#(affectionate but bleeding and sad and fucking ANGRY)

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hi I wanna participate in the match up event and I would like to be matched up with a papa!

So personality wise I am usually very energetic and out going, I like to talk to people and listen even though I get side tracked a lot, I can also ramble a lot about something I’m passionate about or just random stuff, I have a bad tendency to apologize a lot even for stuff that doesn’t even need an apology. I can also he very BLAH at times and just feel sad and moody sometimes but not often, I can also get frustrated easily with something if I don’t understand it when I feel like I should understand it right away and I don’t Like being frustrated and or angry so sometimes I end up in a frustrated crying mess somewhere. I hate annoying people and or angering people and I’m always scared that I am somehow even when people tell me I’m not, I almost all the time put others before myself and make sure that they are comforted and cared for even if I’m not doing so great myself- I don’t like loud noises or loud areas it gives me major anxiety and makes me nervous (this includes yelling I hate yelling). I can also be very touchy in like I give a lot of physical affection to people I am friends with but I am respectful of boundaries and only do what makes them comfortable and always ask if I can do something before doing it. I can be quite… oblivious? I guess at times because sometimes I don’t get certain jokes and or I don’t get social cues and it needs to be explained to me before I go “OH-“ and finally understand. I am also not that confident in certain stuff liking singing and can’t do it in front of certain people even though I really want to but I just don’t have the confidence and so I just can’t- and I like drawing, dancing, archery, wake surfing, writing, MOTHS, Butterflies and music! Also Daddy issues-

Anyway onto physical appearance I am very short I stand around 5’3 to 5’2, I am pretty chubby, I can’t exactly explain how my hair looks cause I’m growing it out and it’s not exactly a certain hairstyle so Idk anyway my hair used to be black and blue but now it’s very faded and my natural blonde is showing through again. style wise I don’t have a specific style but I mainly stay within the realms of Goth, Lolita, and cottage core, I like to wear baggy shirts and hoodies and jeans, but sometimes I wear more form fitting clothes and fem clothes like dresses or skirts. I like to watch a lot of Disney movies mainly old Disney movies Like beauty and the beast, Sleeping Beauty, Aladin, the little mermaid, or princess and the frog, I also like old rom coms (my sister introduced me to singing in the rain and it happened one night and I’ve been absolutely in love with them), I also like musicals my favs being Sweeney Todd, Hamilton, little shop of horror’s, be more chill, Six, Phantom of the opera, and Heathers. Anime is another thing I like my favorites being Full metal alchemist brother hood, and JoJo’s bizzare adventure, and I also like horror movies and to scary things like haunted houses. I don’t read much but when I do… it’s mainly fanfic- or romance novels. My music taste very much varies GREATLY like my Spotify playlist is just a fucking mess, but I’ve been listening to ghost mainly for the past few months.

Other little random facts I most likely forgot to add :D, I like listening to heart beats they are very comforting, Spider-man and Harley Quinn are my favorite superhero’s, I get called a cinnamon roll often and I constantly refuse cause IM NOT- I have a bad tendency to bite the skin off of my lip sometimes till my lip bleeds, and I have a bad tendency to bite the bed of my nails. I am surprisingly good with kids even if I don’t like them most of the time, I don’t like big parties, I have sworn off drinking and drugs, I will dance and sing to music when I think no one is home, I get embarrassed easily, I sometimes gently bite the people I love in an affectionate gesture (only if it’s okay with them ofc), I sometimes give random nicknames to my friends. I will quote movies at random times (mainly princess bride), and I make a popping sound sometimes and I sometimes make a small squeak sounds, and I shake my hands up and down and jump a bit when extremely happy or excited.

Sorry if this is a lot of information- anyway I hope you have a good day or evening or night! :)

Your match is…Copia

You both get side tracked when chatting and then both pause “err… what were we talking about cara?” Copia will ask before grinning kissing you “doesn’t matter amore”

You both apologise too much. You caught him apologising to the table after walking into it.

When he sees you getting frustrated by something he’ll support you through it. Lots of hugs and he’ll help if you ask.

He loves how you put others first but when it’s you that needs support he’ll make sure you look after yourself.

If he thinks you now need to be looked after, he’ll carry you to bed, put a blanket over you, put on and old Disney film and hold you close to him.

He also loves to let you listen to his heartbeat. He’ll stroke your hair as you rest your head on his chest

He once heard you singing, he got home early. He coughs awkwardly and you stop and get embarrassed. “No cara please don’t stop, you sing beautifully. And umm well I err love this song, can I join you please?” He starts to sing and you join in quietly at first. His eyes light up with joy and he grins. He gives you confidence so you sing a little louder.

Now, when it’s just you two alone you sing and dance together.

He loves receiving physical affection and giving it.

He adores seeing you excited, he thinks it’s adorable how you jump up and down.

The first time you asked to bite him he was a little surprised. But he now is quite happy for you to because he knows it’s affectionate. He does often wonder if you might be distantly related to a ghoul.

~

This post is a part of Match-up Event. The Event ends on July 15th.

Written by Nyx

[lun6laveria]

more that didint fit in this

IAN ADDED that barney lost it by losing gordon, and getting gordon back only served to make him lose it more because he never resolved the grief from losing gordon, and can be angry because it isnt the same... causing him to lash out on the tf2 mercs (likely being more hostile towards merasmus + maybe soldier due to association) and gordon makes the bloodlust worse, because they both feed into each other hating them ALSO gordon communicates by carving words into walls since hes stone and he can do that or he could use barney's perpetually bleeding face scar as paint (cuz idk if i said this but i hc his scar never stops bleeding) AND IAN ADDED AGAIN AGAIN AND SAID barney hugs him and it feels different and hes so frustrated about . how everything is so fucked up,... and then gordon taps "i love you" in morse code on barneys back and he melts... ITS STILL HIS HUSBAND!!!! AND THATS ALL THAT MATTERS!!! sometimes he gets himself worked up mentally, but gordon is always there and helps him calm down.... (as calm as he can get like this..) also no gordon? is not like a weeping angel hes more like a scp 173 and i think barney sometimes wishes he could still feel the warmth of gordon's body on horror au ian also said barney doesnt want gordon trying to comfort him because it will feel WRONG, because he isnt warm. so he has a staring contest with gordon. doesnt want him to come any closer. his eyes hurt, he needs to blink, but he doesnt want the phantom touch of his husband who isnt really "alive" so to speak and what if when barney finally fucking gives in and blinks gordon just holds him and he starts bawling his eyes out like he doesnt know if he wants to hug him bvack or not but deep in he really does bc he knows gordon is still there even though he can barely move or do anything SO HE JUST closes his eyes and feels gordon's fuckin stone hands rubbing his back (and he cries more) also from what i know uhh barney cannot get killed in slender fortress but he can still be defeated in vsh freak fortress n shit n gordon is NOT in vsh, only in slender fortress so barney could possibly actually die and gordon cant so yk... ONE DAY THEY WERE KISSING..SMOOCHING..APPRECIATING EACHOTHER OUT SOMEWHERE DARK N SHIT GORDON HOLDING BARNEY CLOSE AND THEN SOMEONE SHOWS UP AND GORDON IS FROZEN BC OF THAT AND BARNEY CANT MOVE TO KILL THE PERSON EITHER BC GORDON HAS HIS ARMS WRAPPED AROUND HIM AND IAN SAID barney had to get hit a few times and play dead. AND THEN GORDON HAS TO TENDERLY BANDAGE HIM UP...gordon writes little notes on barneys bandages when his eyes are closedimmediately following the attack, its just "i love you" because gordon was scared that barney was actually gonna get killed..

gordon was scared and had to watch .. and wasnt entirely sure if barney was okay when he was playing dead… and then barney was always scared to keep his eyes closed again and when i sent a video TO IAN ABOUT BARNEY IN SLENDER FORTR4ESS AND HE HAD AN IDEA banrye and gordon have an inside joke w eachother like.. "they think its so fun to be fake nice to someone ur about to kill. PLUS its like.. a personal thing between them" "they love to joke around with it, because theyre so desensitized to it at that point" AND I SAID barney would prob say shit like "this will only hurt a bit!!" or "stop running and make this easier for the both of us" ALSO A TALK I HAD W HIM me: I DONT WANNA REALLY CHANGE TOPICS FROM THE SADNESS but what if barney just keeps his eyes closed for a really long time so they can make out ian: THEY DEFINITELY DO THAT!! barney opens his eyes at some point just by instinct, and gordon freezes, so barney closes his eyes again. gordon tugs on his hair when he's unfrozen, like "cmon asshole.. (lighthearted)" doesnt say that but its like he implies it you know.. like affectionately mean in action me: YES I UNDERSTAND FUCKED UP EVIL. AND SAD. BUIT NONETHELESS. LOVE! EVIL LOVE!

hello tumblr. i will post everything me and ian thought about when we were talkin about horror au. and its alot. this horror au is slender fortress so ig the other characters arent really in it? unless they exist in slender fortress. get ready for alot of messy reading. me and ian were just having fun.

hc is that they both help eachother get kills soemtimes for fun if the person theyre chasing blinks, gordon? either teleports infront of them and makes them trip so barney can fuckin KILL them or barney boosts himself (p sure he has that cuz most of the slender fortress killers have a boost) and just fucking blows air on the person's eyes so they can blink and gordon? can snap their neck or sum.. OR HE COULD JUST SPLASH THE BLOOD ON HIS CHAINSAW ON THEIR FACE barney pulls out a bouquet full of organs infront of gordon? and when he blinks gordon? is doing heart with his hands (i was gonna say a darker tone would appear across his STONE face but statues cant BLUSH) he gotta blink or gordon? cant move an inch... and me and ian think if one of them died (which is most likely impossible) the other would go batshit crazy would lose more sanity than they already lost ahaha.. ALSO storytime what if whatr if what if it was MERASMUS (the tf2 evil wizard) that accidentally turned gordon into stone bc of a misunderstandin or smt misunderstrandin like he meant to turn someone else into stone and when barney got there he was like OH NOOOOOOOOOO WHATT HE FUCK!!! TURN HIM BACK!!! and bro was like sorry man i caantt... and barney went thru all stages of grief (all but acceptance) and then he started going crazy bc his own fucking husband got turn into stone all the sudden AND WHILE ALL THIS IS HAPPENING GORDON STILL DOESNT KNOW HOW TO MOVE WHILE HES IN THAT STATE so since they cant turn gordon back barney ebncomes EEVILLLL and decides to get REVEEENGEE on the the tf2 mercs n shit like that and so does gordon (after a few weeks of figurin out how to move) MORE WEEKS or months go by and then boom all of the sudden barney and gordon meet in a map barney is confused at first bc like wait how did he get in here...and then he blinks and gordonis now closer to him and he kinda gets jumpscared LOL few mins pass and barney finally figures out whats going on SO HE DOES NOTHING ELSE BUT HUG HIS STONE BOYFRIEND and kiss him and shit.... and gordon hugs BACK bc barney closed his EYES!!!!! and now they kill people togetehr bc theyre fucked up and evil this isnt a great story but itsd all i could come up with at the moment.

[elysianslove]

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST ━━

(*) is smut!

i edit this as i post more! <3

MULTIPLE

headcanons 

ass, thighs, or tits?

*prettiest moans ranking

*catching you/catching him masturbating 

*most likely to punish you

*dick analysis

*which of them would be into anal? 

*which of them would be into threesomes, & which not? 

reactions upon seeing you all glammed up

reactions to being randomly flashed

*random & specific nsfw headcanons

reacting to you fake banging them

POLY RELATIONSHIPS 

yuuji/megumi/you 

relatonship headcanons

*sub!megumi in a maid dress, part 2 (drabbles)

*oblivion; sub!yuuji (one shot)

*dom!megumi 

dates with them 

yuuji/sukuna/you

yuuji sharing his s/o headcanons

*yuuji’s fingers and sukuna’s mouth (drabble)

*blindfolded and guessing who’s fucking you (drabble)

s/o in danger headcanons

*sukuna turning yuuji off during sex (drabble)

sukuna warming up to yuuji’s s/o

ITADORI YUUJI

headcanons 

cuddling 

with a chubby s/o

with an asexual s/o

s/o that dislikes physical affection

babying/being babied by yuuji

putting make up on him

an s/o that has trouble sleeping

with a foreign friend

s/o with bad eating habits 

taking care of his upset s/o

*masturbation headcanons

drabbles

*thigh fucking his s/o

*giggly sex with yuuji

comforting his sad s/o

*cumming while eating you out

childhood friends to lovers

*his ahegao face

one shots 

       •   love on the brain 

in which you spend the day with him. 

       •   *euphoria

in which you have a beach date, followed by smut at home. 

       •   caught 

in which nobara catches you sneaking into yuuji’s dorm.

       •   *sensitive 

in which he makes you orgasm from your nipples only. 

       •   *the first time 

in which he loses his virginity to you. (can be read as a sequel to ‘dry humping’).

       •   *taste divine 

in which yuuji eats you out. 

      •    the serenity of the quiet 

in which yuuji learns to love the quiet moments with you. 

      •    *strip studying 

in which yuuji helps you study with a game. 

500 Follower Event

realizing they’re in love

drunken confessions

*dry humping

1k Event ━ Character Studies

itadori yuuji

GOJŌ SATORU

headcanons 

cuddling

best friends to lovers 

with an asexual s/o

with a shy but badass s/o

short-tempered s/o

fluff headcanons 

s/o that isn’t physically affectionate 

babying/being babied by gojō

pda that flusters him 

s/o with bad eating habits

*sub!gojō

making up to an s/o he’s neglected 

drabbles

*fingering you beneath the table

*gang bang with sukuna, gojō, & toji 

*pegging him

one shots 

       •   home 

in which the first years spend the holidays with you and your lover. 

       •   gentle mornings 

in which you wake up next to him. 

       •    comfort

in which he comforts his overwhelmed s/o. 

       •    insecurities 

in which his s/o is insecure of their stretch marks. 

       •    *in between you

in which you spend a night between gojō and kuroo. 

      •    *stars in your eyes

in which gojō voices his appreciation towards you

500 Follower Event

cooking/baking together 

aftercare, communicating with their eyes only

*blindfolds

*car sex

“i can’t lose you,” desperately trying to stop their s/o from bleeding out, convincing their hurt partner they’re okay when they’re not

1k Event ━ Character Studies

gojō satoru 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

headcanons

cuddling

short tempered s/o

*sub!megumi

putting make up on him

*megumi’s virginity loss crack series (tag)

with a foreign friend

s/o with bad eating habits

fluff headcanons 

taking care of his upset s/o

*masturbation headcanons

drabbles

*watching porn with megumi

*petplay with megumi

*thigh highs 

*messy sex and blowjobs

*his ahegao face

*feral megumi

one shots 

       •    comfort

in which he comforts his overwhelmed s/o.

       •    distance 

in which he crushes on his dense friend. 

       •    divine dogs 

in which you ask him to bring the divine dogs out to play with. 

       •    *catboy 

in which he dresses up as a catboy for you. 

       •    *needy

in which he wakes you up in the middle of the night because he’s needy. 

       •    *pretty when you cry

in which he can’t get enough of you. 

500 Follower Event

cuddling

ice skating date

*voyeurism/exhibition

RYOMEN SUKUNA

headcanons

neck fixation

with an asexual s/o

short-tempered s/o

s/o that paints his markings on themselves

pda that flusters him

putting make up on him

s/o with big breasts 

carnival visit 

soft sukuna

more soft sukuna 

wife that’s unfazed and unhinged

*sukuna’s 4 dicks discourse (tag)

drabbles

*gang bang with sukuna, gojō & toji

*corruption kink

*power bottom sukuna

valentine’s day

*sukuna and his two dicks

one shots 

       •    consequences 

in which you’re sukuna’s favorite girl in his harem. 

       •    *fall apart 

in which sukuna subs for you. 

       •    *desire 

in which you’re a demon that feeds off of sexual intercourse. 

       •    the end 

in which it’s your execution as sukuna’s vessel. 

       •    insecurities

in which his s/o is insecure of their stretch marks.

       •    *take a seat 

in which you cockwarm sukuna on his throne. 

500 Follower Event

admiring their features, neck kisses

*breeding kink

*thigh riding, voice kink, spit kink

*oral sex

drunken confessions

*praise kink

bandaging one’s wounds

*size kink, corruption kink

INUMAKI TOGE

headcanons 

s/o stressed from school

with a chubby s/o

s/o that dislikes physical affection

his love language 

drabbles

*controlling you with his cursed technique

*making you squirt from his cursed technique  

one shots 

        •    learning to love

in which he learns to say it for you. 

        •    *make a mess

in which he uses his cursed technique on you.

500 Follower Event

*cockwarming

wearing their clothes, waking up while the other is still asleep

1k Event ━ Character Studies 

inumaki toge

KUGISAKI NOBARA 

headcanons 

ass, thighs, or tits? 

*prettiest moans ranking

drabbles

*pillow princess nobara

NANAMI KENTŌ 

headcanons 

being his daughter

*angry sex

ass, thighs, or tits? 

what hugging him is like

making up to an s/o he’s neglected

drabbles 

*breeding kink

YOSHINO JUNPEI 

headcanons 

ass, thighs, or tits? 

drabbles 

losing your virginity to him, and him to you  

ZENIN MAKI 

headcanons 

general fluff + nsfw 

ass, thighs, or tits

drabbles

*dom!maki

*size kink

ZENIN MAI 

headcanons

*prettiest moans ranking

MAHITO 

headcanons 

relationship with a civilian s/o

*catching him/catching you masturbating

ass, thighs, or tits? 

*prettiest moans ranking

500 Follower Event

friends with benefits confession, realizing they’re in love, admiring their features

GETŌ SUGURU 

headcanons 

ass, thighs, or tits?

drabbles

*slapping you with his cock

dilf!geto

FUSHIGURO TOJI 

headcanons 

ass, thighs, or tits?

drabbles

gang bang with sukuna, gojō, and toji

[dilftaroooo]

Fluffy Choso asks you say?

You've always adored Choso's face tattoo.

What about Choso isn't feeling the best that day, and comes home. Maybe someone made fun of him or his appearance.

You see this and to try and cheer him up so you go and grab some make up or markers and carefully draw his tattoo on your face.

Then go and find him to surprise him with it before telling him how much you adore him and like his tattoo and maybe placing a kiss on it to watch his face heat up if you're into that.

tags: sad choso ☹️ (its only for a while)

oh. my. god. anon. this ask is so fucking cute help.

(if anyone was to make fun of choso there might be several felonies i may have to commit ahahha 🙂)

it was strange — choso’s demeanor was one of discomfort and diffidence, not a common trait for him to possess for the prideful older brother he’s known to be. you sensed his discomfort as soon as he walked through the door, head draped like low hanging fruit as though he was concealing his vulnerability but the attempt was futile. behind his stoic features laid a pool of insecurity (even his slow strides matched his somber mood).

“choso...?” your voice was light, dainty as you gazed at the curse-human hybrid with generous curiosity. something like this was so unorthodox for choso. he always had a neutral aura ringing around his tall stature, never angry, never sad. so what seemed to be the matter?

after his brief explanation you finally conclude the problem; the constant teasing about his appearance from by-passers is what filled him with an abundance of bitter self-awareness. the harsh words regarding the rectangular tattoo decorating his nose made him wish that he was never born with it. he’d try his hardest to get rid of the tattoo but the outcome was always the same — disappointment.

being his lover, you wanted to comfort your boyfriend through the soft coos of your words and the gentle caress of his arm but that discomfort still lingered. “is there something wrong with me?” you sighed, it was hard seeing him like this. you blatantly shook your head at the question.

“there’s nothing wrong with you, choso.” you repeat for the fifth time that week though your consolations went from one ear and out the other. there had to be more that you can do.

rummaging in your pencil cup you search for that black marker you frequently use. once you finally found it, you made sure that the ink wasn’t dry by drawing on a sheet of paper just to see the pigmented stroke bleeding through. perfect. now all you need is a mirror.

it was the afternoon when choso came back to the house, the gathering held at jujutsu tech needed a few extra hands to prep and after yuuji brought the event up to choso there was just no way he could refuse. he was missing your presence as he helped decorate the interior of the school but you had other things to attend to and he could do nothing but respect that

you heard the familiar heavy steps of combat boot make contact with the floor and a whispered hello as a greeting. “hey, welcome back!” choso’s eyes widen as soon you turned around from your laptop to face him, the marking laid on the bridge of your nose as you tilt your head up proudly. “how was the gathering?”

he couldn’t form the words to reply, he was too focused on your careless expression despite the drawing that resembled his tattoo. “y/n....” you seemed to ignore the thing that he was concerned with because you respond unknowingly.

“oh, um, it was ok.” you nod, setting your laptop to the side as you get up to give him a proper greeting, kissing his cheek and savoring the way it glowed a bright pink. his mouth was agape from your affectionate ministration.

“that’s good! hhhn��� i’m getting hungry though. i’ve been sitting here all day and i don’t feel like cooking. let’s go grab something to eat!” you stretch your arms trying rid yourself from the taut pain in your shoulder, fully acknowledging the low grumble of your stomach. an eyebrow of the hybrid raised, questioning your words with a confused tone as he comes up with an inquiry.

“you’re going to go out like that?” referring to the rectangular drawing on your nose. you only return the questionable look but a innocent smile was splayed on your features, the slight crease of your eyes as you grinned had his heart racing for hundreds of miles.

“yeah? does there seem to be a problem?” those words brought him a plethora of joy, you cheesed harder as soon as you saw the whites of his teeth along with the rosy tint appearing under his signature tattoo as you gave a tender peck on his upper lip. his fingers entangled with yours as he takes you to the entrance, the scent of nature filled both your noses as soon as he opened the front door.

“no. there’s no problem at all.”

choso knew that at that moment, he will make sure to never let you go.

[rockingrobin69]

Prince of Cheese

For the brilliant @ghaniblue, 800 words, angst. TW mentions of blood.

He grew up prince of his little world: delicate silks and rich creamy frostings and brand-new toys, wooden and shiny, all for him alone. Every wish fulfilled before he’d even dreamt it, every need anticipated, taken care of. By the age of three he managed to charm the house elves so, they didn’t even scold him when his mother demanded it. They’d braid his hair instead, with Mr. Draco needs to and little Sir shouldn’t, but always affectionate. Draco was the undisputed prince of his kingdom, of his people.

He was royalty in Hogwarts too. There was always someone to look up to him, to carry his books and fix his clothes and laugh at his jokes. The teachers all gave him far more leave than they should have, mostly because he brandished his father’s name like a sword and hid behind his wealth like a shield. He thought he knew ‘conflict’ in the tense conversations his parents held behind closed doors, that he saw ‘hardships’ in receiving the shorter end of the stick in some petty rivalry. He thought—gods, such silly, silly things. Things only a child would think. And, well, he was a child. And then he wasn’t.

He was still a prince when they led him to that throne, black wooden chair that seemed more regal than anything. When he took his place before it, one knee down and wrist forward, he felt grand. Elevated, better, chosen. No one had told him—or perhaps they couldn’t, by then. He wouldn’t have listened. This was what he’s been prepared for all his life, pampered, spoiled, putrid little brat that he was; and this was to be his fate, etched red on white skin. Eternal glory. A mighty position in the reckoning, the changing of destiny.No longer the shorter end, but victory, from now and till forever. If only it didn’t hurt so. If only his mother didn’t seem this sad. If only—well, he’ll worry about the implications of turning his wand on another when the time comes. He was a prince, still. He had his place and his people.

There’s no royalty in war. When everyone is hungry, and bleeding, and angry, and hurt. You either fight with them, or you’re an enemy; and Draco didn’t want to be much of either, anymore. He thought he’d been readied—what a fucking joke. No one prepared him for this. No one told him what was really happening, and if they did, he wasn’t smart enough to understand. A stupid, stupid, stupid child—no longer child—far from adult still—coward, useless, shadow of a—nothing. There was nothing in him left when he used curses unimaginable, when he sacrificed all he had and things he didn’t. When he realised how far the way down still goes, that he himself was the one who took it. There was nothing when he finally fell, defeated, covered in snot and blood and tears. Nothing to brandish, to hide behind or to hold. No place, no protection, no people to care for him. Draco sank.

They cut his hair when he entered the prison; the last remnant of his crown, gone. Hunched shoulders, lessons of posture and decorum long forgotten. He was so small behind the bars, cradled into himself, crying, crying, crying, like a boy, a helpless baby. But no one was there to braid his hair, to give him a friendly tap or wipe away his tears. To scold, to shame or punish. No one to save him—there was nothing to save, anyway. Shreds of a fallen prince, defenceless on his own, much as he ever was. Because it was never his own strength that gave him protection, that justified his reign. It was his people. Now he had only the rats, and nothing he could give them.

He ached to give something, to find the tiniest bit of purpose, of himself in the bleak that became his world. He imagined the bloody bits of mortar he scraped off the wall with broken fingernails were breadcrumbs, to feed his new court. But the rats didn’t care for this faux-benefactor. They saw him for who he truly was, what he always had been: an impostor. Prince of garbage. He’d sell his soul if only to be prince of cheese; if he could be something good, something useful, just once. But he had nothing.

It won’t be long, anyway. Draco had learned there’s always room to fall. Self-pity felt acrid on his tongue, burning in his eyes; he was the only one to blame. And now… now comes the end.

He closed his eyes and imagined, with a cracked, tiny smile, how he used to make the house elves laugh. Prince of his castle, he was. Until he wasn’t.

[that-welder-dude]

Bakugou Katsuki x Sad!Male!Reader (Fluff)

"Enjoy the Little Things"

Warnings: Cursing because Bakugou

Info

Name: L/n Y/n

Age: 15

Height: 5'3

Hair Color: (h/c)

Hair Length: (h/l)

Eye Color: (e/c)

Skin Tone: (s/t)

Quirk: Levitation

Your quirk allows you to move things around by focusing your attention on it, including yourself.

Drawbacks: You get migraines from using your quirk too long, also causing bleeding from your ears and nose. This worries your boyfriend quite a bit.

You are a shy person when you first meet someone, but once you warm up to someone, you like to talk and open up a bit more.

*****

-Third Person POV-

Bakugou's eyes flutter open, glaring at the sunlight peaking through the curtains in his dorm room. It's a Saturday, meaning he doesn't have to be up for school, but that also means he wants to sleep in a little bit more. He movs to close the small gap in the curtains but feels a weight on his chest, keeping him from sitting up. He glances down and sees his beautiful boyfriend, Y/N, snuggling his face into his chest.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth at the sight of him, (h/l) (h/c) disheveled and covering his eyes a bit, mouth open slightly with soft snore leaving it. Y/N's (pale/pink), (soft/rough) lips moved slightly as he breathed, occasionally letting out a quiet "hmm".

Bakugou sighs quietly and very gently lifts his boyfriend off of him, moving off the bed to close the curtains. Almost immediately after his body leaves the bed, Y/N's (soft/hoarse) morning voice could be heard in the form of a whine, wanting the warmth that was just so rudely taken from him. Bakugou chuckles quietly to himself and seals the curtains shut, then climbs back into bed, small arms immediately wrapping around his midsection and pulling him closer.

A (e/c) eye opens very slowly and looks up at the blond male who disturbed his sleep moments ago. "What were you doing?" Y/N whispers, his morning voice peaking through the soft sound.

"I was closing the curtains all the way so we didn't have to deal with the sun," Bakugou replies quietly, still trying hard not to disturb the boy any further than he already had.

Y/N just hums softly before letting out a soft yawn and moves to sit up in the bed to stretch, before being pulled back into his larger boyfriend's chest with a soft yelp of surprise. Bakugou laughs softly as he wraps his arms around the smaller's waist and kisses his nose very softly.

"How did you sleep?" he asks very quietly, rubbing their noses together gently, knowing how much Y/N loves it. The smaller male smiles and does the same, giggling a bit. "I slept very well, but I always do when I'm with you," he smiles even brighter.

Bakugou pulls back a bit to admire the features of his boyfriend's face, memorizing them again and again. Y/N just looks back, unconsciously glancing down at Bakugou's lips, then gives them a small peck. Bakugou smiles in surprise and pulls him in for a slightly longer but just as sweet kiss.

He gently strokes the (soft/rough) (s/t) exposed patch of skin on Y/N's shoulder where the shirt is sliding off because of how big it is on him. He sits up all the way and pulls Y/N's head into his lap, then starts to immediately starts playing with the smaller male's (h/c) locks.

Y/N is slightly confused by his boyfriend's actions slightly, usually he isn't this affectionate, even when they are alone. He decides to voice his thoughts and only earns a quiet hum from Bakugou.

After a moment of silence, Bakugou speaks again. "I'm just enjoying the little things."

~Timeskip~

-Bakugou's POV-

Once we officially get up for the day, everyone else in the dorms is already up. I gently take Y/N's hand in mine as we make our way to the elevator to head down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. His feet shuffle slowly on the floor as he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. Once we're in the elevator, I press the button for the bottom floor and release Y/N's hand. This makes him frown a bit but he doesn't say anything, as he knows that I don't want the others to know that we are together yet. I know he wants to tell everyone but I'm not ready, I haven't even told anyone that I'm gay. The only people who know are Aizawa-sensei and my and Y/N's parents. Aizawa only knows because he caught us sleeping in Y/N's room a couple of weeks ago, earning us both detention for not telling him because he had checked rooms on one of his night patrols of the hallways. When he didn't find me, he was frantic and started flinging doors open all over, scaring some students. When he found me and Y/N snuggling, I begged him not to tell anyone and he agreed, only stating that I needed to be more responsible.

I frowned at the memory, hating how he had found out.

Y/N seems to notice my slight anger, moving to touch my arm to comfort me, only for me to jerk out of his reach as the elevator opens. I swiftly step out and walk towards the kitchen, leaving Y/N in the elevator.

Once I get my breakfast and sit at the table, I look up, only to notice that my small boyfriend was nowhere in sight. I frown but try no to let it bother me, eating my food quietly.

After about 20 minutes, the elevator dings and Y/N steps out dressed in his school training uniform. I watch him as he walks by and his (e/c) orbs catch mine for a moment before darkening and looking away again. He strides right past the kitchen and out the door of the dorms, walking in the direction of the school. I watch him go, confused, then see Midoriya, also dressed in his training uniform as well, rush past and catch up to Y/N. I just barely have time to see Y/N turn to smile at the broccoli boy before the door closes.

I feel anger boil up in me. What is that damn Deku doing with my Y/N? Y/N only ever sparred with me, unless we were at school and got partnered up with other people. I angrily stand up and throw away my trash rather aggressively, gaining a few stares from the others in the common room.

I spend the rest of the day in my room, half-expecting Y/N to walk in. The longer he doesn't, though, the angrier I get. I must've fell asleep at some point because I wake up the next day and once again, the sun is peaking through the curtain. I groan and throw the covers off and get up. Y/N didn't come to my room last night, meaning he was still angry. All because I wouldn't let him touch me?? That doesn't make sense, he knows I don't want people knowing yet. Sure, It's been a few months, but that doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with him in private. He just doesn't understand. I shake my head and remove him from my mind. If he is going to hold onto this grudge, then I will too.

~Timeskip~

It's been a whole week since Y/N has spoken to me, and I am getting very impatient. We all arrive in the classroom on that next Monday and Y/N completely ignores me. He strides to his desk next to Deku and immediately starts talking to him about training with him again. I feel my anger worsen and I can't help but lash out.

"Oi, dumbasses! Shut the fuck up, you're too loud!" I yell. I turn around, ignoring the eyes burning into my back, knowing who they belong to. I hear Deku go back to talking to him and just as I'm about to yell again, Aizawa-sensei tells us homeroom is over and that we need to change into our training uniform to train.

Immediately after he finishes speaking, I feel a presence shove past me as I try to stand, only to get knocked back into my seat. I look at Y/N in shock, the anger and hurt still very apparent in his eyes as he glares back at me. He grabs his uniform and leaves before anyone else has a chance to catch up.

Once everyone is outside, Aizawa partners us up to start sparring, saying we can use our quirks as long as we don't hurt each other too much.

Of course, my luck is this bad. I get Y/N.

Once we dispersed enough to begin, Y/N immediately lunges at me and knocks me to the ground. Even with my reflexes, he is able to knock me down. Explosions blast out of my palms and they throw him backwards, but he catches himself with his quirk, floating off the ground a few inches. Then I hear him do something I've never heard him do before.

He growls.

It's low, almost imperceptible, but I catch it and it sends a shiver down my spine. He doesn't get this angry, even when Kaminari picks on him for his size. That's when I know this is going to be an all out fight.

He lunges at me again, this time slower because of the use of his quirk so I have time to react and blast him back again. I'm hesitant, though, because I don't want to hurt him, even though he seems very intent on hurting me.

"Don't hold back, because I'm not," he yells at me. I shift uncomfortably under his very angry gaze, wishing I could see the calm, playful glare that usually accompanies our sparring matches.

He lunges at me again and again, occasionally activating his quirk to dodge my blasts. I land a few hits on him as he does on me. I can tell he's getting tired based on how his attacks are slowing, but they are just as strong and painful if I'm not careful.

That's when I see the blood starting to come out of his left ear. A drawback of his quirk, he's been using it too much on me. In my moment of hesitation, he lunges again, this time hitting me square in my jaw so hard I start to see black spots. As I regain my senses, I see him in front of me, his other ear bleeding now as well. No one else seems to have noticed yet, so I give him a half apologetic, half concerned look.

I see him also blinking rapidly, meaning the beginning of a migraine has started to set in. I bit my lip hard, fighting myself to keep from running to him and holding him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until his head stops hurting.

I can't do that. We are still sparring, I'll hold him later and hopefully he'll have forgiven me by then.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't see him move towards me quickly and I feel the impact of his foot in my gut, but instead of falling onto the ground behind me, I feel myself get lifted off the ground and higher into the air. He's using his quirk on me, and he's going to drop me. He's really trying to hurt me, like I hurt him.

Then I'm falling, and I use my explosions to keep myself from landing too hard on the ground. I look over at him, only to see him on the ground, passed out from the pain and the blood loss from his ears and his now heavily-bleeding nose. My mind goes blank as I rush towards him and pull him into my arms, being as gentle as I can in this state. I hear myself yelling for Aizawa-sensei, getting his attention from across the field. His eyes widen as he and the rest of the class stop what they're doing to come see what's going on.

"What happened?!" He yelled as he approached us on the ground. I didn't respond as I held Y/N close, just stroking his (h/l) (h/c) hair and whispering to him. Kirishima is the one who spoke up.

"It looks like he overused his quirk and passed out," he states quietly.

Y/N's unfocused eyes open and stare up at me from my lap. I sigh in relief and cup his face in my hands like I do when he's in pain. Without thinking, I lean down and press my lips softly against his and hold them there. I hear quiet gasps and several "I knew it!" from my classmates. As I pull away, I realized that I just came out to my whole class and kissed my not-so-secret boyfriend in front of them. But instead of embarrassment or anger, I feel relieved, happy even.

Y/N's eyes are more focused now but I know he still isn't fully aware of what's going on right now, so I just continue to stroke his hair and whisper softly to him. He reaches up and lightly plays with a few strands of my hair, slowly moving his hand down to my eyes, then to my eyes, nose, and then to my mouth where he began to trace my lips with his thumb.

"What are you doing, dumbass?" I jokingly ask him. But when he answers he is serious and I know he is remember the morning we stopped talking. Then he smiles and pulls my nose to his, rubbing them together softly.

"I'm enjoying the little things."

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

I Had To Know Pain Before I Could Be Comforted

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @steveyouarelate : “37 (Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.) and 50 (I’m sorry I’m not enough for you) (with an happy ending, please) with billie dean x reader”

A/N: there’s a lot of crying and wallowing in self-pity in this one, you’ve been warned. I wanted it to have a tragic ending but you asked for happy, so here you go. I hope you’ll like it <3

Title is a line translated from this song.

Word count: ≈ 3 700

Someone catcalled you from across the street but you didn’t find it in you to care. You had no idea where you were. Night was falling, the cold, crisp air was biting your cheeks and making your whole body shiver. You could barely feel your fingers anymore. Your feet hurt. But the pain and the cold felt good. If you could, you would close your eyes and let yourself sink into it to forget everything else.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. You kept on walking, straight ahead, left around a corner, past an old man sitting on a bench. He said something to you you did not understand. A car honked nearby. Let it. Let it hit you and put an end to your misery.

Your phone buzzed again. “Oh for fuck’s sake, leave me alone,” you muttered. But even as you said it, your hand reached in your pocket for your phone. Your heart swelled with a bubble of hope, that perhaps it would be her, that perhaps her words would be the right ones and they would make everything better. You turned on the screen and read your notifications.

Coming home soon? x

I’m making mackerel in white wine

It was the cold wind that made you tear up, nothing else. Certainly not the image of Billie in the kitchen, dressed in comfy clothes, sipping a glass of expensive white wine, hips swaying to some mellow jazz song as she chopped herbs and vegetables and stirred the sauce. Sassy, brave, confident, and just a little bit reckless Billie. How you adored her. She was everything to you.

Blinking back your tears, you texted her back a few words saying you were going to spend the night at your dad’s. That was a lie, but you really couldn’t face her right now.

And it wasn’t your fault, really. You had never meant to be so messed-up. But Billie – she was the sun, she was the moon and the stars in the sky and beyond, no matter how cliché that sounded, and you… you were lying on the ground covered with dirt. You were nothing. You had not achieved a single good thing in your life. You couldn’t talk to people without making a complete fool of yourself, you had no talent, no beauty, only a boring, dull personality.

You carried that knowledge in your chest like a rock. Most of the time its weight was bearable; but there were days when the rock seemed to expand and expand until it took all the room in your chest. When that happened, nothing could bring you relief. Negativity would cloud your mind. Dark little thoughts would chirp in your ears like birds in the spring. Useless, they would sing. Boring. Worthless, they would sing.

Today was one of those days. You had woken up with a feeling of dread and dejection and it had required all of your strength to get out of bed. Luckily Billie had left for work early; you didn’t want to bother her with your problems and your bad mood. And then things had just gotten worse and worse.

Today you had lost your job. Your boss had warned you several times before: you weren’t as efficient as your co-workers, you didn’t work fast enough, didn’t smile enough. You simply were not enough. So today he had held the front door open for you and slammed it behind you and had not even bothered to hide his satisfied smirk. Since then, you had walked. Roamed the streets, tried to make one with the cold.

Your phone rang. Billie’s name appeared on your screen. You stared at it for a moment before you accepted the call. You knew she may very well drive to your dad’s if you ignored her, and then what? She’d know you had lied to her. Besides, a tiny part of you was still hoping she would know what to say, she would just know, without you having to tell her, and that rock in your chest would turn to dust and flowers would bloom in its place.

“Hi sweetpea,” said Billie. Her voice was cheerful, but you knew her well enough now to hear the tinge of worry in it.

“Hey,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. Are you mad?”

There was a soft clang, something metallic being moved. “Of course I’m not. But are you sure you’re alright?”

You closed your eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m fine. My dad just really needs company right now.”

Did she even care? Or was she relieved that you wouldn’t be spending the night together?

“I’m sorry you made dinner for me,” you went on, eyes still shut tight.”I should have warned you, but he –“

“It’s fine, Y/N, really,” Billie cut you off. “We have that wonderful thing called a fridge that I can use to store leftovers.”

A small laugh escaped you.

“But I’ll miss you,” Billie said. She paused, and again you pictured her, her free hand on the counter, fingers drumming, an apron tied around her waist, hair as perfectly done as if she were about to attend a movie premiere. Another small laugh escaped you, affectionate, incredibly sad.

“Me too. I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.”You hung up before she had time to say it back. You weren’t sure you could hear those words from her right now.

What would she think when you told her you had lost the one thing that still made you a person of value to the world? You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face. She would be kind, of course, and tell you not to worry. Maybe she would even say that she still loved you. But that wouldn’t be true. Billie deserved someone who, like her, had shot for the stars and made it. Someone who shone as bright as she did, someone she could be proud of – not a liability like you.

You walked. When you took a look at your surroundings, you realized you didn’t know that part of the city. It looked like a wealthy residential neighbourhood, big white houses with large porches, impeccably mown lawns. The streets were deserted. You walked.

Spending the night at your dad’s wasn’t even an option. He was too boisterous, too loud. Your best friend would know something was wrong the minute she’d take a look at your face, and then she would ask questions, demand answers you didn’t want to give her. So you kept on walking, dragging around that rock which after so many years had become a part of you. You didn’t even know if you would want to get rid of it. It felt like company now.

A bridge, across a canal. Past the city hall. You reached downtown, busy, wild, buzzing with life. People brushed past you and laughed at each other and talked too loudly. The city watched you roam without offering the least bit of comfort. You had tried to find solace in its streets hundreds of times before, fueled by the naive belief that the city would welcome you with open arms and a kind smile. But the city was indifferent and selfish. The city sneered at the lost souls that wandered the night.

Maybe you could get a hotel room. You stopped in front of the first hotel you found and stared at the door, but soon realized you were incapable of going in. It was as if your legs had frozen, as if some sort of force were pushing you away. So you walked on. Your heart was secretly singing for home.

But you couldn’t go home. You couldn’t do that to Billie. You were a burden to her, and that had to stop. She had too many great things to achieve, a whole future made of gold and diamonds and glorious victories, to be held down by someone like you. So shut up, you ordered your heart. Don’t yearn for something you do not deserve.

You walked. You walked until you were sure your feet were bleeding and every muscle in your legs was screaming in agony. A little past midnight your mind went numb. You walked. At 1am a dog barked at you, at 1:34 a drunk whistled and called for you to come with him. At 2:30 you finally looked up and realized your aching feet had led you back home.

You tried, you really did, to go away. Go back downtown, get a freaking hotel room to spend the night. Your feet led you to the front door, your hand turned the key in the lock. You could sleep on the couch, you told yourself. You could sleep on the couch, and leave at dawn before Billie woke up.

The house was dark and silent. You waited a few seconds, your heart beating fast in your chest, listening for any sound, any indication that Billie was still awake. Nothing. You took off your coat and shoes, and dropped your bag on the floor. You waited a few seconds more. When you had convinced yourself Billie was asleep, you tip-toed all the way to the living-room. The floor was cold under your feet, the walls seemed to be closing in on you in the dark.

You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but you weren’t sure your stomach could hold food right now. All you wanted was to collapse on the couch and bury your face in the pillows and sleep. Forget that you existed.

Your right foot slammed into a suitcase you had not bothered to put away earlier in the day. A curse escaped you, low and angry, and out of the corner of your eye you saw something stir in the darkness of the living-room. You jumped, raising an arm to defend yourself, and squinted at the shape that straightened and turned, light from outside falling on strawberry blond hair.

Billie reached out to turn on a lamp and grimaced as the bright light blinded her. She raised one hand to shield her eyes, blinking away sleep. There was a red mark on her left cheek, and you quickly realised she had fallen asleep at the table while doing crosswords. She often did that, when she couldn’t sleep. Crosswords helped her focus when her mind was buzzing with too many thoughts.

She met your eyes, blinked again, and then she smiled. You stood frozen as if you had turned into a statue, the mad pumping of your heart the only sign that you were still alive.

You could have tried to make a joke. You could have lied to her again, said you had tucked your dad in and left. Instead, your throat closed up, your heart dropped into your stomach, and to your utter shame and despair you felt your eyes fill with tears.

You were so tired. How so tired of being you.

All you wanted was to sink into Billie’s arms.

For a minute there was only silence. You watched as Billie’s expression turned from surprised to happy to confused. Oh God, what would she think of you? How she would despise you. She would think you were a sad, pitiful creature and she would be right.

You prayed for something, anything, an earthquake, a meteor crash, a tidal wave even though you lived miles from the ocean, that would put an end to your miserable life.

Billie stood up, smoothing one hand over her wrinkled clothes. Only now did you notice that she hadn’t changed from work. Had she been waiting for you this whole time? Your heart tightened in your chest. No, that couldn’t be. She had probably tried to make the best of her one evening of freedom, her one happy evening when she could celebrate your being finally out of her hair.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” she said with a small smug smile. She held out one hand as if to touch you and you flinched. She noticed, and her smile wavered.

“Are you alright?”

“I –“ With a shake of your head you took a few steps away from her, your throat thick with tears, and when you shot her a glance her face was blurry but you could still see the damned worry in her eyes –

“Y/N what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice getting higher and shaky as it always did when she was anxious. She walked up to you, but kept enough distance between you and her so as not to make you feel cornered.

“I lost my job.” The words tumbled out without permission. You were so tired. You just wanted to be held. “I got fired because I couldn’t do my job properly.”

Silence.

That was it, then. You had lost her. She was seeing you for who you really were; the veil love had dropped over her eyes was finally being lifted.

You couldn’t look at her, so you closed your eyes and let your tears fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, one hand coming up to your chest for it was too tight, it was crushing your heart and it hurt too much. “Billie, I’m so sorry I keep disappointing you.”

A hand, on your arm. A question, barely above a whisper. “Honey, what do you mean?”

A sob pushed out of your throat, loud and painful and so despicable. “I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.”

She let out a noise, a gasp, but to you it sounded like a contemptuous, mocking laugh, a laugh that said, Look at you, pitiful, pitiful little creature.

“Y/N,” she started, but you shook your head. You still couldn’t look at her.

“Listen, I’ll get my things, I understand. Just – let me sleep here tonight. Please. I’ll sleep on the couch, only for tonight, and then I’ll leave I’ll – “

“Y/N what are you talking about?”

You felt her grip on your arm tighten, acrylics digging into your skin.

“Just one more night, please, Billie,” you begged.

“Shut up. Stop talking. You’re not making any sense, honey.”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried.

A hand on your cheek. You almost flinched, almost recoiled, but you managed to stop yourself from doing so. There was no need to hurt her more than you already had.

“Please stop apologizing,” Billie whispered. Why did she sound so broken? “Tell me what to do. What can I do?”

You shook your head again, choked on a sob. Billie’s thumb was gently stroking your cheek, catching your tears and wiping them away.

“Lie to me,” you whispered. “I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again. Tell me I can be enough for you.” You opened your eyes, then, and looked up at her. And you could have hit yourself, you could have stabbed your chest and ripped off your heart, for her face was coated with tears that dripped down her chin, and her gaze was so terribly sad.

She let out a strangled breath. “Oh, Y/N… come here, come here baby.”

You didn’t even try to fight her. Your body sank into hers like a stone into water. Your hands slid up her back to grab fistfuls of her shirt as you buried your face in her shoulder. She wrapped one arm around your waist and put her other hand on the back of your head, pressing you closer against her. She was being so gentle, so loving, dropping kisses on your temple, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear – it only made you cry harder. Because you were going to lose this, to lose her, and you’d never have the strength nor the will to find that kind of sweet love ever again.

She started humming, a soft tune, as she rocked you like a child and you sobbed and wailed. Her voice was always a little bit raspy when she sang, a little bit out of tune, never quite managing to hit the right notes. Hearing her sing always soothed you. She ran her fingers through your hair, acrylics gently grazing your skull, just the way you liked it, because it always made your skin tingle everywhere.

Damn her, she knew you so well. She knew exactly how to help you calm down, how to make part of that ache in your chest disappear.

Minutes passed. Billie was still humming when you finally felt like you could breathe again. You turned your head, pressed your cheek against her shoulder – her blouse was wet now, you had done that, ruined it as you always ruined everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, relishing the smell of her, so precious, so loved – you would have to keep it safely stored in your mind to never forget it. Maybe, on the darkest of nights to come, when everything and everyone would fail to soothe your soul, if you closed your eyes tight enough you would be able to conjure her scent again, and then sleep would finally come.

Billie’s hand slid down the side of your face to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes, counted to three, then pulled away.

Her gaze was still so very sad when you met her eyes, but she managed to offer you a smile. She gracefully wiped a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Why are you crying?” you frowned.

Billie let out an incredulous laugh. “Did you hear what you said to me?”

There was no reproach in her voice, only sadness, and that felt like a stab to your heart.

“I’m sor –“you started, but she interrupted you with a slender finger on your lips.

“I told you to stop apologizing.” She offered you another shaky smile, but then her brow pushed up in concern. “Did I –“Her voice broke. She swallowed, tried again. “Did I do something to make you feel like you were not enough?”

Did she… what? You weren’t sure you had heard her properly. Had those words really left her mouth, or had they been uttered by a malicious spirit? How could Billie, Billie who was so considerate, so loving, so utterly perfect – how could she think she had done anything wrong?

Her face crumpled as she misinterpreted your silence. “Oh no baby, I’m so s –“she started, but you interrupted her.

“No, Billie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your voice was hoarse from crying. You shook your head, biting your lower lip to hold back fresh tears. “You’ve been so good to me. The best thing that ever happened to me. The truth is, you’ve been too good and I don’t… I don’t want to hold you back.” She opened her mouth to protest, but you shook your head again, a silent pleading to let you finish. “Now that I’ve lost my job you’re gonna have to provide for me and I can’t let you do that. I can’t be a burden I can’t –“

Again, a finger on your lips. You fell silent. Something in you disappeared and you felt your body go limp, as if there was no strength left in you.

Billie’s finger gently tapped your lips as she gazed at you thoughtfully.

“I don’t mind providing for you while you look for another job,” she said after a while. Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe you should take a break. Maybe I should, too. We could go somewhere nice and relax for a while.”

“But I –“Another tap on your lips.

“But you –“you tried again, but again she interrupted you. You planted a kiss on her finger in retaliation, and were rewarded with a small smile.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” Billie said in a low voice. Her eyes met yours, kind and vulnerable. “You’re not a disappointment, Y/N. It’s got to the point I cannot even imagine my future without you.”

You couldn’t help it: you dissolved into tears again. Billie cooed and gently guided your head against her shoulder. You clang to her, hoping you could get rid of your negative thoughts with every sob. It didn’t work like that, you knew it, but when you were in Billie’s arms it almost seemed life could be easy and kind.

You didn’t pull away when your tears subsided. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying Billie’s embrace, her hand running through your hair, her warmth. You felt thoroughly empty now, thoroughly spent. Sleep weighed on your eyelids. You wrapped your arms around Billie’s waist and pulled her closer still, breathed in her scent and let out a sigh.

“What happened?” Billie whispered after a while.

“I told you.” You nuzzled her shoulder. “I lost my job.”

“No, I mean… what happened?”

You got her meaning, somehow, as if your mind were perfectly attuned to hers. You hesitated. Swallowed hard.

“I don’t know,” you said in a breath. “Sometimes it feels like I can never be a viable option for anyone, especially not for you. I know it’s stupid, I know I have no real reasons to feel that way. But I can’t help it.”

Billie hummed. She dropped a kiss on your forehead, warm lips lingering on your skin. “I love you,” she said, voice firm and raspy. She ran one hand up and down your back, nails scratching gently.”And I want you, even when you’re at your lowest and ugliest, even when you don’t have a job.”Her hand slipped over your shoulder, under your chin, titled your head up. She waited for you to meet her eyes. “You’re allowed to not be at your best all the time. That doesn’t make you worthless.”

And as you gazed at her with half lidded eyes, her words sank into you and settled in your chest and bloomed there. Eased the ache. Maybe only for a few hours, maybe only for a few days, but it was all you needed right now. And somehow she had known exactly what to say. And she would know what to say the next time.

You blinked sleepily, and she cooed, smiled a smile that was half fond, half smug. “Do you need to get some shut-eye, my little bear?”

You rolled your eyes at her, but were betrayed by a yawn. Her smile grew into a smirk.

“Shut up,” you muttered, as you buried your face in her chest, nuzzled the exposed skin, and smiled.

[imyourbuddie]

Don't Be A Part Of His (4x05 Coda)

SPOILER FOR SEASON 4 EPISODE 5 “BUCK BEGINS” 

Eddie promised himself if he ever met Buck’s parents that he’d act civil. Not for their sake, fuck no, but for Buck’s. Because after all this time, after everything they did and didn’t do, Buck still somehow needs their approval. He doesn’t say it, and that time when Eddie asked him about it, he outright denied it, but it’s in the way his voice quivers when he talks about them. In the way his eyes light up with hope at the mention of them. In the way his larger-than-life self folds in on itself after the last disastrous dinner he had with them. 

No, Eddie promised himself that he’d be civil because that’s what Buck would want. Because Eddie Diaz is a lot of things, but a boyfriend who ignores his partner’s wishes? He’s not that guy anymore. He imagined this very moment so many times in his head. Imagined himself walking up to the Buckley parents and extending his hand, smiling, and introducing himself as whatever Buck wants him to be, then walking away. 

That, needless to say, did not happen. 

Seeing them sitting there, all prim and proper, it pisses Eddie off. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel sorry for them. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost Chris, and he’s no stranger to the countless nights of heartache and panic and guilt and imagining every what-if scenario that could have given Chris a different life. A better one. But the pain of losing a child is no excuse to neglect their other children, no excuse to make Maddie a mom instead of a sister, and definitely not a good enough reason to make Buck feel so goddamn unwanted. 

If there’s one thing he learned since having Chris, it’s that nothing in his life, no amount of pain and anguish will ever be reason enough for his son to feel unloved. To feel like the only way he can get any attention is by throwing himself off a bike or into oncoming traffic. 

Rage thrums under Eddie’s skin, scorching and freezing at the same time, and he clenches his fists as he glares at the Buckleys from across the firehouse. They fucked up. They made Buck feel unwanted, unloved, undeserving, and now they sit there expecting what? To take credit for how well Buck turned out anyway? For him becoming a goddamn walking superhero who saves lives every goddamn day?

No. No fucking way. Not if Eddie has any say in the matter. 

He waits until Hen says her piece to them with a smile on her face that doesn't reach her eyes, then heads toward the kitchen table where Buck’s parents are seated. Hen tries to catch his eyes as she passes him, but he ignores her. She’s not the one holding Buck at night as he sobs himself to sleep. She’s not the one whispering encouraging endearments that fall on deaf ears. She’s not the one left picking up the pieces after every Buckley family dinner. She doesn’t get it, no one does, and Eddie’s done feeling helpless.

He’s too fucking pissed off.

Eddie stops on the other side of the table, body rigid with angry words on the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth just as Buck’s mom turns and looks up at him, and for a startling moment, it’s as if he’s staring into Buck’s eyes. His mouth dries, his words stuck in his throat like claws, and the silence surrounding them is suffocating. 

“Hi, um,” Buck’s dad starts tentatively. “We’re Evan Buckley’s parents—”

“I know,” he spits, his voice harsh, and he inhales sharply. They blink owlishly at him, obviously confused by his hostility, and Eddie lets out a slow sigh and inhales again, this time slowly. “I know who you are.”

His mother looks to her husband then back at Eddie, a quivering smile on her lips. “Can we help you?”

Eddie stands frozen as he stares at the man and woman who claim to be Buck’s parents. Who should be the two people in the world who love him unconditionally. Who should be there for him, and he’s at a loss for words. All that anger and resentment and betrayal all congregate into one single emotion: pity. 

He pities these two people who don’t even know what they’ve missed. Who have no idea just what an amazing, self-sacrificing person their son is. He pities their ignorance, and he pities their grief-driven blinders. He pities them for missing out on so much of their children’s lives that they hardly know them or the hardship they went through to be here today. 

Something inside him gives, and tension bleeds from him as he exhales. “I just want you guys to know what an amazing person Buck is.”

“We know—”

“No,” Eddie takes a step forward and clenches his fists by his side. “No, you don’t. How could you? You haven’t been around to see it.”

Guilt flashes in Mrs. Buckley’s eyes, and Eddie’s heart aches for her. How would he feel if someone said that to him? Hell, he missed the first years of Chris’ life because he was a coward, but he’s making amends now, and it’s time they did too. 

“Maybe to you, he was supposed to be some miracle baby that can save your other child. But to the rest of us, he’s way more than that.” Eddie takes a deep breath and swallows, willing his voice to stay steady. “That man, your son, is the first guy to run into a burning building. The first one to jump in a car about to explode. He’s the first one to take the most risks, and he’s the last one to give up on any of us or on the people he swore to protect. Everyone here trusts him with their lives. I trust him with—” The lump in his throat is harder to swallow around, and he takes a second to compose himself. “I trust him with my son. Because he’s a good man and loyal to a fucking fault and he’s got the biggest heart and I won’t allow anyone, anyone, to ever hurt him the way you’ve hurt him.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep his tears from spilling, because there’s no way in hell he’ll cry in front of these people. No way in hell he’ll let them know just how much their being here hurts Buck, and in turn how much that hurts him. He won’t give them the satisfaction. 

The silence that follows rings in his ears. It’s deafening. The Buckley’s blink at him as if seeing him for the first time, and Mrs. Buckley clutches at her husband’s hand, her knuckles white. 

“From one parent to another,” Eddie continues. “It’s never too late to make amends. And it doesn’t matter what you went through, how much pain you had to endure, how much heartache, Buck’s innocent in all this. He’s got no part in your grief, so don’t be a part of his.”

Eddie turns and swallows as the first tear spills down his cheek. Fuck. He wipes at it angrily, but when he makes to walk away, a soft touch to his elbow stops him. He turns and finds Mrs. Buckley standing behind him, tears swimming in her big blue eyes. Buck’s eyes. 

“You’re—you’re absolutely right.” Her smile is watery and there is genuine remorse and sadness in her expression. “Thank you for loving him.” 

Eddie wants to reply, but there’s nothing more to say. The rest isn’t up to him. He already said too much, and if Buck doesn’t kill him for antagonizing his parents, well, that’s a win in Eddie’s book. He nods at her then at Buck’s dad before taking his leave, and with every step he takes, his heart feels a little lighter. Maybe Buck will kill him, but someone needs to set Buck’s parents straight, and who else better to do that than Buck’s stupid dumb ass boyfriend? 

His lips twitch, and he can’t help the self-deprecating humour no matter how many times Buck tells him to stop. That twitch of his lips turns into a full smile, and Eddie chuckles and shakes his head as he makes his way to the engine bay. They’re both hopeless, as Hen likes to remind them. Maybe they really are meant for each other. 

Bobby pulls into the engine bay just as he steps outside, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat like it always does when he lays eyes on Buck. Since the first day and everyday after that.

“Clean bill of health from the docs,” Bobby calls as he hurries inside the station, a smirk and a knowing look in his eyes, and Eddie wants to hug him and punch him at the same time. 

“Glad to hear it,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets, and turns his attention to his second favourite person in the world. “Show off,” he says affectionately, and he knows what Buck’s going to say before he even says it. 

“Had to do it.” 

And that is why Eddie loves him.

[strawberri-syrup]

have a Ramble

idk what to call this because i dont think its a fic?? but also idk here we go bby (for those who dont know this is based on my stardew valley au :] )

also this is about michael and how ranboo and tubbo found him!

so michael

mans a puppycat type animal

still want him to be a hybrid, but also i dont want to give some teenagers responsibility over an actual child lmao

think puppycat but more weird and abnormal looking

might do a quick sketch later if i feel like it

CONCEPT THING TIME :D

tubbo finds him on the farm

ranboo was pulling some weeds to prepare for the chanign season when he heard tubbo call him

man was off climbing trees and causing chaos to escape actually having to do *gasp* manual labor

the thing tubbo pointed out was a strange looking animal

weirdly colored fur that was matted in places

it was literally every color fur could be

fucking rainbow or smthn idk

they decided to keep it because of course they did

theyre two teenage boys left mostly unsupervised and they found a cool lookinig animal

why wouldnt they keep it??

simple answer

man bites

like hard

i mean it makes sense

two random things grabbing you out of your home??

id freak out too tbh

took the two of them about a month to gain his trust

they also kept him a secret because wilbur would 100% make them get rid of him is he knew that he was hurting them

made hiding the bandages a bitch tho

eventually ranboo was able to pick him up

and it took another week for the thing to trust him enough to stand on his shoulders

the first time he did it tubbo lost his shit

as he should

the two of them named him michael because its a good word

good sounds and all that

fancy enough for their gremlin

they planned to keep michael a secret for a little while longer

maybe until they had tommy make him a collar

but it all went to shit because of course it did

michael got spooked by another animal while ranboo was farming and ran away

since he was sitting on his shoulder michael gave him a nasty cut accross the mouth

(which is why ranboo wear a mask btw, the cut left a nasty scar)

and michael ran into town

which led to a very panicked and also bleeding heavily ranboo sprinting to the general store and asking everyone if theyd seen his thing

this was when the lack of species really hit

what was he supposed to say????

have you seen my angry blob of fur? he responds to michael, bitchboy, gremlin, and bike

n o

so the obviously spooked niki took him to the clinic and forced ranboo to let her treat his wound

mind you man was losing his shit the whole time

borderline hysterical

because that gremlin was basically an emotional support animal at that point

 once niki calmed him down some she managed to get a basic explanation

not a good one, but an explanation at least

she walked ranboo over to SBI’s house near the river and explained to them what happened

tubbo was obviously upset because his friend had bandages wrapped around his face and their “son” was missing

tommy was just confused and upset becuase tubbo was upset

wilbur was both concerned and exasperated

because of course he couldnt trust those two little shits (affectionate) to just farm alone

so they spend the rest of the day looking for michael

and you know where they find him

do you know

after hours of searching

of spending hours crawling through bushes and bugs to find michael

do you know where he had the audactiy to be hiding

ranboos bed

man went back home

hid under the sheets and everything

twas an upsetting day for all

but now practically everyone knew about michael and no one wanted him to go missing again

both because holy shit ranboo lost a lot of blood

and also because no one wanted to see the chaotic gremlins sad 

yea thats all i got, turned out more rambly then i intended but here ya go :]

[seerofmike]

i feel like a huge portion of kpop fans are gay fetishists attracted to the idea of quote unquote feminine men and thats why theres so much bullshit

YES okay. okay let me rant for a minute. let me preface this by saying i am NOT a kpop shipper at ALL. this is going to be long so i’ll put it under a’ ‘read more’ because i’ve been holding it in for TWO FUCKING YEARS BABY!

being mlm in boygroup kpop fandom is literally so exhausting. 99% of the people who ship real life human men from boygroups are fetishists and i will tell u why

obviously we all know of a ship in a fandom where the characters' personalities are twisted to fit the heteronormative view of "top" and "bottom" --one character is hypermasculine (top) and the other one is feminine (bottom). there are typical traits associated with both. the ‘top’ is scary or mean or angry or serious while the ‘bottom’ is emotional or bubbly or shy. while this is egregious, at least its fictional characters. their personalities can be simplified or exaggerated and it doesnt cause any real life harm.

im going to define what i think of as a fetishist: a non-mlm person who overly sexualizes gay men/men they think are gay/gay ships, and forces them into heteronormative roles for their own pleasure. its not even limited to cishet women. plenty of non-mlm lgbt people do this too and its like disheartening. so anyways

enter the kpop fandom

i may be incredibly biased here because one of the most affected members [of bts] is my favorite kpop boy, but oh god is the ‘personality change/simplification’ thing AWFUL here. i do not go out of my way to find fanart or see fanfic threads, but being in the bts fandom, u will inevitably see it and i REALLY wish i didnt

so anyways. my favorite boy ever is hoseok. he is sweet and hardworking and very passionate about dance and he can be serious when needed, but ultimately he tries to be very lighthearted and will consistently laugh or make jokes or do something funny when the other members feel uncomfortable or awkward (mostly during english-speaking interviews). he kisses the members on the cheek a lot/hugs them a lot/cuddles them a lot [this is important for later okay]

of course, theres a lot more to him because he is a multi-faceted real life human being, and i don’t know him personally, but that’s a general idea of what he’s like, okay?

SHIPPERS will have you think differently. some video got popular on youtube ""proving"" that hoseok is a sadist (which is just clips of him jokingly playfighting with the younger members), and the video depicts him as secretly mean and serious, and shippers will use that to say "hoseok is a total top!" and then most fanart or imagines or fanfic threads you see are top!hoseok, using this imagined 'hoseok is a sadistic dom' narrative to fuel their fiction, because SOMEONE has to be the top, so they twist him into this hypermasculine mean person (and probably feminize the 'bottom' of their ship but more on that later)

EXCEPT it is not just fiction. this narrative bleeds into REAL LIFE. you have new armys who dont know anything about the shipping scene, and yet somehow the narrative of hoseok being a secretly mean, sadistic person has already made its way into them. in real life, hoseok likes rainbows and wearing nail stickers and putting glitter in his hair. yet people in the fandom will say shit like "hoseok hates femininity" "hoseok would never wear [thing] because he's a dom"

sometimes on twitter you have ppl like me who say uh actually you guys are really weird and this is fetishy and in real life hoseok is very nice and not sadistic at all, you will UNDOUBTEDLY get comments like "omg hoseok isnt cute/nice when will yall learn he’s secretly like [x] and [x]". you could post a video of hoseok with a puppy titled "wow cute" and u will get like 2 clowns in ur comments going 'hoseok isnt CUTE hes a sadist’ . i wish i was joking but i am not. they will do this for EVERY action hoseok does. he cannot blink without people twisting it into a sexual thing

[also, side note: its funny that, since hoseok is one of the least popular members and therefore one of the least shipped members, he is often the odd man out among pairings, and is assigned 'the straight one' by default, and 9 times out of 10 people who assign him 'the straight one' do all this 'dom daddy hoseok' shit.

which just goes to show that this is indeed a matter of heteronormativity.]

so anyways arguably the most popular ship with hoseok is with yoongi, sope. this absolutely happens to other ships probably but im just using them as an example because i see it the most, being a hobi stan

yoongi is very calm and thoughtful and kind and sometimes appears to be cold/having a bad attitude but its just because of the way he speaks, which is very bluntly. again hes a multi faceted real human and i do not know him personally but thats generally what hes like.

god the fandom. treats him SO BAD. so horribly. he's shorter than hoseok. he's shorter than hoseok and people will exaggerate that literal 1 inch height difference so bad and people will turn his whole personality into shy and blushy and In Love With Hoseok, so in love with hoseok that ‘he gets sad’ when hoseok doesn’t kiss him/hug him/or whatever and IT BLEEDS INTO REAL LIFE.

ANY time hoseok or yoongi do ANYTHING together at ALL, people will ALWAYS push the narrative that hoseok, being the mean sadist he is, is 'hurting' yoongi for not returning his undying love or whatever. hoseok did a vlive where he made bracelets for all the members and he considered putting a cat charm on yoongi's but ultimately decided not to because he was having difficulty and oh my GOD sope stans twisted it into 'hoseok HATES yoongi, yoongi would have been so happy, he would have worn that all the time, hoseok isnt affectionate he hates being close with other people after all :(' which is LITERALLY not true because hoseok gives all his homies good night kisses but okay! whatever fits your narrative!

PEOPLE ACTUALLY HATE HOSEOK BECAUSE OF THIS. BECAUSE OF A SHIP. BECAUSE OF THE MANUFACTURED NARRATIVE PUSHED ONTO HIM BY FETISHISTS SO HE COULD FIT INTO THEIR HETERONORMATIVE ‘TOP’ ROLE. not to be all wahh wahh hoseok is one of the least popular members BUT THIS IS LITERALLY A CONTRIBUTING FACTOR.

everyone """headcanons""" hoseok to be a top so they will make him a MEAN HYPERMASCULINE person. everyone """headcanons""" yoongi as a bottom so they will make him a SOFT UWU HYPERFEMININE person. shippers are literally pigeonholing the two of them into fujoshi-esque roles for jack-off material.

anyways this all boils down to: gay fetishists will do anything, ANYTHING, to twist characters or real life fucking people to fit their heteronormative view of top and bottom. top=mean and masculine, bottom=soft and feminine. hoseok is a real life human being. yoongi is a real life human being. they both have real life human personalities, and yet shippers twist their personalities into the opposite to fit their narrative, to the point where nonshippers will genuinely view the two of them as something theyre not.

you have tons of armys that theorize that hoseok's happiness is just a mask he puts on to hide a cruel nature. on twitter. on youtube. in fanart and fanfiction. you have tons of armys that truly believe that, despite literally all the evidence, believe he hates being cute, he hates being happy, he hates the members, and hes secretly a dom daddy fuckboy who wants to bend yoongi over a table. hes a real life human being and fetishists doing their fetish thing has real life consequences.

the same is true for bottom!hoseok stans: they overexaggerate his more cutesy personality traits and he does have a 'feminine' figure i.e. he has a rly small waist but they will overexaggerate that as well and give him huge hips and its disgusting but dom!hoseok is far more frequent with far more devastating consequences so i used that as an example but they’re both bad.

people who """"headcanon"""" [like actually headcanon/firmly believe and not just joking or lighthearted] that members are gay will force these types of roles onto the members. if someone genuinely believes that like, yoongi is gay/bi/whatever, and then try to force this subby soft uwu persona onto him, they have no respect for gay people. they dont. gay people are simply objects for their fantasies. their view of gay people is so one-dimensional and so driven by fetishists’ ideas that its actually disheartening.

and god bitches will deadass be homophobic yet still ship real ass human idols. not just for bts specifically but all boygroup fandoms. sometimes when you search up an idol's name, [idol] gay will be trending--whether it be because of people saying "im gay for him" or whatever, and a LOT of cishet people will try 'clearing' the searches because being gay is bad or something. people normally ‘clear’ the searches if something like [idol fat] or [idol ugly] are trending, which im telling you so you know the context that people only clear the searches when bad things are happening.

[never forget that time 'jungkook gay' was trending and bitches were like "lets clear the searches!" but their pinned tweet said some shit like "sub jungkook x dom jimin coffee shop smut au thread 🌈". bitches also be like i cant be homophobic i ship taekook]

and hoseok and yoongi arent the only ones affected ! we could get into why namjoon and jin (another popular ship) are often assigned 'dad' and 'mom' respectively, or the fact that gay fetishists not only twist members' personalities to fit their ship narrative, but will also force tropes onto them i.e. taehyung/jungkook shippers who will literally demonize jimin and call him a slut or say that he's trying to 'get in the way of' of taekook or 'steal' taehyung/jungkook but thats a whole DIFFERENT rant baby! racism/asian fetishism is also definitely a present factor in all of this but this focus was primarily on gay fetishism and heteronormativity.

oh my god i could also get into the severe transphobia/trans fetishism in this fandom too but this post is already long enough as it is

tl dr: gay fetishists will fetishize real life people and it has actual real life effects and we should ban straight women from shipping mlm

[oliverstarked]

didn’t mean to let you go

a Buck/Eddie 3.06 coda, that starts with breakfast with Bobby

Summary:  Buck moves up, brushes the back of his fingers over the swelling on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie inhales softly.

“It looks painful,” Buck mutters.

“It’s not so bad,” Eddie says, just as quiet.

read on ao3

Buck talks and talks and talks during breakfast with Bobby. He tries not to, he knows he can be A Lot, but Bobby sits there with his mouth quirked up in an affectionate smile and he listens and listens and listens, and asks questions, and is more of a father-figure in that moment than Buck has ever had in his life. 

So he tells Bobby about the nightmares, about the loneliness, about not being able to get out of bed some days. He tells Bobby about his childhood — just a little bit, he doesn’t really mean to — and when Bobby says, “You’re more than the sum of your parents’ choices, Buck,” it’s all Buck can do not to launch himself over the table and wrap Bobby up in a hug. 

It’s a good morning, even though it started in the hospital. Buck is starting to feel like himself again, the pieces of him that had been drifting away beginning to slot back into place where they belong. But there’s still something niggling at him that he needs to fix before life can truly go back to normal — whatever normal even means.

Buck gets into his Jeep and swings out of the diner parking lot into the usual snarl of LA traffic. It’s early enough that rush hour isn’t in full swing yet, but it still takes an annoyingly long time to get across the city to Eddie’s place. By the time he arrives, the sun is pounding on his face through the windshield and he’s starting to sweat. Why did he have to pick a gray shirt, goddamnit. 

“Buck!” 

Christopher is standing just outside the house, school bag on his back and massive smile on his face. Something inside Buck nearly crumbles in relief. He’d thought maybe Chris would be mad at him, disappointed that someone he’d trusted had let him down. Yet there he is, grin on his face like there’s no one else he’d rather see at eight in the morning. Buck doesn’t know what he did to deserve that kid’s affection, but he’s never gonna do anything to jeopardize it ever again. 

“Hey, little man!” 

The hug he receives is nothing short of perfect, even if he gets a crutch to the shin for his trouble. God, he’s missed this.

“Buck, what are you doing here?” 

Eddie looks confused, but it’s the fresh bruise along his unshaven jaw and exhaustion ringing his eyes that grabs Buck’s attention. He thinks about the pained way Eddie pulled away from him the night before and swallows the million questions he has. Whatever discussion they need to have will have to wait until Chris isn’t around to hear it.

“It’s our day off, thought I’d come see the Diaz boys,” he grins. 

Eddie steps further out of his house, pulling the door closed behind him. He’s got his keys in one hand, a travel mug in the other, and Chris’ gym kit slung over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, well, one of these Diaz boys has school.”

Chris puts his hand on Buck’s leg and looks up at him with those big puppy eyes. “Will you come with us, Buck?” 

Buck glances at Eddie, who just shrugs, so he says, “Sure. Why don’t I drive? Your dad can drink his coffee and you and me can talk Transformers.”

Eddie remains quiet for the twenty minutes it takes to get to Chris’ school. He’s not hostile or mad, but he looks resigned, like he knows Buck wants a Conversation and knows there’s no more putting it off. Sure, he’s chipper as hell when he says goodbye to Christopher, but the minute he and Buck are alone together in the car he sinks into the seat, eyes closed as he tips his head back. The bruise on his face is a sickly shade of purple.

“So, I had a bit of a night,” Buck says brightly, because he’s not gonna ask Eddie what’s going on while he’s driving. “This lady hit a guy with her car two days ago and had no idea she was driving around with him sticking outta her windshield. The hospital said she had a brain bleed and it confused her? Anyway, he’s still alive. Thanks to me.”

He winks, playing it up, and Eddie smiles. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh. And the driver.” He should shut up, but Eddie’s still looking at him with that soft, quiet look on his face, and it makes Buck keep talking. “Y’know, I always thought it was the uniform that made me the guy who’ll crawl over broken glass, literally, to help people. To make a difference. But, I dunno man, I think I’m starting to realize that it’s just who I am, uniform or no. When Bobby came to get me from the hospital, he said—” 

“Wait, you were at the hospital? Last night?” Eddie looks stricken and it makes Buck’s breath catch in his throat. 

“Uh, yeah. Kinda.” He shows Eddie the bandage on his arm. “I got scratched on the broken windshield. It’s nothing, I swear. The paramedics wanted me to get checked because of, y’know, my history. Honestly, Ed, I’m fine.”

Eddie scrapes a hand over his face. “You should’ve called me.” 

“Would you have answered?”

“Of course.” But even as he says it, Eddie doesn’t sound like he believes the words. 

This time Buck doesn’t say anything. He just drives, glancing over at Eddie every so often. Each time he does, Eddie looks back. Like they’re attuned to each other. They definitely used to be, before Buck went and messed it up. Now it’s time to sort it out. 

But when they get back to Eddie’s, Buck decides he’s gotta pick the right moment. He really doesn’t want to fight again, and Eddie’s looking pretty pathetic anyway, slumped at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. 

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Buck asks, already pulling open the cupboards. 

“Cereal,” Eddie replies, gesturing blindly to the empty bowls left in the sink and the box of Cap’n Crunch on the counter. 

Buck snorts. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna make you a proper breakfast. Go shower, I’ll have it ready by the time you’re done.”

Eddie huffs, looking up and raising his eyebrows. “Is that a not-so-subtle hint?”

“No, man, you just look like you could do with taking a load off for a few. A shower will make you feel better.”

It’s the closest they’ve come to actually discussing the fact that there’s something wrong with Eddie, but he doesn’t rise to it. Just takes Buck’s advice and trudges down the hall, disappearing into his bedroom. 

Buck heaves out a breath and sets about making one of Bobby’s specialities: the perfect French omelet. He’s gonna have to improvise a little with the filling based on the sparse contents of Eddie’s refrigerator but he finds spinach, mushrooms and cheese, so it could be worse.

When Eddie comes back, dressed in dark jeans and a henley, Buck is just setting two plates piled high with omelet on the table. So what that a couple of hours ago he ate his weight in pancakes with Bobby? He’s always got room for more.

“You cleaned up in here,” Eddie comments, “and dios, it smells amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Buck smiles, and refrains from pulling Eddie’s chair out for him like he would a date at a restaurant. Instead he sits across from Eddie and raises his glass of OJ. “Here’s to you forgiving me, and to us being friends again.”

Eddie clinks his glass against Buck’s, but does so with a roll of his eyes. “We were never not friends, Buck. It was killing me that I couldn’t talk to you.”

A memory floats to the surface of Buck’s brain, something Eddie said that time in the grocery store, that makes him say, “Yeah, talk to me and to, what was it? Oh yeah, ask me to bail you out of jail. Hypothetically, right?” 

Oh yeah, that hit a nerve. Eddie slowly chews and swallows his mouthful of egg, but his eyes go shuttered and Buck knows that this is it, no more lies. 

“Not so much, actually,” Eddie admits, and when he looks back up Buck is shocked to see that his eyes are wet. “Buck, I think I’m in trouble.”

It’s not a surprise. Neither is the way every fiber of Buck’s being wants to get out of his chair and gather Eddie into his arms, hold him close and promise him that everything is gonna be okay. Except he won’t, though. He doesn’t know if it will be okay, and it sounds like he’s gonna have to be the grown up one in this situation. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding his head. “Tell me.”

To his credit, Eddie looks Buck right in the eye when he says, “I’ve been street fighting. For money.”

Nausea fills the pit of Buck’s stomach. Images fill his head unbidden of Eddie getting pummelled by some great ugly brute with no teeth. With no one there to support him, patch him up afterwards and make sure he’s okay. 

“Jesus, Eddie. And I thought I was supposed to be the stupid one.”

Eddie hangs his head. “Yeah, well.”

“I mean, what were you thinking?” Buck bursts out. “You could have been seriously hurt, man, or worse. You’ve got people here who need you, Eddie. Chris needs you.” He pauses, swallows. “I need you.”

The chair skids back with a screech as Eddie jumps to his feet. “Don’t you think I know that? I can’t help it, Buck! I’m just so — so angry, all the fucking time. At everyone! Shannon — she died. She told me she wanted a divorce, and then she fucking died. That’s my fault, if I hadn’t brought her back into our lives only to turn around and change my mind, she wouldn’t have even been on that road to get hit by that car! Chris has lost his mom for good, because I was so goddamn selfish. And then you — and your leg — and I know how hard your recovery was so I wasn’t gonna make it about me and my issues. And the tsunami just — dios, I still have nightmares about losing Christopher. About losing you. Except then I did lose you to that stupid stupid lawsuit, and I just needed to punch something so badly.”

He stops, shakes his head, sucks in a shuddering breath. Buck can’t even move, doesn’t even know what to say. 

“It wasn’t supposed to go this far, Buck,” Eddie finishes, voice nearly a whisper. “It’s the only thing that made me feel in control. Please help me make it stop.”

Buck looks at Eddie, really looks at him. His brown eyes are sad and awful. So Buck gets up out of his chair and in three strides he’s right there in front of him, his hands on Eddie’s biceps, reaching out to pull him in and curling his own arms firm around Eddie’s broad shoulders, like a protective band around him.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. You were right, last night. I was too focused on myself to see that you were hurting.”

“No,” Eddie says. He makes to pull back, but Buck refuses to let go so Eddie just talks into his shoulder instead. “You went through a lot—”

“We all went through a lot,” Buck corrects him gently. “And none of it, none of it, was your fault, Eddie Diaz.”

Eddie’s arms come up around Buck’s waist, slowly squeezing back. Buck scrunches his eyes shut so he doesn’t do something stupid like cry. He doesn’t know how long they stand there like that, Eddie’s hot breath fanning against the side of his neck, wrapped around each other so tightly, breakfast long forgotten on the table, but when they finally disentangle Eddie’s face is dry although his eyes look red and sore. 

“No more fighting,” Buck tells him, no room for argument. “We’ll go in the boxing ring, I’ll hold a punching bag for you, I’ll take you to the rage room, whatever. If you need help with money, I got you covered. If you wake up in the middle of the night and wanna talk, you call me. You want me to come to therapy with you, I’m there. But fight club is done.”

For a second, Buck thinks Eddie is gonna argue. But then he sags, his shoulders falling, and nods. 

“I’m not gonna feel better until I’ve checked you over,” Buck adds then, concerned about injuries he can’t see. 

Eddie rolls his eyes to the heavens, so much like his usual self Buck nearly laughs in relief. “Buck, I’m fine. I’m a medic. I know this to be true.”

“Please,” Buck begs, because he needs to see for himself, needs proof. 

Sighing, and looking extremely reluctant about it, Eddie plucks at the bottom of his henley and peels it off over his head. 

Ugly smudges of blue, purple and yellow marr the landscape of Eddie’s torso like stormclouds. His ribs look awful, half-healed and scabbed over where the skin has been split from the sheer force of the beating. Buck places his hand gently over the worst of it, feels Eddie’s ribcage expand under his palm. 

“Not broken,” Eddie whispers. “Just bruised.”

Buck moves up, brushes the back of his fingers over the swelling on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie inhales softly. 

“It looks painful,” Buck mutters. 

“It’s not so bad,” Eddie says, just as quiet. 

Despite popular belief, Buck’s not actually an idiot. He knows what’s happening here. His feelings for Eddie are an ever-present feature of Buck’s everyday, always just under the surface, bubbling up every time they share a look or a touch, however innocent. Right now Buck feels like they’re boiling over, faced with miles and miles of Eddie’s soap-clean skin and those eyes staring right at him and the emotional vulnerability that has left them both a bit raw. 

When Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, Buck thinks he might actually combust. 

“Te he extrañado,” Eddie breathes, “I missed you.”

And that’s it, he can’t take it anymore. Buck swoops forward and presses his mouth to Eddie’s in a kiss that’s not gentle at all, but demanding and desperate and so, so good. 

It gets even better when Eddie tongue traces the seam of Buck’s lips — it gets hot and fierce then, wet and open-mouthed. Buck’s hands are on Eddie’s face, cradling his jaw, but Eddie’s hands can’t seem to decide what to touch first: first Buck’s waist, then up his chest, over his shoulders, smoothing down his back until they settle on his waistband. 

“I always thought —” Buck murmurs, lush against Eddie’s mouth, “that it was — it was just me who — God, Eddie.”

Eddie slides his fingers around Buck’s belt to the front, easily slipping the leather through the buckle.

“There was never a good time,” Eddie says, kissing him again and sucking lightly on Buck’s bottom lip, like his fingers aren’t unbuttoning Buck’s fly and driving him absolutely fucking crazy. It’s not fair that he can string sentences together when Buck’s feeling so deliriously drunk on this already.

Then he remembers that hey, he’s good at this. Eddie is far from the first guy he’s been with, although he is the first in a while, and he knows sex. Knows all the best knee-trembling, breath-taking, shiver-inducing moves. Part of him can’t believe that he gets to do them all with Eddie, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop now.

Buck presses kisses down Eddie’s neck, stubble burning his lips in the best way. He can’t resist leaving a hickey on his collarbone, more on his chest, scattered among the bruises there.

“Buck…” Eddie groans, his hands fisting in Buck’s hair now, not-so-subtly trying to guide him lower. 

Smirking against his skin, Buck heads back up instead, nipping Eddie’s ear as he whispers, “If you weren’t injured, we’d be on this kitchen floor and I’d be sucking your brain out through your dick.”

Eddie’s hips jerk into Buck’s and Buck can feel quite clearly just how much that idea appeals. 

“But you are injured, so we’re gonna take this somewhere a bit softer,” he adds, grabbing Eddie’s hand and dragging him into his own bedroom. Eddie’s grip is tight but sweaty, and Buck’s glad that he’s not the only one feeling slightly overwhelmed here. For all his blustering and confidence, the fact that this is Eddie means it’s important. Possibly the most important thing Buck has ever done. He really, really hopes this isn’t going to be a one-time thing. 

As soon as they’re in the bedroom, Eddie pulls Buck’s t-shirt up and over his head before pushing him down on the bed. Grinning when he bounces, Buck sits on the edge and yanks Eddie in by the hips, making quick work of his fly and yanking his jeans and boxers down his thighs. 

Eddie is so hard already, so wet that Buck can’t help but take him into his mouth. He sucks, kisses and licks until Eddie is gasping for breath and pushing him away. 

“Too much?” Buck pants, laying on his back and bringing Eddie down with him. 

“Not enough,” Eddie says, kissing him again like he can’t get enough of Buck’s mouth. The weight of his body pressing Buck down into the mattress feels so good that Buck can’t help bumping his hips up, only to be impeded by his own goddamn pants. Desperate, he tries to wriggle his way out of them until Eddie takes pity and tugs them over his ankles. 

“You’re kind of a dork,” Eddie laughs, kissing the smooth skin of Buck’s inner thighs, the vibrations doing things to him.

“Fuck you,” Buck retorts, breathless. “I’m a goddamn sex machine.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, too easy, and Buck yanks him back up to crush their mouths together again. Now that he’s started kissing Eddie, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to stop. He prays to a God that he doesn’t really believe in that he won’t ever have to.

Buck’s had a couple of near-death experiences, but right here with Eddie on top of him, rolling their hips together, his legs wrapped tight around Eddie’s waist? Definitely the closest to heaven he’s ever been. 

He pushes up every time Eddie pushes down, fingers roaming over Eddie’s back, feeling the muscles ripple each time he shoves against Buck. Eddie moves one of his arms from where it’s braced beside Buck’s head and uses his hand to grip both their dicks together, and that’s when it gets hot and fast and intense, and kissing becomes nothing more than panting against each other’s mouths, and Buck tenses and finally comes undone, unspooling like a livewire, sparks firing under his skin, leaving him unable to do much more than keep his grip on Eddie’s shoulderblades and hang on while he rides it out.

Eddie is swearing fiercely in Spanish, losing his rhythm, but he drags his hand through the mess on Buck’s stomach and wraps that hand around his own dick, the image of which is so unreasonably hot that Buck groans and shudders. 

“Yeah, c’mon, baby,” he blurts out, “come on me, mark me up, make me yours.”

“Dios, Buck, fuck,” Eddie grits out, hips stuttering, and then he comes with a drawn-out moan, only making Buck dirtier, and God does Buck love it. Love him. 

They kiss again as they come back down to earth, softer now, slower. Buck’s mouth keeps doing this thing where he can’t stop smiling, until Eddie catches it too, and then they’re laughing. Eddie collapses into the space next to Buck, and he feels cold now where their skin isn’t touching. He reaches over the edge of the bed and comes back with his shirt which he uses to wipe his stomach before throwing blindly back to the floor. 

“So…” Eddie starts, tipping his head to look at Buck. 

Buck just grins at him. “Told you I was a sex machine.”

Eddie glares at him without any heat in it, then rolls onto his side and rests his palm over Buck’s chest. His face gets serious and for a heartbeat Buck thinks he’s about to be kicked out of bed. 

But, “I want you to know this wasn’t some sort of… gratitude thing,” Eddie says, “Or — or another outlet for my anger. That meant — you mean — a whole lot to me, Evan Buckley. And if this is going to jeopardize our friendship then—”

“Hey,” Buck interrupts, grabbing onto Eddie’s hand and clutching at it. “In case you couldn’t tell from everything I’ve said today: I love you, you idiot.”

A huge smile breaks out on Eddie’s face and Buck can’t help but mirror it, reeling Eddie back in. They make out like teenagers until their lips go numb and kiss-swollen. 

They only stop when Eddie’s stomach grumbles, reminding them both that he never did finish his breakfast. 

“C’mon, shower and then brunch,” Buck decides, running his hand over Eddie’s side and down to his ass, where he squeezes. “What d’ya reckon old man, ready for round two? Shower sex, easy clean up?”

“Not if you’re gonna call me old,” retorts Eddie, and he jumps out of bed like he doesn’t have several bruised ribs, as if to prove a point. “You coming, or shall I start without you?”

Buck might give his right arm to see that, but right now he just wants to be pressed as close to Eddie as possible, to make sure nothing hurts him ever again. 

There’ll be time for everything else later.

[hughiecampbelle]

War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

[vannahfanfics]

Mama Mina

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Denki Kaminari, Mina Ashido

Hey, everyone! Here’s another story for @bnhabookclub‘s weekly SFW prompt, “You can’t ignore me forever!” Enjoy! :)

Denki’s lips were drawn up in a cheerless pout as he lay sideways on his bed, repeatedly bouncing a ball against his opposite wall. With languid, practiced motions that were more muscle memory than actual attentive efforts, he flicked his wrist to lob the ball at the same spot on the wall he had been for the last hour. He watched with dull lidded eyes as the squishy rubber toy sailed across the width of the bedroom, struck the smooth painted surface, dove down at a forty-five-degree angle to bounce once on the polished wooden floor strewn with dirty socks and worn tee-shirts, then returned to his waiting hand. Shwip. Thunk. Thwock. Slap. The sounds echoed, just as depressing and lifeless as the ambiance.

“Stupid,” he muttered aloud as he hurled the ball across the room once more. “Absolutely useless. What’re you even here for, Denki?” The ball slammed into the wall as he subconsciously applied more force to the throw; in turn, its arc changed dramatically and crashed into his face instead of his hand. The ball ricocheted off his nose to collide with his desk lamp, causing it to spin wildly around and knock into the plastic cup holding his writing utensils. He cursed as he rolled onto his back with both his hands tenderly holding his bruised face, trying to ignore the added insult of his pencils and pens sliding over the desk and clattering to the floor. In the background of that and his groans, he could hear the rubber ball bouncing and then rolling over the wood to come to rest somewhere under his bed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Denki usually tried to stay positive. He really did. That was his thing, after all, being the plucky optimist. He had drained his supply of sanguinity, however; the cistern was as dry as a desert, not a drop of confidence to be found. How could he be self-assured, after making an absolute fool of himself in the third round of the Sports Festival? It had taken literal seconds for Ibara Shiozaki to obliterate him in their one-on-one battle. Denki had never suffered such a grievous insult in his life. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. It was all his stupid fault.

He pushed the balls of his palms into his eyes, trying to force the tears that were brimming there from leaking out. He failed miserably at that as well. The salty liquid rolled down his flushing cheeks to bead on his chin, then drip down and absorb into the collar of his tee-shirt.

“Ungh… Goddammit,” he sniffed and rolled onto his belly to shove his face into his pillow. In the back of his mind, he thought suffocating himself was preferable to the uncomfortable twisting in his gut and the stinging in his eyes. Unfortunately, the fabric of his pillow was much too breathable. The world is against me. Without removing his face from the cushiony construct, he slipped halfway off the bed to grope blindly around for the rubber ball. Continuously chunking it relieved some of his nervous energy, at least.

He stopped when someone knocked loudly and insistently on his bedroom door.

“Denki!” Mina’s high-pitched voice was still loud even bleeding through the wood. She rattled the doorknob experimentally to find it locked. “Denki, lemme in! Let’s talk.” What the hell is she doing here?! “Me and Eiji and Hanta are all here to hang out. Your mom called us!” Of course she did… he thought sourly. “Hanta’s setting his PlayStation up downstairs! Come on! Let’s go play!”

He removed his face from the plush pillow to shout, “Dun wanna!” He scowled when the pink-skinned girl jiggled the metal knob again, more persistently this time.

“Denki, come on, you’ve been moping in here all day. It doesn’t do any good to sulk like this! Come onnnn! Let’s talk it out!” Denki snorted derisively and threw himself on his side, facing the wall and pouting childishly. If he were in a healthy state of mind, he might appreciate her kind gesture; however, incensed as he was, he could only be petulantly exasperated by her insistence. She continued to bleat invitational prattle before his doorway, and he decided not to waste the energy on responding. If I ignore her, she’ll go away. “Denki. Denki. Denki.” She began relentlessly chanting his name and punctuating each shout with a rattle of the knob. Grumbling unflattering words under his breath, he wrapped the pillow around his ears. The breathable fabric didn’t muffle nearly as much sound as he wished. “Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki. Denki.” He curled up so that his knees touched his chest.

Go away, he snarled in his mind. I don’t want to talk about how stupid I am. Leave me alone!

“Denki, you can’t ignore me forever! DenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDenkiDen-”

“Fuck! Okay, I’m coming, just cut it out! Sheesh,” he yelled and threw himself off the bed. Somehow the angry motion was coordinated, and he landed on the flats of his bare feet. His stomps were purposeful and thundering as he stalked open to the door to unlock it and throw it open. “What?” he hissed at the smiling, bubbly girl, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with misdirected self-loathing.

“Denki, are you sad?”

“No! I’m not sad! Now, will you leave me alone?!” he huffed and went to shut the door in her face. In his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t right, but Goddammit, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Sometimes a man just needed to brood in peace. Her pink hand flew up to slam against the wood, demonstrating surprising strength as it stopped it in its tracks.

“I think you’re lying.”

“So what if I am?!” Instantaneously, his cheeks flushed a rose color. Dammit, that isn’t what I wanted to say! Her face deadly serious and those black-and-gold eyes boring into the quivering depths of his soul, Mina leaned into the doorway. Denki gulped and subconsciously leaned back in the face of such unwavering resolve.

“I’m coming in,” she asserted simply. Denki deflated with a whine and trudged away from the door to throw himself face-down back on the bed. His groan of acknowledgment was muffled by that annoyingly breathable fabric of his pillow. He heard the soft scrapes of her socks over his floor. They were followed by the gentle click of the door behind her. Denki hugged his pillow as he moped over how rapidly the situation spiraled out of control; it was just par for the course for him, he supposed. Silly, stupid Denki with no spine-

“Denki. You know that none of us think any less of you for what happened at the Sports Festival, right?” He visibly cringed as she heartlessly jabbed at the core of his depression. Snorting, he rolled on his side such that his back was to her. Morosely, he curled his thin body around the pillow.

“Yeah, right. You guys probably thought it was hilarious. She wiped the floor with me.” His bottom lip wobbled pitifully just talking about it. It had been so humiliating. Finally, he thought he had his chance to show that he wasn’t just the dumb guy that fried his brain and mumbled “Yayyyyy,” but he had blown it in the most mortifying way. Kyoka was probably sniggering into her hand while she gossiped about him to Momo-

“Well, Hanta-”

“He was up against Todoroki, and he even got a good shot in,” he countered matter-of-factly. Angrily, he squeezed the plush body of the pillow but had not the raw strength to tear it to little shreds of fabric and cotton like he wanted to. “Stop lyin’ to me. You can say it. I’m useless and stu-”

“You are not stupid!” He jumped violently as her voice cracked like a whip in the relatively quiet bedroom. He yelped like a wounded dog when she wrenched him onto his back by the shoulder. Like it was a shield, he kept the pillow hugged to his body and stared owlishly up at the fuming girl. Her pink lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers clenched into her hips. “So what if you’re not Bakugo or Todoroki or even Midoriya? You still earned your way into this hero course!” she scolded him. He just vehemently nodded along. Frankly, he was a little terrified she would whap him upside his head if he continued with the self-pity. Her face softened slightly, and she bent over him to ruffle his blonde-and-black hair affectionately. “You have your own merits, and believe it or not, we all know them. You’re loyal and care a lot about your friends.” She smiled brightly down at him as he blushed shyly. “Sure, it didn’t work out this time, but you’ve still got so much time to prove what you’re made of. Stop saying you’re stupid or useless, because you’re not. None of us think that.”

“Really?” he asked her with big, round eyes, and she nodded firmly.

“Pinky-swear!” she grinned and held up her pinky finger emphatically. “Not even Kyoka,” she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, which made him gulp and flush further. Still hugging the pillow but not as tightly, he sat up from the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to admit, even though she had just basically reprimanded him like a stern mother, he felt loads better. He smiled warmly when she grabbed his hand and looped her pinky with his.

“Thanks, Mina.”

“No problem!” He chuckled, and she stepped away when he slung his legs around to hop of the bed. She stood on her tip-toes to muss up his already wild hair again. “Now get yourself dressed and come get some breakfast. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything.”

“Mina, it’s like… two in the afternoon.”

“Brunch, then! Regardless, food! You need sustenance!” she insisted and jabbed him in his belly with her index fingers a few times. He squirmed at the tickling prods and skittered away from her to his closet.

“Yes, Mom!” he snorted, finally dropping the pillow to begin rifling through the closet for a suitable tee shirt. Mina hummed contentedly and strolled to the door, kicking aside a few of his discarded socks and underwear towards his dirty clothes hamper.

“Yup, that’s me. Mama Mina! If you’re not downstairs in five minutes, I’m coming back up to drag you by the ear,” she warned as she stepped out of the door.

“I’m coming! Promise!” he laughed, and she flashed him a teasing wink before shutting the door behind her. Amused, he stared at the wooden entryway for a few seconds, just smiling admiringly. “Mama Mina,” he huffed under his breath and shook his head before wrenching his shirt off and tossing it across the room into the hamper. The smile never fell from his face the entire time he was getting ready.

It just felt really nice to know he had someone looking after him.

“All right! Time to kick some ass, Denki Kaminari!” he told himself with a devilish smile. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, then did a couple pre-game stretches. He then all but bolted out of his bedroom and down the stairs. His friends greeted him with a chorus of “hello’s.” He snatched up a bag of Doritos from the kitchen counter and vaulted over the back of the couch, snatching up a controller and sticking out his tongue confidently.

“’Sup, guys? Ready to looooose?”

“As if!” Hanta cried and shoved him in the side of the head. “You’re the one who’s going down!”

“How do I play this game, Mina?” Eijirou frowned at the flickering screen.

“Just shoot the zombies, Eiji.”

“Shoot the zombies,” the redhead repeated unsurely under his breath and squinted at the television. Denki shoved a handful of nacho chips in his mouth and rolled onto his belly, legs still slung over the back of the couch, before holding the bag out to Mina. She took it graciously and patted him on the top of his head, making him smile widely.

I have really, really good friends.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @sadistiks @simplybakugou

[fancifulbutsensiblething]

Adventures in Auditory Agony

So I recently made a playlist of absolutely horrible music to drive around to, and the image of Ronan and Blue terrorizing the others with it popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this entirely self-indulgent fic to go along with the playlist. It’s v silly and also my first foray into writing TRC content, but...here we are.

Post-TRK/Pre-Epilogue Bronan friendship and gangsey shenanigans, rated T, read on ao3

In the week following Gansey’s graduation, something strange happened.

He hadn’t wanted to leave for a week, not when he was going to be leaving Henrietta so soon anyway. He’d disliked the plan even more when Maura had insisted Blue couldn’t go with him, that if she was going on this road trip with him and Henry, the Fox Way ladies needed to take advantage of every moment they had with her. Gansey couldn’t begrudge Maura time with her daughter, just as he couldn’t blame his own mother for wanting him to spend a little time with the rest of the Gansey clan before he took off again.

So he acquiesced to his mother’s demand-phrased-as-a-polite-request that he would spend a few days at home, on the condition that he could bring Adam along. Adam was even less thrilled than Gansey at the prospect of leaving Henrietta, especially when he knew Ronan wouldn’t come with them, especially especially when he remembered the last time he’d visited D.C. But Gansey desperately wanted company, and with Henry visiting his mother, Adam was the only option left, and he knew it. Besides, at Gansey’s suggestion, they’d added a few extra days for visiting some of the colleges Adam was applying to.

(Neither of them mentioned that the idea of some quality time together—just the two of them—before they each went their separate ways for the foreseeable future was an appealing one. They both thought it.)

The plan was met with mixed feelings by every party involved, but it went off without a hitch, and four family dinners, three college visits, two breakdowns in the Pig, and one emotional late-night heart to heart later, the two boys had returned to Henrietta.

For a while, Gansey noticed nothing amiss.

The first night back was a game night. As usual, Blue somehow managed to beat everyone at Super Smash Bros. despite passing up actually learning how to play in favor of smashing buttons at random. As usual, Adam was alarmingly good at Monopoly. As usual, Ronan got bored before they could finish a round and insisted on playing Cards Against Humanity instead. As usual, Gansey was terrible at every game but nonetheless seemed to have the most fun.

The next day was spent split off in pairs. Gansey spent some time at 300 Fox Way, helping out around the house and good-naturedly tasting Maura’s experimental teas before Blue got fed up with Orla, who was not in the least deterred from her usual flirtatiousness by the official nature of their relationship, and dragged him out of the house to 1) go for a drive, 2) make out in the back seat of the Pig, and 3) explore a local farmer’s market. The rest of the day was spent at Monmouth Manufacturing, though Adam and Ronan were nowhere to be seen. Ronan had been spending more nights at St. Agnes than Monmouth, though, so Gansey wasn’t surprised. All went as usual.

It was on his second full day back that Gansey realized something had happened during his week away.

After a lazy morning, everyone was gathered once more at Monmouth Manufacturing to go for a trip to the Barns. Ronan had volunteered to drive the BMW.

Adam and Gansey followed the other two as they headed out of the apartment, watching amusedly at the scene unfolding. Blue had thrown herself sideways into Ronan, and despite her size, she’d managed to knock him off balance for a moment.

“Hey, asshole, cut it out,” he growled, mussing the colorfully clipped mess of her hair affectionately.

Blue huffed and attempted to shove his hand away. He redoubled his efforts. She ducked away, but he followed, and it quickly escalated into a chaotic tussle.

“‘M gonna shave it all off,” came Blue’s muffled voice from behind Ronan’s arm, “just to spite you.”

Adam laughed. The sound made Gansey grin.

“I’d shave it for you if you asked nicely.”

“No way. It’s a punishment, not a reward.” By this time she had freed herself and was grinning breathlessly back at him as she jogged up to the Beemer.

Then Blue climbed in shotgun.

Ronan was unfazed by this. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gansey saw rather than heard him answering her quip.

Gansey, however, was not unfazed. And neither was Adam, if the slight frown and amused quirk of his lips when he turned to meet Gansey’s eyes was any indication.

Gansey could only shrug and follow Adam into the back seat.

Blue rode shotgun in the Camaro more frequently than Ronan or Adam did these days, and on the rare occasion that any of them ended up in Adam’s piece of shit car, she had as fair a shot as either of the others. But if Ronan was driving, it had always been Gansey or, more recently, Adam in the front. It wasn’t that Blue and Ronan weren’t close—they were just about as close now as any of them, and it made Gansey’s heart feel like it was swelling up three times it’s regular size, like the Grinch’s in the old cartoon he and Helen used to watch every December. But Blue had never attempted riding shotgun in the Beemer if either of the others were along, and Ronan had never asked her to, and something about it felt significant when she casually swung herself into the front seat.

It was practiced, Gansey realized as he buckled his seatbelt. It was easy. What had Ronan and Blue gotten up to while he and Adam were away?

He didn’t have to wonder long.

Ronan wordlessly tossed Blue his phone, and she hooked it up to the aux that he’d dreamt to work in the BMW. This, too, was practiced and easy. Blue even knew his phone password.

Just as they screeched out of the parking lot, some kind of music that Gansey could only call aggressive blasted through the speakers. It wasn’t the murder squash song, which he appreciated, but it also wasn’t all that much better. It was all angry electric music and yelling and loud, so loud, but Blue and Ronan were both yelling the words and head-banging, which he had never seen from either of them. It was so strange, he had to glance over at Adam for confirmation that he wasn’t hallucinating. Adam stared back at him wide-eyed.

For a while they only watched in silence, and Gansey almost felt as though he were intruding on some kind of private ritual until Blue turned and began to teasingly sing some of the lyrics of the next song—a horrible, upbeat electronic sounding one—at him. From the few lyrics he could understand, it was about carrying out a relationship over the phone. It was more than a little pointed, and he found himself blushing at some of the more explicit lyrics.

Some of his discomfort evaporated when she laughed delightedly at him and returned to dancing in her seat, replaced by fascination.

Finally, Adam broke in, yelling to be heard over the music, “Can someone please explain what is going on?”

Ronan met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shouted back, “We’re going to the Barns, Parrish. Where have you been?”

“Or do you just mean like, the state of the world today?” Blue asked, turning to face him. “Because you will not believe what’s going on with climate change.”

“I mean the state of my good ear, which is on the verge of becoming my other bad ear. The hell are we listening to?”

Blue lowered the volume just enough that they could speak without having to shout, warding off Ronan’s dirty look with one of her own. “Our playlist. I wanted to name it “emo to the excreamo,” but Ronan kept insisting on names that were objectively terrible and we couldn’t compromise so now it’s a sad nameless little playlist.”

“For the record, ‘songs to commit crimes to’ is the perfect name.”

“It doesn’t make sense! I can’t commit ecoterrorism while blasting Britney Spears.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t. You probably shouldn’t even fucking bother with the ecoterrorism if you aren’t gonna blast Britney Spears while you do it.”

Gansey’s head was spinning. “There’s Britney Spears on this playlist?”

“Obviously,” Blue shot back over her shoulder. It did not seem obvious to Gansey given that the current song was some kind of angry electric rock and that the playlist had been made by Ronan Lynch and Blue Sargent, but then again, nothing else about their current situation had seemed obvious to him ten minutes ago, either.

“I can’t blast anything as bop-worthy as Britney Spears, or I’ll get caught and then I won’t be able to commit more ecoterrorism.” This Blue directed at Ronan. “You must be a terrible criminal.”

“Fine. ‘Songs to get murdered to’ works just as well.”

Blue punched him in the arm. “That’s insensitive! Gansey’s been murdered!”

Ronan barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah, by you and your kiss of death, Maggot.”

“For the record,” Gansey interjected, “Jane’s kiss of death was vastly preferable to the thousands of hornet stings.”

“What a compliment.” Adam raised an eyebrow and looked from Gansey to Blue.

Ronan snickered. “Congrats, Sargent. Kissing you is slightly better than getting stung to death.”

Blue’s reply was interrupted by the sound of “it’s Britney, bitch,” from the stereo, which sent her scrambling to set the volume to its previous ear-bleeding level.

They carried on like this for a while, Ronan pushing 20 over the speed limit and Blue scream-singing lyrics to songs that almost all had to do with sex, cars, or both. Gansey thought the one about a dreamer in a Beemer seemed a little on the nose, and sentiment Adam voiced moments later.

“I can’t help it if I’m someone’s muse,” came the reply. Blue snorted loudly, and Ronan reached over and pinched her on the exposed skin between the top of her knee socks and her ripped shorts. She slapped his hand and squirmed away.

At one point, Blue sang (if you could call it that, when it was really closer to talking or shouting but set to music) the intro to a song that began, “Hey you lil piss baby,” leaning across the center console to get in Ronan’s face, without missing a single word. In fact, Gansey realized, she knew at least some (if not most) of the words to all of these songs, and he wondered just how many times they’d listened to them together.

The fact that they had coordinated dance moves and established which of them sang specific parts when there were back and forth elements solidified for him that the answer was…many, many times.

This coordination was amusing for the most part. An amused smirk played across Adam’s lips as he watched their stupid dances, and Gansey was just ruminating on how happy and carefree both of them seemed, open in a way he rarely saw from either of them, when their performance jolted him out of his reverie.

Blue was moaning. Loudly.

It was part of the song, of course, the singer’s desire to — like rabbits, with a moan in place of an expletive, blaring over and over through the speakers. Ronan was singing along with the rest of the lyrics. Blue contributed the…interjectory sounds, and apparently took this role very seriously.

When her eyes, glinting mischievously, met his in the rearview mirror, he realized she was doing this on purpose. To mess with him. His mouth finally caught up to his brain, and he spluttered a scandalized, “Jane!”

She threw her head back and cackled gleefully. Ronan fist-bumped her. Gansey’s face felt hot.

“I think you’ve become a bad influence, Lynch,” Adam shouted, but he was failing to suppress his smile.

“If anything,” Ronan shot back, “Sargent’s been a bad influence on me. She’s the one that found most of these songs.”

Gansey wondered at that. He wondered all through the suggestive and outright explicit of the next song as well. He wondered at Blue’s ability to sing along without so much as a blush, all while he tried very hard not to think on any of the images his mind conjured up in response.

But of course, she was dauntless and outspoken in everything she did. He smiled at the mental image of her playing these songs for Ronan, ranting all the while about how women in media are sexualized for male gratification but expected to keep themselves modest and pure, the double-edged sword that is the masculine perception of female sexuality, and raging against the vilification of the women who wrote songs expressing that sexuality while men could objectify women in their song’s as much as they pleased. Gansey wished he could’ve been there for Ronan’s response.

None of that made the upbeat, electronic excuse for music any more aurally appealing, unfortunately.

One song ended with sudden bursts of horrid, metallic clashing sounds at a volume so painful that he, Adam, and even Blue covered their ears. She reached to lower the volume, but Ronan slapped her hand away.

“Come on, Ronan,” Gansey yelled, “this isn’t even music! It’s just…screeching!”

Ronan threw a wolfish grin at him over his shoulder. “I know. It sounds just like the Pig when she breaks down. Does it turn you on, Dick?”

Gansey let out a deep sigh, but before he could defend himself, the song had changed and Blue had let out a little excited yelp.

“I just remembered!” she gasped, grabbing for Ronan’s phone. “Henry gave me a song to play for you. You’re gonna love it.”

Ronan sneered. “I don’t trust Cheng’s taste in music.”

Blue only waved her hand dismissively and fiddled with his phone until a new song, not dissimilar in style to the rest, was playing. A few verses in, Adam began laughing, a full, joyous laugh rarely heard and positively contagious.

“It’s perfect for you, Ro,” he gasped out.

Ronan had to concede that a song about only answering the phone for your boyfriend’s personalized ringtone was rather fitting, even if Henry was the one to recommend it. He didn’t fight Blue when she added it to the playlist, and his threats following her announcement that she was making the song Adam’s ringtone were halfhearted at best.

Looking from Blue and Ronan’s bickering to Adam’s gasping laughter, Gansey tried to take in and file away every detail. He wanted to be able to look back on this moment when they were spread out across the country, to remind himself that the separation was only temporary. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

By the time they got to the Barns, it was his eardrums that felt like they were going to burst.

“Next time,” he groaned, stepping out of the car and into the Virginia summer heat, “I’m bringing ear plugs.”

[kyu-bri]

Magia Rapport pt 2

@magiarapport​

August 24th prompt: What was your favorite event, and why? Is it because of gameplay or the story?

It’s hard to choose so I’m gonna just, gush a bit.

As you can probably tell I’m very biased toward the OG girls, I started Magia Record primarily because PMMM had become my new obsession and I wanted some sort of constant flow of content out of decade old anime lmao.

But another thing I think I hooked onto was Inu Curry’s writing. They really know Madoka Magica and aren’t afraid to really play with them- something the writers for a spin-off gacha game (as with most spin-off stories honestly) can be scared to do. Inu Curry made references, revealed secrets and built upon the story we already know- which lets be honest is what we always truly want from a spin-off series. Magia Record proper does this well by putting more magical girls into the world and letting us see things work out better for them than for the original cast, but what I really appreciated with this story was getting to see that old original cast get to get in on that, and these events managed to do that without watering them down any.

Under the cut is me going on for 3000 words about why I love these three events I’m so sorry. TL;DR at the very end-

I’ll go in release order,

A La Carte Valentine was one of the first if not THE first event I got in on. I was eager to bc 1 Gay Magical Girl Shit Guaranteed. And ofc 2 OG Cast participation.

I want to preface by saying I actually loved all the girls’ stories in this. I was very much still in a state of getting used to Iroha’s gang let alone trying to care about the secondary girls. I knew Tsukasa had this angsty Twins Separated At Birth Deal and liked seeing her home life (also I immediantly stanned Take. Regular well-meaning dude who has no idea whats going on just trying his best and hating his boss). I knew nothing about Ami except Cowgirl Meguca and getting the bulk of her personality in one short even I think really kept me from being absolutely sick of her, she’s just a cute silly teenage girl who could be in literally anything and I was able to just endearingly giggle at that. Hinano managed to do the heterosexual unrequited crush cliché without me groaning or missing any of her regular personality. Also was there a Ren part? I don’t remember because everything Ren does feels like a Soft Yuri Valentines Special. Also I love Momoko. Ok moving on to what I Really wanna talk about.

Madoka is genuinely my Least Cared About of the Holy Sextet. I don’t think she’s bad or even boring- Madoka has a depth to her character, like, really deep- but that’s not something ever really touched upon by the fandom. Even when people like her and make her the Heroine she’s Supposed to be, it’s usually in the context of “Girl who feels nothing but kindness and happy thoughts would cut off her right hand to feed to a hungry dog. Isn’t she so Good????”. And honestly, while I understand the point it was going to make, I wasn’t crazy about her sacrifice in the end of the series. (Team Homura “Rebellion Is Good Actually” ftw) All because I think that I’m an Adult Woman watching this like “You are 14yrs old and need to be home playing Sims and not sacrificing yourself for the greater good you stupid silly little baby girl”

So my point is here near all fan content I encounter tends to emphasize whats sort of my least favorite facet of Madoka. I don’t think she made the ‘wrong’ decision in the context she and the story were given, but it’s still a sad thing to show a depressed(!!!) insecure girl resolving to give away her very existence so that every other girl on earth has a chance to just Dream. Oh and they still usually die young. But that’s ok because then she takes them and lets them sleep peacefully forever in her Heaven Basement (Yes I am bitter stan Homura I would yank this savior complex infant girl out the sky too)

MY POINT BEING (The servers closing let me BLEED OUT ALL MY FEELINGS) This event did not do that!!! It made Madoka…….. EVERYTHING SHE SHOULD BE??? ALWAYS??? Showed her HOW WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO VIEW HER??? (Read: Happy and Alive and Confident at no foreboding or sacrifice of anyone else!!!!)

She is Sassy and Surrounded By Friends and Really Funny??? And we get this Ridiculous Oh My God On Crack metaphor about her being this all-powerful apocalypse bringing being which is representing her love for the universe through her Witch form of Wanting Everyone To Be Happy And Safe With Her??? And she still risks herself to save everyone as is her Thing to do but we get to have her do it without erasing her existence as a human being at the end and if that is not some GOOD SHIT????

Ok next:

NGL Sayaka’s (fav character, inarguable best girl, can u not tell) parts in MagiReco til like the last arc have always left me a bit disappointed. She was the only late comer of the OG girls from what I understand and it kind of gives her the air of what a lot of the second(/thirdary?) girls suffer from. You can tell the writers can’t even figure out a trope to apply her to to make her easy and two dimensional to write about so they just don’t know what to do. They definitely try to make up for it (especially in the anime which Praise Be but that’s probably Inu Currys doing) but she’s still lacking like, any of the depth of her personality. Which, I guess I could anticipate. Because most of the fandom tends to as well. (again)

Gonna stop complaining and get on with- That didn’t feel as much the case in her Valentine event. Sure it was still the same formula of “The Issue Is Kyosuke” but that didn’t play out as grueling as her personal story did with “Nine Episodes Of “The Issue Is Kyosuke””

There was one big glaring heart-aching detail of “Mami isn’t really there because SHES IN A FUCKING CULT RIGHT NOW” which kind of jarred the event out of the ho-hum silly valentines sidestory these events usually keep up.

Sayaka has this crisis about Doing Anything Meaningful With Kyosuke which we all know what That’s calling back to, but in this environment we get to have Kyoko come right up and be in a position with her to earnestly and affectionately Push Her To Do It. The lonely little tsundere bitch girl pushes her Not Friend to Give The Bastard The Gotdamn Chocolate Already and for a moment you can only think about What If’s and If Only’s. Sayaka’s is still the weakest of the threes stories in this event but it worked harder to show us different sides of the characters then 6 chapters of Another Story managed to do.

And then there’s fucking Homura.

I will be, eternally grateful for Kuro. As a character that becomes metaphorical for the 2D ways we initially viewed the feathers and just NPCs in games in general, and also like, giving Homura a friend she actually cares about that isn’t the tangled dark web of Bullshit she’s gotten tied up with Madoka in. Please ask me about all my AU’s where Kuro is Homuras first girlfriend.

Seeing Moemura in Magia Record has always been a bit surreal, we never really understand just what stage of Trauma this Homura is in because Multiverses Are Hell, but this event gives us a good chunk of a Homura who still has hope and faith both in the world and Madoka. Theres this wonder to her that while still bogged down by terrible experiences still has the energy to be Trying. And she sees a girl who used to be like her- which when you think about it is probably what Madoka saw in her- and she wants to help. Because Madoka helped her. And Madoka is the best thing in the universe and maybe Homura can be just a little bit closer to that.

Kuro is too far gone though, as is the reality frequently in this series, things don’t work out just because of circumstance. Kuro was a bullied, insecure little girl who realistically shouldn’t have had to become a rampaging monster because of it. We’re reminded of this being the reality of the Madoka universe. Homura, is reminded of this reality. Homura loses this one chance to bring hope into the world like Madoka brought hope into hers.

And then her story ties into the ending of Madoka’s. Madoka saves her life yet again, even as Homura continues to feel miserable and empty. But at least Madoka is with her. The girls then share a quiet, intimate Valentines together. And you sort of understand how Homura fell so far into the darkness that the only thing she was able to still care about and fight for was Madoka’s safety.

That shit slaps. It slaps you right in the heart and causes fucking bruising but then u want it to do it again because you’re masochistic and Meguca Is Suffering.

Anyway I hope Kuroe slaps our hearts more in season2

MOVING ON!!!!

~Nagisa’s Wish~

Ok, I don’t remember what got me so simp over Nagisa, I think it was the heart-aching irony that Mami adopts the witch that fucking ate her. But that is my baby now and I’d die for her. Fandom Charlotte whose pink and silly and loves her mom and is Mami’s cancer-riddled girlfriend is cool and all but she isn’t a tiny Halloweeny baby whose fucking bitter angry and manically obsessed with cheese due to PTSD.

I had saw a summary of Nagisa’s Wish reposted just to quickly explain Nagisa’s backstory, and as such immediately had to search out if that crazy ride was true- so I actually watched this whole event probably before I downloaded the game. It was surreal on its own but replaying it when it came to NA didn’t lessen it any- I got to process more of what I was witnessing and as result stanned Yu pretty hard.

I guess to explain my Emotions here, saving Yu for later- calls for me to just, describe who Nagisa is as a human being and my headcanons surrounding it all with what this event gave us. Whether you consider it canon or not it’s one version of events that we were given and that I am all for accepting.

Nagisa’s Mom was a celebrity, she could have been an actress though I also like the idea of her being an Idol. She met Nagisa’s Dad oh-so romantically and got knocked up- they very well could have been married but it doesn’t seem clear enough. He seems to have left too suddenly for legal matters like that. Nagisa is approximately 11, and while she seems to remember her Father, she doesn’t in the sense of having had a relationship with him or any feelings. Her Mother has to “explain” why he left, so Nagisa was probably still young even if not a baby. What I’m getting at here is the timeline for when Nagisa’s Mom Got Like That. Nagisa can remember her from before she was, and then says that she got sick after her Dad left. So what I’m wondering is did Daddy Momoe ruin this young rich girls life, give her syphilis and then leave her with a baby she was unfit to care for in poverty? I know half of this is running on anime logic but Holy Shit all the possible ways reasons and ideas for why things could’ve gotten This Bad.

Is it ridiculously dark and edgy that the original story we were given was “Girl wishes her dying mother could have her favorite cake but then realizes OOPSIE-DAISY I could have wished for her to Not Die instead!!!!” got turned into “11yr old hates her abusive mother so much she wants to make her suffer in the most symbolic way she can and then goes mental when she isn’t able to do it”??? Yes. But if I had the mental capacity to I have to admit I was in a position to be just as bitter at that age too. I can’t call it unrealistic. I may infact be projecting hard with how much I support and enjoy this backstory.

Anyway Nagisa was in such a state of trauma and distress at a horrifically young age when she died that it broke her mental faculties so severely that even when she came back as a literal Angel of God she had blocked it out so deeply and thoroughly she seemingly regressed to an even younger capacity and hyperfixated on the trait that she has before used to try to bond with her Mother who she had died hating.

And that also slaps u right in the heart.

A N D T H E N !

~Beachside Bonds~

Just the simple structure of this story was so enjoyable and nicely done. We finally get to see the OG girls in a context we wouldn’t be able to in literally any other scenario. They’re going on a summer vacation together and Homura is sentimentally journaling every single second of it. Is this mayhaps because she’s never gotten to be this happy and blissful with these girls she loves so much??? Of course this is are you not paying attention what the fuck. Homura is so optimistic and healed and hopeful she’s acting like what she might actually be doing as a normal teenage girl. (A heartrending contrast to the end of her Valentines Special)

We get nothing short of pure fluffy Slice Of Life shenanigans on the beach which even includes a bunch of the Kamihama girls that the OG crew knows! And they talk about it! And introduce eachother! And their friends commentate on it! Ren gets to see Kyoko Not Being A Bitch and then Sayaka teases her about having made friends and oh my god my heart is turning into cottoncandy as we speak Mom holy FUCK

Sayaka’s existence fucking matters in this story! It’s her families Hotel they’re staying at and she has relationships and memories with the creepy twins that live there and she talks like a fucking person??? And gives opinions??? That aren’t just copypasted “Justice is Good and Bad things are BAD!!!!”

Mami is fresh out of her fucking Cult Drama and she’s still trying to be cool Senpai but then she DECKS Homura in the face and gets scared by the ghost stories and then turns into pudding and waxes nostalgia at Kyoko out of nowhere IT’S ALMOST LIKE SHE’S A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL????????

G H O S T S ? ? ? ?

Y U ! ? ! ? ! ? !

(IS G A Y ! ! ! !)

This whole fucking backstory and truly horrifying Romeo and Juliet on Acid love and death story between Yu and her girlfriend and like if I wasn’t fascinated enough by Yu just being the creepy organ harvester before but apparently thats what she became after she literally made some sort of wish that erased all of her memories besides the nickname her sweetheart used for her and coincidentally also added to her the task of killing all Bad People?????

Yu made a wish to be able to get rid of All Bad People preserving the innocent version of herself who grew up with this girl and it was right after a failed double suicide attempt on fucking Doomed Lovers Cliff fucking Lifetime Will You Ever.

It then pairs with Homura whose PTSD gets to shine through a bit in being unable to believe any bad sort of Madoka which how could you try to force her to at this point while Also pairing Homura with Ren in the “Gay Love Saved Our Lives: Traumatized vers & Vanilla vers”

I don’t remember if there was a symbolic finale and tbh I have forgotten a lot of the details with Yu and her girlfriend Whatsherface because that shit was just so shocking and bizarre to read and much too painful to reread in a timely fashion just.

That shit hurted but it was full of so much love and hope both doomed and stolen but still was wrapped up in the comforting concept that This Is The Universe Where Homura Gets To Be Okay This Time.

She’s still scarred beyond comprehension and this ghost drama accentuated it all but at the end of the day this is still the Safe Universe where all of them are alive and the Holy Quintet are friends and they’re all going to be okay (Godoka & Aniplex willing) and so many of us love Madoka Magica because it shows girls fighting through the same pain we’ve been through and keeping their hope alive and here we get to see them actually find peace in a clunkily written fanservicey spin-off mobile gacha game and hey, that made me happy while I got to experience it. Thanks for the ideas and memories and tragic backstories and funny thirdary characters MagiReco I’m gonna take em all and Run.

Akjsladbfalkjfsbslk If you read this all without getting a migraine or blocking me ily thanks for listening!!!!!!

TL;DR

Me likey A La Carte Valentine bc it’s silly and gay and I simp Kuro

Me likey Nagisa’s Wish bc sawft baby is good and so are Tragic Edgy Backstories

Me likey Beachside Bonds bc Gay Ghosts and Our Girls Finally Get To Be Happy Peaceful(ish) Teenage Girls and that’s all I want for them ;w;

Reeses In Pieces ya’ll

1Ten 2More 3Words 4To 5Hit 6(3000 7Words 8Woo 9Boy 10Howdy

[fight-surrender]

Whumptober Day 23, 24: “Bleeding Out & Secret Injury”

Word count: 1610

Rating: T 

Simon

“Fuck a nine toed troll!” I curse as I brush the furry grey creature off my shoulder and impale it with my sword. I tend to quote Penny when I do something stupid. Letting this creature get the drop on me was definitely stupid. Particularly given that it’s just taken a chunk out of my arm.

The animal is dangling from the tip of my sword, speared like a particularly gristly hors d’oeuvre. I bring it in for a closer look. It’s almost cute, vaguely guinea pig like, with grey fur tipped in black. Large purple eyes, green whiskers.  Hell and horrors, it’s a polycythema vera.

Penny and Baz are going to kill me. Probably before this bite does.

They’re already angry that I took this job with the coven, rounding up invasive magickal species. Now I’ve gone and gotten myself bitten by one of the very species I was supposed to be hunting.  This is just spectacular.

I flick the creature to the ground and stab it again for good measure.

Baz and Penny said they saw a vera in America, trying to get into Shep’s truck when we were escaping that rogue gang of freakish magical rejects in the dead zone.  Somehow, one must have stowed away with us and now they’ve invaded England. Fortunately, the trolls rather think veras are delicious, so they keep the population in check. However, pockets tend to accumulate in the areas with fewer bridges. The Coven stepped in to help eradicate them and they asked me to help. I suppose that makes me a magickal pest control guy.

Veras aren’t particularly magickal. I think they can teleport for short distances, making them tricky to catch. They pack a nasty bite though. Their toxin does something to your spleen, making you bleed out internally, only your body keeps making more blood. So instead of passing out and dying like a normal person, you just sort of slowly fill up with blood til you like, explode or something. I haven’t really worked out the logistics.

Now I’ve been bitten.

I am not telling Penny and Baz.

Now that I’ve gotten my shit together (thank you new therapist) they have only recently stopped hovering over me. The last thing I need is them wringing their hands while I die a slow painful, possibly explosive death. I suppose I’ll say my goodbyes when things get bad and die alone in the woods, like a cat.

In the meantime, I imagine I should live my life to the fullest. Carpe diem and whatnot.

Baz:

Something is going on with Simon. He’s acting strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, it all just seems a bit…much. We’ve been out almost every day, a different activity. Yesterday, a leisurely tour of the British Museum, followed by curry and samosas in the park (he made me eat). He also made me return the books I stole all those years ago (I can’t believe he remembered that). Saturday was a visit to Ebb’s grave, deep in the wood. Last week we went to Paris, because he’s never been to France (he says the Watford sour cherry scones are still better than any French pastries).

It’s all been enjoyable; he’s been very attentive.

To me.

Loving, affectionate, present.

But it’s weird.

All of this significance. It feels a bit like a bucket list.

I’m trying to enjoy it, but I’ve been feeling off. Not myself. Like I can’t get warm and I can’t get full. I’m thirsty all the time, and nothing I do seems to be helping. I’ve eaten all the rats within a 20-kilometer radius and I’ve even resorted to buying blood from the local butchers. Nothing is helping.

I can’t get Lamb’s voice out of my head, telling me I was malnourished.

I refuse to follow that thought. I’m not—that.

But I’m also getting really tired. Like, exhausted. Like ‘it’s a struggle to get out of bed’ level tired.

I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.

 Simon:

The poison is kicking in. I’m so tired.

Exhausted. Like, I feel as if my arms and legs were lead weights- tired. Dead dog tired.

I’m not sure how much time I’ve got left.

I don’t have to think about that right now because I’m actually in bed. With Baz, and there’s no place I’d rather be.

I’m the big spoon, because I’m always the big spoon. With my arm across his chest I pull him closer and hike my leg across his thigh. I carefully brush his hair away from his ear so I can murmur, “fancy a lie in?”

“Absolutely yes,” Baz croaks, voice thick with sleep. He intertwines his fingers with mine.

We both doze off.

 Baz:

I wake before Simon. It’s an effort just to open my eyes.

I look at his arm, wrapped around my waist. His color is wrong, his once tawny skin is a vague mottled purple, how have I not noticed this?

 Simon:

I open my eyes and look at Baz’s shoulder in front of me. He’s so pale he’s almost transparent. He’s thinner, I can see the bones poking through his skin. How have I not noticed this?

Baz rolls over and fixes me with his thundercloud eyes. “What the fuck is going on, Snow?”

“Er—what do you mean?” I’m stammering, this isn’t how I’d planned this to go.

“You’ve been dragging me through this virtual bucket list lately, you’re acting weird and now you’re purple!”

“It’s not a bucket list.” It is a bucket list.

“Answer the question.” Baz is using his “don’t fuck with me” voice.

Time to come clean then. I pick at an imaginary string on the duvet. “I may have been bitten by a vera.”

Baz’s eyebrows go down and he looks like he’s going to finish me off himself. “What? When? When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

My plan suddenly feels very stupid. “Well, I was going to tell you, when I felt… you know, closer to death.”

“Closer. To. Death?” Baz’s voice cracks. He looks extra murderous.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to feel all sad and melancholy just because I was dying,” I reason.

Baz sighs and buries his head in my chest. “Simon, you splendid fucking moron.”

I think it might be safe to wrap my arms around his waist and pull him on top of me. I try it.

Baz raises his head and his fangs are popped. Not safe then. “Er—I’m not ready to die just yet, Baz.”

His hand goes to his mouth, I don’t think he realized his fangs were there. “Merlin, I’m a mess,” he says this giddily. “You’re a mess,” he’s laughing now. “We’re a mess squared,” he giggles, it’s a bit manic. He lays his head back on my chest.

I pat his back and smile awkwardly, I don’t laugh. I might blow.

Baz lifts his head again, wiping his eyes. “You see,” he stammers, “I have a problem.”

“OK…?” I offer.

He sits up a little, straddling me. He traces my scars with a long, pale finger. “I’m—starving.”

“Well, let’s order delivery then,” I grab his thighs to push him off so I can find my phone. He plants himself, hands to my chest and I can’t move. Vampire strength.

“No love, it’s not that,” he looks down, takes a breath then looks back at me. “I’m starving—of thirst. “The animal blood doesn’t seem to work anymore…” his voice trails off.

“Oh,” my mouth is hanging open, even though Baz has thoroughly trained me to close it.

“So here I am, the bloodthirsty vampire, dying of thirst,” he cracks up again, “with my half dragon boyfriend who is literally dying of excess blood.” He chortles and wipes his eyes again, “it’s like a goth Hallmark movie special. A match made in hell.”

He’s giggling, but he also looks a little sad.

“So,” I say, once he’s caught his breath. “Just so I have this straight,” I point at him, “you don’t have enough blood.” I point at myself, “and I’ve got too much of it?”

“Yes, that about sums it up,” Baz concedes.

Blimey, what are the odds?” I wonder.

“A million to one, I’d wager,” Baz sighs.

“Well, what are you waiting for, you barmy git? Come over here and bite me.”

“It’s not that simple, Snow.” Baz is frowning at me again.

“It bloody well is that simple, Baz,” I say feeling sparks of anger.

“What if I Turn you?” It’s almost a whisper.

“Shepherd said that most vampires don’t Turn people, and so what if you do? I’m going to die anyway if you don’t do anything.  At least this way, you’ll get a good meal out of it, and we can figure out the rest later. We’ve been through worse.”

Baz pushes my hair off my forehead, “we have been through worse.”

I reach up and pull Baz back down on top of me. He settles on my chest. We’re nose to nose. I run my thumbs along his cheekbones. “Now come on and bite me. You look like shit you know.”

“Thank you, Snow. You’re looking rough and weedy yourself.”

I kiss him then, even though that’s probably not a good idea, given the blood lust.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“No.”

“Will you do it anyway?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, Baz.”

“I love you too, Simon.”

I close my eyes, and then, in a rush of warmth and cedar and bergamot, Baz bites my neck.