#For a hero's strength is measured by his heart

[voidfxndoms]

Every now and then I feel the burning need to rewatch Hercules, to remind myself that, even when you lose faith in yourself, there are others who don't. And it's those people you gotta surround yourself with. Those are the people that love you unconditionally.

[in-spain-without-an-s]

you know there’s a difference between msoat and goat ?!

because greatest does NOT equal most successful

[snowbairdd]

For a true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.

HERCULES (1997) dir. John Musker, Ron Clements

[n1ght0f-nyx]

mha boys asking you out 3/3

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there are warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone characters: tamaki amajiki, koji koda, fumikage tokoyami, mezo shouji, hanta sero, tenya iida,yuga aoyama, shinsou, mirio togata, surprise guest at the end!! words: 2183

tamaki amajiki

I was sitting in the school courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace between classes, when I noticed Tamaki Amajiki standing a few feet away. He was fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, his gaze flickering between the ground and me. I had always admired Tamaki from afar—the way he carried himself with quiet strength, his incredible quirk, and his humble nature. But seeing him like this, so clearly nervous, made me curious.

"Hey, Tamaki," I greeted with a smile, trying to ease whatever was on his mind.

He looked up at me, his cheeks tinged with a light blush. "H-Hey, Y/N," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

I patted the empty spot next to me, inviting him to sit down. He hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself onto the bench, keeping a respectful distance. There was a moment of awkward silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts. I could tell something was bothering him, so I decided to gently nudge him.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to catch his eyes.

He nodded quickly but then shook his head, as if he couldn’t decide which was the right answer. "I…I wanted to ask you something," he finally said, his voice so soft that I had to lean in a bit to hear him properly.

My heart skipped a beat. Tamaki was notoriously shy, so whatever he was about to say must have taken a lot of courage. I kept my expression calm, not wanting to add any pressure. "You can ask me anything, Tamaki."

He took a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "I…I was wondering…if maybe…if you would want to go out with me…sometime?" His words tumbled out in a rush, and he immediately looked away, as if bracing himself for my response. koji koda

I was standing by the school's entrance, waiting for the bell to ring, when I noticed Koji Koda quietly approaching. He always seemed so gentle, like he belonged more in a field of flowers than in a class of future heroes. Despite his large frame, he had a calming presence, and his love for animals was something I admired.

He hesitated a few steps away from me, his hands fidgeting nervously. I smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. "Hey, Koji. What's up?"

His face turned a soft shade of pink as he glanced at me, then quickly looked away, his eyes focusing on the ground. He took a deep breath and fiddled with his fingers "hiy/nwouldyouliketograblunchwithme?" he squeaked Fumikagi Tokoyami

One afternoon, I found myself alone in one of the quieter hallways at U.A. High. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows along the walls. I was lost in thought when I noticed a familiar dark figure approaching.

"Y/N," Tokoyami's deep voice called out, breaking the silence. I turned to face him, surprised to see him standing so close. Dark Shadow hovered beside him, a curious glint in its eyes.

"Hey, toko..hi dark shadow" I greeted, trying to keep my voice steady. There was always something about his presence that made me a little nervous, in a good way.

He hesitated for a moment, his sharp gaze dropping to the floor before meeting mine again. "There's something I...we..mneed to ask you."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Sure, what is it?"

"I… find myself drawn to your presence, like a moth to the flame," he began, his words measured and deliberate. "You bring a lightness that contrasts with the shadows that often surround me. I… admire that."

My cheeks flushed at his words. I had never heard him speak so openly before. "Thank you, Tokoyami. That means a lot."

Dark Shadow nudged him playfully, causing Tokoyami to huff in mild annoyance. "What I'm trying to say is… would you be interested in going out with me? Perhaps, to explore the darkness together?" mezo shoji

The day had been unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like something unexpected is bound to happen. I was packing up my things after class, lost in my thoughts, when I noticed Mezo Shoji standing a few feet away from me. He’s always been a bit of a mystery, with his calm demeanor and the way he hides his emotions behind that mask of his. But today, there was something different about him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Shoji’s voice came out slightly muffled, but still gentle. I looked up, meeting his gaze—or at least what I could see of it. His eyes were focused on me, a certain determination in them that I wasn’t used to seeing.

“Hey, Shoji. What’s up?” I asked, curious. He wasn’t the type to strike up random conversations, so I knew this had to be important.

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His tentacle arms twitched slightly, as if he was trying to decide what to do with them. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, gathering his courage. “I was wondering… if you’d like to hang out sometime. Just the two of us.” hanta sero

It was a typical afternoon at U.A. High, and I was making my way down the hall when I noticed Hanta Sero leaning casually against a locker. His usual laid-back smile was in place, but there was something different in his eyes—like he was up to something. I raised an eyebrow as I approached.

“Hey, Sero,” I greeted him, trying to keep my voice casual. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” he said, pushing off the locker and standing up straight. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

I chuckled. “Well, you found me. What’s on your mind?”

Sero scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous, which was rare for him. “So, there’s this new café that opened up downtown. They’re supposed to have some killer sweets, and I know you’re into that stuff…”

My heart skipped a beat as I realized where this might be going. “Yeah, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Right, so I was thinking…” He paused, glancing away for a moment before locking eyes with me again. “Would you want to check it out with me? Like, this weekend? Just the two of us?” tenya iida

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and I gathered my things, ready to head home. As I reached the door of the classroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Tenya Iida standing there, his usual serious expression slightly softened.

"Y/N," he began, adjusting his glasses with that characteristic sharp motion. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure, what's up?" I asked, curious about what could be on his mind.

He hesitated for a second, something I wasn't used to seeing from him. Tenya was always so confident, so decisive. But now, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. "I wanted to speak with you about something important," he said, his voice steady despite the nervousness I could sense beneath it.

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I admire your dedication and the way you handle yourself in challenging situations," he said, his tone sincere. "You have a sense of responsibility that I respect greatly. Because of this, I’ve been thinking… perhaps we could spend more time together, outside of our usual school activities."

My heart skipped a beat as his words sank in. "Are you… asking me out, Tenya?" I asked, feeling a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing," he confirmed, a small but determind smile appearing on his face. "I believe we could be a good match, and I’d like to get to know you better. What do you think?"

Yuga Aoyama

I was heading back to the dorms when I noticed a familiar sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Yuga Aoyama was standing by the fountain, his usual confident smile in place, and something about the way he was looking at me made my heart skip a beat.

"Ah, mon ami!" he called out, waving dramatically. "You shine as brightly as the sun today!"

I couldn’t help but smile at his usual flair. "Hey, Aoyama. What’s up?"

He sauntered over, hands behind his back, clearly hiding something. His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness, which was unusual for him. "I’ve been meaning to ask you something, something très important."

My curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

With a flourish, Aoyama revealed a small, beautifully wrapped box from behind his back. "For you, mon étoile," he said, presenting it to me with a dazzling grin.

I took the box, feeling a little flustered. "What’s this for?"

"Open it and see," he encouraged, his eyes never leaving mine.

I carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a tiny star charm. It was simple yet elegant, just like him. My breath caught as I looked up at him, trying to process what this meant.

"Aoyama… it’s beautiful. But why…?"

He took a step closer, his usual bravado softened by a sincerity I hadn’t seen before. "Because, my dear, I think you and I… we could make the most magnifique couple. You bring light into my life, and I wish to do the same for you. Would you do me the honor of going out with me?" Hitoshi Shinso

I tried to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Shinsou and I had become closer over the past few months, sharing late-night study sessions and quiet conversations about everything and nothing. Still, I couldn't quite decipher the look in his eyes whenever he caught me staring. Was it curiosity? Or something more?

“Hey,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward me. His voice, low and smooth, sent a shiver down my spine. “Got a minute?”

“Of course,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I smiled up at him. “What’s up?”

Shinsou hesitated, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a moment as he scratched the back of his neck. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he began, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually.”

I felt my breath catch, anticipation and nerves swirling in my chest. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine. “Would you… like to go out with me sometime? Just the two of us?” mirio togata

I couldn't help but notice how bright the day seemed when Mirio Togata approached me after training. His ever-present smile made the sun seem a little less important, and I couldn't help but smile back as he waved enthusiastically.

"Hey there!" Mirio greeted me, his voice full of energy as usual. "How’s training been for you?"

I laughed a little, brushing some sweat off my forehead. "Tough, but you know how it is. How about you? Still making it look easy?"

Mirio chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I try, but you know, it’s not always as easy as it looks." There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone softening just a bit. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yeah? What is it?"

Mirio took a deep breath, his smile never fading but his eyes showing a hint of nervousness. "I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Mirio, the ever-positive, ever-smiling hero, was asking me out? My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel my face heating up. "A date?" I repeated, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

He nodded, still smiling but now with a bit of that famous Mirio determination. "Yeah, I really like spending time with you, and I thought… well, maybe you’d like to spend some more time together, outside of training." mineta my love <3333

I was walking through the halls of U.A., trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day's training. Just as I turned the corner, I nearly bumped into Minoru Mineta. His eyes widened when he saw me, and a mischievous grin crept onto his face. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, Y/N~" he said, his voice laced with that familiar lisp. "I've been wanting to, uh, athk you thomething for a while now."

I raised an eyebrow, half-expecting whatever he had to say to be one of his usual pervy comments. "What is it, Mineta?"

He took a step closer, his small stature making him seem less threatening and more…well, awkward. "You know, you're, like, really hot," he started, his eyes shamelessly wandering up and down. "And I think we'd make a thuper cute couple. Tho, how about you go out with me, huh?" ew...

[flowerynameslover]

“For a true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.”

Hercules (1997)

Disney Meme: 10 Films (6/10)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Scragglmop the Destroyer

Once feared throughout the land, a great and terrible dragon grew tired of being endlessly hunted for his hoard and faked his death with the aid of a glory-hungry gnomish bard. Living on for centuries in the guise of a street cat, the dragon is now a hair's breadth from resuming his rampaging ways after the bard's descendants have lost the fortune he gave over to them for safe keeping.

Adventure Hooks:

A series of unexplained fires has wracked the city in recent weeks, which has both the guard and the populace on edge. Rumours swirl blaming arsonists, saboteurs from a rival kingdom, even an illegal duelling society of mages, but none have yet put it together that all of the workshops and businesses were all patronized in one way or another by the famed Candlebright noble family.

Coincidentally, Hignatta Candlebright, young head of that same noble house has sent an invitation to the party to join her at a famed teahouse to discuss a delicate matter involving the retrieval of stolen property. Hignatta has all but taken over the teahouse and its guestrooms since her own family home burned down near the start of the panic, and the party might begin to draw a connection when half way through their meeting the teahouse begins to fill with smoke, panicking patrons, and a booming, sourceless voice that demands "WHERE IS MY GOLD, CANDLEBRIGHT?!"

If you really want to mess with the party, consider introducing them to the fluffy street cat completely independently of the arson plot, making a nuisance of himself in the market while they're trying to shop, or catching mice in their store-room should they have acquired a residence in town. Have them befriend the cat as they might any bad-tempered stray, only to realize after the adventure is half way through that the mice he catches are always somewhat charred. Also imagine the looks on their faces the moment the party's home is broken into by an enemy and their housecat incinnerates a wave of intruders for disturbing his nap.

Background: Everyone knows the story about how the legendary hero Gailen Candlebright saved the realm from the tyrannical dragon Slaggrath, a beast known to devour whole armies and raze kingdoms in search of treasure. It's the ubiquitous tale against which all adventurers are measured against, made all the more ubiquitous thanks to the fact that the deed is memorialized in drinking ballads, children rhymes, and even a few folk operas. Gailen was a troubadour of not insignificant skill before he became a legend, and he had little trouble using that skill and hardwon fame to ensure his deeds would never be forgotten.

As with many tales told by the bards, Gailen left out quite a bit of the truth when concocting his tale: It was a late night in a roadside tavern and the young Candlebright was approached by a sourfaced man with a tangled beard and clothes that might have once been quite fine. Gailen had sung for his supper and then some, his hat was overflowing with tips from a long night's work and a greatful crowd, and the old man wanted to know how it was exactly that the Gnome hadn't yet been robbed; The roads were full of all sorts of rough types who thought that their strength entitled them to others' wealth, bandits yes but worse yet kingsmen, who took what they wanted sure that that they were above any kind punishment.

Seeing that the old man had fallen on rough times, likely having been robbed himself, Gailen spoke from the heart: He'd been robbed a few times yes, but he got by looking like someone that no one would bother to steal from, dressing in his fine clothes only on days he'd perform, and keeping most of his riches in the safe keeping of others, such as the caravan masters he frequently traveled along with.

The old man considered Gailen's words and the two sat up drinking through the night debating the merits of the Troubador's duplicity. Was it not better, asked the old man, to defend what was yours with strength and reputation, That everyone might learn from the failure of those that had trifled with you before?

Gailen looked at the many scars the old man bore and countered that fools never learned their lesson, they just thought themselves better than the last fool who risked it and they'd keep risking it till luck won out or they went to join all the fools that had come before.

It was dawn when the two parted ways, Gailen tottering off to bed thinking he'd given council to a reformed bandit chief, the old man slipping out of the inn and taking to wing thinking he'd concocted a brilliant scheme with the help of his newest, and perhaps first, friend.

i was a week (and one pants-shitting revelation over the old man's true draconic nature) later that the legend of Slaggrath came to an end: Gailen walking into that very same tavern bloodied, burnt, and with the broken off horn of the great wyrm held above his head as a trophy. The news spread like wildfire, the name Candlebright ascended to the shortlist of the realm's great champions, and not a soul questioned when the newly knighted Gailen comissioned the construction of an elaborate series of vaults beneith the castle he'd just been awarded. The bard had everything he wanted, and in return he and his family would hold the dragon's horde in trust, not touching a single copper and adding a little to it each year out of respect for the wyrm's generosity.

Future Adventures:

Even before he charmed his way into unexpected riches, Gailen was an ardent follower of Garl Glittergold, god of ambition, wit, and wariness. Genresavvy bard that he was, he understood that this fabulous windfall wasn't just some gift from his god, it was a test, and that to keep his good fortune going he'd best abide by the exact deal he'd struck in that tavern. Gailen kept Slaggrath's treasure under lock and key all his life and made sure his children did the same despite never telling them where he got it, in accordance with his pact with the dragon . Feeling that the Candlebright family has sat on its laurels for far too long (especially since practical and buisness minded Hignatta has been increasingly questioning why her late grandfather insisted on keeping a giant pile of money in their basement and never spending it), the god has seen fit to shake things up, ensuring that some long lost blueprints for the vault have fallen into the hands of a group of thieves, who broke in and cleared the vault though the very same secret passages Slaggrath used to pop in every decade or so and make sure the count was up to date. The dragon is pissed, convinced Hignatta has reneged on her family's deal.. and all the while the thieves get closer and closer to escaping.

Depending on how the party handles it this situation could break bad in any number of ways: The dragon could give up on being Scragglmop and go on a rampage forcing the party to put him down, they could intercede on Hignatta's behalf and ensure the treasure is returned possibly earning themselves a cushy position as retainers of house Candlebright, perhaps most dangerously they could earn the attention of Garl Glittergold himself and end up being singled out for their own unstable blessing.

In addition to being motivated by the prerequisite desire to get rich, the thieves were hired by an ambitious mage who has long desired to get his hands on Gailen's Horn, the draconic trophy the bard thereafter used as the sigil for his house and hollowed out into a heavy instrument through which he channelled his most showy magic. The mage has designs on the horn as the centrepiece of a ritual drawing on the object's history of power and triumph. Given that the horn is in fact the centrepiece of a giant con it's going to bring some very unaccounted for variables into the mage's ritual which is liable to set off its own chain of problems down the line.

Art

[nylpad]

SHADOWS AND DREAMS

Warnings: none (I think)

In the shadowed alleys of Gotham, where secrets and dangers lurk in equal measure, there lived a young man named Damian Wayne. Heir to the Wayne legacy, Damian was more accustomed to the life of a vigilante than the trivialities of teenage romance. His nights were spent patrolling the streets, his mind focused on justice, not love.

Y/N was a newcomer to Gotham, her presence a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She moved through the city like a whisper, her origins unknown, her purpose concealed. To Damian, she was just another citizen of Gotham, perhaps in need of protection, but nothing more.

Their paths crossed during a rare moment of peace, atop the gargoyle-studded rooftops. Y/N, with her keen observation, had noticed the young Wayne and his nightly escapades. She approached him not with fear, but with curiosity, a trait that piqued Damian's interest despite himself.

As the son of Batman, Damian was trained to trust no one, yet there was something about Y/N that disarmed him. She didn't flinch at the sight of his combat gear, nor did she swoon over his family's wealth. Instead, she challenged him with her intellect, her laughter echoing against the backdrop of the city's chaos.

In the weeks that followed, Damian found himself drawn to Y/N's resilience and wit. She wasn't just another face in the crowd; she was a beacon of light in Gotham's perpetual darkness. Her strength reminded him of his own, yet her compassion opened doors he thought were forever closed.

One evening, as the city bathed in the glow of the Bat-Signal, Y/N shared a poem she had written. It spoke of finding beauty in the unexpected, of love blossoming in the midst of turmoil. Damian listened, his guarded heart resonating with every word.

He had been raised to be a warrior, a defender, not a lover. Yet, as he stood beside Y/N, the city sprawling beneath them, he realized that she had become his confidant, his ally, his unexpected solace.

"I didn't care for you when we first met," Damian confessed, his voice barely above the hum of the city. "But now, you've become someone I can't ignore. You've shown me that even in Gotham, there's room for something more."

Y/N smiled, her eyes reflecting the night sky, and in that moment, Damian Wayne, the boy trained to be a hero, understood the true power of connection. For in a city that never sleeps, he had found a reason to dream.

[doumadono]

hi i wanted to send an emergency request so if it makes you uncomfortable but ive been struggling with an eating disorder for 2 years now i was wondering if you could do katsuki comforting reader who cant get herself to eat.

Sanctuary of gentleness - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear about the struggles you’ve been facing. Healing is not linear and every small step you take towards recovery is a victory. It's important to be kind to yourself and recognize the strength it takes to face each day

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The day had stretched out long and weary, a tapestry of endless hours that found you curled up on the living room sofa, a book lying forgotten on your lap. Sunlight waned, slipping through the curtains in lazy, golden streaks, as the clock ticked towards the time Katsuki would come home.

You hadn’t eaten anything all day. The very thought tightened an invisible band around your chest, making it hard to breathe, to move, to think beyond the numbing fear that came with every mealtime.

The sound of the door slamming jolted you from your reverie, heralding Katsuki’s return. His heavy footsteps resonated against the hardwood floor. "Hey," he started, his voice rough around the edges after a day of shouting orders and battling foes. "I'm home."

He was ready for a night of quiet, hopefully punctuated by the comfort of a shared meal with you, his beloved fiancée, but the apartment was too quiet, the usual signs of life unsettlingly absent.

He appeared in the doorway, his hero costume replaced by an oversized, grey t-shirt and black sweatpants, his face drawn tight with exhaustion, hair disheveled. He found you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs.

You glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Welcome back," you murmured.

Katsuki’s brow furrowed as he approached you, a twinge of concern tightening his chest.

The kitchen was untouched - the pots and pans in their places, the plates clean, the entire space too orderly. "Did you eat anything today?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Your silence was answer enough.

"Dammnit!" Katsuki exploded, his temper flaring as it often did when he felt helpless. "You need to eat, damn it! You can’t just -"

But he stopped, the anger draining from him as he took a closer look at you.

There were dark circles under your eyes, and your hands were clasped tightly in your lap. This wasn’t the stubbornness he often dealt with in the field; this was something deeper, something painful.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the spikes falling disorderly, a rare sign of his agitation. "I’m sorry," he muttered, sitting down beside you. He took a deep breath, his next words more measured. "Talk to me."

You shifted, leaning into him, your head resting against his strong shoulder. "I don’t know, Katsuki. It’s hard to explain," you whispered, the weight of your confession making your voice tremble. "Everything’s just too much. And I am not hungry... Even if I feel dizzy and unwell..."

Katsuki’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His heart ached at your admission, his usual solutions of fighting through the problem useless here. "I know, babe, I know it’s hard," he said, his voice a low rumble coming from deep withing his chest. "But you gotta eat. We’ll figure this out, okay? Together."

You nodded against him, the fight draining out of you. "I want to get better," you admitted, "But I'm afraid I'm not strong enough. I'm so scared."

"Then we start small," he said decisively. "What about some green tea? And maybe some toast?" His proposal was gentle, a stark contrast to his usual bluntness.

"That sounds okay," you agreed.

Katsuki stood, extending his hand to you. "Let’s go then. I’ll make it." His words were a command, but his tone was soft, caring.

In the kitchen, Katsuki moved with a sureness. He heated the water, and soon tea was ready. He watched you out of the corner of his eye as he buttered the toast.

You sat at the counter, watching him, the normalcy of the situation making you feel calmer.

When he placed the cup and plate in front of you, his hand lingered over yours, warm and reassuring. "It’s okay to struggle," Katsuki said, meeting your gaze with an intensity that only he could muster. "But you’re not alone. Never."

Katsuki sat across from you, and started eating his portion.

As you nibbled on the toast and sipped the tea, Bakugo talked about trivial things - something funny Kirishima had said, a weird quirk a villain had used that day - his words light, but his presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of your thoughts. There was no impatience in his gaze, no biting remarks about the speed at which you ate. Instead, there was an unspoken encouragement.

When the plates were finally empty, Katsuki leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on you, but now there was a hint of pride in his eyes. "See? You can do this," he said, his voice low and reassuring.

You looked up from your plate, meeting his gaze. "It was good," you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But I'm full."

Finally, the dishes were cleared, and you both moved to the living room, the space familiar and comforting.

Katsuki, usually a bundle of restless energy, seemed more at ease, his demeanor gentle as he sat down beside you on the couch. He draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you leaned into the warmth of his body, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your side. He kissed the top of your head softly, a gesture so laden with affection and resolve. "We're a team, remember?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "No matter how tough it gets, we face it together."

You nodded, the simplicity of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. "Together," you agreed, the word a lifeline in the swirling sea of your thoughts.

Katsuki had always been a fortress of strength, but now he was also a sanctuary of gentleness.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy

-------------------------------------------

It is a quiet night.

Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.

The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience. 

Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.  

Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake. 

It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.

Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed. 

He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.

Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.

So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter. 

He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.

He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind. 

He is safe here. 

The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.

You are safe here.

Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.

“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him. 

Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.

“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water. 

“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”

There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”

There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees. 

“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.

Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.

“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”

“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”

“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”

If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers? 

“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”

The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength. 

“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”

“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”

Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why. 

But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch. 

He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.

[mollymauksworld]

Hercules | 1997

For a true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.

[nd-of-a-manatee]

I know this isn’t quite how ranks work in Psychonauts canon, just go with it.

[Image ID: The following is rendered in fuzzy digital pastel. Razputin Aquato–in his late teens, tall and skinny–lies breathless on his back on the ground, covered in sweat. He’s wearing sweatpants, a striped undershirt, and sneakers. His hair is disheveled, pushed back by his signature goggles. One of his eyes is a little higher than the other, now that he’s older. He stares upward with eyes wide, at his wit’s end. He lies in a white space, his colors graded dull blue. The foreboding cyan shadow of a three-digit number is projected over him: 206. End ID]

Raz has a problem.

He trains so hard to rank up his prowess as a psychic. He’s been training since the day he learned what a Psychonaut is. Now that he’s one of them, he sees diminishing returns for his efforts. That’s normal, they say. It gets harder over time. But he’s only 15, and it hasn’t changed in months. He’s way behind the other cadets his age, all approaching the 300s in their psychic specialities. Here he is stuck at 206.

This isn’t normal.

It’s not just about the number. There isn’t supposed to be a ceiling. A person can always improve, always extend themself to reach closer to their full potential. His mentors–his heroes, all well into the 1000s themselves–gave him a chance to be a Psychonaut because they saw so much of that potential in him. They were impressed that he picked up his first set of powers so quickly and used them to save the day nearly by himself–twice. What if that was the trick? He picks up a new discipline right away, then can’t advance it past a certain point. Hydrokinesis should be what he’s good at, but he’s barely better with it than anything else. That’s it. This is his potential. It was all a trick.

He lies awake at night, frantically weighing in anything that could be related to why. Anything he could do about it. He has often looked back on himself and thought that autism or ADHD or both could explain whatever being an enthusiastic little psychic nerd couldn’t. What if this is part of that? What if he can’t change it? His heart sinks.

He can’t hide it. They’ll all find out what he really is. What will they do if he can’t live up to the position he’s been awarded?

An old anxiety stirs. He doesn’t belong here.

Suddenly, Raz can’t concentrate. His performance falls below even his mediocre rank in practice, in study, in everything. He can’t even walk without tripping. His peers and mentors notice, though he insists that he’s fine.

It reaches a point where a couple of his teachers stop in their busy schedules and call him to sit down with them. That’s when the truth comes out. He tells them everything.

He waits nervously for their response.

They answer easily and say that he’s already proven his worth as a Psychonaut beyond any kind of rank or measure of raw power. His sense of duty, determination, willingness to learn from his mistakes, inventiveness, and compassion are what maximize the effectiveness of his psychic abilites–not to mention his unique skills as an acrobatic. If strength were all that mattered, none of them would be worthy of the abilities they wield.

[Image ID: Raz sits up. The hole in the zero makes it look like the shadow has retreated until it’s almost all the way off of him, lingering at the top of his head. His eyebrows are raised, but he’s calmer–having made an epiphany. End ID]

He hadn’t thought of it like that.

After some rest, Raz goes looking for new psychic sensitivities–not in a desperate attempt to find the thing that will bring him up to par, but with all the curiosity of an adventurer in search of new discoveries. By the end of the year, he has achieved adequate command of a wide, wide range of disciplines and has begun experimenting with using them in tandem. “Power juggling” is a difficult art for most psychics. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and lose control. As it turns out, Raz thrives in that kind of chaos and is able to compartmentalize his focus enough to practically create new powers unto themselves, if for a very short time. He shakes the dust off of his acrobatics. It’s no longer a grueling requirement to please his family. It’s his now. Fun and challenging, a test of dexterity and flow. He quickly renews his skills and finds new ways to wrap his powers around them. The other cadets come and watch him practice just to see what wild shit he’s up to that day.

He feels alive. He feels like himself, now more than ever.

[Image ID: Raz sprints out from under the shadow, turning to raise a middle finger at it with gleeful disdain. End ID]

[Image ID: The story shifts to a comic book sequence, also graded blue-green. Morceau Oleander has a green psychic shield raised to protect him, Milla Vodello, Adam Gette, and Norma Natividad from blue psychic needles that threaten to skewer them from above. The others use their own powers to try to fight the needles off, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Someone talks over them. “Miserable fools.” A lanky white woman in a housecoat, plain shirt, sweats, and slippers with long billowing silver hair commands the scene from the center of some kind of pump room. Her arms are outstretched like a conductor. Her needles press buttons on control panels and hover menacingly over tied and gagged hostages. “I’ve had to devote my life to perfection to get this far,” she declares with triumphant superiority. We see her up close. She’s in her late 50s with sharp facial features and a high hairline, and she’s wearing a small earring on each ear. Her teeth gleam in a wicked smile as she shouts. “You have no idea of the sacrifice. The fortitude. I alone am qualified to correct the modern world’s failure to compete. Content weaklings like you don’t stand a chance. Just look at you.” She turns to face a shadowed corridor within a tangle of pipes behind her. “You can’t even sneak up properly.” Someone with angular shin-high boots runs down some steps deep in the corridor. That person– wearing black gloves and Sasha Nein’s old green jacket–uses orange psi power to draw water in the shape of a hand from a pocket-sized bottle. The hydro hand leaps forward toward the woman with its fingers outstretched. A coil of orange lighting snakes around it. Then, the hand freezes into an electrified claw. The hand is suddenly shattered on a horizontal needle that pops into existence. The woman sneers. “Ha!” The person uses the needle to swing forward and lunge out from the shadows feet-first. It’s Raz in his cool spy mission outfit. His boot folds the old woman in half by the stomach. She makes the dumbest surprised face, having been caught in her most confident moment. Raz looks determined and focused. Ice shards tinkle in the air around them. Raz then has her pinned on the floor. He has produced a helmet that looks like a Geodesic Psychoisolation Chamber from his jacket and plunked it on her head. “Did I break anything?” he asks, deadly serious. “My worldview is shattered,” she answers, bewildered. Raz pops into his excitable mode. “Oh! We can help with that.” He takes out a psi-portal. She turns to him and says, “Ok.” End ID]

------------

I keep rewording my commentary on this idea, so here’s the jumble:

I love the idea of protagonist syndrome. Main character kiddo is the specialest one of all who overcomes impossible odds or has a big cool unique ability. You see it all over magical/superhero kid cartoons. And then, that all collapses when they get older and change or can’t measure up and have to learn how to detach from the initial self-image and explore who they want to be (Steven Universe & Future, Venture Bros, my actual life experience if you can’t guess). I know it’s a little weird to poke holes in fun kids’ media and should be done with care. But I’m super interested in how protag syndrome applies to real life post-straight-A/sports star/Good Kid TM imposter syndrome. I wanna use this kinda thing as a framework to explore ways to be kinder to and happier with ourselves.

And just look at the boi. He’s doing so good.

Special guest appearance by the Noodler’s mean aunt, the Needler.

[Image ID: The Needler–the woman described before–is depicted in an initial sketch in black and white. She looks annoyed, standing with her hands and fingers splayed out in an “evil wizard” kind of gesture. The image is a little simplified. She has no nose. End ID]

[i-never-forgot]

guys. I have probably talked about this before but…what if dusknoir ended up more touch-traumatized than hero/partner?

okay so we consider the fact that hero/partner have already been through so many perilous situations (ranging from the mild danger of drowzee roughing them up to grovyle literally almost killing them of course). they’re used to that by now. yes of course dusknoir’s betrayal is a terrible horrible thing to go through and there would be a lot of emotional and trust-issue repercussions from that, but…if they reconcile what if hero/partner, once getting over that aspect of it, are just kind of chill with him again? as far as touching goes, anyway—they forgave drowzee and grovyle and seemed entirely comfortable around them, so I don’t think it’s out of the question.

but dusknoir? who spent an indeterminate amount of time as primal dialga’s henchman doing his bidding? who likely has enough mercenary experience to take out a legend if absolutely pressed? he’s familiar with pain and death, knows it intimately. he knows exactly what he’s capable of, and he ends up hyper-aware of his body—and his hands in particular—after his change of heart.

he tried to have these innocents executed. he didn’t do it, and it wasn’t on his order, but he was going to stand by and have his minions bloody their paws with it (perhaps bc he couldn’t bring himself to harm them?)—he did indeed wound them, he fought them, used his size and strength and power to try to crush them just bc he was afraid of the thought of having something better at the cost of his own life. he had every intention to snuff them out as a means to an end, with little remorse (at least at first).

so even if hero/partner forgive him, I don’t think he would trust himself for a long time. he would struggle to let himself close, even if he longs for closeness. his hands shake whenever they get too close. he has to reteach himself how to measure his strength, how to be gentle, and he’s so tense and rigid all over even if he’s just handing something to one of them (perhaps even grovyle and/or celebi too) that most of the time he either just sets it down for them to pick up or they just say never mind so he can relax again. he keeps his distance. he tries not to touch them unless absolutely necessary.

even if they ask him to, whether it’s for cuddles after a nightmare or just to help them out with carrying something, it takes him a long long time to feel even remotely comfortable doing so. he wants to help, he wants to be able to show his affection—or receive it for goodness’ sake, I’ll bet that old man is more touch-starved than any one of them—but he’s just so so scared of messing up everything again, of losing their trust unintentionally this time, and never getting another chance to fix it.

idk man I’m just getting emotional about this big ol’ guy🥺I just wanna give him a nice long hug

[bokettochild]

if you want to pair wind with someone in "you weren't supposed to get hurt" how about complete the war trio pairings and give him and time some bonding. you have one of wars and time and wind and wars bonding so why not complete the trio?

Consider it done! No, like, actually consider it done, because I finally did do it T-T

Since you asked for me to complete the War Trio, it is Mask and not Time, but minor details, yeah? It's the same person in the long run.

Rating: General

Wordcount: 4,905

Summary: Tired of the new intruder, Mask turns to desperate measures to reclaim his personal space from the other so called hero that Link's become so taken with. Things do not go as planned. Or...well, sort of?

-

  He didn’t ask for this. 

  No, seriously, Mask had never asked for this situation to ever come about. He's sort of given up asking anyone for anything at this point. The goddesses didn’t answer when he wanted to go back, to live the life he had finally begun to grow into, to see the kingdom he had saved and all the friends he had made and the world that was familiar even if it was damaged. No one listened to his wishes when he wanted to go home, only to find that the forest will no longer welcome even his child form. He’s tried; he can’t find the grove, or his siblings, or anything of his old life. Navi didn’t listen when he asked her to come back, and whatever powers existed in Termina didn’t listen when he begged for just one day to rest, or a bit of help, or really any bit of aid that didn’t cost him something. 

  Help doesn’t come for the asking. People only do things for you if they can get something out of it. Life is transactional, and for that reason alone at least, he finds he can respect the strange bunny merchant who’s joined their camp. At least Ravio makes no secret of what he wants, and unlike people who dance around the subject or expect him to know, Ravio states his terms point blank. 

  Link does not.  

  The captain is hard to read, hard to understand. He’s the hero, so maybe he can give without getting and maybe he can serve without reward, but that only counts when it’s for the kingdom. No one asked him to reach out to the displaced figures transported through time, to try and befriend them and make them feel at home. There’s no advantage to him doing so, no payout, and it just doesn’t track. Still, Captain Link tries, and he’s succeeding too. Even despite all attempts to keep the man out, he’s somehow made it past Mask’s defenses with that warm smile and the twisting of his own mother tongue.  

  Maybe it’s the spark of familiarity in those blue eyes. They glitter and gleam like Navi did, and the fae-speak that this mortal hylian man can somehow understand and respond in, scolding and commanding, but also assuring and offering warmth, makes him feel almost at home. Maybe it’s the magic though. He doesn’t think Captain Link knows, but he can feel the tendrils of warmth and strength, a protective magic that weaves over camp as the captain walks and inspects; not unlike a spider spinning a web. It’s different from the Deku Tree’s magic, but similar too. The signature of the setter is the only real change, and the warmth and security of at last being able to bask in that web of safety maybe is the reason he lowers his guard.  

  That’s how the man got in, lulling him into safety and familiarity, a whisper of those lost in that perfect smile, and then Mask was trapped. 

  Love is a dangerous thing, but somehow this man has managed to get ahold of his heart anyways, and he’s holding onto it with such warmth and kindness, protecting it so carefully, that there’s really nothing the once-again-child hero can do, only surrender and accept his defeat. 

  He didn’t ask for Captain Link to adopt him, but he never opposed it either. 

  Maybe he would have, but the man had sat him down and explained that the reason wasn’t because they found him incapable, and that it was still very much his own choice, but that without an assigned guardian who would take charge of keeping an eye on them, all children displaced across time would be sent to the countryside to stay on farms, out of the way of the danger, at least until the war was over. If he wanted to stay, he had to agree to let an adult become his guardian, and Link had offered his own services for his consideration. 

  Saying ‘no’ wasn’t really an option. If he wanted to help, he needed to say ‘yes’. Besides, maybe having some tangible proof that someone wanted him around, was tied to him in some way, was nice. It wasn't a Claim like fairy’s laid, but in the way of Hylians, it was really somewhat similar. He became Link’s son, and while the captain never pressured him to see it that way, there’s a small part of him that finds pride in that. 

  Now if only Link hadn’t done the same thing for the blasted sailor. 

  Link has a soft spot for kids, and that much is clear. He’s accepted that Mask is older in mind than body, but it’s clear that the child-like appearance does get the better of the man and make him forget at times, and it shows. Also, busy as he is, Link always makes time for all their youngest members of camp, making sure they are handling the events around them well. He’s had help, of course, since Marin and Ravio both make an effort to check in on everyone for him at times, and the island girl in particular is very good at handling them all, including him. Mask blames that weakness on the fact that she looks a little like Malon did when they were adults. 

  Even with all his duties though, it’s clear the captain finds solace in the presence of children, and privately, Mask does think that, maybe once the war is over, Link should settle down and start a family. For now, he doesn’t mind that the man who adopted him likes to be around the actual kids in the camp, letting Agatha talk his ears off about insects and entertaining Skull-kid's games and tricks.  No, in a way, he finds it cute how much Link cares about them. 

  The problem is the sailors. Tetra isn’t so bad; she’s fun and clever and good at what she does. Impa’s taken charge of keeping an eye on her, for reasons that she won’t explain, so there’s no worry about Link trying to take her in. Her hero companion is a different story though. 

  Because Link is the one everyone calls when there’s a newly dropped outsider discovered, he’d been there when they’d found the sailor folk. Because the captain has a bleeding heart, he’d immediately offered a place to stay in his own tent for the younger hero, which is all well and good to start with, because Link is nothing if not hospitable. No, the problem isn’t that Link had invited Tune, it’s that Tune doesn’t go away. 

  What, for a short time, had been his and Link’s space, suddenly has another person in it. Where Link is content to sit quietly and work at their respective tasks, Tune chatters. Where Link will, at the least, humor him about being an adult, Tune flat out doesn’t believe him. Everything he’s just begun to get used to is suddenly changing! He can’t lower his guard anymore, and if he wants to cuddle up to the man who’s legally his father, he can’t without someone seeing and taking it as proof that he’s a child, or that he’s soft or weak or some other offensive presumption.  Worse than that though, is that Link treats Tune with the same warmth and kindness that he does Mask, and try as he might to deny it, it’s become increasingly clear that he can’t stand that. 

  So yeah, Mask is jealous. 

  He doesn’t like to admit it, but he is, and he doesn’t like that Tune tromps all over everything he was just making for himself and pushes himself into the space that had finally started to feel like home. His relationship with Link is a treasure, and Tune is trying to be part of it, and Link is just letting him! Link took him in, took guardianship over him and now he says that that makes the two of them brothers. 

  Mask has had brothers before. He doesn’t want new ones. He’s still getting over not ever getting to see the ones he used to have ever again, still getting used to the idea that maybe in their own way, they’d actually felt something for him, despite all the bullying and mockery. He doesn’t want another older brother, one who doesn’t believe him about anything he says and who, worse yet, Link looks at with respect. 

  There's no shortage of warmth and fondness in Link’s eyes when they turn on him, but when turned on Tune, there’s suddenly some sense of equality, of respect. Tune offers advice and Link takes it, Tune offers help and Link accepts, Tune tells Link to put his things down and rest for a bit and Link does. Mask doesn't have advice or suggestions or really any concept of how to help the man who’s taken him in besides killing monsters. He can’t do anything or give anything back to the person who’s giving him everything, and here Tune shows up and shows him up! Giving and giving and giving and making Mask look like some pathetic mooch! Well, no more! He doesn’t want to have the other around, so maybe it’s time to let that on! 

  The insults and fighting just stress Link out and saying point blank that he doesn’t want the other boy in their tent just makes the captain sigh and sit them down and explain things and beg them to just try and co-exist. The number of times he’s said that he ‘isn’t asking them to be friends, but just to please get along, or just ignore each other’, is getting ridiculous. Yet, every time, Tune nods and smiles and, like the goody two shoes he is, promises to do his best, apologizing for stressing Link out. 

  He’s such a suck up, honestly! Mask can’t stand it! 

  So, instead of involving Link, instead of letting the hylians handle things their way, Mask is going to take the fairy approach to getting this kid out of his space.  

  It’s not hard to figure out. Skullkid, like always, is down for a bit of mischief, and the fairies he presents with his situation agree to be of aid in any way they can. It won’t affect anybody else. He’d had to steal something out Tune’s bag so that the fairies could get a handle on his magical signature, but that’d been easy enough, and the fairies were well willing to help once he’d bribed them with sugar that he’d snitched from the mess tent.  

  Now though, he can walk back to the tent knowing that no matter what Tune does, he’ll get lost trying to find it. It’s the same magic from the woods, less strong, since it’s not done by the Deku Tree, but it’s only supposed to work on one person anyways, so it doesn’t need to be that strong, just strong enough to make sure Tune can’t get back in. Except, much to his disappointment, the only result is that the older boy just follows Link around instead! So, when it’s late, he only has to keep an eye on the captain, and thus is still there, every night, humming and talking as dinner is made and eaten, and even afterwards sometimes. Gone is the silence they used to share, filled instead with the voice of the ‘brother’ he never asked for. 

  So, he tries again. He asks the fairies, he asks Midna, he even tries talking to Ravio to ask him if maybe, somehow, there’s something in the merchant’s wares that could fend off unwanted persons from someone’s space. 

  “Bees,” the merchant responds, sighing. “Wards and runes too, but those are tricky to lay if you’re not practiced, and unfortunately, I’m not. Mister Hero keeps bees though, and nothing and no one can get at his home without first having to get through them.” There’s a shiver that follows those words, a full body one that makes the rabbit ears of the hood bounce and sway. “Awful, horrid little devils they are!” 

  Were they in the woods, he’d start gathering hives and fostering bees all around the area, or at least try and learn how. They’re not in the woods though, and Captain Link likely won’t appreciate having a hive anywhere near his tent. Midna suggested getting a dog, but when he’d explained why he wanted it, she’d told him she couldn’t help any further. 

  “I don’t want any part in a sibling tiff,” she’d declared, and he hadn’t had time to explain that they weren’t siblings before she’d flickered off to another part of camp, most likely to pester Marin. 

  So, he tries again, and again, and tries everything he can think of, but even with all that he’s still left with an unwanted presence in their tent and evenings that are too loud and food too spicy. He wants Tune gone; not dead, that wouldn’t be right, but out of his hair and his space and away from himself and Link would be nice. Why, oh why couldn’t someone else have taken in the other supposed hero? But no, Link and his bleeding heart just had to take him, and now Mask suffers the consequences of it! 

  Well, no longer! Because Skullkid has a solution! 

  “A trap!”   

  “A trap?” He’s fond of the kid, very much so, but he’s not sure how smart the guy is. “Buddy, I’ve tried that.” 

  “You tried a magic trap,” Skullkid corrects, giggling, “but magic only works on magic. You’re working like a fairy against a hylian! You need to use hylian skills to stop a hylian!” 

  “Explain...” 

  “Hylians are bad at magic, very dumb sometimes.” The hat of the skullkid bobs with a knowing nod as he speaks, smile conspiratory. “He doesn’t know you’re trying to get rid of him. You need to leave no question about it! Trap him, then, after some time, come get him out! You can tell him he owes you for rescuing him, or that you set it, but you can trap him and make him realize he’s not so great!” 

  Technically, there are so many ways in which it wouldn’t work, but he’s already tried so much, so it’s worth a shot. Skullkid is willing to help with the rigging of it too, with just enough magic to stop the thing going off on anyone else, and employing the spell already on the tent. The older boy will end up at the back rather than the front, and when he does, he’ll fall into a rather deep hole that is spelled so no one will hear him until Mask or Skullkid come to see how he’s doing. It’s no harm done, just a quick scare and a moment to really drive home that staying in their tent is really not worth all the trouble he has to go through to do so. 

  For the first time in a long time that night, he manages to get Link to himself for a bit. Just quiet, dinner, no chatter, no spicy food, no blabbering and humming hero boy who doesn’t respect his space. 

  And then Link starts to worry. “Where’s Tune?” 

  He shrugs. “With Marin? They hang out a lot.” It’s not a lie. “Maybe he’s staying with her instead.” 

  Link shakes his head, face creasing up in a frown. “No, no, he would have told me.” With that, the man moves to stand, already grabbing for his sword and shield, things he never lets out of reach even when sleeping. “I’m going to go look for him. Stay here, in case he comes back on his own.” 

  Because Link is too tired to have realized the presence of the spell that keeps his other charge from being able to find the tent. He just thinks Tune follows him around, and he’s not all wrong either. Honestly, that’s probably one of the worst ways that plan had backfired, since it meant those two spent more time around each other. But no more!  

  The moment Link is out of the tent and out of sight, all smiles for his men even if his brow is tense, Mask is darting out and around the back, headed towards their trap. 

  Sure enough, Tune is inside. Dirty, tears on his face and cradling an arm that even past his green tunic, Mask can see is horrbly swollen. 

  “Shit.” 

  “Language,” the older answers, as if on reflex, before starting and staring up at him. “Wait, Mask?” 

  He wanted to smirk here, to crow a little at the stupidity it would take to get here, but Tune looks so pathetic, and pained. He’s not supposed to look pained. “Yeah...” 

  “Oh thank the seven!” Blue-green eyes dart skywards. “Someone set a trap by the captain’s tent! I’ve been calling for hours now, but no one’s come!” There’s a hardness in those eyes, a set to the jaw and brows that echoes the captain’s but a moment ago. “I’m glad Link wasn't the one to find it, but we need to tell him about this! If someone’s setting traps in camp, everyone is at risk!” 

  Something in his stomach curls and twists uncomfortably as he looks down at that determined face, streaked with tears and mud, yet still, the other boy is focused more on the men, the captain, and everything other than himself. He’s not even realized this was for him. Worse still- 

  “You’re hurt.” 

  A wince follows the words, although it tries desperately to be a smile. “Yeah. I think I broke my arm when I fell. Where’s Link?” 

  “Looking for you.”  

  He broke his arm. He got hurt. That wasn't part of the plan! He was supposed to get upset, but not...not... Mask’s not sure what he wants here, but this isn’t it. He got Tune hurt. Not just scared, not just lost, not just feeling stupid, but really actually hurt! 

  The sailor groans. “We have to tell him about this.” 

  “Do we?” 

  “Yes?” Like it’s a no brainer, like it’s obvious. “Someone set a trap in camp, Mask. One by his tent! That’s kind of a big deal!” 

  He knows that, but he doesn’t say it. He didn’t want Link involved though, and now Tune will pull him in and there will be a ruckus, because no one would guess that it was the sailor who was the target. Tune isn’t anyone worth targeting, not when Link is right there! 

  “But what if it wasn’t for him?” 

  “Who the-” and he cuts himself off, because Tune sees him like a child, treats him like a child, and refuses to swear in front of him, even though he knows perfectly well that the sailor’s got a mouth filthier than his own. Not for any lack of trying on his part, but Navi never let him stick around when people were using foul language, and he’d never gotten the chance to learn many words. Not in Hylian anyway. “Who would it be for then?” Because he knows too, he knows they aren’t good targets. Mask can’t tell him the truth though.  

  “Someone else?” It sounds desperate, een despite all effort to not. 

  “Who else-” and he sees something flicker, like lightning almost, in those sea storm eyes. “Did you do this?” 

  The accusation stings, but it’s also a sharp blade of truth, and it breaks the dam he didn’t even know was building up. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt!! I just...I- You- I don’t want you around!” 

  A slow blink, a heavy, deep, dangerous breath, like a dragon about to breath fire, but no flames, no words, emerge. Tune just stares, eyes stormy and cheeks red and shoulders stiff, and Mask feels himself beginning to cower just slightly as guilt mixes with the anger stirring up inside him. 

  He feels the need to explain himself, yet also the wish to shout and scream and rage at the intruder who disturbed the life that was finally beginning to settle. He’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling most, but it’s making his heart pound and hands sweat as he stands over the hold in the ground and the hero inside. It twists inside as he watches Tune watch him with dangerous eyes, all while cradling his broken arm. The words don’t come. The words won’t come, and he can’t decide whether he wants them too or not, just finds himself staring as Tune breathes, heavy and harsh for a while before finally mustering himself, forcibly calm, and turning sea-green eyes up towards him again. 

 “You set a trap.” 

  He doesn’t answer. 

  Tune doesn't wait for one. “For me. You tried to trap me, and leave me here for, what? An hour, a couple?” 

  He clenches his hands into fists, heart racing and face twisting up in the same way his stomach does; painful and confusing. 

  “Why?” The sailor blinks up at him. “What on earth did I do?” 

  You took from me, he wants to say. You took away my safe space, you made it yours. You broke what I found and made it what you wanted. You shoved yourself in where you didn’t belong and made me feel out of place. “You stole Link.” 

  For a moment, the other flounders, like a fish out of water, and then his voice explodes with a sharp “What?” 

  “You took Link!” He says it firmer this time. “We were fine, happy almost. I was happy! And then you came in and changed things and you- you-” he kicks at a clump of dirt on the edge of the pit, watches it roll away and crumble like he wishes the complicated feelings inside of him would do. “You took him away.” It’s softer the second time, just a whisper, a weak little thing that he hates. 

  “You’re jealous?” The anger is gone now, just...confusion in that face. “Are- are you seriously just... jealous?” 

  “No!” 

  And Tune stares, blinking up at him, bewildered. “You’re jealous. You, who Link thinks the world of and adores like his own son, are jealous.” 

  “I am his son!” Where in the world did that come from?!?!?! 

  A sigh and the shake of the head. “Okay, get me out. We’re going to talk.” Before he can resist, that stormy sea stare turns up to him again, warning. “If you don’t want me telling Link what you did, then we talk it out without him.” 

  “Gonna be hard to hide it,” he mumbles, even as, reluctantly, he offers a hand to help get the other out. It’s not that deep, the magic is really the only thing keeping Tune there, and now that he’s here, it dissipates quite easily, not halting the older boy’s climbing out at all. “Your arm’s going to give it away.” 

  “Help me set it,” is the easy answer. “I can down a potion and Link will be none the wiser.” 

  Mask stares. “You’re not going to tell him?” 

  Those deep eyes roll, a heavy puff of air escaping chaffed lips. “I mean, I can if you really want. I’ll tell him you got jealous and trapped me in the ground and that I broke my arm while falling down and-” 

  “Okay, okay! I get it! I’ll help.” 

  He does too. They both go back to the tent, and with a fair bit of struggle, they manage to set the broken arm just like Link’s shown them how, tying it to a splint made of a wooden spoon to hold it until the potion takes effect. The moment they’re done though, he’s stuck under that Stare again. It's not nearly as bad as Link’s, but it isn’t fun either.  

  “Alright, so, what made you think  trap was a good idea?” 

  And... and... he tells him. It all sort of bleeds out in a messy amount of word vomit; the frustration and anger and everything. How he’s not keen on having a brother, how he didn’t get a choice or a warning, how its not fair! And Tune just listens, digesting the words quietly as though they aren’t mean and spiteful, as though he doesn’t sound like Mido when he says them. If Saria could see him now she’d be shaking her head, sad and sorry, probably wondering how he turned out like such a rotten little thing even after how hard she tried to teach him to be good and kind. It’s only when he finishes that the sailor says anything, and even then, it’s not even angry. 

  “I get it.”  

  He wants to scream that no, no one does!  

But the sailor smiles, a crooked, sad thing. “Change sucks.”  

 The words hit home. Like they’re everything he was trying to say but couldn’t, and he just finds himself nodding in answer. 

  “I’m sorry I stress you out, but look at it from my perspective,” stormy eyes are clearing, gentling, like a cool and flat lake, “I don't have anywhere else to go either.” 

  “Someone else could take you!” 

  A shrug. “Yeah, they could. But no one else wants to. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want me taking up their space. Not that I blame them; if I was you I’d probably be pretty pissed too, but yeah. Anywhere else, I’m going to be treated like a child, like a kid, not like a hero who knows what he’s doing, who killed Ganon, who did stuff that they’ll never really get. Link doesn’t even get it yet, he’s not there, but he’s the closest I’ve got to someone who knows what it’s like to live our life.” 

  Mask pauses. “Our life?” 

  And there’s that blasted smile again. “Yeah. You? Me? We’re heroes. We beat Ganon, we won, and we went home afterwards. It changes you a lot, and I don’t think most people get that, which is good, because that means they never had to deal with the shit we have, but it does make it hard to find people who understand you. Honestly, I was really excited to hear there were other heroes here, because I hoped maybe we could...” and there’s a faint flush back to the sailor’s cheeks again. He’d already downed the potion, he’s not crying anymore, and there’s no pain or anything, but he’s steadily getting redder.  

  “Spit it out already.” He doesn’t mean it to come out harsh, but it does, huffing out as he keeps his arms folded tight in front of him. 

  Tune sighs. “I hoped maybe I’d find a friend. Someone who really understands.” 

  “Must suck, huh?” 

  Another shrug, a tip of the head. “Yeah. But I get it if you don’t want to. I did intrude on your space, and I am sorry for that. I wish you’d told me it was bothering you though, instead of trapping me like a wild pig.” He has no clue what that means, but he lets it pass, for now. “We could just have sat down and talked about it. You say you’re an adult, right? Well, adults talk about shit that makes them upset, so we can do that instead of...whatever that was.” 

  And it’s not perfect, not friendly and not warm and not a sweet sappy thing like maybe Tune would have wanted, but they do talk. There’s a lot of prodding and pushing, and a lot of yelling, but eventually, they work out something. No one agrees to leave, but lines are drawn. Tune agrees to keep his spices away from Mask and only share if Link asks (which he probably won’t, considering it’s Link). Mask agrees to keep his traps and tricks to himself. If one of them is in the tent, the other needs to make sure it’s okay to come in, unless it’s time to sleep or they’ll be out again quickly. There’s more to work out, and they’ll have to do this a few more times, Tune tells him, but it’s a start. 

  When Link comes back, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Or, if he does, he doesn’t ask. A question of if Tune is okay, a hair ruffle, and then one for Mask too, and then he’s urging them both to bed for the night. Being tucked in is childish, but they accept it. They accept it and they sit quietly while the older hero collapses on his own bedroll and goes out like a light, still fully dressed. 

  “He’s a great guy,” the sailor whispers once they’re sure the man won’t wake. 

  Mask nods. “Yeah.” 

  “We can do this, for him. Even if you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, we can at least make his life a bit easier by not trying to kill each other.” 

  “Deal. Now shut up.” 

  He thinks the other giggles to himself, but no more words are spoken between them. Well, not that night anyway. They have to talk again later, once there’s not the threat of Link walking in on them. It’s not perfect and there are hiccups; there are still yelling matches and squabbles and sometimes it gets a bit more physical, but for Link, they make it work. The least they can do is support their fellow hero as he prepares to face the same hell they know. Although, it really doesn’t feel that way with how intent he is on watching out for them, like he really is their dad or something. 

[mighty-mepoe]

Interesting (All Might) fic finds

Cute/Slice of life fics:

Slightly Cracked by Krisington

Really sweet, a bit bitter at the start.

The more Izuku made friends at UA, the more he realized that All Might was just as friendless as he himself had always been. Despite All Might's insistence otherwise, Izuku found this to be completely unacceptable.

Secret Identity fics:

Yagi-Sensei by Swiftwidget (or also HERE)

<3

A short drabble inspired by a post by alicekaninchenbau on tumblr. An AU in which "All Might" was not hired to teach at U.A. but instead Toshinori Yagi teaches Foundational Hero Studies and no one but Principal Nedzu, Recovery Girl, and Izuku know he is All Might. Toshinori actually does come through the door like a normal person.

Mr Yagi by Swiftwidget

Amazing, makes me smile every time.

Mr. Toshinori Yagi from the Second Secretarial Office: A kind, generous man with an uncanny knowledge about the Might Tower Staff who never hesitated to make their days brighter. At least, that's how they knew him. / Inspired by the Vigilante 006 Beta chapter in which Detective Tsukauchi meets Toshinori Yagi at Might Tower for the first time.

Missing Everything by Haptronym

Izuku misses a very important reveal and ends up with a villain-filled soda bottle instead. In the ensuing chaos, he befriends someone named Toshinori Yagi. All Might misses the chance to make a snap decision and ends up mentoring a very heroic, very determined child who has no idea who he really is.

No Such Thing As a Hopeless Case by Origamidragons

I read this fic ages ago and it has lived rent-free in my brain since then. Dead since 2019, but what is written is worth reading.

The story of how Toshinori Yagi (not All Might, Toshinori Yagi) singlehandedly defeated his archenemy's League of Villains by accidentally adopting them all. Or: Toshinori's gonna redemption arc everybody, just watch him.

GOT THIS POWER THAT IS TAKING ME OUT (shall I go now? you'll like it, you'll be the hero) by canbreathe, debesys (canbreathe)

Heart-warming.

<<"You do not have any kind of teaching qualification, do you Yagi-san?" "I, um," he desperately grabs at straws, "cleaning? I've done. Cleaning.">> All Might, or rather, Yagi Toshinori, becomes a janitor at U.A. It goes much better than expected.

Badass Small Might:

to measure time by sundefeater lou (sundefeater)

Dad Might becomes feral.

Five minutes. Five goddamned minutes. He had just wanted to restock some essential supplies at the nearby konbini while Izuku got some much needed rest with the aid of the last of the cold tablets and a cool compress. Or: Izuku is sick, the villains don't care, and Toshinori has had it up to here with these assholes.

Mr. Yagi by writers_writers

Beginning of manga-Bakugou learns some practical lessons.

With Aizawa still out of commission on the Monday after the USJ attack, the question is, who is going to teach Class 1-A. All might is out recuperating as well and the rest of the teachers are already stretched thin working on the security on top of their own classes. The kids are shaken and on edge from the devastating events the week prior and need someone with a steady hand and a kind voice to get them back to a sense of normality. It's a good thing that All Might's secretary offered to come in for the day just to keep an eye on them.

Yagi-san by soulofdarkandlight

All Might finds a way to be a hero without using his quirk.

When Nedzu asks All Might to retire, he surprisingly agrees. Little does he realize, it's All Might who agreed, not Yagi.

Harmony in War by Quisanne

(Restricted to AO3 users) Dad-Might and Dad-Zawa for your enjoyment. Also some Bakugrowth towards the end. I just love Aizawa's POV.

Aizawa and All Might go on a warpath to raze Aldera Middle School to the ground. A story in which Aizawa is the one smiling at people and All Might is the one intimidating everyone.

Dadmight:

The Best Day by Nicnac

So cute! All fluff with a tiny bit of angst in the predictable place. Worth a thousand reads.

All Might saves Izuku from the slime villain when the boy is only four years old. Things proceed accordingly.

Quirkless Yagi Toshinori:

Thunder by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)

Yagi Toshinori manages to become a quirkless hero in the harsh world of his youth.

This Autor has a whole mountain of amazing fics.

In this universe, he never meets anyone. He sits as an island, isolated, standing with stacks of notebooks and muscles gained from years of self-defense. He tells his middle school counsellor he wants to be a hero, and she laughs in his face.

Angst / Harsh fics (no bad endings):

Statistic by aconstantstateofbladerunner

When victims and bystanders are gaslighted into believing it's their fault, help is difficult to come by.

In a world where All for One was defeated the first time around, new villainous groups are constantly bubbling up just under the surface of society. New crimes need new tactics, so in an effort to flush out an alleged anti-quirkless group, All Might decides to go undercover as Yagi Toshinori, quirkless middle school teacher. But Toshinori hasn't been quirkless in a long time, and he learns the hard way how much things have changed.

Toshishan and Baby 'Zuku (I Know How the World Treat Us) by 18ems_girl

Super-cute! And it has some iteresting character studies.

A de-aging quirk affects Izuku and Toshinori and, while baby Izuku is happy to meet heroes, teen Toshinori is scared because he knows people treat quirkless kids awful.

Humour:

When Monologuing To Your Nemesis Goes Wrong by Ilentari

Crack. Also SPOILERS.

Ugh, he didn’t want to be subjected to this boring monologue anymore. Perhaps this was All For One’s plan? Rant to him until his ears began to bleed? All For One cleared his throat and started back up where he left off, and All Might sighed in irritation. “Why are you like this?” he groaned, wanting the villain to shut up. All For One initially had seemed annoyed by the interruption, but quickly brightened at the question. “I’m glad you asked!” He flourished his hands dramatically. “You see, once upon a time there was a baby born as evil as one could be—” That was stupid. All Might snorted. “Babies aren’t born evil.”

Take My Place on the Witness Stand by Quisanne

Hilarious. (Restricted to AO3 users) I also recomend the rest of the Series.

[Officer] Name, age, current address, and quirk, please, if you would. [Suspect] I'm afraid I can’t tell you most of these things. [Officer] Oh? And why would that be, I wonder? Would it allow us to track you down and find your stash of other stolen IDs? [Suspect] ...It's a matter of national security. [Officer] Yeah sure, and my mother is a late descendant of the Emperor. ----- OR: Yagi Toshinori gets arrested for having All Might's possessions on him and his friends are amazingly incompetent at getting him out. Maybe they're having too much fun with this.

The Torrid Affair of All Might and Yagi Toshinori by Speedwagons_Glorious_Mane

Super-fun.

It's the perfect cover. No one will ever suspect that All Might and Yagi Toshinori are the same person if everyone thinks they're dating.

Healing (literally):

Flashback by Psyckosama

Amazingly self-indulgent. A bit spicy at times. Really well written even if at first it seems it will be a chaotic fic.

On the day Izuku Midoriya was to receive All Might's quirk, the sacred torch of One for All, a young girl glowing with a corona of power runs up to the mentor and student yelling for them to stop as she desperately contains the energy within her. After pleading with Izuku to, impossibly, take One for All from *her*, she lays the weak and crippled Toshinori Yagi's hand upon her sparking horn and All Might is reborn in his prime. But who is this mysterious girl, how did she know the fateful exchange that would be taking place on that isolated beach, and what ominous portents does her appearance that day fortell?

[seidenbros]

"A true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart" - Hercules

[almadesarrollo]

HERCULES 27 YEARS OLD.

TODAY IS 27 YEARS OLD, ONE OF THE FILMS THAT HAS TEACHED US THE MOST IN OUR CHILDHOOD.

LET US REMEMBER HIS MOST BEAUTIFUL AND ICONIC PHRASE.

"For a true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart"