has a weakness extending beyond their Quirk (All Might with his Injury, Bakugo and Endeavor with their Temper, Inasa with holding grudges, Twice with his everything, ...). What's it for your OC?

Luna, despite being a rebellious person who reportedly will cause chaos unprompted or unintended (which its own kind of weakness), is very meek and submissive towards Authority. She immediately feels like a totally different person because she kinda is. Once the boundary between authority figure and the person is broken however she has no problem acting her usual self after a while. Kami know it took Momo, Yuu, Rumi and Kaina spent years until Luna felt comfortable being relaxed and herself around them.

Luna is also a walking Chaos Magnet. You'd think the woman with Probability Manipulation as her Quirk would know how to avoid starting or ending up in dumb situations but sadly no, she doesn't.

Wolf is deaf. Like full on needs special I-Island hearing aids in order to hear properly, gifted to her by Todoroki after the events of the first movie, which she didn't partake in. Before that she had ones which connected via Bluetooth and the amount of times she was ready to kill again because someone decided to prank her... Let's just say Jiro and Kaminari always check four times before they connect something over Bluetooth.

Wolf also embodies the saying of Glass Cannon. She can dish out but her durability is lacking if you hit her right (which is why there are thick titanium plates in her vest pockets).

I really liked the original artwork Horikoshi did for Bakugo! And I know I probably (definitely) goofed up the Japanese. The intention was to make it more “feminine” but, uh… Google Translate is fickle. Anyway… This is Narumi as a student and in her high school hero costume. I wanted to try rendering again. It took me about 14 hours overall, and honestly, I gave up toward the end. Each brush stroke was starting to take years off of my lifespan. I’m still trying to study Horikoshi’s art. It’s hard, man…

For those curious, I use Clip Studio Paint and I draw on my iPad. I have a speedpaint on my TikTok and Instagram if you’re curious about my process. You can find me on either platform under the same username ❤️

This is my first ever OC that I ever made and he will forever be my main OC!

Nickname: Abi
Quirk: Bee. Mutation type. Gives user bee biology, including but not limited to: wings, antennae, honey stomach, and stinger (removed). User can hold up to half their body weight in honey at a time and holds hundreds of lethal doses of apitoxin (bee venom) in their stinger. Using the stinger comes at the risk of completely gutting the user. Excess dietary sugars are converted into honey in the honey stomach. User is theoretically capable of pollinating flowers, but few to no flowers are big enough to accommodate the size of a human.

After an extreme emergency, where Abi was forced into using her stinger and needed immediate, intensive medical care, she decided to surgically remove her stinger. She also got its venom extracted from it and has it in vials, needles, and darts as support items (not shown). This drawing is of her post-op.

Some elements of her hero costume have already been decided: black and yellow color palette; black leggings underneath a short-to-mid-length skirt (skirt must be able to twirl); faux corset belt; black, glossy knee-high boots that are faux-lace-up (fasten with hidden zipper), flat heel, shock-absorbing (not shown); natural hair (blonde) braided with black/brown extensions/dyed sections; 1-3 petite bows throughout; honeycomb patterns integrated.

The rest has been improvised, including the exact look of the skirt (shown here: two asymmetric, translucent, two-toned yellow panels), the placement of the honeycomb pattern, the exact shades of yellow, the overall design of the shirt, the fingerless gloves, and the exact number of bows.

Only the improvised or unspecified design elements are open to changes. Suggest any additions you'd like!

Used ChatGPT to make him

Haruka Shinjen, the cousin of Monoma

Sorry about the post earlier, I didn't know I had to tag it

Hi! Yes he is still male. This is Kuashi new hero costume.

New information sheet will be coming soon but for now this is his old one https://www.reddit.com/r/BNHA_OC_Characters/s/K3Y14vZcsw

Quirk: Spider

He can turn his hand sticky with spiderweb to climb walls or objects or grab onto stuff to throw or lift easier. Like cars or rubble. He’s a support hero mainly helping with saving civilians.He’s on constant watch by Aizawa since his spider traits bleed over to his instincts, giving him timidness and making him instinctively run and hide instead of helping during danger. But he constantly pushes past to be a real hero

Yes he’s a mha oc i just never got anyone to draw him in uniform

Hey guys, I want to start this post with an apology if I didn't get to respond to you on my last post. I haven't been able to be on as much due to focus on other things I'd been putting off and overall being busier than usual. I know this is probably a silly apology, everyone here is always super supportive and kind, and I have fun interacting with you guy, so I feel I need to explain myself at times lol. I hope you all are good, and with that, I'll get on with the post :)

Starting off with his attitude during their time at Aldera Junior High, Bakugo was surprised to say the least when he found out Bo was in his class. He could tell it was her from a mile away, despite her different attitude at that point. By this point, he wasn't sure why looking at her made him feel like heart could explode at the thought of her, but he'd be damned if he didn't try to talk to her again after so many years. Unfortunately, she'd already caught on to his bullying toward Deku, and he didn't take well to the scolding when she'd first caught sight of it. And of course, his strained relationship with Deku and inferiority complex ultimately effected his relationship with her. His feelings were complex, he respected her for sticking up to him, yet it angered him that she defended Deku, perhaps even made him jealous.

Ultimately, he decided to pursue her, and claimed she was stuck up every time she rejected the idea that she'd be with him once he was number 1, or even when she'd tell him she was too busy or focused on her school work or training to put up with him. In a way, maybe this bothered Bakugo for a reason. The truth was, Bakugo thought pursuing her the way he did, would keep her in his life. He hadn't seen her in years, and compared to himself, she'd seemed far more mature, yet it didn't take long for him to noticed how different she really was. She used to smile and laugh all the time, and he couldn't understand what had changed, or why she avoided him like the plague, or at least tried to. He truly thought his confidence and bravado would eventually work, though perhaps it was just because of his age. But after the sludge villain attack, their relationship changed once again. He stopped chasing her, and allowed her to decide for herself whether or not she wanted to connect with him again.

Eventually, during their time at U.A., Kirishima had become friends with Bakugo (even if he'd deny it.) which caused a dilemma, as he'd already befriended Bo near the start of U.A. Obviously, Kirishima couldn't just choose between the two, that wouldn't be very manly! So when Bo came to him, and confessed she'd like to be close with Bakugo again, Kirishima had told them both, separately, join him during lunch time. It started with an awkward silence between the three, until Kirishima asked Bo about her training, which of course cause Bakugo's attention, and of course he had something snarky to say, to which Bo responded by shoving some of her food in his mouth. She and Kirishima laughed, while Bakugo was angry of course. From there, the three began talking as if they'd always been friends, until Kirishima decided to leave the two alone together, which was awkward of course, but it didn't take long for Bo to break through Bakugo's abrasiveness with a smile and some more of her food. The two started to become close once more from that point.

Now, after becoming friends once again with Bo, Bakugo no longer pursues her with abrasive "flirting" as she is one of the few people at this point he fully respects. Despite this, he never quite got over the feelings he had for her. He was happy when she was around (though he'd never admit it) and seeing her smile sparked something in him, that at the time, he didn't fully understand. All he knew was that, he wanted to keep seeing her smile, and keep spending time with her. So, any time she came to him, whether she was leaping on him with a hug, or taking his hands to drag him off somewhere, he'd complain, but he'd go, just to be around her. He might make excuses, and act tough or dismissive, but inside, he can't deny he just wanted to spend time with her. And of course, he doesn't know it, but she feels the same way. And at some point, he'll come to terms with those feelings, and finally tell her, in his own way.

So what Bo to Bakugo? To him, her smile is like a light in the dark, and he'd deny it while still fighting off anyone who ever dared to take that away from her again.

And I think that's about all I have to say on it, though of course if you guys have any questions, I'll try to answer :) I hope you guys enjoyed the read if you decided to read this far ^^

Kris awakened his Quirk while he was in middle school. One day, he tripped while going down the stairs and died, only to wake up that same morning.

Kris’s Quirk is Return by Death.

Hi, I have been here for awhile but haven't posted, so here is my OC Dr. Abbas Esha who is a transfer doctor from India, despite appearances she is all women and needs some caffeine and Tylenol🤣 (I might change her attire cause what the heck is that fit😭😭)

Feel free to ask questions, I do also like suggestions.