#I would simply quit smoking and avoid confrontation but this is why I would be a bad cowboy

[captcutshaw]

One of the best western tropes is when a guy lights matches by striking them on random objects (or people). It's cool when a cowboy lights one on his boots, but that blond bitch in The Mercenary (1968) goes above and beyond. He strikes matches on some guy's hat, a dead man's shoe, a woman's breast, his sleeping friend's foot, a man's ear, some other guy's teeth, the list goes on but I lost track

[angstigone]

(A/N): based on a true story or a very rude lady who literally chainsmoked five cigarettes while standing next to my family table, unapologetically and uncartng that although we were outside our table was attached to their own.

«it's the third cigarette» aki muttered underneath his breath while looking over your shoulder; your cheeks flustered lightly and you lowered your head in shame, as if it was your fault.

aki was a smoker: he had definitely smoked in places where he shouldn't have and he definitely had consumed a packet in a day, but something had changed when he had met you, his girl.

as cheesy as it sounded, the slight grimace on your face when you had first kissed at the taste of tobacco on his tongue - he had been nervous enough to resort to a cigarette while you had been off to the bathroom on your first date - had been enough to convince him.

he hadn't yet quit - the stress of denji and power was enough - but he had lowered his consume adapting his addiction to you: he didn't smoke in your presence. he assured himself that his breath wouldn't hold tobacco when he went to pick you up for any dates and he had even forced a few of his squad to avoid smoking before meeting you on a nights out.

it wasn't just for your safety and preference, though, that aki hayakawa was gradually leaving out smoking: he had taken to get used to your soft perfume, nothing that could be achieved through chemicals or perfumes; there was something comforting in the way he could recognize your persona by simply your natural odor.

and he dreaded the thought of it being overwhelmed by the tangy and heavy smell of smoken tobacco.

hence, why as the woman at the table behind your own went to take her third cigarette of the night, he brought up the fact; when she had gotten the first out after having asked whether she'd be allowed to smoke as the tables were outside of the restaurant, he hadn't noticed it and only at the second he had felt the similar smell, noticing that your smile was slightly forced.

he had relented from actively confronting the woman, hopeful that when she'd be served the bad habit would be eradicated but the first course had just arrived and she had extracted the thin stick from her pocket while talking animatedly with her commensals.

as aki was - indeed - a smoker, he usually wouldn't have said shit: they were outside and allowed to smoke. still, seeing as the tables were quite near due to the overcrowded situation at the elegant restaurant, it'd have been nice for the woman to at least ask as your chair had bumped against her own a few times and shew must know that the smoke all went to you.

and aside the health hazard, aki knew how much you enjoyed taking care of yourself when you'd go on a date out: he knew better than to insist for you 'to take it easy', as it seemed that you felt pride in making yourself pretty for him, whether it was a pretty lipstick or a new hairstyle. and who was aki to say no to such a prancing?

and who was he not to say anything to that lady, who was ruining all your hard work?

«it's alright, aki» your hand went to his own, as aki noticed that his knee lightly bounced in mix of annoyance and willigness to do something «... it isn't that... bad».

it might not be but it was bothering you and aki prided on your dates being good for you, above anything else.

«I'll just make her aware» he settled, ignoring your slightly pleading look, knowing that you tended to be non confrontational in such matters for the sake of enjoying the date, but aki couldn't enjoy the date with the thought of your discomfort. he could have sat himself down and ignored the woman but he'd have kept on counting how many cigarettes the woman had «... excuse me, ma'am?».

the woman turned unpenitent, with her cigarette going to her other hand not to blow smoke in aki's face; so she had a bit of shame. good.

«can I help you?» he lightly batted her eyelashes to aki, not knowing that the sole one who could make such a trick work was you; not that you'd need to bat your eyes to have aki wrapped around your finger.

«yes, I actually think you can» aki still thought he'd use the woman's obvious attraction as he gently smiled like he did whenever he'd have to clean denji's or power's messes «... you see, my girlfriend is right behind you and as you are smoking and the whole situation is quite crowded... it is getting all over her».

at the mention of 'girlfriend' the woman - who could have been his mother - soured in her expression and aki knew that albeit his gentle demeanor, it'd be difficult.

«... I am outside» the woman pointed out, lightly tapping the cigarette against the ash container «... and I did ask whether I could smoke».

«I understand, ma'am» the temptation to simply show her his devil hunter badge was intense, but he knew that you'd have felt even more uncomfortable and he could spy a slight embarassment on your face with his side-eye «... I wouldn't object if the tables weren't so close and...».

«... and it isn't my fault» the woman's smile was straight up poisonous as she turned back to her friend as if aki hadn't ever been there, effectively dismissing him from the conversation.

aki knew that whatever he'd have done next would have ruined the night even more for you: he could have called over a waiter and asked for your table to be changed but you enjoyed the view from this specific table. he could have caused a scene and he'd have won inevitably but this would have heightened your embarassment.

he hated admitting defeat as he passed by your chair and gently lowered himself to your ear, noticing the slight trace of goosebumps at the familiar action and it took everything in him not to chase that trail with his lips.

«switch seats with me» he had ought to give you that place as it seemed a bit larger in size but he thought you might not mind as he could feel the smoke but less intensely.

«are you sure?» the smoke must have been bothering you truly much because you didn't make any attempt to shoot his proposal down as you'd have done whenever aki's overprotectiveness was bigger than the whole problem «... I don't...».

«I am sure» he gently plopped a kiss to your forehead, distinctly feeling their neighbor's eyes on him as he gently helped you up and into his own chair, gently pushing his jacket around your shoulders, if anything to shield you further.

in your seat he took a deep breath, hopeful that your neighbors would be gone soon and he could enjoy his evening better, although he already felt better, as you smiled genuinely at his attentions.

«... say the truth» you teased gently as your hand joined his over the table «... you were just missing the smoking, weren't you».

«you know, I don't care for that that much more» he shot back promptly, cradling your hand in his own as he gently went to kiss it «... I think I found a better and more healthy addiction».

and the way your eyes shied away from his was enough for him to understand that you knew it meant you.

you were his new addiction.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Heartwork- E.M. Pt. 9

You confront Eddie after he's been avoiding you.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - Epilogue Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, smut, oral (F receiving), pnv, protected sex (wrap before you tap, besties <3), pet names (really just "pretty"), cursing, slight drinking, mention of smoking, a lil bit of angst but mostly ends up fluffy (lmk if I forgot anything!)

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 2,989

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

When you pull up to the small house, you see Eddie’s car in the driveway, and you take a deep breath to try to calm your nerves. You park on the street, thinking of what you want to say before you take the key out of the ignition and walk with conviction to the front door, rapping on it a few times before stepping back, your heart pounding in your chest.  

When Eddie opens the door-- gloriously shirtless, you notice-- his eyes widen in surprise as he sees you, and he pushes the screen door open to step closer. “Y/N... What are you doing here?” You breathe in to speak, but all of the words you were planning on saying fly out of your mind. 

“I- Wayne gave me your address.” You try to keep your eyes on his face rather than letting them wander to his toned, tattooed torso, but it’s definitely a difficult task. “I- I miss you, Eddie,”  

Eddie sighs, looking away from your face, and you can feel your chest tighten in fear. What if he doesn’t want to see you? 

“Do you want to come in?” Eddie relents, his eyes softening, and steps back to give you space to enter. You nod gently and step forward over the threshold, looking around. It’s cleaner than you expected, though the incense-weed combo smell still lingers. You remember how his room was always a mess, covered in dirty clothes and empty cups, bottles, pizza boxes... The door closes with a thud behind you and you turn around to look back at Eddie. 

He looks tired, but freshly showered. You expect he’s just gotten home from work not too long ago. He looks toward the living room and gestures for you to sit. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got some beer, coke, water...?”  

“I’ll take a beer, sure.” You walk over and sit on the couch, trying to relax. You expected it to be awkward, sure, after everything that happened the last time you saw him, but this is ridiculous. Someone could mistake you for a stranger if they walked in. Eddie returns with two beers and hands one to you, sitting just a couple feet away on the couch next you.  

“So...” Eddie begins. “I guess you want to talk about what happened?” His voice is soft, like he’s embarrassed or ashamed. His eyes are glued firmly to the drink in his hands.  

“Yeah,” You begin. “I just... Why, um,” You can’t find the right words without sounding too desperate or accusatory. “Why did you stop?” You take a long swig from the bottle, hoping to find some courage in it.  

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was drunk. And you were drunk. And, I couldn’t take advantage of you. I could never live with myself. So, I stopped.” You look back down at your hands as he finishes. 

“Oh,” You take another drink, breathing in deep as you steel yourself for his reply. “So, did you not want to... just, in general?” He jerks his head toward you, confusion written on his face. 

“I- I never said that.” He asserts, “I just didn’t think you would have, if you were sober,”  

“That’s not true,” you squeak. Your heart is in your throat as a spike of fear streaks through your gut. You fidget your fingers on the glass of the bottle. You feel Eddie’s eyes on you, and you chance a glance up at him. The look on his face is one of bewilderment, like he would never have expected you to say that, but beneath that is something you can’t quite place. 

“What?” he asks, turning his body toward you. You want so badly to touch him, to shake him by the shoulders and shout Yes! I’ve been going crazy about you since we saw each other in that bar! But you hold back, and simply nod, giving a small smile. 

“I- um... Y/BFF/N called me again today. And I was talking to her and I got so mad because she said some stupid thing and—it doesn’t matter. The point is, I was standing there, thinking about how you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You deserve the world, because you are one of the best people I have ever known. You’re my best friend, my only friend in the whole world right now after that shitshow of a phone call, and I really meant it when I said that you were the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And since I got back—since we’ve been seeing each other again— I’ve been realizing that that doesn’t just extend to the feelings that I have for you as my best friend. You are kind, and funny, and as childish as it sounds, I also happen to find you incredibly attractive and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I can get over it. But what I can’t get over is losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Eddie puts his drink down on the table next to him and moves closer to you, your knees just touching. Electricity crackles through the air between you as Eddie moves to place one of his hands on yours. 

He chuckles lightly, relief in his voice. “I um, I don’t know what to say,” You look into his beautiful eyes, dark and warm and soft as he gazes back at you. 

“You...” You flick your eyes down, finding your courage again as you continue, “You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. You’ve said your piece, now it’s his turn. 

Slowly, his thumb draws sweet circles on your knuckles. He searches your face for any unsurety, but he won’t find any. You’ve decided what you want. You want him. He starts leaning toward you, and you reciprocate, meeting him in the middle. This kiss is even better than the one you shared last time you saw each other. This one is sure, and steady. Eddie’s lips move firmly against yours, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. You let him, adjusting your legs so you can close some of this agonizing gap between you. Your hands rake lightly along his back as he gives your bottom lip a gentle nip, making you let out a gentle gasp.  

Eddie squeezes your sides when he hears you, pulling you even closer. Your tongue finds his, and your hands go to hold his face, feeling the slight scratch of stubble beneath your fingers. You’re not close enough to him, and so you take a leap and move so that you’re straddling his waist, never taking your lips away from his. Eddie’s hands move up your shirt and lay flat and firm on your back to keep you stable. 

As Eddie’s lips journey down your cheek, your jaw, your neck, you let out another little sound, between a sigh and a whimper as you peck feather light kisses to his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Eddie whispers against your skin. “I’m not going anywhere ever again,” 

You squeeze Eddie’s body against yours, not knowing what to say, not knowing if you can say anything as this fog of ecstasy clouds your mind. You rake your hands through Eddie’s hair as his lips continue their journey to your collarbones, leaning back slightly so he can reach, then one of his hands moves to graze along the curve of your hip, settling on your ass and giving a light squeeze. A bolt of electricity tears through your core as you feel it, making you tighten your grip on his hair, your head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Eddie,” You gasp. His mouth is drawing sweet patterns across the tops of your breasts when he looks up at you, his eyes wide and doelike, shrouded in a mist of lust. “I need you,” It comes out as a plea, and Eddie smiles softly, returning to your chest for a few more kisses before letting you go. You move off of him and he grabs your hand, pulling you up off of the couch, bringing you in for another kiss as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. As soon as the door is closed, Eddie brings his hands to your face and pulls you to him in a rougher kiss as he walks you back toward the edge of his bed. As you sit, he runs his hands up your body, bringing your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. He kneels in front of you, lips connecting to your belly as his hands roam your sides and back before gently pushing you to lay down. Eddie then reaches the button of your jeans, and your hips move of their own accord as he pulls them off, kissing the tops of your thighs and down your legs, agonizingly slow. You can’t hear exactly what he’s saying as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, but the feeling of his breath fanning over you is enough to make you need to clench your thighs together, your hips still moving in anticipation. 

He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties and hesitates. You look down to see a lightly furrowed brow. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks, his voice soft but serious. You nod, your breath trembling lightly from nerves and excitement. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched this way, let alone by someone you really cared about. 

“I’m sure. Are you?” Eddie responds with his actions, his lips going back to your thighs, kisses feather light as he helps you out of your underwear. You let out a sharp whine as you feel Eddie’s breath on your bare core, and you need to grasp his blanket before he’s even made contact.  

“I just want you to know,” Eddie gives you a flirtatious smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I’m sorry if I’m rusty.” You give a giggle between breaths. 

“Me too. I probably won’t notice even if you are.” Eddie kisses your inner thigh, making you gasp sharply. You can’t help the litany of noises that escapes you as Eddie moves closer, his hand coming to rub along the thigh his lips aren’t attached to. Just as you let out a whimper of “Eddie, please,” You feel his mouth, hot and blissful against you. The moan that rips through your chest surprises you, and you can’t help but push your hips harder against his face as you bring your hands to Eddie’s hair, keeping a light grip on his curls. You feel the vibration of Eddie’s voice against you in a moan, his hand tightening on your hip, fingers digging deliciously into the skin there to keep you still. 

He licks a stripe up your pussy with a flat tongue before moving to suck gently on your clit. “God, Y/N,” You bite your lip as Eddie’s voice drips with lust. “You taste amazing,” You pant lightly as he dives back in, licking and sucking up and down as you writhe beneath him. His tongue feels like nothing else you’ve ever experienced. He’s definitely not rusty, he knows exactly what he’s doing.  

He listens to your body. When he finds something you particularly like, he does it over and over and over again until you’re at your breaking point. You grip the sheets like a vice as you near your climax. “That’s it, pretty,” He encourages you, adding his fingers to keep the sensation. “I know you’re close. Let go for me. I want to feel you cum.” You lose it then, your walls pulsing around his fingers as he helps you through your high, lapping you up as you start to come down. You’re left panting as he kisses your thighs a few more times before he gets up to undo his belt buckle. You watch, pupils blown wide as he takes down his pants, and you get your first proper look at him.  

He’s bigger than you would’ve expected, a little curved with nice girth, too. What really makes your mouth water, though, is the shiny drips of precum beading at the head. You can’t help but stare, your eyes moving from his cock to his chest to his face, which looks back at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He pulls out a foil wrapper from his nightstand and tears it open with his teeth, rolling the condom down his length before climbing on top of you, taking his time as he kisses up your body. You reach behind you and unbuckle your bra, wanting to be as close to him as possible. It lands somewhere to the right of you and Eddie immediately lets his tongue graze over one of your nipples, eliciting a whimper from you. He takes it in his mouth and sucks gently, and you become mesmerized with his tongue as he circles it around, sucking again before languidly dragging his lips to the other side for the same treatment. You can’t help but buck your hips up, just barely feeling the heat of Eddie’s hard cock graze your stomach. One of Eddie’s hands slides up your body, not stopping until he reaches your hand, your fingers intertwine as he brings it above your head. 

“I’m gonna be honest here,” Eddie’s lips are traveling back up to your neck, near your ear as he whispers. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to control myself once I’m inside you.” He trails his lips along to the other side, “So, you tell me what you want me to do, and ’ll do it. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll break you,” he lets out a breath of a laugh, sounding almost embarrassed. You bite your lip at his words, the craving for Eddie only getting more intense as the seconds tick past. 

“And what if I want to be broken?” Your free hand finds its way back to Eddie’s face, bringing his lips to yours again for a slow, wanton kiss. As you break, Eddie’s eyes find yours, his free hand coming to cup your cheek like yours on his face. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone as he contemplates your reply, a devilish smile growing.  

“Then who am I to say no to a pretty face like that?” He finally whispers, crashing his lips back into yours. You widen your legs as Eddie’s hand reaches down to position himself at your entrance and pushes himself in. You both moan into each other’s mouths as you feel him stretch you open. Your free hand clings to his back, nails digging in to the skin, foreheads pressing together as you melt into one another. You’re both panting as Eddie wastes no time, his hips snapping against you with a force that makes your breast bounce on your chest. The noises Eddie makes as he buries his face in your hair are downright sinful, and it only spurs your pleasure to hear them. 

Your breath comes in short pants, hands running along his body, craving the feeling of every inch you can touch. Your lips press against the side of Eddie’s face, along his jaw, sucking soft bruises in the skin as you move with each other, finding your rhythm to maximize this utter bliss. Eddie comes to kiss you again, positioning his body a bit differently, and it hits a spot inside you that makes you whine into his mouth. You feel him smile against your lips. “That feel good, sweetheart? Tell me how it feels,” This sends your mind into a frenzy as try to form a coherent thought. 

“You... You feel s-so... So fucking good,” Your pathetic whimper that follows makes Eddie stutter his hips a moment, no doubt trying to stall his release so you can find yours one more time. He picks up his pace, his mouth finding a nipple and sucking harshly. The hand holding his squeezes like a lifeline, your other finding his hair in a gentle pull. You’re getting close now, you can feel the orgasm building in your abdomen. “Eddie,” You whine, “Please... Please don’t stop,” Eddie lets out what sounds like a growl, the hand on your hip tightening to a bruising force. 

“I’m not gonna stop,” He promises between licks. “You’re gonna cum for me.” He says it with such surety. It’s intoxicating, and it gets you that much closer. Your cries become louder as you reach the precipice of your release, and the second Eddie gives a word of encouragement, “Cum for me,” you break, feeling your walls tremble around Eddie’s cock, arching your back as Eddie keeps fucking you through it.  

Moments later, Eddie’s hips stutter against yours, a glorious whimper passing his lips as he cums, thrusting a few more times, deep into you, before stilling, his lips finding yours with wanton need. You kiss like that for a few more minutes, before Eddie gently pulls out of you, both of you still panting as he lays next to you. You look at each other through the messy halo of hair, smiling as your breath returns to normal. “Do you wanna stay the night with me?” Eddie asks. You laugh, turning on your side and brushing the hair out of your faces to see him better.  

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You graze your thumb over his cheek sweetly before a mischievous smile lights up your lips. “Any chance we can do that again before bed, though?” Eddie lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes squinting in joy before moving closer to you, his face hovering next to yours. 

“I think that could be arranged,” He muses, pulling you in for another kiss as you laugh together. 

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011

[wonda-cat]

Misconceptions About Tommyinnit’s Character That Genuinely INFURIATE Me

Since the recent events following the second L’Manburg Festival and subsequent war, I’ve seen many, many hot takes surrounding the nature of Tommyinnit’s character on the SMP. Some of which annoyed me to the point where I felt compelled to sit down and actually write this. I’m going to only be highlighting the most common complaints or questions I’ve seen, one by one, in hopes of providing a better understanding of Tommy’s character for anyone interested. (I also briefly discuss Techno and Tubbo’s characters as well.)

If you’ve said similar things to what I’m going to be discussing below, please know that it’s perfectly understandable how you’d come to these conclusions. Some of these aspects of Tommy’s character are not always obvious; especially if being watched from another streamer’s POV. This may become quite lengthy, so bear with me for now.

“Tommy’s motives are all over the place. He can’t decide whether he wants the discs back or not.”

Tommy is actually one of the most motivationally consistent characters on the entire Dream SMP. Even Techno, someone completely confident in their ideals, does more motivational flipping than Tommy. From the very start of the story, Tommy has always cared for three things; L’Manburg, Tubbo, and his music discs. However, him caring for something is not itself a motivation. 

Surprisingly enough, his motivation isn’t even just, ‘Get my discs back,’ like many assume it is. Tommy’s one true motivation, since the end of the Independence War, has always been, ‘Keep things the way they are now.’ 

Tommy’s one fatal flaw is that he is resistant to change and refuses to let go of the past. This is seen through all of his actions and words; in all conflicts involving him. This flaw is the drive to all of Tommy’s mistakes. Burning down George’s house, an action which resulted in him getting exiled, was done out of a desire to pull pranks the way he used to before the first war. His friendship with Ranboo started because Tommy said he reminded him of Tubbo, back before he was President. 

Tommy still talks highly of Wilbur because he chooses to remember him as the wise, kind mentor who cared for him. This motive is the reason he defends L’Manburg so fiercely; it’s his memory of a better past. This is why he holds grudges more often than any other character; especially refusing to forgive Techno after he killed Tubbo during the Manburg Massacre.

It’s why Tommy falls under extreme distress whenever Tubbo or Quackity tell him that something will never be the same again. This motivation is entirely formed from an underlying desire for peace and comfort, something Tommy has been denied since being forced into a life wrought with war and death. To accept change, to Tommy, is painful and terrifying. But he will only ever truly be happy when he finally learns to let go.

“Why do the discs matter so much to Tommy? They’re not actually worth anything.”

Tommy’s discs are much more than just any ordinary pair of music discs. They were never important for their material worth, but for what Tommy was willing to sacrifice in order to keep them. Tommy is entirely what gives the discs their value. 

Tommy also commonly operates under the Sunk-Cost Fallacy, wherein he’s invested too much of himself into something to just abandon it, even if it’s causing him problems. This mentality is a huge piece of what keeps him tied to both L’Manburg and to his discs. He’s sacrificed too much at this point to simply let them go. If he admits the discs are worthless, then he’s admitting that he wasted all this time and effort, just to keep them.

The discs also act as a constant source of hope for Tommy because they are directly tied with his motivations as a character. They’re something he’s had since the very beginning. They’re something he used to listen to with Tubbo on their shared bench. 

To Tommy, they symbolize a life before war, filled with comfort and peace. They are a love letter to his country and his late mentor Wilbur. They are a physical representation of Tubbo’s companionship. They are the only thing, besides L’Manburg and his best friend, that gives him the hope that he can one day return things to the way they used to be. 

This ideal, paired with Tommy’s refusal to let go, has left him ruthlessly pursuing the things he’s lost. Not his music discs, but his peace and comfort, his friendship, his country, his mentor Wilbur, and his life before war.

In his desperation to hold onto his prized possession, it has only hurt and pushed away the people that love him. If Tommy continues to ignore this reality, while still refusing to resolve his major flaw entwined with it, he will lose all that the discs had once stood for. He will lose his country, then his friend Tubbo, and then he will lose himself.

“Tommy never grows or learns from his mistakes. This makes him a badly written character.”

Characters do not have to constantly learn from their actions to be well-written. Tommy is one of the best examples of this. The fact that his growth is infrequent is the entire point of his character; it’s completely stemmed from his fatal flaw. 

By addressing himself, he would be accepting change, something that terrifies him; something he stubbornly resists until he is absolutely forced to confront it. Contrary to popular belief, Tommy knows when he makes mistakes, but he pretends to be ignorant as to avoid facing reality. He digs his head in the sand despite knowing better, puppeteering the person he used to be during happier times, now gone.

In spite of his infrequent growth, the idea that Tommy still hasn’t learned anything isn’t quite correct either. Tommy, as of the last three plot streams, has shown incredible character development. By giving up his discs again, he had finally demonstrated that Tubbo is more important to him than his possessions. Speaking as a makeshift leader, he put aside his issues with others to rally them together against a common threat, something which Tommy had never been able to do before. He owned up to all of his mistakes openly, apologizing to everyone he’s ever hurt in one place. 

He apologized to Tubbo after they were reunited and came to terms with the fact that Tubbo was forced to exile him without choice, finally forgiving him. He was kind to Sapnap and learned how to be his friend after months of bitter rivalry. And these are only a few examples. This isn’t to say Tommy has overcome/fixed everything because he clearly hasn’t. There are still major things Tommy needs to work through that remain unaddressed, the biggest being his complicated relationship with Technoblade.

“Tommy only cares about himself. He does everything in his power to be the hero, always putting himself in the center of attention, especially during Doomsday.”

Tommy, since the start of the L’Manburg War for Independence, has never set out to be a hero. Not once. He may fall into the role of the protagonist, but his identity as a hero was pushed onto him by others. Giving up the discs was his only option during the Independence War. 

So when Wilbur called him a hero for it, Tommy said he didn’t feel like he was. During the November 16th War, Tommy again said he didn’t feel like a hero because he had lost what he thought was everything at the time. During exile, Tommy certainly knew he was no hero. And upon reuniting with Tubbo, he admitted to feeling like the farthest thing from it. That he’d hurt everyone and all he wanted to do now was fix it. 

The day before Doomsday, Tommy only took a leadership position because no one else was willing to, filling the role for Tubbo, who was crumbling under pressure. He had no choice but to try to bring everyone together, or fight alone. Most viewers never saw this during Doomsday, but before the battle, almost everyone who had vowed to fight alongside L’Manburg had abandoned them the very next day. They were convinced it was going to be destroyed either way, no matter what they did, so they chose not to see it through to the end; ultimately leaving Tommy and those who remained to fight a losing battle, alone. 

After about a third of the way through the battle, it became clear to everyone that they could do nothing to win. One by one, everyone stopped fighting and stood by to watch their country go up in smoke. Tommy was the only person on the battlefield who refused to stand down and give up. And so he took over the role as leader again, trying his best to keep them alive, to keep Tubbo hopeful; to keep fighting, no matter what. 

However, what most people don’t realize, is that this isn’t Tommy trying to be a hero or force himself into the spotlight. This is Tommy trying to convince himself to keep going. Because whenever things start to look hopeless, Tommy simply chooses to ignore them. He puts on a happy face and soldiers through it because that’s all he knows how to do. Tommy, at his core, is someone who wants peace through stagnation. He doesn’t want to fight, although causing the occasional friendly conflict is how he finds fun. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt others. 

Tommy may come across as self-centered, but this is because he is an extremely extroverted character. He finds energy and joy in the attention of others, both good and bad. It’s why he’s always seeking the approval of others and, oftentimes, will destructively insert himself into another person’s life in order to find it. 

Out of every character in the story, Tommy is the most drawn to praise and positive reinforcement. He is constantly seeking out mentors and friends because Tommy needs someone else to help him feel confident in his own identity and abilities. It’s why Wilbur was such a positive influence on him. His boisterous confidence has always been a front because if anyone were to actually hurt him, he knows it will make his self-esteem crumble instantly. 

This is part of why Dream’s manipulation was so effective against him. By isolating him, he’s left without energy and looking to another person’s guidance. Tommy outwardly may seem independent and rude, but just under the skin, he’s unconfident and lost when he’s by himself. Tommy will only grow from this flaw when he finds his own identity and inner confidence; when he finally learns to be okay with being alone.

“Tommy goes to the festival solely to get his disc back and then tells Tubbo to give it away immediately after. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Before the screaming match between the two friends during the second L’Manburg Festival, Tommy had been in exile, manipulated by Dream for long enough to lose his will to carry on. It is because of him that Tommy’s reality becomes distorted, long after fleeing from his abuser. This mangling of ideals leads Tommy to subconsciously believe that L’Manburg and Tubbo are unsalvageable. 

Therefore, the only thing he has hopes of retrieving are his discs, which are easier to manage than the latter two things. And so Tommy does reprehensible things at the behest of Techno in a vain hope of getting them back, going so far as to kidnap and torture for them. This ultimately culminates in a confrontation between the ex-friends, quickly turning violent. It is in this violence that we see Tommy has sunk to his absolute lowest point in his journey. 

Swinging his axe, he nearly kills his friend as he delivers a string of words that cause the room to silence instantly. He says the discs were always worth more than his friend. Within the quiet of the room, Tommy is forced to reflect on everything he’s done. How he kidnapped and tortured Connor. How he accidentally drowned Fundy. How he traumatized Ranboo. 

And now he’s hurt Tubbo, the one person he has always sought to protect; someone he vowed to never hurt. This realization causes Tommy to break. He’s so ashamed of himself that he can’t look at anyone. Tommy knows now that he is worse than anyone he’s ever hated. 

With pain in his voice, he tries and fails to apologize to Tubbo in the moment. The only way he knows to redeem himself now is to prove to Tubbo, after everything, that he can still put the discs aside. And so he does.

“The fact that Tommy is still trying to get his discs back after L’Manburg was destroyed is unreasonable and ridiculous.”

Tommy deals with grief in an interesting way, doing something very similar to Techno. His grief almost instantly becomes anger and a drive to prove himself. It morphs into a need for vengeance in response to injustice, always. 

After the destruction of L’Manburg, Tommy saying he wants the discs back is a double-sided motivator. The obvious side being: Tommy still needs them to feel comfort. The subtle side beneath it: Tommy is using them as an excuse to find Dream and kill him. To make him pay for helping destroy their home, hurting his friends, and abusing him in exile. 

Upon the loss of his home, I’d also argue the discs have only grown more important to Tommy in the aftermath. Typically, in grief, people hold onto things that survive devastation far more than if the tragic event never occurred. If your eldest child dies, one may hold their surviving children tighter. If your house burns down, one may deeply treasure a box of items that survived the flames. Tommy’s desperation after losing so much is entirely understandable.

On top of this, the discs are still the core to Tommy’s fatal flaw. They are what keeps him from achieving total happiness, so him getting over this intrinsic part of himself so easily would make for an unsatisfying character arc. He still has to work for his happiness in order to change for the better. 

To add, I’ve seen a lot of people complaining that Tommy is still prioritizing the discs over Tubbo, especially in that moment. And while I mostly agree, there are some interactions that stand out to me as being different between the pair that may imply otherwise. Tommy says a few times that despite L’Manburg being destroyed, he still has something left to lose; each time, turning to look at Tubbo. 

This subtly implies that losing Tubbo would be as devastating as losing his home. Tubbo also never voices disagreement over Tommy’s continued pursuit of the item. However, Tubbo frequently does what he thinks will make others happy, so this doesn’t implicitly mean support for Tommy either. Besides these two things, this is still Tommy’s fatal flaw shining through, continuing to hurt others around him. 

I only hope Tubbo can learn to stand up for himself and voice his real thoughts to Tommy now, after everything. It would provide at least some desperately-needed closure for Tubbo’s character.

“How could Tommy betray Techno like that? Techno told him upfront what he was going to do.”

While it’s true that Techno was obvious about his plans, Tommy was also just as upfront with Techno about what he thought of it. In fact, maybe even more so, considering Techno attempted to hide them from Tommy for a good portion of their partnership. Whenever Techno brought up the idea of destroying L’Manburg or hurting Tubbo, Tommy would always remind Techno that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. And that if Techno ever did, Tommy would be there to stand in his way. He never once stopped saying this. 

Tommy’s two major positive character traits have always been his undying loyalty and his strength to never give up, even in the face of death. Two classically heroic qualities, both of which, ironically, reinforce his fatal flaw. His refusal to change makes him stubborn; stubbornness being the only quality that makes unwavering loyalty and extreme persistence feasible. 

Because of these two traits, it was impossible from the start for Dream to completely break Tommy’s spirit and for Techno to get him to agree to anything too extreme. Despite this, Techno already had no hope of keeping Tommy on his side after the events of the day before the Festival. During it, Tommy had asked multiple times for Techno to give his word not to hurt anyone. That they’d only threaten to spawn a wither, get Techno’s remaining weapons in exchange, then leave. That’s it.

Techno avoided directly promising Tommy but still agreed not to regardless. So when Techno chose to spawn the wither anyway, despite Tommy urging them to leave multiple times, whatever trust Tommy had with him went completely out the window. Thus, when the threat was finally real, that Techno would make due on his promise to burn his home country to the ground and slaughter his friends, Tommy intervened. It would be unreasonable to expect Tommy not to stand against him in that moment, especially after his mental breakdown which ensued as a result of him nearly killing his best friend. 

Adding salt to the wound on Tommy’s end, Techno decided to also align himself with Dream, someone Techno knew Tommy was afraid of. This might have been a way to purposely hurt Tommy. More likely, it was because Dream and him shared a common goal in the moment and Techno desperately needed allies.

However, the implication of Techno siding with Tommy’s abuser most certainly hurt him, regardless of its original intentions. This is possibly why Tommy kept insisting through Doomsday that Techno betrayed him, avoiding actually telling anyone the reason as to why. If he couldn’t find the words to describe what Dream did to him, even to Tubbo, he certainly wouldn’t be able to tell Techno either.

“Techno gave Tommy everything, only to be repaid with betrayal.”

This statement regarding Tommy is the one I see most often. (It is also the one I get the most heated about.)

Dream’s character is well known for his manipulation tactics against other characters; pitting them against each other, crushing them under his heel, bending their will to conform to his own. It’s what makes him an interesting villain. It’s something fun to discuss. 

But is it still fun to discuss manipulation tactics if they’re so subtle, almost no one notices them? This is the paradigm Technoblade’s character falls into. While people know Techno for his laid-back personality, dry humor, and complex motivations, many fail to recognize him as a manipulator. The reason why this is so hard to spot is because it is mostly unintentional on behalf of the character. Dream performs his craft with intention, Techno does it without realizing. 

As well as this being unwitting, it is sandwiched between Techno’s actual attempts to connect with Tommy and care for him. Thus, making the manipulation feel less damaging. The only problem is, this still hurts Tommy just as much, regardless of the intentions behind it. Especially after just escaping Dream, Tommy’s reality and sense of identity are horribly distorted. In this vulnerable state, he desperately needs healing and someone to help ground him. This is what makes him even more susceptible to Techno’s influence. 

And because it is much subtler, it is harder to notice, and much harder to break free from. Despite Tommy claiming to hate Techno for what he did on November 16th, he still chose to flee to his house because it was the only place he could think of going, as well as being the safest area possible. After the failed execution, Techno mentioned potentially hurting Tubbo through a vengeance plot. Tommy voiced extreme distress over this, to which Techno threatened to kick him out of his house. 

Tommy then says he’s fine being homeless because he doesn’t want anything to do with someone who would hurt his friend. This is when Techno decides to weaponize Tommy’s own trauma against him. To be fair to Techno again, Tommy never told him the extent of the abuse he suffered in exile. But Techno isn’t stupid. He knows Tommy is extremely afraid of Dream, and for good reason. 

So he tells Tommy that if he were kicked out, he’d be defenseless. That if he were out there all alone, Dream would find him very easily. That Dream would drag him right back to Logstedshire in an instant. He notices the way Tommy reacts to this, how quickly he changes his mind about being kicked out. He continues to use this trauma repeatedly in order to keep Tommy under his roof, no matter how disagreeable he gets about Techno’s plans. He knows he can’t retrieve his weapons alone because he has no leverage. 

Therefore, using Tommy like a wild card was a major side strategy. Techno knows it will hurt Tubbo by doing this and may make the President more willing to compromise. In addition to this, many of the strategies Techno utilizes are Narcissistic manipulation tactics, categorized by their intent to keep the victim in a position below the abuser in terms of worth. This includes Techno using the silent treatment as a punishment, something which hurts Tommy since he craves affection from others. 

He also attempts to isolate Tommy by telling him he doesn’t need anyone else; that everyone abandoned him during exile (something which Dream has also said.) He tells Tommy that he’s only alive because Techno is there to defend him and supply for him, as well as constantly reminding Tommy to not let any compliments he receives get to his head. These are both meant to make Tommy depend more on Techno and doubt his own abilities. Techno also occasionally engages in subtle gaslighting, attempting to sow doubt in Tommy’s mind about his relationships with Tubbo, Quackity, Ranboo, and Fundy. 

It’s also vital to keep in mind what exactly separates Dream and Techno in this regard. The most important thing being that Techno actually does care about Tommy. He trusts him and wants to earnestly help him. He knows Tommy has been traumatized and abused in some way, but he doesn’t know how to help because he’s not that great with people. It also doesn’t help that Tommy is unable to tell anyone what happened. 

In the end, Techno really does want to be a shield for Tommy. Despite debating handing Tommy over to Dream, it’s more likely Techno was using this as bait for Dream to waste his favor on something useless. After all, he could always save Tommy, should he ask for him to. Techno’s warnings about Tubbo and L’Manburg also come from a place of love, as Techno was personally hurt by them and wants to protect Tommy by telling him to leave it behind. However, just because something is done out of love, doesn’t mean it’s automatically helpful or good for someone. 

There’s no better example of this than in Techno’s most damaging and frequently used tactic: ‘Buy Their Love,’ a technique commonly used on children by narcissistic parents. At first glance, nothing seems wrong. Techno gives Tommy most things he asks for; providing him with food, gifts, protection, and a place to sleep. The manipulation within this arises when the act of kindness is counted as a debt against the person who receives it. That by receiving so many good things, they would be ungrateful to go against their abuser. Doesn’t matter if they emotionally or physically hurt you, they gave you gifts, so you should shut your mouth and allow the abuse to continue. 

Whenever Tommy speaks out against Techno’s violent actions or his plans to hurt his friends, Techno would frequently bring up all his ‘good deeds.’ He consistently reminds Tommy that he could’ve just thrown him back to Dream, but he was too kind. That he went out of his way to give him gear, food, and a roof over his head. That he was kind so Tommy should be quiet and let Techno plot to hurt the people he loves. Or else he’s selfish and ungrateful. Or else Techno will take all of his gifts back and leave him with nothing.

Knowing this, it is horrifying seeing people justifying this behavior by mocking Tommy’s character and calling him ungrateful using this very same fallacy. (Especially for those who grew up being controlled by this very tactic.) 

It is through knowing Techno’s use of the ‘Buy Their Love,’ method that makes Tommy’s, ‘I am worthy,’ response, not one of betrayal, but one of triumph. This moment is a major positive character change for Tommy for many reasons. When Tommy decides to stand against Techno, this causes him to fall back on his most reliable tactic. He insults Tommy and then asks for the Axe of Peace back. Instead of caving, Tommy refuses. 

By keeping the Axe of Peace, Techno’s final gift to him, he is not only rejecting the destruction of all he loves, but he is breaking free from Techno’s manipulation. He says, ‘I am worthy,’ because now he knows his own self-worth. He doesn’t need Techno or Dream to decide it for him. This moment is Tommy finally breaking free from not just Techno, but Dream as well. He is finally free.

“Tommy was only using Techno and never thought of him as a friend.”

Tommy and Techno’s relationship is complicated, which is why pretending only one side was in the wrong isn’t entirely accurate. Their friendship, in summary, is tragic when fully examined; being doomed from the start. Techno and Tommy are brought into conflict often because they are simultaneously so similar and so different. Techno and Tommy both deal with grief in the same way. They both long for a life of peace and comfort. They each long for companionship, hold their ideals in kind, and are both naturally resilient in the face of adversity. 

Yet, their personalities and courses of action are polar opposites. What makes this friendship one of tragedy is the fact that not just Techno, not just Tommy, but both of them, actually thought the other was their friend. They had each wanted to be the other’s friend since the day they’d met. Tommy never stopped wanting to impress Techno and get on his good side, even if his methods annoyed the target of his affections. Him calling Techno ‘The Blade’ was never meant to dehumanize him; it was a title of adoration. 

Along the same spectrum, Techno is a character who generally longs for friendship, but pretends not to after a lifetime of hurt. He’s been burned too many times, and so he chooses to stay alone. Techno is generally very reclusive and awkward around others, so when he likes someone or cares for them, it’s noticeable from a mile away. Their friendship has a very brotherly dynamic, and the fact that Techno allowed him to stay in his house, implies Tommy is a step above pretty much everyone else but Phil. Putting up with Tommy’s shenanigans is itself a sign of affection. 

However, when their goals come into conflict and the two start to drift apart, they deal with this in massively different ways. With Tommy devastated and enraged, and with Techno withdrawn and hurt, once more burned by someone he slowly learned to trust. They were once both friends, neither one was pretending. Yet, both of them thought their companionship was unreciprocated. 

On top of this, both Techno and Tommy were using each other. Techno used Tommy to get his weapons back by manipulating and lying to him. Tommy used Techno to protect him from Dream and get his discs back. They each hurt the other and refused to listen, both shouting valid complaints at the other that they refused to hear. 

Their relationship is also deeply affected by the themes of vengeance in the current arc, which is something I haven’t seen many people talk about. Most of the current conflicts this past month have resulted from characters being unable to forgive, resorting to revenge as a way to cope with loss. L’Manburg was the first to initiate this, through the influence of Quackity. The Butcher Army was formed to punish Techno for a war crime he committed. And while this is perfectly reasonable, what isn’t is the way the incident was orchestrated. It was an unchecked abuse of power to execute someone without a fair trial, as well as punishing Phil, who was not involved whatsoever. 

This was also particularly unfair to Techno, as many projected their anger at Wilbur onto him. Even Tommy did this, finding himself unable to blame his late mentor, so Techno was the next best option for him. However, it was Techno’s response to this that was interesting. He chose a path of vengeance, the same way L’Manburg did, after vowing to live his life as a pacifist. By doing this and following through, he hurt everyone, not just the people he claimed needed to pay for their actions. 

Instead of just picking the weed in the garden, he set the entire flower bed on fire. Through L’Manburg’s destruction, he gets what he wants. He destroys their government, but he also scars the earth and shatters the sky. He leaves uninvolved people homeless, deeply hurting Ranboo, Eret, and especially Ghostbur. Philza turns to vengeance as well, taking his anger at the death of his son out on people who do not deserve it. 

Tubbo, a day before the second Festival, was given another chance to seek revenge when Techno had spawned a wither on their land. Instead, all Tubbo could say was, ‘We do nothing … It’s pointless, vengeance. It’s poisonous.’ By doing this, he has managed to be a bigger person than even Techno was, with the strength and maturity to turn the other cheek. And now with Tommy’s plan to kill Dream, the conflict continues to escalate; only ending where forgiveness begins. 

It’s sad to think, if Techno didn’t choose a path of vengeance and Tommy was strong enough to tell Techno how he really felt, the two might have remained friends. Who knows? Maybe they still can.

“Tommy was the one in the wrong. Techno was right to destroy L’Manburg.”

Techno is a lovely character. He’s well-written, engaging, funny. He has many values and quirks that are generally relatable and interesting. His motives are deeply understandable and sympathetic. And yet, he is perfectly capable of being evil, in just the same way that Tommy can be deeply flawed despite being the protagonist. 

I’m sure most people already know that Technoblade is a villain. Or more accurately, a tragic antagonist. Techno (the streamer) knows he is and he’s having fun playing that part. Just because a character is morally in the wrong doesn’t mean their values and ideology don’t have merit. The best character I could compare Techno to is Thanos. 

They have completely valid concerns and points, but it is the way in which they go about achieving their goals that makes them into evil people. And despite this, many will still agree with them, even after they do something reprehensible. Contrary to popular belief, Technoblade’s tendency towards violence isn’t a good thing, no matter how you look at it. Even Techno himself knows this, that’s why he decided to reform and become a pacifist with Phil. He was not a good influence on Tommy, on top of also manipulating him. 

Techno caving to hatred and vengeance makes him no different to the resolve of the Butcher Army that pursued him. It is precisely the fact that he went on to destroy the home of not just Tommy, but also Ranboo and Ghostbur, that puts him in the wrong. He is allowed to despise all government and remove himself from it, but the moment he decided to insert himself into someone else’s country and take their home from them in order to destroy it, he abandoned an integral principle to his own values. 

This principle being: ‘Choice.’ The act of letting others be free to decide what they want for themselves. It is a huge component to the concept of anarchy, the freedom to choose. And yet Techno robbed this from, not just the ruling powers that hurt him, but individuals who were not even involved in the first place. He justifies this by saying it’s for their own good, that he’s helping; while acting in a self-serving manner. 

In his anger, he became the punisher, stooping lower than L’Manburg has ever gone. There is also the issue of Dream weaponizing Techno to destroy the one thing that has been a thorn in his side since the very start, manipulating Techno’s grief to achieve his goals. Tommy’s biggest sin in the Doomsday War was standing up to Techno and getting in the way of him hurting his friends and destroying his home. 

This isn’t to say Tommy is perfect, because he still hurt everyone he ever loved. But the only way he knew to redeem himself was to fight for what he knew was right. And so he chose to fight alongside his best friend, Tubbo. However, just because Techno is in the wrong doesn’t mean others are wrong for wanting to side with him, or by finding joy in his ruthlessness. The biggest appeal of Techno is the fact that he opposes people like Tommy. 

He knows how to put people in their place and it’s satisfying to watch. Some people love rooting for villains and it’s entertaining to see a being with so much power crush everyone else down so effortlessly. Especially because it’s so easy to sympathize with Technoblade. Sympathetic villains are the best kind; where they have understandable motivations, relatable flaws, people they love, and something they can lose. Dream is a villain you love to hate. Technoblade is a villain you hate to love. Simple as. 

Despite the destruction of L’Manburg being either devastating or fantastic depending on who you are, there is one major good it has done. It has pushed Tommy more towards the completion of his character arc. By losing one of the three things he loves, it will be impossible for him to pretend any longer. He will be forced to confront reality very soon. It all depends on whether Tubbo will have to die first for him to finally see it.

[just--another--daydreamer]

Close to you

» Izuku Midoriya x male reader

» Angst with some fluff » Requested (by anon): I need a fix of desperate, angsty fluff with Izuku. Maybe his hero bf recklessly goes after a villain alone and gets captured, so Pro-hero Deku has to rush to his rescue, scared of what he might find. » Warnings: mentions of religion at the beginning; dissociation; anxiety; overthinking; smoking; emetophobia; descriptions of blood & gore; mentions of death » Words: ~3.5k

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

Midoriya had never been one to pray to any gods for a wish. To him, it often felt selfish – after all, there were people who needed help more desperately than he did and they should receive it first. Even during his darkest moments, he had never even thought about praying, he had always known that he could rely on his own strength as well as his friends.

However, this time, his hands trembled as he put them together in a manner meant for praying. With his eyes closed and head lowered, Midoriya tried to think of a way to phrase his prayer but no right wording would come to his mind – in the end, he only stared at the dark behind his closed eyelids, incomprehensible thoughts filling his mind.

“Izuku.” A firm grip on his shoulder pulled Midoriya from his thoughts. It caught him off-guard, and he almost prepared himself for an attack before he recognized the person who stood before the bench Midoriya sat on. “Oh Shouto, it’s you!” Midoriya sighed in relief at the sight of his friend. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but the meeting should start very soon, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to you before the others are here.” They were still the only ones in the bright yet depressing hallway of the hero agency that Deku currently worked at, and after taking a quick look at his watch, Midoriya figured that it would still take the other heroes a few minutes to get there. “Sure, what is it?” The light smile that had adorned Todoroki’s lips from when he had just greeted Midoriya vanished again and was replaced by a deep, concerned frown.

“I don’t think you should be leading this mission, Izuku, but someone else should do it,” Todoroki’s voice sounded just as concerned as he looked. “To be frank I would not even want you to participate in this rescue at all, but I don’t think that I could ever stop you from that.” Midoriya took a moment to think about his fellow pro hero’s words. It had already taken him all the self-control he had to not immediately run after you to save you, so he had to be on this mission. Though, he had to admit that due to the personal feelings toward this mission, his judgement might be off, so having someone else lead it would probably put them at an advantage.

“When you’re saying, ‘someone else’, do you mean yourself?” he inquired, and Todoroki nodded in confirmation. Midoriya took a few seconds to consider the proposal. Down the hall, he could hear the rest of the team for the rescue mission approach them. “Alright, let’s do it!”

The small conference room was unusually quiet. There was no happy catching up with one another, no euphoric reunions after not seeing each other for a few months. A pressing silence filled the room like thick, heavy fog as the ex-class 1A students Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima and Uraraka sat around the table, eyes fixed on their hands and the files in front of them. The only words that had been spoken were words of solidarity towards Midoriya, which he appreciated.

While Todoroki opened the meeting by greeting everyone and thanking them for coming, Midoriya stared down at his hands. The skin on his fingertips around the nails was reddened, a side effect of his anxious habit of biting his fingernails. Midoriya thought that he had gotten rid of said habit, but the current situation had changed many things. Before him on the table, his hands started to blur as his eyes filled with tears once again. He quickly wiped them away, hoping that nobody would notice.

Todoroki’s speech only barely reached him, only as a seemingly distant, faint mumbling as though he was speaking to Midoriya through a thick concrete wall. The whole room started feeling like a wide and open space with his former classmates miles and miles away. Mind numbing emptiness filled Midoriya’s heart and went through his veins until it was the only thing he felt in his whole body. As his breathing got faster, his heartrate picked up. Why was he there? Why was he not on his way to get you already? Even though he sat perfectly still, Midoriya felt dizzy, only from the way his mind spun – around and around and around like a carousel, Deku being the only passenger on this horrendous ride.

“You look really pale, Deku, are you alright?” Uraraka’s voice was as soft as ever. The soothing tone was able to momentarily stop Midoriya’s mind. For a second, he looked at her without an answer before simply nodding.

Only when Todoroki asked Midoriya to go over the situation once again, he was completely pulled back into reality. His legs trembled a little as Deku stood up. The eyes of his former classmates all followed his movements very carefully, trying to get clues about their friend’s mental state that the situation caused. Uraraka and Kirishima looked especially worried whereas Todoroki and Iida kept their expressions professional.

“Thank you everyone for coming on such short notice,” Midoriya started. He balled his hands to fists and squeezed as hard as he could to keep his mind from wandering too much that might cause him to break down again. “The villain organization that has been watched by several agencies for the past few months made a move about a week ago, as some of you may know. It was the first incident of that kind and several civilians got hurt in the process.” Deku clearly remembered the pictures of the scene on the news. Neither his nor the hero agency you worked for had been able to stop that despite being the ones watching the organization. “Y/N went after the villains alone and has not been seen since.” His voice got quieter with every word he spoke.

Your actions contradicted what you had learned at UA not so long ago. Staying calm and collected in crises, thinking rationally, and getting help was the priority. But guilt and anger had eaten you up. Midoriya could not blame you for that, even if he wanted to. He had experienced the same feelings in the past, put himself in danger, worried others, all because he wanted to play hero. Midoriya sat down again and let Todoroki take over once again.

“Since we know where the villains are hiding, it will be easy to retrieve the target.” ‘The target’. Midoriya flinched. The way the words came out of Todoroki’s mouth, the lack of emotion and his straight face were something admirable and scary at the same time. Reducing you to merely the word ‘target’ and the emotional disconnect that came with it would probably make this mission easier for Deku, but he just did not manage to think that way. With a sigh, he sank deeper into his chair and listened to Todoroki’s plan.

It was an easy one, starting with negotiations led by Iida. He was the best that that sort of thing, so Midoriya had no problem leaving that to him. However, he was not really fond of the idea of exchanging your life for something like money but since it was the easiest way to avoid direct confrontation, they had to try it. If that did not work, Iida would go in through the front door, and Todoroki, Deku, Kirishima and Uraraka through the back door in two teams to get ‘the target’ out by themselves. Combat was to be avoided. The top priority was getting you out, not arresting the bad guys, though the police would be waiting in front of the building to take them in.

The base of the small villain group was an abandoned warehouse – because of course it would be that. The alley behind it was narrow and dirty, littered with shards of glass and cigarette butts. Next to the dark water in the potholes, Midoriya could see dried as well as fresh blood shimmering on the asphalt. The sight made him sick, a feeling he had not experienced in a while.

The four heroes came to a halt at the place where they would go into the building through the back door. There were no guards, which came as a surprise, but even if there had been some it would not have been a problem for any of them. Midoriya and Todoroki stayed back and inspected the alley while Uraraka and Kirishima got ready at the heavy double-winged door

 Midoriya crouched down and inspected the blood stains. Todoroki’s eyes were fixed on him, he could almost physically feel it. With his gloved hand, Midoriya moved some reddened shards around, not entirely sure of what he was doing or why he was doing it in the first place, but it was a way to keep his hands and mind busy. Todoroki had his own ways of doing that. “I thought you quit,” Midoriya remarked. “I thought so too, but-” Todoroki did not care to finish his sentence and only a few seconds later, the smell of cigarette smoke reached Deku. He wrinkled his nose. “The situation is getting to me too, you know?” Todoroki’s pronunciation was a bit curious with the cig between his lips. “The same goes for the others. Kirishima, Uraraka, Iida, they’re all worried. Bakugou, too, even though he isn’t here today.” A short pause. Deku assumed that Todoroki was taking a deep drag. “It is really getting to me.” His voice was quieter this time and it had a tone to it that Deku barely knew from his friend. It was desperate, hopeless, pleading.

Midoriya had no words of affirmation that he could tell Todoroki. Hell, if he could think positively in this situation, everything would be a lot easier. He searched and searched for words, but none would come to his mind. And in the end, he did not need to say anything. Midoriya’s communication device made a static sound, before he heard Iida’s voice, loud and clear. »Negotiations failed. What will be the next step?« “We’re going in,” Todoroki told them without hesitation. “Understood!” Midoriya got back up and was at the door in less than a second. He looked at Uraraka and Kirishima, both had a determined look on their face.

Todoroki stepped to them and – given the lack of a bin – dropped his half-smoked cigarette to the ground. “That’s not very heroic of you, Todoroki,” Kirishima commented. Uraraka giggled and even Midoriya managed to crack a smile. “I’ll pick it up later,” the leader of their mission said and Deku was sure he saw his lips twitch into a fond expression as well, even if it was only for a split second. They all became serious again. “Deku, open the door for us.”

  The inside of the building was dark and empty, and Midoriya was not sure why he had expected anything else. His and Uraraka’s footsteps on the wet ground resounded through the empty hallway. It was quite dark, most of the lamps on the walls were either broken or very dim, so the major source of light were the occasional holes in the ceiling. It took Midoriya all the self-control he had not to activate One For All and charge forward – Uraraka and he were a team, and they should stay together since running around alone might be dangerous. The further they got into the building, the harder it got for Midoriya to keep it together. With every door they opened, with every room they inspected, anxiety and terror grew withing him. There was no sign of you.

It did not take long for some villains to show up, but at this point in time they were no match for Deku. Anyone who tried to get in his way right now was put down in mere seconds. Uraraka kept his back free and had an eye on him in case he got too reckless.

The last door he approached was a pain to open. Midoriya had to push it with his shoulder since the hinges were rusty and it took him a few tries until the door finally budged and creaked open. Behind the door, Midoriya was met with a pitch-black room. He reached over to the wall besides the entrance and searched for a light switch. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered on, only giving enough light for Midoriya to see the rough shapes of the room’s interior, but it slowly started glowing brighter. That was when his heart stopped.

For a split second, Midoriya thought that maybe he had come too late, that maybe you were already dead. The sight of you, tied to a chair with ropes so tight that they were cutting into the flesh on your wrists and ankles sent shivers up and down his spine. Blood dripping down from your chin had already formed a small pool on the already wet floor. He noticed the smell of blood, sweat and vomit still fresh and heavy in the air.

“Y/N?” His voice was merely a whisper. Maybe he was afraid that if he were loud enough for you to hear, you would not react. Midoriya forced himself to take a step. Lift his foot off the ground, move it onwards, put it down again. Now with his other foot. Lift, onwards, down. And again. With every step, a new wave of sensations and feelings washed over Midoriya. First it was disgust – he could not help that one but looking at your skin peeling off your flesh and exposing the bare muscle tissue and bone almost made him vomit. Then it was hysteria – Midoriya could both laugh and cry out loud until he lost his voice, kiss you on your dead cold bloody lips, dance and jump through this awful room – because he finally found you but what if it were too late? Then it was fear – and with this feeling numbing his mind once again, he reached you.

“Y/N?” He crouched down so his face was on one level with yours. The dull sound of Midoriya’s gloves falling to the ground echoed through the room, to him it was almost as loud as an explosion. As he held his breath, his now bare hand reached out for you almost all on its own, touched your neck, searched for a pulse. To Midoriya’s relief, your skin was not cold, but warm. Maybe even a bit too warm. His hand wandered up your neck and he cupped your cheek, wiped away some blood with his thumb. Under his touch, your muscles twitched. Midoriya pulled back and watched as your eyes fluttered open. Your gaze was empty and unfocused for a while, wandering from the dark walls of the room to the lightbulb over your head, until it stopped on Midoriya’s face.

He watched as your eyes widened. “Izuku?” Your voice was hoarse and filled with so much desperation that it made the hero’s heart drop. “Is it really you?” Midoriya nodded. He pressed his lips together and did not dare to answer, afraid that his voice would break if he said anything. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You made an attempt to reach out for him but the restraints around your wrists made that impossible. Midoriya swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stay focused. “And I’ve been looking for you. I’ll get you out of here now.” Over the comms, he quickly informed his teammates over the mission’s success before he reached into his pocket for a knife. “I’m sorry that I’m so late,” he told you as he cut through the ropes. They were sticky, some even slippery from the blood. Deku tried not to pay too much attention to that but the sight of the crimson red shimmering on his hands made him gag. “The most important thing is that you’re here now.” You cracked a smile, but it did not look too convincing.

Once your hands were free, you swiftly wrapped your arms around Midoriya. It took him by surprise, but he hugged you back, careful not to use too much strength that might hurt you. You buried your face deep in Midoriya’s chest, fingers digging into his back, clinging to his suit. Just now he felt the way your body trembled, Midoriya did not know if it was exhaustion or fear. Maybe he was shaking as well. He wanted to stay like this forever, feel you in his arms, warm and alive, hold onto this thought and only this one while ignoring the horrible reality. Blood wet Midoriya’s clothes but he had nothing to take care of your wounds with. To be honest, he did not want to look at them. All he wanted was to keep holding on to you, forever.

Fighting noises reached his ears, not too far away. Men yelling. Your grip tightened a little and Midoriya thought that maybe you were shaking a little more now. “I want to leave, Izuku,” you whispered. Midoriya did not say anything. He listened carefully as the noises faded away. A few seconds of pressing silence passed awfully slow. »We’re all clear!« Todoroki’s voice was calm but Midoriya heard a hint of relief. However, he decided to stay put for a few more minutes to make sure that no other people were picking a fight anywhere else.

“Let’s go,” he said after a while. He could not spend another minute in this building, afraid that you might end up dying from your injuries.

As gently as he possibly could, Midoriya lifted you from the chair and carried you out of the building.

  Talking to the police and the press was a pain. Todoroki did most of it, given that he had been the leader of this mission, but Deku still had to talk to everyone as well. Press conferences with countless questions, some challenging their beliefs and morals as heroes, some too personal for Midoriya to answer – questions about you, your wellbeing, your relationship to the hero Deku. When he was not currently being interrogated by the public, Midoriya spent every free minute in the hospital, by your side. At first the doctors had not let him see you, but he had still stayed there the entire time. And when he was finally allowed in your room, Midoriya could not contain himself and his emotions any longer.

He sobbed and cried and swore and apologized all in one go without taking a breath while you tried to calm him down. He held your hand the entire time he was there, afraid that if he let go off you for one second, some villains might separate the two of you again.

“When are you getting released from the hospital?” Uraraka questioned while she put a small bouquet into a vase on the windowsill. The blossoms shone in the golden light of the evening sun and threw dancing shadows on your white blanket. “Next week, probably.” You gave her a tired smile. “Though I’ll have to be inactive for a while during my healing process.” Midoriya knew that having to neglect your hero duties like that was hard for you, so he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “We’re all wishing you well!” “Thanks Uraraka!” The two of you watched as the young woman left again. She was not the only one who had visited. The whole team had been there, Todoroki visited frequently, and even Bakugou had showed up once or twice.

“This sucks, I’m so bored!” You whined, getting a short chuckle from Midoriya. “I know, but you need some more rest.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers. Your wrists were still covered in bandages but some of your wounds had started to heal again. However, it would still take quite a while for you to fully recover. Midoriya ran his thumb over the fabric. “You’ll get better soon, and I’ll always be here to support you during this time. I miss you at home and being close to you.” “Thank you. And I miss that too.” A soft smile formed on your lips, so Midoriya leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on them. He lingered there for a moment before standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I should get going, it’s late and you need your rest.” “Alright!”

Midoriya slipped into his jacket but before he could leave, you sat up, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down into another kiss. “Hey, you’re supposed to lay dow-” Midoriya started to complain but quickly quit to return the kiss. When you let him go and Midoriya walked towards the door he had a smile on his face. Everything was going to be fine. He turned around by the door and looked at the flowers and the curtain moving in the wind. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” “See you tomorrow, Izuku!”

[kumqu4t]

birthday with the company headcanons!

☆ a birthday gift to two wonderful people, @trxblemaker and @rowandor whose birthdays are on the 13th and 14th respectively!

☆ (platonic!company/reader)

☆ takes place after BOTFA, everybody lived!!

☆ kind of angsty at the beginning but dON’T WORRY THERE IS MUCH COMFORT AND FLUFF TO MAKE UP FOR IT!!!!

☆ target audience- teen reader

☆ (y/bday)= your birthday

☆ (y/n/a)= your new age

you were slowly but surely getting settled into erebor, your new home

shortly after the battle, you found yourself adopted by EVERY MEMBER OF THE COMPANY

you now wore braids with handmade beads in your hair, one for each family

you lived in erebor, obviously

and all the other families, lived in rooms in the same hallway

you spent most of your time exploring

and the company weren’t the only ones you spent time with

dís had taken a liking to you quite fast, proving to be a much appreciated maternal figure in your life

tauriel was like a sister to you. someone you could prank kíli with, but also go to for advice and a listening ear

so basically you never had to worry about being lonely

things had been pretty quiet and uneventful for awhile

until, on one ordinary day, you made the mistake of bringing up your birthday

you were walking aimlessly around erebor, simply exploring and enjoying the view

when kíli bounded up to you, a smile lighting up his face

“company supper coming up! you will be in attendance, right (y/n)?”

“it’ll be great fun,” he continued. “we’re planning to head to the library after and tell stories while enjoying a few drinks.”

“no drinks for you though, little sister,” he added as an afterthought, ruffling your hair playfully

kíli now looked at you expectantly, waiting for your response

“oh that sounds great,” you answered after a pause. “what day is it planned for?”

“(y/bday) at 6:00!” kíli answered

you responded without thinking

“oh that’s my birthday! i’ll be turning (y/n/a). huh! with the quest and the battle and everything it must have slipped my mind! anyways, of course i’ll be coming, i can’t wait!”

you looked at kíli to see him frozen in place, a pained expression on his face

“kíli?”

you waved a hand in front of his face “earth to kíli?”

he jerked to life, flashing you a quick smile that looked more like a grimace

“terribly sorry (y/n), but i must be off! i think i heard uncle calling!”

you stared after him for a few more minutes, feeling confused

you definitely did not hear thorin calling

well that was weird

brushing it off, attributing it to kíli just being kíli, you went about the rest of your day as usual

oddly, you didn’t see much of the company that day, or in the rest of the days following

you didn’t see bilbo, dís, or tauriel either

and you usually spent time with at least one member a day

but now they were nowhere in sight

and if you did see them, they would make an excuse and quickly dash away

so by the end of the week you were feeling a little down

you didn’t know what you had done wrong

and you missed spending time with your family

you wondered if maybe dwarves didn’t celebrate birthdays? but even so, they had never avoided you like this before

some unfortunate thoughts came to you

‘maybe now that the quest is over and i can’t be of service in any way, they don’t care about me anymore? maybe i don’t fit in here in erebor?’

your sadness soon mingled with anger, and your anxiety remained

creating an uncomfortable knot in your stomach and a lump in your throat

what did you do to deserve this? they could at least tell you why

you had saved their sorry butts so many times

and when you saw them again, you planned to kick their sorry butts all the way to next tuesday for avoiding you

the day of the company supper (and your birthday) finally came

and despite your anger and confusion, you still decided to go

for multiple reasons

mostly because you wanted to confront them and ask why you had been ignored all week

and you also heard that bombur was making his famous apple tart with raspberry jam

evening came sooner than you realized

you saw that the clock read 5:45 and readied yourself as fast as possible

you quickly dressed yourself in your favorite outfit, pulled a cardigan over it, and ran a brush through your hair

you rushed down the long halls of erebor, keeping your pace quick

you finally turned the corner and came face to face with what had been dubbed as the “company room,” for all the time they spent in it

you felt your hand shake slightly as you grasped the cool metal handle

slowly, you opened the door, preparing to be met with the high, stone walls and rich velvet furniture

but you opened the door to find... nothing?

you squinted your eyes, trying to see into the pitch black room

“hello,” you called out. “thorin? fíli? kíli? is anyone here?”

all of a sudden, the candles and lanterns were lit, and people jumped out from behind furniture and under tables

“SURPRISE,” they yelled. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Y/N)!”

you didn’t say anything for a few seconds

you could only stare, dumbfounded, at the people in front of you

everyone was there. the whole company, including bilbo, dís, and tauriel

“w-what?” you tentatively asked. “what is going on?”

kíli piped up, a large smile on his face

“it’s your birthday party!! don’t you like it? we’ve spent all week planning it!”

you took quite a few seconds to look around the room

it was decorated with streamers made of beautiful fabric, and banners hung from the walls

a large pile of wrapped gifts lay in the corner

and in the center of the room was a huge table with a feast fit for a king

as the clocks on the wall continued to tick, you heard dís mutter “kíli if you got the date wrong i swear to mahal...”

you spoke up, “no, no. he’s right. it is my birthday. but... i don’t understand. you guys did all of this... for me?”

bilbo stepped forward, thumbing his suspenders, “why of course! it’s your birthday! we wouldn’t miss a chance to properly celebrate our girl’s birthday.”

“so you guys weren’t avoiding me all week because you think i don’t belong in erebor?” you asked

the room exploded with yells of anger, confusion, and outrage

“why in durin’s name would you think that?” thorin asked after the chaos died down, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“well you guys were avoiding me all week. i didn’t know what to think.”

dori hurried over to you, draping a blanket around your shoulders and steering you towards the couch.

“yes dear, come this way, and we will explain everything. don’t you worry, sweetling,” he soothed.

everyone gathered to find seats around you

kíli shifted uncomfortably on his feet and bit his lip. “i’m so sorry (y/n)! when i found out your birthday was coming up, i felt terrible that we didn’t know sooner, so i hurried to collect everyone and devise a plan.”

ori interjected, a worried frown on his face, “we were all so excited to plan your party, we must have forgotten to keep you distracted.”

“we meant no harm by it,” fíli added.

“aye,” said thorin. “and about that complete and utter nonsense you were spouting earlier: you belong in erebor just as much as any dwarf here. you are our family. and we wanted to celebrate you today.”

of course, you burst into tears

*cue panicked company*

“oh mahal, what did we do now?”

“i bet thorin said something wrong” “shut up dwalin”

“oh no lass, please don’t cry!”

through your sobs, you somehow found your way over to thorin, seeking cuddles

he scooped you up and sat you gently in his lap

you buried your face in his chest, clutching at his tunic with your hands, allowing his scent of smoke and pine trees to wash over you

his large hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he mumbled assurances

bilbo held and stroked your hand gently

and you felt others reaching out with their own soothing touches

you eventually found yourself at the center of a huge group hug, not that you minded at all

group hugs did seem to be inevitable in this family

through tears, you explained that you were relieved, and so very thankful for the party

you apologized for jumping to conclusions and overreacting, but everyone insisted you had nothing to apologize for

after you eventually calmed down enough, bofur spoke up

“well i think you’ve done enough cryin’ this evenin,’ now haven’t ye’ lass? it is your birthday after all. i say we start the party!”

everyone agreed

as you all found seats at the table, you allowed yourself a moment to admire the spread

bombur had truly outdone himself this time

the table was full of food of all sorts. salted pork, mince pies, all kinds of cheeses, potatoes, biscuits, sausages, meats, and stews.

oh and don’t forget the ale- and lots of it!

you sat and ate until your stomach could handle no more

all the while listening to and telling stories, and laughing as bilbo reprimanded the dwarves’ bad manners

then came dessert

the company insisted to do by “your people’s traditions” and sing you happy birthday.

they were completely off key and didn’t know the tune at all

but it was perfect. it was more than perfect.

you dug into a few small slices of your favorite flavor of cake

fili may or may not have smashed kili’s face into his cake, leading to a wrestling match that had to be broken up by dwalin

after cake, came presents

once you saw all of the boxes, you protested vehemently, insisting you didn’t need all of this

which led into many more speeches preaching that you deserve all of this and more

so with a light blush staining your cheeks, you opened the gifts one by one

they were perfect

- forged by thorin: a sword with various gems emblazoned on the hilt (“so you can properly threaten any suitors you find yourself approached by in the coming months”)

- from bilbo: a handmade handkerchief embroidered with your initials and your favorite flowers (“well this would have come in handy earlier, now wouldn’t it?”)

- from fíli: one of his lucky knives (“see here, you can strap it on your thigh for easy access”)

- from kíli: a poorly knitted bear with one eye sewed on haphazardly (he made it himself, and he tried his best) because you had mentioned missing your stuffed animals before

- from tauriel: miruvor that she acquired from rivendell (for emergency’s- just in case)

- from dís: a quilt with the lonely mountain embroidered on it (“to keep you warm and remind you of home”)

- from balin: a collection of classic dwarven stories in a thick, leather-bound book

- from dwalin: a fluffy fur coat and a pair of gloves (“a wee lass like you will freeze in these winters without proper protection”)

- from ori: a beautiful portrait of yourself

- from nori: hair pins that also function as lock picks (“s’no harm in being careful”)

- from dori: your favorite tea (“a warm cup of tea is both the perfect way to start the day and the perfect way to end the day”)

- from bifur: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, hand picked and arranged by him

- from bofur: an intricate wooden carving of your favorite animal

- from bombur: a bountiful basket of honey cakes, carefully wrapped for future snacking

- from oin: fancy haircare and skincare supplies

- and from gloin: a necklace with a beautiful stone pendant

it was entirely too much, but, as you have come to learn, your family doesn’t do simple

especially when it comes to you

you thanked everyone many times, not knowing how to fully express your gratitude

the night, as kili had promised, followed with many stories and much laughter

and lots of ale

you tried to sneak a sip of thorin’s

AS A JOKE

a joke that he did not find very amusing

you spent the rest of the evening listening to tales of old, your head drooping to rest on tauriel’s shoulder

you recall the night getting darker, the fire slowly burning out, and the laughter becoming quieter

the gentle pressure of a coat being placed on you

and strong arms wrapped around your small frame, pulling you to a warm chest

helping you easily drift off into a peaceful sleep

you woke up in the early morning next day, before the sun had even risen

apparently everyone had become so tired and it was so late that they decided to just sleep in the “company room” for the night

no one had any sense of personal space while they slept not that you minded

you felt arms wrapped around you and draped over your stomach, hands brushing yours, feet propped up on you, and more

all were asleep, save yourself

you sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the others, and took a look around

to soak it all in

to enjoy the moment

snoring dwarves

a hobbit, curled up in a cocoon of blankets

an elf, hugging a pillow close to her chest as she slept

and you, right in the middle of it all

you gave a small smile as you eased yourself back onto the couch

this was peace

this was contentment

this was home

[azucanela]

6. LOCKED IN A CLOSET | BAKUGOU KATSUKI

1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Mina Ashido gets sick of the pining turned avoiding, so she decides the best course of action is to steal the Janitor’s keys and lock her idiotic friends in a closet until they sort themselves out. 

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, pining, stealing, references to events in season three, damn?

A/N: i was considering using another gif and realized that bakugou’s hands literally SMOKE after he uses his quirk

This was the last straw.

Mina had been observing Bakugou for a while now, and she had determined a few things. First of all, Bakugou does care, he just has his own weird way of showing it, his concerns were laced in with his insults in an attempt to prevent others from noticing that he cared. Even though he would complain about the presence of Mina and the rest of the Bakusquad, he’d never outright kicked them out of his room. And when they needed help, with anything, he’d be there. Studying happened to be something they did together frequently, and though Bakugou insisted on insulting them every five seconds, he was actually a fairly good teacher. Then again, Bakugou also sought to be good at everything.

The second thing Mina had noticed was that actions like this were far more pronounced whenever he was with Y/N L/N. It seemed the girl made him, ‘soft’ to put it simply, not that Mina would ever say that out loud, seeing as she wanted to live to see another day. But it was clear in the way he encouraged the girl, pushing her to work as hard as she could, and yet when she overworked, he was there to keep her from the edge. It had been pretty obvious the day he’d offered Y/N his lunch because she’d forgotten her own, and sure, his offering was couple with a few insults about how foolish she was to forget her meal, but it was an offering nonetheless. 

It was then that Mina began to wonder if Bakugou could feel things other than anger. She’d tried to ask him herself, but he’d simply blushed furiously and begun cursing her out. So, Mina hatched her plan to try and get him to admit feeling something for Y/N. She’d send Kirishima to ask him about it, only for the boy to come back with holes blown into his clothes by Bakugou’s infamous explosions. Then, she’d tried to get Kaminari to hit on Y/N, to gauge Bakugou’s reaction.

That didn’t end well for Kaminari.

Prior to beginning her effort to bring the two together, she’d gone to Y/N to determine if the possible feelings were mutual. Though the only answer she got was, “I don’t see why it matters, Mina.” Which Mina had a feeling meant, “yes I do, but I doubt Bakugou would like me back since he has his sights set on being a hero.” Not that Mina needed confirmation, she just would’ve preferred it, though the few times Y/N had offhandedly mentioned Bakugou in conversation were confirmation enough. 

But no, watching Bakugou, seated closely beside Y/N as he explained the homework that had baffled her, Mina knew that whatever Bakugou felt for Y/N, it was far from platonic. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t called her an idiot or some other crude name, hadn’t teased her for not understanding the concept they’d been learning in class all week. No, he’d simply told her to shut up and listen as he explained. If Mina had made such a request, he would’ve told her to start paying attention in class, or to quit being such a damn idiot. 

This, this was the last straw. Now, this definitely wasn’t Mina’s brightest idea, I mean, who in their right mind would lock Bakugou Katsuki in a closet? Nobody. And yet, there Mina stood— with keys she’d asked Sero to... borrow from the school janitor— ramming the keys into the keyhole and locking the door behind Bakugou and Y/N. Mina refused to watch the pair pine for each other any longer. If they wanted to simp for each other mutually, then they would do it as a couple.

Also, Mina just loved to play matchmaker with her friends. 

“LET US OUT OF HERE RACCOON EYES.” Bakugou called out, fist ramming against the door as he glared at the girl through the door, not that this was possible. 

He could hear Mina begin to laugh as she simply replied, “sort yourselves out and then I’ll let you out.” All the subtle hints of their true feelings disappeared after Y/N accompanied Midoriya and his friends to save Bakugou, Mina was fairly sure that Bakugou was avoiding Y/N at this point, though she couldn’t come up with a good reason why, aside from the kidnapping itself. So now, she would force them to make up, and hopefully confess their feelings. 

The tension was getting tiring for everyone in their class. 

This only serves to anger Bakugou more, and Y/N seems to take notice of this as Bakugou feels her hand come to his shoulder, he can’t help but hate the way he relaxes as he turns to see Y/N, shaking her head, “Calm down.”

“Yeah, Katsuki, we’ll be back in an hour. Have fun, lovebirds.” Mina could vividly recall the day Y/N had accidentally called him by his first name, the boy’s cheeks had become a bright red, but when Y/N tried to correct herself, he shut her down almost immediately. And yet Mina couldn’t even remember the last time the two had even acknowledged each other now.

These words earn a growl frmo Bakugou, who is moving backwards to aim his palms at the door, hoping to activate his quirk and blow the door down, only for his back to hit Y/N. “I don’t think using your quirk would be the best idea.”

“Well do you have a better idea?” She was right, if he used his quirk, it could easily do more harm than good. Bakugou wasn’t sure how reinforced the doors of the school were, especially in light of all the recent attacks, he also didn’t want to pay for any damage he did. That and he could easily end up harming Y/N in the process.

She exhales deeply, hands moving to his shoulders to force him to turn around in the small closet and face her. “We wait until someone comes by, the janitor will definitely be looking for his keys.” 

Bakugou evades her gaze he turns to glare at the locked door once more, “what if no one comes by and we have to wait for those idiots to come back?” Y/N shrugs, looking behind her before moving to sit on the ground, just for Bakugou look back to her incredulously, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” Y/N brings her knees to her chest, resting her head on top of them as she continues, “it’s not like she’d free us until we sorted ourselves out.” The words come out harsher than Y/N intended, but she was annoyed at the way Bakugou had been treating her recently, the way he was obviously avoiding her.

The boy before her grimaces, but settles down against the door nonetheless. The closet isn’t that large, Even with his knees bent, there still isn’t much space between him and Y/N, who had taken to staring at one of the many cleaning products in the room, rather than him. “There’s nothing to sort out.” 

A bitter laugh escapes Y/N as she returns her gaze to him eyes narrowing, “you’ve been avoiding me for weeks and there’s absolutely nothing to sort out?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grumbles out, averting his eyes from her cold gaze. 

And suddenly Y/N is grabbing one of the boxes of tissues on the shelf beside and and throwing it at Bakugou, hitting him square in the chest because of his spread legs. “What the hell?”

“I’m gonna keep throwing stuff at you—” She picks up another item, this time a spray bottle, “until you are honest with me.” Comes her response, throwing the item, only for Bakguo to catch it, placing it down beside it.

Y/N is already moving to grab something else off the shelf as Bakugou begins to protest, “hey—Hey! Cut it out.” Y/N is already throwing an unopened bottle of hand soap, which Bakugou dodges, glaring at Y/N as he hears it hit the door behind him. “Y/N, I swear if you—” she doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches beside her for another object, only for Bakugou to launch himself forwards and grab her wrists to prevent her from continuing her assault. “Stop.” There’s a tone of finality in voice, but Y/N disregards it as she begins to speak.

“You ready to talk yet?” She makes an attempt to yank her hands from his grasp, but Bakugou’s grip remains firm as he holds her. “Because I am sick of this, Bakugou.”

He pauses, brows furrowing as his grip on her wrists loosens and he releases them, “what did you just call me?”

“Your name.”

Bakugou is scowling now, falling back into a seat, though he’s no longer pressed against the door as he replies, “that’s not my name and you know it.” 

Y/N can’t help but scoff, “first names are reserved for people who you care about.” He’d barely been interacting with her these past few weeks, ever since his kidnapping. Y/N had a feeling that had something to do with his behavior, but she’d assumed he had needed space to process, until space turned into Bakugou avoiding her entirely. She’d confided in Mina about the possibility once, and the girl had simply told her to confront Bakugou. 

That was easier said than done.  

“Do you really think I don’t care about you?” He asks, disbelief clear in his voice as he watches her, “Y/N, you could’ve died going to save me like the damn idiot you are. And what would I have done?!” 

Y/N inhales deeply, bringing her hands to her face as she begins to speak once more, “Bakugou-”

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps, looking away from her, silence engulfs the pair as Y/N stares at him, still processing his words when he decides to continue, “I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but seeing you there? ” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it as he contemplates what to say next momentarily, before looking back up at Y/N, “I’ve never felt more horrified. So don’t you dare say I don’t care.”

Y/N is about to respond when the small light above them began to flicker to nothing, effectively darkening the room. Y/N can hear Bakugou rise to a stand, hand coming to the wall and ficking the light switch a few times, only for nothing to happen. Her breath hitches as she grabs the edge of one of the shelves, rising to her feet as well. “Do you think the power went out?” 

Y/N can hear the way Bakugou inhales shakily, causing her to reach out for him, hand meeting his chest. Y/N could’ve sworn she could feel his heart beating as her hand fisted at the material of his shirt in an attempt to bring him closer to her. “You don’t think it;s an attack do you?”

Oh.

“It’s not, this is just an old light.” She assures, pulling him closer, something Bakugou doesn’t fight. “Bakugou.” Y/N mutters, trying to garner his attention, she can’t see his face right now, and he seems to have gone completely silent save for his breathing. “Bakugou,” she repeats, brows furrowing from his lack of response. “Katsuki, listen to me.”

A hand comes to her arm, grasping it tightly, “what?” 

“Your quirk— do you think you could make an explosion small enough to light up the room and not cause any damage?” Seeing as they were in a room filled with highly flammable chemicals, it was a gamble, but Y/N had a feeling this would do more good than bad. 

He doesn’t respond, simply removing his hand from her and taking a step back, Y/N can hear a small crackle as the room lights up spottily, small explosions at Bakugou’s fingertips. His brows are drawn together, attention focused on his hand that was now lighting up the room, 

Y/N found herself bringing her hand to Bakugou’s forearm as she moved closer, causing him to look up at the small explosions faltered. “See?” She mumbled, “we’re safe.” Y/N is rubbing small circles in his arm as she looks up at him, meeting his eyes.

“You don’t know that.” 

 Shaking her head, Y/N replies, “are you calling me a liar?” She brings her free hand to the back of his neck, hand tangling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I didn’t say that.” He grumbles, the small explosions now steadily brightening the room. “And be careful, idiot.” Bakugou tries to pull away from her, worried that the explosion could harm her, but Y/N doesn’t accept this, grip on his hair tigtening. 

She scoffs, eyes narrowing as she looks around the room for something that could help them escape the closet, to no avail. Y/N fails to notice the way Bakugou’s eyes trail over her, watching as her face is lit up by the glow of his explosions. When Y/N turns to look back at him, she doesn’t expect his eyes to already be on her, and can feel the her cheeks warm.

Their eyes lock and and Y/N finds herself moving closer to Bakugou, he makes no attempts to stop her this time, but Y/N can see red blossom on his cheeks in the glow of his explosions, which were beginning to become more infrequent. It’s not until the explosions come to a stop entirely that Bakugou presses his lips to hers, his warm hand coming to her side as he pulls her closer. 

Y/N’s hand leaves his hair to grip his other arm, just for Bakugou to force them to switch places without his lips leaving hers. He forces Y/N’s back against the door, only for her to pull away, mouth gaping open as Bakugou’s lips find their way to her neck as he breathes heavily. 

“That was a very sudden change of pace.” Y/N mumbled, a small laugh escaping her. 

Bakugou grunted in reply, playfully biting at Y/N’s neck and causing her to swat at his chest gently, before looking back up to her, not that either of them could see much. Despite this, Bakugou’s hand finds its way to Y/N’s face gripping her chin as he brings her into a much shorter kiss, “you’re my girlfriend.” 

It wasn’t really a question, mostly because Bakugou wasn’t asking, but it wasn’t a demand either. Even though she couldn’t see him, Y/N could practically feel Bakugou’s eyes burning into her, awaiting a response, whether it was an agreement or not. 

“Okay, Katsuki.” 

A/N: well that escalated quickly, also i hate editing kjashkjdahskjdh

TAGLISTS[lmk if you wanna be added or removed via reply or askbox]:

BNHA: @shawkneecaps​​ @beifongsss​​ 

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: @hadespleasesteponmyneck​

[ithebookhoarder]

can i request a peaky one-shot with tommy and he's with a reader who's kind of similar to him (can be closed off/mean when they're mad lol) and tells tommy off when he's rude to her and he ends up trying to make it up to her. just because sometimes i feel like he should get a taste of his own medicine 🤨 sorry if this made no sense :(

Fire Meet Gasoline: (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

A/N: Sorry this took me a couple of days! Life got a bit hectic, but I finally got the inspiration I needed to get this out. Thanks for sending this in, and it made perfect sense! I hope you like it x Also, side note - I just love how all my recent requests for Tommy have been about making him jealous or putting him in his place XD Clearly, we all love a power-Tommy moment, but we LOVE making this poor man suffer. 

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, smoking, references to violence, references to drugs, references to death (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

——

“Where were you?”

You froze at the sound of your husband’s voice, echoing around the all too empty hallway. Whereas once it would have filled you with excitement and comfort to hear it, tonight, it made you feel exhausted. As if sensing the confrontation awaiting the pair of you. 

Part of you had hoped he may have gone to bed and allowed this to wait until morning. But no. Apparently Tommy wanted to do this here and now, and who were you to deny him?

“Out,” you replied, beginning to shed your coat and hurling it on to the stand. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.” 

“Out where?”

You sighed, turning to stare at the man loitering in the doorway next to you, a glass of whiskey in hand as he clearly waited for you to return to your home. The clock on the landing chimed, cementing the fact it was late. Very late. 

“I went to see Polly, if you must know. After what you said earlier it was pretty clear you didn’t want me here so I did what you asked,” you explained calmly, despite knowing the impact your words would have on him. “I wanted her advice on a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Tommy’s tone was dangerous, but nervous. You could sense it in the way he was watching you, as if afraid you’d march back out of the door again and leave him there. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to stop you. Not in his state. 

It had only been a month since he’d been discharged from the hospital, having survived the attack that had caused him to collapse in Ada’s house. The damage had been extensive, and the drugs he’d been prescribed to handle the pain had only made everything else worse. 

Tommy Shelby was dangerous. An idle Tommy? Well, that was positively lethal, as you’d found out. 

Today had been just another in a long list of spats you’d been having recently. Nothing you did anymore ever seemed to make Tommy happy, always irritating him somehow. 

Sure, deep down, you knew his frustration lay with himself and the fact he was essentially bed bound but it didn’t make his temper or harsh words hurt any less. 

“Like what to do when the man you love doesn’t want you around him anymore,” you stated coldly. “Like, what does it mean when he’d rather re-injure himself than accept your help because he can’t stand to think of letting anyone in. Letting anyone care for him.” 

“Y/N,” Tommy began, reaching for your hand as you took a hasty step away from him. Even now, he seemed unsteady on his feet as he tried to make you look at him but you couldn’t give in. Not when you knew that was what he wanted - for you to act as if this had never happened. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, eh? I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Not when you were trying to help.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

“Because… I…” 

“There’s only so much of this I can take, Tommy. You’ve always shut me out before, but you almost died,” you snapped, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You didn’t care if the entire staff heard you as you stared down your husband. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to this kind of scenario by now. Frances, in particular, often ended up in the middle of your rows. “You did die, Tommy, for a minute in that operating theatre and I… I had to sit there and watch, looking like a fucking idiot because I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what you’d got us into or the threat we have hanging over us until it almost cost you your life.” 

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the hurt in your tone. 

“And now you do, you know why you can’t just take off like this,” he continued. “You left without telling anyone where you’d gone. You didn’t have anyone watching out for you.”

“I was at Polly’s! I didn’t know I needed a fucking armed escort. How could I when you don’t share things? After all, as you said earlier, I just get in the way. It would be easier without me here.”

“Y/N-“

“No. No, don’t you dare take that tone with me,” you seethed, hating how he stepped towards you, looking at you like you were simply a worked up toddler, having a tantrum. The arrogance was breath taking, especially considering it was him who had exploded at you for trying to help him down the stairs earlier. That was what had started this whole mess; his pride would be the death of him. “I am your wife, Tommy. Your wife. So start treating me like it and fucking listen to me.” 

The depth of Tommy’s rage and pain was evident in his eyes. It was a look you had hardly ever seen in your life; Tommy was scared. He’d been worried for you. 

Good. 

He’d felt a slither of the pain and agony of being kept uninformed, just as you had been. You were relieved a little to realise that, even if deep down, you felt guilt at being the cause of it. 

He was your husband after all. You may have hated him at times, but you loved him too. 

So, you took a breath and turned to make your way up to bed. You were too tired to fight and clearly neither of you could be trusted not to say something you’d regret in the morning. 

“It’s late, Tommy. I’m going to bed in the guest room. Frances can help you to bed and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Tommy pleaded, startled by your resolve. He’d rarely seen you like this before and he knew it was never a good thing when you sealed yourself away, as if trying to play him at his own game. To his horror, you were even better at it than he was. “Come to bed, eh? You don’t need to sleep in the guest room-”

“But I do, Tommy. I have forgiven a lot of sins on your behalf,” you hissed accusingly. “Over and over again you fuck up and leave the rest of us to put the pieces back together again. Well, guess what? Some of us are fucking sick and tired of it! So I am going to sleep. Alone. So I can fucking think about whether or not I can deal with this - with you - any more.”

Like that, you turned and marched away, leaving your husband staring after you with pain and disbelief in his eyes. 

———

Three days. 

It had been three days since that night in the hallway. Three nights since you’d spoken to your husband, or even looked at him. 

Yes, you were a grown woman, but you could be every bit as petty as your husband when you wanted to be so giving him the cold shoulder seemed a fitting punishment. As your mother had always said, if you didn’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything at all. 

It was this mantra you’d taken to heart as you carefully avoided Tommy for the following days, allowing Frances and the rest of the staff to watch over him and see to his needs. 

As you’d expected, however, that had gone down with Tommy about as well as a lead balloon, to hear you refused to see or speak with him. 

Even when he’d managed to convince Frances to help him downstairs into the sitting room, you’d simply moved yourself out onto the lawn instead. It was rather childish, but you couldn’t help it as you chose to sit in the afternoon sunshine to read, leaving your husband to watch from the window. 

Now, though, your temper had simmered down. Three days had been just about long enough to make your point to Tommy, but it had also been long enough to make you miss him… not that you would admit that, not until he’d apologised for his recent treatment of you anyway. Which was why you’d indulged Frances when she’d suggested you both had breakfast together in the dining room this morning.

“The sunlight would be good for him, Mrs Shelby,” she’d suggested softly, the twinkle in her eye enough to tell you she knew exactly what she was trying to do. Perhaps she’d had enough of him, and his Shelby temper, too. “He’s been in his room for the last few days. Perhaps a change of scenery would offer him a new perspective on things?” 

You scoffed. “Why not? Perhaps it will, Frances.” 

“Very well, Ma’am. I’ll see to it at once.” 

And she had. 

So, here you were, at opposite one another at the mahogany table, silently scraping your cutlery against the china plates breakfast had been served on. 

Not even Frances’s eggs, sunny-side-up, could brighten the dark cloud that hung over the pair of you. You didn’t think you could ever remember a more tense meal in your entire life - and considering the amount of Shelby family dinners you’d been to, that was saying something. 

Why had you chosen breakfast as the meal to do this confrontation? It wasn’t exactly acceptable to break out the whiskey before noon, even if that was precisely what you wanted. 

Instead, you had to make do with smoking instead, letting the process of inhaling the smoke soothe you. 

“I thought you quit smoking?”

Of course that would be the first thing Tommy said to you. It was almost comical given everything that had been happening. 

“I did, but it’s been a difficult morning.” 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, hearing the accusation loud and clear. “And what are your plans for the rest of the day? I thought I heard Frances saying something about you planning on going to see Esme?” 

You didn’t respond, simply blowing a thin stream of smoke out of the corner of your lips in reply. 

It was comforting to see the way Tommy squirmed under the weight of the silence that hung between you both, as if scared you were going to erupt any second. 

Maybe it was the blood red tone of your lipstick, but he could sense the danger lingering beneath your fixed smile.

You really were his equal in every way; no one else could meet his temper with a fury as strong as his own. 

“I… need to apologise.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Tommy stated firmly, throwing down his cutlery and turning his gaze to you. “I… I have been a fucking bastard, the last months, and a terrible husband. I work too much and I take you for granted.” 

You paused, your small encouraging nod a sign that you were listening. That he should continue with the direction this conversation was taking. “You do.”

“And my frustration at being injured has nothing to do with you and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tommy continued breathlessly. “I also know I shouldn’t have said the horrific things I did the other morning. Not when you were just trying to help, just trying to take care of me. It was cruel and I’m sorry, eh? I really am. I can’t stand it when you’re angry at me.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” you whispered, daring to look at him properly. “I love you, Thomas Shelby and I’d do anything for you, just as I know you would for me, if our situation was reversed. That’s why I allow you to lash out at me, but there’s only so much I can take.”

“I know-”

“No, no you really fucking don’t, Thomas,” you snapped, stubbing out the cigarette against your plate and sitting up straight. “You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to have your partner not trust you, to keep things from you. You don’t know what it’s like to have Ada call you in the middle of the night, screaming and panicking that you might be dying because of those secrets you’ve been keeping. I can’t… I can’t do that again, Tom. I can’t… Thinking I’d lost you…”

The tears that had been brewing in the corners of your eyes finally broke free as you bit back a sob. You immediately hated how embarrassed it made you feel, to crack in front of him when you’d been trying to be strong for so long.

You’d hidden your tears with impeccable skill whenever he’d been awake or talking. You’d also lost yourself in seeing to his recovery since that night in the hospital, knowing being busy was the best way to distract yourself from your terror.  

“Y/N,” Tommy whispered, reaching across the table. His hand caught yours, grounding you to him as he watched your tears fall. The sight was enough to hurt him more than his lingering injuries. This was why he’d hidden as much from you as he had. He’d only wished to save you from what he deemed as pointless worry, but clearly he’d been wrong about that too. “I’m here, eh? I’m here and I’m alive…. thanks to you, most likely, given your nursing. It won’t happen again though. I’m handling it. This matter is going to be resolved and we’re going to be able to move on. Be happy. Be safe.” 

“Then why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re too wise for your own good,” he teased. “Because I’ve been so terrible a husband that you have no reason to trust me - I get it. I’m going to do better, though. I promise.” 

You sniffed, allowing yourself a watery smile as you watched him rise from his seat and hurry to your side. Having him hold you was all you’d ever needed to feel safe, to feel loved. 

So, you wrapped yourself around him in return, sighing as he kissed you softly. 

“I’m holding you to your promise, Thomas Shelby,” you whispered. “Don’t betray me or my trust. This is your last chance - I won’t always be so forgiving.”

You knew he’d heard you loud and clear. He’d learned his lesson, for now. You were his entire world and he was in no rush to risk losing you again. 

[katsuflossy]

(anon who requested the sleepover hc) i wanted it to be separate. i forgot to clarify when i asked, i’m sorry. 😭💕

Sleepover hc with their S/o

Original ask: hey boo! can you please do a sleepover hc with bakugou, shoto & shinsou? thank you so much! 💕

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x reader, Todoroki Shoto x reader, Hitoshi Shinso x reader

TW: obscenities, a lil drug talkin

A/n: Heyyy~~ I really had fun making this hc so thank you for giving me this ask💖 hope ya like it!

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate

💥 Expect gourmet snacks

💥 Tf Bakugo looks like eating those high-calorie, sugar filled shits with msg.

💥 He made Oreos...that are better than the actual Oreos.

💥 But you’re not gonna eat them all in one sitting because he’s watching you like a hawk.

💥 “That’s it! I’m hiding the snacks because you ate 6 Oreos in under fifteen minutes!”

💥 “But Bakugo they taste so good~”

💥 Allowed you to eat more because you kept complimenting on how his creations were amazing.

💥 Sometimes stroking the ego gives you privileges.

💥 Y’all watching a movie? It ain’t no chick flick...except Mean Girls or Bring It On!

💥 Only the two with Gabrielle Union and Solange tho.

💥 You had to force him to sit down because he was getting mad at the whole racism and shit.

💥”Did she just call the squad pathetic?! They’re insects, why don’t they squash them!”

💥 “Because unlike you, you can get arrested for hitting someone, Bakugo.”

💥 Gauges your reaction every time, he wants to see your laughs, smiles and anger because he believes you can’t make an ugly face.

💥 He’s just obsessed with you man.

💥 Just don’t incite a pillow fight with him.

💥 You throw a pillow at him he’ll boomerang it right back with force x2.

💥 Your vision will go back and all you’ll hear is a thud on the ground then Bakugo’s ugly ass laugh. And he will not apologise.

💥 However, he’ll rub your sore tailbone as he wraps his arms around your figure, pressing your body to him as close as possible.

💥 The best part of the night is not Bakugo’s overly cuddly nature but the interactions of a spying Mitsuki and her son.

💥 At times she’ll walk in, first using the “Did you forget a blanket?” excuse to the “helping clean up” excuse.

💥 She knocks on the door, about to ask you if you need anything before Bakugo shouts “Shitty woman! She doesn’t want anything from you, go brush your shitty dentures!”

💥”You little shit, I wasn’t talking to you!”

💥 Masaru simply comes into the door frame, under his wife’s arm begging. “Dear, please just come to bed.”

💥 The rest of the night was you and Bakugo just enjoying the movies as he rubbed whatever flesh on your body he could find.

🧊 We’re making this clear; there’s no sleepover at the Todoroki's residency. He gonna be one shady, miserable mf because of everyone interrupting y’all time. From the sweet Fuyumi asking if you’d like some food to Enji busting the door open, inappropriately asking who you are and what are your affiliations with his son.

🧊 At your house the sleepover turns into a mukbang, you have Todoroki trying out every childhood snack and new snacks that are quite popular too. Thanks to you he’s obsessed with ring pops.

🧊 Mukbang + trying out tiktok dances and transitions

🧊 Shoto’s got some rhythm, the rest needs extra hard fine-tuning.

🧊 “No Shoto, do it like this. It’s like crossing your two arms in your face and then reversing it as you hit the middle.” You demonstrated for the umpteenth time doing the woah so you can carry on with the rest of the dance.

🧊 “So like this?” His right arm horizontally aligned, making an actual cross, before they returned back to their original position. You took the biggest inhale to avoid groaning out loud.

🧊 “...We’ll just work with it.”

🧊 (Introduce him to alt tiktok...I’ve said this before just do it please)

🧊 The rest of the night consisted of watching reruns of old Disney shows like That’s So Raven, eating more nostalgic food and ignoring the big burly fire man’s calls.

🧊 Shoto wants to turn off his phone but how could he when he wants to take a bunch of horrible beautiful pictures of you and posts them to Snapchat.

🧊 He’s touch starved so every pic is close up and his hand or leg can be seen draped over apart of your body. Plus, he can’t take a good picture for shit.

🧊 You both catch the Itis and fall asleep with you curled in his chest, leg crossed on his stomach and his hand caressing your thigh.

🧊 He says “I love you” however you were far too sleepy to even register the confession.

🧊 You better say it back in the morning, bitch.

🔮 Party at his house woohoo~.

🔮 Denki will try to crash your sleepover but was tricked by Shinsou to walk his ass back home.

🔮Thus your night begins

🔮 The best host even though he’s embarrassed by the compliment.

🔮 Got a bunch of snacks you like, a couple new movies he bought to watch.

🔮He made a pillow fort 👀.

🔮If you don’t like horror movies then you’ll watch some action.

🔮May even put on Little Rocky Horror Picture Show because he’s into old horror, comedy and musicals.

🔮 He will laugh a little at you if you scream at the little jumpscares.

🔮 Just when the shadow popped up on the screen then disappears, he sees you in the corner of his eye twitch away from the screen. He chuckles at your reaction causing you to face him.

🔮 “You thought that was funny?” He raises a thin eyebrow at your confrontation.

🔮 “No, I thought it was hilarious.”

🔮 “I wished I had your quirk so I could’ve made you dunk your head in the popcorn.” The smirk on his face stretches wider as he wraps in arms around your frame and draws your frame closer to his chest. You could hear heart beating faster than normal.

🔮 “Don’t worry, it scared me a little too.”

🔮He would really like to wind down and be chill so if you allow it, he’ll smoke that banyan. But if you don’t like it, he’ll just take it easy.

🔮 Regardless, if you start a pillow fight, he’s going ham.

🔮 Turns into a fortnight battle and the throw pillows are used as ammunition.

🔮 He wins because HE CHEATED you somehow knocked down your fort and claimed defeat.

🔮 The night ends with you guys climbing on the roof, admiring the stars and trying to find different constellations and planets.

🔮 His head lays in your lap as you stroke his purple strands. His consciousness losing control by your soft movements, ready to fall asleep on the roof then and there.

🔮 You persuade his sleepy body back inside where he could actually get decent rest in the warmth of your lap.

[one-boring-person]

Hey, what about a fic in which the boys see a girl competing in a motorcycle chicken race, maybe to defend the honor of her friend Star/Maria/Laddie and she really comes a half-inch from dying but wins, and one of the boys, you can choose who you want, becomes interested in her and her courage, and in the end he approaches her and discovers she's not afraid to die because she's a vampire or another supernatural being? Thanks a lot.

Honestly, as soon as I read this request I was super excited to write it 😅 I hope you like it! (I am also very tempted to write a part 2 to this, but we'll have to see 😅😂)

What's It To You?

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mention of injury

Masterlist

Part Two

"Hey!" Paul's voice is loud over the bustle of the Boardwalk, the tall vampire slipping through the crowd with ease as he makes his way over to the others, lips pulled into an excited grin.

Passively curious, as always, David turns to face the blonde, taking a drag from his cigarette as he does so, holding the pungent smoke in his lungs longer than necessary simply because he enjoys the slight burning feeling. Marko and Dwayne step up beside him, waiting for their friend to get closer, their previous activities forgotten for the time being.

"Where've you been, Paul?" David crawls as the taller vampire finally comes within earshot, exhaling the smoke as he speaks.

"Around." The blonde responds vaguely, waving a hand at the surroundings, "You'll never guess what I just heard, though."

"What?" Marko questions, curiosity getting the better of him as he bites his thumb, watching Paul collect himself.

"There's some new girl in town, some biker chick. They've been saying she's got a death wish, but she's good at what she does. Apparently she's never lost a chicken race, and will take on anyone." Paul informs them, frowning as the others look unconvinced, "What?"

"How is that supposed to be interesting? People come and go all the time, and they've always got some sort of reputation in tow behind them." Dwayne shrugs, dark eyes boring into his friend.

"Yeah, but this one's different. She's a friend of Star's." Paul tries to convince them, knowing that the dark-haired girl is a certain weakness of David's.

"Star's friend? And she never told us?" Marko interjects, lifting an eyebrow.

"Why would she? She'd have known that we'd be annoyed." Dwayne supplies, running a hand through his hair.

David shoots him a sharp look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"We all know that none of us can stand the idea of someone being a better rider than  us, especially if it's someone we know, at least by extension." 

"Can we at least go check it out? Apparently they hang out at the old skate park." Paul asks, staring hopefully at David.

The platinum blonde frowns for a minute longer, before sighing and throwing his cigarette butt to the floor, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. 

"Fine, let's go." He grudgingly agrees, slightly curious himself, though there's no way he'll show that to them.

Paul whoops in excitement, the four of them mounting their motorcycles and revving the engines, taking off up the road to the abandoned skate park.

*

Loud music greets them as they pull up at the end of a long line of other motorbikes, cheering and roaring engines coming from a little way away, where a large ring of fire barrels have been set up. A thick crowd of people have gathered around these, screaming in excitement every few minutes, the smell of alcohol and motorcycle fuel incredibly potent, even from the distance between them. 

Dismounting, the boys head over to the crowd, easily falling into the heaving throng, no one's attention on anyone but the two riders in the centre of the long ring. A pair of motorcycles are positioned at each end, one of them an expensive sports bike, the other a more stripped back racer, the two figures sat astride the vehicles each clad in dark riding leathers, one wearing a helmet, the other handing theirs back to someone nearby. David has to bite back a quick frown as he notices the person taking the helmet is Star, blue eyes easily zeroing in on the young girl as she giggles and takes the headwear from the other rider. 

All four of the boys find themselves transfixed by this rider, surprised to see her removing the leather jacket covering her shoulders to reveal bare arms, her gloved hands revving the engine of the racer below her loudly. From this distance, they can only just see her grinning features, voice clear and confident as she calls out to her opponent, apparently very confident. Naturally, there's a heavy scent of motorcycle fuel and sweat clouding the area, but even from here, the boys have noticed the strange reek lingering in the air, the stench somewhat akin to that of a damp animal. Confused they can only assume it's coming from her, though it is not necessarily clear.

Someone steps out into the centre of the ring, an arm raised above their head. 

The two riders lower themselves into their seats, engines roaring again as they get ready to move. The crowd falls silent for a moment, listening to the baying of the motorcycles, breaths held all over the park.

In a second, the arm has dropped and the motorcyclists are off, tyres biting at the ground as they go. Cheers of encouragement and ecstasy roll off of the crowd, the noise a deafening wall of sound as the bikes race towards each other. Enraptured, the boys can only watch as the gap between the riders narrows, neither of them letting up even an inch.

With their enhanced vision, the boys can see the helmetless rider tightening her grip on the handlebars, ramping up the acceleration as the vehicle jumps into a faster gear. Her smirk is still in place, no evidence of fear visible on her admittedly pretty face, her muscles somehow quite loose as she guides the bike ever closer to her opponent, who has gone tense, the grip on the bars tight and uncomfortable. The gap has now decreased to around ten metres, the distance rapidly reducing.

Seven metres goes by with no wavering from either.

Five metres goes by with only a single jerk from the helmeted rider.

At four, the panic starts to set in, the crowd roaring in anticipation, going crazy as they watch the two riders heading into a certain crash.

Three, and the helmeted rider is definitely swerving now.

And finally, at two, they pull to the side completely, the bike skidding on the floor and throwing them to the ground near the other's front tyre. 

The helmetless rider has to jerk their bike to the side to avoid hitting their opponent, the movement harsh and uncontrolled as they do so. As with the other, the tyres don't keep up the traction and give out, the rider going flying as they jump off to get clear of the vehicle, their body crashing roughly to the tarmac. For a moment she remains motionless on the floor, unmoving and almost lifeless, body limp near the stuttering shape of her motorcycle. 

The crowd goes quiet again, unsure of whether or not the winner is actually alright.

After a moment, however, the girl sits up, whooping triumphantly as the crowd goes wild, many of them rushing forwards to embrace her and clap her on the back, congratulating her. Star is amongst them, the girl pulled down to her friend as she wraps her in a tight hug, the two appearing much closer than the boys originally thought.

"Come on, let's get Star." David mutters, gesturing for the boys to follow him, not quite noticing as Dwayne slips past them, moving on into the crowd towards the rider. 

The brunette had found himself mesmerized by her performance, both terrified for her life and sure that she would be fine, her courage and recklessness unrivalled by anyone, bar Paul. Something about the way she had ridden directly at the opponents with no appearance of letting up had struck a chord deep within him. Even now, as he steps into her vicinity (trying to ignore the pungent reek surrounding her) he has to look her over, appreciating her natural beauty as she turns her eyes on him, the crowd having dissipated to watch the next race.

"Can I help you?" She calls out to him, voice clear and confident.

"Oh, I was just wondering where you learnt to ride like that. It's very impressive." Dwayne responds politely, approaching her carefully.

"Grew up doing it." She shrugs, dusting herself down, "But thank you. I had someone's honour to defend. A friend's."

The girl turns to walk away, grabbing her motorcycle as she starts heading over to a nearby group of others, the leader of the group, a tall muscular man with black hair, shot with silver, whose dark eyes bore into him from the guy's position a good few metres away, reaching out to greet her.

"You got a death wish?" Dwayne calls out to her before she can reach them.

"What's it to you?" The girl sends him a look over her shoulder.

"Well, you ride like you don't care whether or not you might get seriously injured or not." 

"That's because I don't care."

"And why is that?" Dwayne frowns curiously.

She chuckles, thinking for a minute.

"Lets just say I heal very quickly." She smirks, looking back at him, making sure she has his attention before suddenly flashing her eyes at him. 

Shocked, Dwayne feels his eyes widen at the amber glow emitting from the bright depths, blinking when it disappears.

Still smirking, the girl gives him a wave and heads off to the others, revving up her bike and falling in line with them.

"Catch you later, Bloodsucker!" She calls out to him, pulling on her jacket as the others around her laugh and whoop in excitement, their bikes swiftly carrying them off into the darkness.

At that moment, the connection is formed, and he realises what exactly he just witnessed. Clenching his jaw, he goes back to Star and the boys, instantly confronting the former.

"Why the hell are you friends with a werewolf?! "

[darthmelyanna]

Darn it, I’ve been waiting since the start of the month to send you fic in celebration of your five-year check-up being all good, and in the end, I missed it because of work deadlines keeping me away aha. But congratulations on the excellent news!! And have some fic in celebration!!!

Nope, you are right on time - today is the actual anniversary!

And now, the fic:

1. As soon as he wakes, John knows something is wrong. Firstly, because the bright lights of the infirmary greet him when he opens his eyes, and he is very confident that he wasn’t in the infirmary when they had initially shut. Secondly, because as awareness trickles back in through his mind, so too does a large amount of pain across his body. Most importantly however, is when he glances to his right and sees a stressed-looking Lorne next to his bed rather than the usual sight of Elizabeth. 2. ‘’ere is she?’ he croaks out, pushing himself upright with shaky arms. Lorne thrusts a glass of water under his nose, clearly stalling for time as he waits until John has managed to drink without spilling everything over the covers. ‘How much do you remember?’ he asks, instead of answering, and John’s impatience begins to grow. ‘Enough,’ he says shortly. ‘I remember us visiting M8G-753, I remember Elizabeth coming with us, I remember us having endless boring negotiations with the locals.’ 3. The memories are there, but coming back slowly, pushing though the fog that seems to hang over his head. ‘Well, the negotiations weren’t as boring as you thought,’ Lorne says with a sigh. ‘You were ambushed a few hours ago on your way back to the gate. They clearly targeted those of you carrying weapons, to remove the threat, although in the end it appears as if they were going for a non-lethal approach.’ At this, John looks more closely around the infirmary. ‘The team?’ 4. ‘Bruised but otherwise fine,’ Lorne reassures. ‘Looks like you took the main brunt of the injuries.’ And abruptly John can recall exactly why – can remember how they were cleverly divided under the attack, lured forwards by enemy fire. How Elizabeth and the civilian scientists were left behind, as if that was safer, yet all the while a trap was being set specifically to catch them. He remembers her screams as she and the others were dragged away, and how he couldn’t reach her in time. 5. His feet hit the floor the very next moment, and then Lorne is there, clutching his arm as he attempts to stand upright. ‘No way,’ Lorne shakes his head. ‘Carson will kill me if I let you escape from here.’ John shakes off his support, and manages a slow shuffle forward. ‘Major,’ he says. ‘I am leaving this infirmary and going to get my people. And you can either worry about what the doctor says, or worry about civilians who have been left in hostile territory.’ His tone leaves no argument. 6. Lorne has the good grace not to mention how John is studiously avoiding saying a specific name. Instead, he hesitates for a moment, and then nods his agreement. ‘You might want to change your clothing, Sir, before you embark on any rescue missions,’ he says simply, indicating at the hospital gown with the semblance of a smile. ‘I’ll go ready a team.’ He leaves abruptly, no doubt wanting to avoid any potential confrontation if Carson were to appear. 7. John is grateful for the privacy – it makes it less humiliating as he walks slowly back to his own quarters, trying to put as much distance between himself and the infirmary as possible. His brain is stuck wondering what has happened to Elizabeth, and reflecting on how he failed to keep her safe. He barely notices the numerous bandages across his body as he pulls on more suitable clothes, and by the time he splashes cold water on his face, he can at least move a bit more easily. 8. He still isn’t quite sure how he makes it back to Control however, never mind gearing up and stepping through the Gate. He knows at some point he gave Lorne the nod to go ahead with leading the team, but mostly he focuses on keeping the encroaching darkness at bay from the corner of his vision. The world is slightly hazy, but he needs to remain upright. Elizabeth would be appalled if she saw him, he knows, but the point is that she CAN’T see him, because she isn’t there. 9. The other side of the gate is eerily silent, and it is impossible to know if they are being watched, and if so, by how many. John sidles closer to Lorne. ‘Let’s head towards the town first,’ he says quietly, and Lorne nods in agreement before gesturing to the others. Before they’ve managed to go move however, there is a loud explosion to the left of the gate, and a large plume of smoke begins to rise from the not-too-far treeline. John wordlessly points in this new direction. 10. Fifteen minutes of unrelenting marching later, and the smoke has begun to settle in around them, making it difficult to see. And then, up ahead, figures begin to emerge from the trees. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ John commands, managing to find his voice properly at last. He waits, gun in hand, team at his back, for the response. ‘John?’ someone familiar asks, and suddenly Elizabeth is there, leading a group of dirty, tired scientists towards him. 11. There is a definite limp to her step, and a large cut down her left cheek, but she’s smiling brightly by the time they stand toe-to-toe. ‘You kinda interrupted the rescue mission,’ John says, trying to sound casual and unable to stop a matching grin spreading across his own face. Elizabeth laughs in response. ‘Never underestimate a scientist’s ability to blow something up – including doors,’ she gestures over her shoulder towards a sheepish-looking young woman. 12. ‘After that, it was just a matter of removing the guards.’ Her hand is holding tight to a table leg, he realises, and then with a quick glance around to the rest of the group, sees that they all have various weapons. ‘Leading a violent uprising,’ he notes. ‘I’m impressed.’ Elizabeth nods, and there is weariness to her movements. ‘I will admit that diplomacy is not always the best option,’ she says lightly, but her fingers release the makeshift weapon and it falls to the ground with a thump. 13. They need to move back towards the gate as quickly as possible to avoid another ambush, but then he feels Elizabeth’s forehead drop to his shoulder. His arm comes up to rest on her back, and he allows them to breath for a moment, as around them, the other scientists are being ushered away. ‘OK?’ he asks softly, for only her to hear. ‘OK,’ she confirms, her voice muffled against his chest. ‘You?’ He nods in response, despite the aches shooting across his body. 14. ‘Let’s get you off this planet and to see Carson,’ he says instead, shifting so she can use him for support as they begin to shuffle back towards the gate, whilst still keeping his other side clear for his gun. She snorts quietly in response, even as her gaze rests on the uneven ground as she tries to stay on her feet. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed you should be in the infirmary yourself,’ she throws back. He groans, not from pain but from suddenly picturing Carson’s reaction on his return. 15. ‘Can we just pretend he cleared me for this mission?’ he asks pitifully, keeping her distracted whilst subtly trying to speed up their pace. He refuses to be caught out again by an ambush, and the faster they make it back to Atlantis, the faster she will be safe. ‘Nice try,’ she tells him as the gate looms ahead. ‘But maybe we can be in neighbouring beds – I’m sure he’d prefer you focus your boredom on ruining my concentration instead of his when you invariably get bored of your stay.’

16. They reach the gate just as Lorne dials for Atlantis. John keeps holding her upright as they travel through to Control, and all the way down to the infirmary, where they are separated only by Carson’s demanding hands (and furious words). And when he wakes up from his own hospital bed the next morning, Elizabeth’s face from the neighbouring bed is indeed the first thing he sees.

*

GAAAAAAHHHHHHH, so good. As always, SO GOOD. Thank you so much! I love it!

[flying-nightwing]

Sing Me to Sleep

Haha I’m legit crying good luck with this one if you cry easily like me. So basically this is me evacuating stress by writing a god damn tragedy once again. Don’t worry tho I gave you a little break at the end so you don’t think I’m cruel. Anyway Siri play Quit Playing Games with my Heart by the Backstreet Boys.

Masterlist in bio // pinned post

Pairing: siblings Jason x reader

Word count: 2547

Warnings: dealing with death/grief, language

Summary: You’ve taken so much with you // but left the worst with me (insp.)

You knew something was wrong when Bruce came back from patrol without Jason. His head was low, and he refused to meet your eyes. In fact, he had avoided you altogether. You were kindly but firmly escorted out of the cave by Alfred as the Bat came back, and that confirmed that the night had definitely gone awry. You waited, waited and waited, biting your nails, pulling your hair, until the sun came up and took its place well up in the sky. You were tired and sleepless, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You were nervous, not knowing what was going on. A thousand scenarios ran into your mind, yet none of them prepared you for the solemn expression that was painted over Bruce’s face when he finally came up the batcave later in the morning. He had dark circles under his eyes, contrasting over the red around his iris. You stopped breathing. 

Bruce wasn’t the one to express emotion, so it was bad. Even without words, especially without words, it told you everything you needed to know. He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly, and your heart sank.

“No” You muttered, trying to catch his glance. He wouldn’t let you in. “That’s impossible”

“I’m sorry kid” His voice cracked, but was quickly covered with a clearing of his throat. 

“That can’t be…”

He walked away. Your legs shaked, and you had to hold on the wall not to fall. You couldn’t let yourself believe anything bad happened to Jason. He was your big brother, the one person you looked up the most to. Your vision blurred with tears. He couldn’t be gone, no, he always came through. He was strong and resilient, and you still believed it was just a terrible, terrible nightmare. But unfortunately, you were still aware and no amount of pinching your skin and biting your cheek to draw blood could change that. 

You let yourself fall on the ground, right beside the piano. Your chest heaved, the tightness restricting your lungs from expanding enough to give you air. You recognized the symptoms of a panic attack, but you couldn’t stop it. Usually, Jason would be there to help you calm down. He would always be there to do breathing exercises with you, or distract you from your spiralling down. He was good at that, he understood you better than anyone here in the manor. 

You had a similar story, so there was no surprise at all you bonded so quickly. Dick was almost jealous of the relationship you had with Jason. Bruce adopted you after your trip to juvie for shoplifting instant noodles and gatorade for the third time. You were only fourteen back then, and Bruce bailing you out saved your life. There were a lot of things you didn’t expect from this life, but what you truly didn’t see coming was to have someone who related to you in this new life. From day one, you got along with Jason. You were angsty and brooding and confrontational, and instead of frowning at you, he gave you tips on how to make it all even more effective. In a matter of weeks, he became your best friend. He taught you everything he knew about the Manor, about how to navigate the life of a Wayne. You used to sneak outside during galas and functions to smoke cigarettes he never told you where he got, bitching on the guests and on how ridiculous it all was. You would be miserable together at some points, but it was better than being miserable alone. 

At least he understood. 

You thought about the last words you exchanged before he went on patrol last night. Could you even remember what you said? It was something banal, you knew it. Probably a dumb joke, or words that didn’t matter at all. What if it was the last thing you said to him? Ever? It couldn’t be it. 

“Miss (Y/N)?” 

You looked up to Alfred, who was standing in front of you with a concerned frown. His eyes held an infinite amount of sadness, but he was doing his best to stay strong. 

“He’ll come back, won’t he?” You asked, still hopeful. You had to be.

“Master Todd--” For a second there he threatened to come undone, but he composed himself, for your sake probably. “The Joker was involved. He… There was an explosion”

You felt a hot tear roll down your cheek. Alfred looked away.

“There was nothing Master Wayne could do” He shook his head, his voice slightly higher than usual. “I am so sorry, Miss (Y/N)”

You tried, god knows you tried to stay strong. That’s what he would have told you, to hold your head up and battle through it all. But you weren’t him and now he was gone for real. The dam made of denial you had put up to hold the emotions at bay broke in a thousand pieces, suddenly flooding you with the sharpest pain you ever felt. 

Bruce would never tell you, but the cry of agony you let out at that moment made his own tears fall off in cascades again.

---

The funeral had been kept small and away from prying eyes. 

The last thing Bruce wanted was for the paparazzi to show up and turn it into a tabloid. He had been very pragmatic in the last days, almost like nothing had happened. But you knew. He was just better at hiding his grief. You hadn’t talked to anybody ever since that night, not even Alfred despite knowing he didn’t deserve your silence. He was hurting too, but your pain was crippling. The only reason you even got out of bed and showered was to pay your last respects to Jason. Not even to him, to a closed casket and a headstone. Was there even enough left of him to bury a body? You had no idea. Bruce didn’t speak about it. You didn’t want to know either. 

The sky had opened minutes after the burial ceremony. You stood at the back of the small crowd composed of Bruce, Alfred and Dick, far enough so they couldn’t be tempted to look at you with pity, or worse, ask you to say some words. The black headstone in the manor’s backyard was taunting you, reminding you you were once again all alone. 

Here rests Jason Todd

Loving son and brother

It wasn’t fair. You wanted to scream and the sky, so loud you would make the thunder seem like a whisper. It wasn’t fair. You had never felt such pain before, not when your mother bailed, not when you learned your father was found dead in his car. Your adopted brother was the closest family you had, you loved him so much and now he was gone, just like that.

You tore your eyes from the gravestone when you heard your name being spoken close to you. You hadn’t even noticed Dick approaching, let alone him stopping that close you, his black umbrella overlapping yours. His eyes were red and puffy, and he didn’t even try to hide it. You had forgotten Jason was his brother too. 

“You should come back inside” His voice was wavering, hiccuping here and there. Only then you noticed everybody else was gone. “You’ll catch a cold”

You shook your head. 

“I need time alone with…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. But he understood. He simply walked away, leaving you under the rain to give one last formal goodbye. 

You walked to the foot of the still open hole in the ground, staring at the dark wooden coffin laying at the bottom that remained undisturbed by the cold of the morning. For a while you didn’t talk, because you didn’t want to but also because you couldn’t. There was this lump in your throat that stole from you your restrain on your emotion. You couldn’t even start to describe what you were feeling, as everything was spinning so fast in your head. You were dizzy and wanted off, but unfortunately, you had no control on anything. You had little else choice than to be a victim of your own inability to process the death of a loved one. So when you could finally speak, you were surprised, but not really, that what came out was anger.

“Fuck you Jason” It came off weaker out loud than how you felt it inside, like a tidal wave crashing on a rock before it could reach the shore. “Why did you leave me alone?”

Your tears joined the pouring rain in their symphony. 

“You knew how much you meant to me, you knew!” You flexed your frozen fingers on the handle of the umbrella. “And you still left me. I hate you!”

Your words fueled your sobbing. Your hand flew to your mouth, regretting instantly what you said. Jason didn’t deserve those harsh words you didn’t mean, but your chest was heavy and it was the only thing that would come out. You felt restricted even in the large field, like you were in the coffin instead of him. Maybe you should have been. Maybe if you had accepted Bruce’s offer to join the vigilante life, maybe you would have been with him, maybe you could have even saved him. He didn’t leave you, you left him. It was your fault, not his. Why did you say you hated him? Now you hated yourself.

“I’m so sorry Jason” You couldn’t even hear the words you were saying, but you felt the urge to speak them anyway. “I’m so sorry. I don’t, I don’t hate you. I just miss you so fucking much. I don’t know what I’ll do without you around. You’ve taken everything good in this world with you, and left the worst out here with me. You’re gone, and I’m still here. You always told me to be strong, but I can’t, not without you. I’m not sure I can do this, Jason. I could have learned so much more from you, but what’s left now? I just wished I could talk to you one more time, tell you how much you changed my life for the better. Just give you one more hug, even though you pretended you hated it because that's how a brother acts. Learn one more dumb self defense move. Steal your snacks one more time, so you can be mad at me but still make sure you buy extra for me. You thought I didn’t know you were never really mad. How can I steal your snacks now, if you’re not there to catch me in the act?”

You paused to breathe, the action now a little easier. Your tears had stopped and so did the rain, leaving a thick, cold mist hanging above the dewy grass. His absence was a permanent ache on your side, his soul felt so far away even though his body was right in front of you. The lid of the coffin acted as the veil in between the living and the dead, a veil you couldn’t see through. You wondered if he was on the other side, and if he was, whether or not he was as lost and scared as you, searching for a familiar face in all this fog. The best you could hope now was for him to be at peace. 

“I know you had a hard time believing anybody could love you” You sighed, calmer now. “But I did. I’ve looked up to you from the moment I met you. You were my hero. I guess… I guess I just wanted you to know that. I’m sorry I never told you out loud, I should have but now it’s too late. I just hope you knew that you were the most important person to me, and that I will miss you every remaining day of my life. Thank you Jason, for everything you gave me. I wish I had the time to repay the favour while I still had the time. I’m so sorry”

You stayed there until sundown.

---

Every morning for five years you visited Jason’s grave, every morning but this one. You woke up late for a final, barely having the time to dress up and steal a bagel from the kitchen. You told yourself you would visit it tonight, that it was no big deal. Dick barely went anymore, and Bruce liked to ignore it was even there. Still, you knew he thought about it from time to time, by how he looked through the windows on rainy days. But still, it felt wrong not to go talk to him even just a little bit. I stayed at the back of your mind for the entire duration of the final. 

The smog provided a thick blanket over gotham, but the sun, ever so resilient, managed to peek through the yellow-ish cover to warm the concrete jungle that was Gotham. Your exam was your only appointment of the day, so you allowed yourself to read a book in the metro that brought you back to the outskirts of the city. Coincidently, it was one of Jason’s favourites. You had already gotten through his entire collection, but this was the one that stuck out the most to you. The wagon was only half full, so you sat next to the window to take advantage of the rare golden light that seemed to only increase the farther you got from the inner city.

Without tearing your eyes from the words in front of you, you got off at the last stop and jogged down the platform’s stairs until you reached your car. Only then you put the book aside and drove back the short way to the manor. You picked the book again when you got off, slowly walking around the house, drinking the words like water in the desert. Your feet walked on their own the way to the small Wayne graveyard, a way they already knew without needing your guidance. However, they stopped when you noticed a tall figure standing exactly where you usually would. Your eyes left the page, squinting at the stranger. It wasn’t Bruce, and it wasn’t Dick, despite the similar black hair. He had heard you coming, you recognized the subtle shift in the posture you observed your vigilante family do countless times. 

“Hello?” You decided to call. “Can I help you?”

He froze. You didn’t understand why, until he turned his shoulder and stared at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You held your breath as you searched his familiar features. It wasn’t the face you remembered, and his eyes didn’t hold the same wonder they did before, but you could still recognize the character in them anytime. At first you didn’t believe it, you pinched yourself a hundred times over in a minute, bit the inside of your cheek until it bled, but he was still standing there, baffled as you were, searching your face for familiarity just as you did him. 

“Jason?”

He gave you a half smile, but it was all you needed. Your eyes teared up as you chuckled in disbelief, pushing aside the questions you had for him and running into his arms.

[princeescaluswords]

Is this not the same anon whose been telling us for months that Scott only survived because of plot armor and that he should have been killed off so that Derek and Stiles could be the true leads/heroes of the show? Like... they can't even stick to a stance when it comes to hating Scott?

The term plot armor is thrown around in many discussions of narrative fiction, especially in film and television, but to me, it’s of limited use.  Like the term chemistry, it is so insanely subjective and so often used to cover up agendas and prejudices that it’s become a red flag for me.  I tend to look very carefully at what someone is saying when they use those terms.

I think the concept of plot armor is something worth thinking about when examining writing, but you should be careful to fully separate your emotional reactions from your analysis of how a particular event fits into the established rules of the show.  Teen Wolf often values aesthetics over strict realism. At its best, the production used these moments to heighten emotional response and clarify characterizations.  Too many members of the audience, trained by the vast majority of United States televised drama to value surface realism above emotional truth,  often calls scenes like this ‘cheesy,’ but they can be quite effective.  For example, villains get a boost by being given moments where they don’t act like the people you’d meet on the street.   Gerard’s “Mountain Ash,” Deucalion’s “I am the Demon Wolf,” Peter’s “I’ve always been the Alpha”, Void Stiles’ “I’m a thousand years old” cement them in the audience’s minds as characters that aren’t going to go home after a long day of villainy and be content that they tried their best.

At its worst, however, the production could get carried away with their ideas, leading to decisions that defy previously established scenes or create inherent contradictions.  The hospital massacre in season 3 was awesome, but having it been completely blown over by season 4 stretched our credulity a little too far for some people.  How many evil supernatural teachers can one school hire or how many times can the sheriff’s station be attacked before something changes?  To be fair, though, the line is sometimes hard to see when writing.  

But when it comes to an accusation of plot armor in a show like this, the complaints usually come down to favoritism.   A character the observer dislikes either avoids what seems to be the common sense consequences of an action or suffers different consequences than what the observer wanted.  In Teen Wolf, the vast majority of the fandom rages about Scott having plot armor because it underlines what they hate about the show -- that it was about Scott.  If Scott died in pursuing victory, the show would probably end, which meant that it wasn’t a damn ensemble.  Every time Scott narrowly avoided a dark fate, it wasn’t something that heroes often do in adventure stories -- to these particular fans, it was the writers cheating.  

Now to be fair, I think that the writers did cross the line from aesthetic to the point where it stretched credulity.  Some scenes -- even scenes we like -- have significant implications that on reflection don’t hold up well.  Some personal examples -- 

What did the alpha pack do in the nearly twenty-four hours between confronting Marin in the forest in Alpha Pact (3x11) and the final confrontations in Lunar Ellipse (3x12).  Go shopping?  Do their taxes?  The sixteen-hour ice bath was suppose to ratchet up the tension, but the idea that chess-master-ten-moves-ahead Deucalion would be aware of the eclipse and still get caught by it without options bothered me.  The writers wrote themselves into a hole and then did the “you seeeeee noooothing” technique to get out of it.

In a similar vein, the nogitsune splitting itself in two in De-Void (3x22), as I mentioned before, didn’t seem to help it at all.  It put itself in that position.  It made itself vulnerable and it didn’t need to, once it got the kaiken, to kidnap Lydia.   It was simply written as a way to save Stiles from possession and it doesn’t hold up 

The Sheriff watched Peter Hale kill the Mute in The Benefactor (4x04) and did nothing.   The Mute was in police custody.  They wrote the scene to remind us that Peter is a bad guy, but it made absolutely no sense that both Derek and Noah would simply let it go.  

I simply couldn’t accept the final confrontation in Smoke & Mirrors (4x12) -- aside from the fact that what should have been Scott’s triumphant moment was somehow made all about the people who hurt him, it only happened the way it did because Kate Argent remembered to take her Stupid Pills that day.  A ruthless professional hunter who wanted to make sure Scott obeyed by killing Kira didn’t bother to make sure that Scott actually killed Kira.  He stabbed her and then they walked away, so she could figure out to heal herself.  Professional Hunter Kate didn’t check to see if she was dead?  Putting aside the fact that it was another example of racism to have Scott not react to Kira’s pleading but totally snap out of it when White Boy Liam pleaded with him coupling that with the idea that only a threat to White Boy Liam -- and not himself or Kira -- could push Scott into defeating Peter, it shouldn’t have happened that way.  

In an unfortunate trend for season finales, I have to include Scott’s saved-by-my-dead-white-girlfriend moment in Apotheosis (5x20).   We’ve been taught that the claws-in-the-neck ritual is very dangerous; that it can kill or paralyze.  We’ve seen that it’s hard to wade through the memories, requiring focus.  But suddenly, Sebastien Valet can do it by accident and receive crystal clear images of Allison Argent?  

These are instances I believe where the plot’s writing was stretched too far in order to protect characters from the expected consequences of actions.   But I want you to notice that they focus on things that interact directly with my personal approach to the production.  It’s obvious that I’m going to be more sensitive to things that diffused Scott’s prominence as hero-protagonist, that undermine the moral schema that informs the narrative, and that diminishes minority characters.  

But my perception is clearly informed by my own agenda while thinking about the show.  If you agree with me that the production threw its main lead under the bus in response to fandom racism and that it treated its other minority characters shabbily for the same reason, your eye will be drawn to the same moments.  

So complaints of plot armor, like acclaims of chemistry, have to be looked with acknowledgment that they’re influenced by agenda.  That’s why they have to be backed up with evidence and explanation to be at all useful.

[powerosewaterpuff]

yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

[mst3kproject]

Voodoo Island

Leonard Maltin thought this movie was boring, which is, honestly, kind of terrifying.  Its ostensible star is Boris Karloff, who somehow managed to avoid ever being on MST3K, but it was produced by Howard Koch, the director of Untamed Youth, and was written by Richard Laundau, who did the same for Lost Continent (uhoh).  It’s also got Jean Engstrom from The Space Children, and if the voice of the radio operator sounds familiar that’s because it’s 🎶 Adam Weeeeeest.

A hotel company wants to build a resort on a tropical island, but the scouting party they sent never came back – except for one guy, Mitchell, who has been reduced to a catatonic state by whatever it was he saw there.  Worried, the hotelier sends renowned skeptic Mr. Knight to find out if it’s true that the island is under some kind of voodoo curse.  After much wasting of the audience’s time, Knight’s party reaches the island and finds it infested with man-eating plants, coconut crabs, and unfriendly natives.  I wish I could tell you more of the plot, but that’s basically all there is.

Voodoo Island is unusual as bad movies go, in that you don’t actually realize how bad it is until it’s over.  Things that seem to be the plot move merrily along, always feeling like it’s building up to something cool… and then at the last moment it just deflates like a gas station tube man with his fan turned off.  In hindsight, the audience realizes that very little of what they just saw had anything to do with what was supposedly going on. In many ways, you never do find out what was going on at all!

The middle section of this movie is not quite as obviously padded as Lost Continent with its endless rock climbing, but almost all of it is, retrospectively, pointless.  On the first leg of their journey to the island, the party’s plane is caught in a storm and forced to make an emergency landing – only to find that the weather has mysteriously cleared right up!  After repairing their radio they set off again, and nothing much comes of the incident.  They stop on another island where they have trouble hiring a boat, and where somebody puts a curse of some sort on them.  Nothing comes of this.  Later still, their boat stalls out and refuses to start again, even after they’ve cleared a blocked fuel line.  This has no real consequences, because the tide carries them in anyway, and the movie never deals with what happens when they try to leave the island again.

Along for the ride is Mitchell, the guy who was so terrified by what he saw on the island that he hasn’t moved or spoken since. He has a couple of medical emergencies that resolve themselves without long-term consequences, and then simply drops dead before they ever reach the island.  They don’t learn anything from him or his condition.  A similar fate later befalls another character, Finch, but this time the movie ends before he has a chance to either die or snap out of it. Mitchell is only in this movie to make it longer, and possibly so it could claim it had a zombie.

With the movie already half-over, we finally reach this mysterious island.  The group are greeted by a trail of clues that make Knight thing somebody is trying to lead them somewhere… perhaps to answers, perhaps to a trap.  Eventually they’re captured by the natives, but there’s no reason they had to be in a particular place for this to happen – the natives have been following them the whole time and could have intervened at any point.  None of this stuff reads as padding because it feels like it’s going to lead to something.  Again, it’s only when the credits unexpectedly start to roll that you realize almost the whole movie was irrelevant.

Padding is not Voodoo Island’s only problem – the dialogue is awkward at best.  Most of it is on a Revenge of the Sith level, where characters just say exactly what they’re thinking in a way that might have sounded poetic on paper but just doesn’t work out loud.  The boat captain, Gunn, gets a Gunslinger moment in which he narrates his traumatic backstory in a single talking head shot.  Knight is forever going on about Rational Explanations and then suddenly declares his change of heart when confronted with a voodoo doll.  There’s no meat to this arc at all, no sense of Knight questioning his worldview or coming to terms with anything – he just says I do believe! like he’s in a Santa Claus movie and then it’s over.

The worst of both the dialogue and the supposed character arcs occur in the love story.  There are girls in this movie, so of course there has to be a love story, and it’s terrible.  The lady half of this one is Knight’s assistant Miss Adams, who is very poised and professional and doesn’t smoke or drink, and spends the first half of the movie being tutted at by just about everybody.  The other woman in the group, Claire, tells her she could just be so pretty if she’d only change the way she did her hair.  Gunn calls her a ‘machine’ and asks if she even knows how to be a woman.  This raises some hackles in the modern viewer, who wants to see Adams appreciated for what she is rather than what she has the potential to be if she changes everything about herself.

But Voodoo Island was made in the fifties, when changing yourself to please a man was what women aspired to!  Miss Adams therefore swears off being a nerd and kisses Gunn, whose main personality trait is being a stunning asshole.  He’s drunk and bitter, and earlier in the movie he tried to hit on Claire, who had to tell him to fuck off about four times before he got the idea.  Later he insults and threatens Adams because her intelligence makes him feel like less of a man.  Apparently one kiss from her completely undoes his PTSD and he’s a better person now.

These two getting together also totally dismisses the healthy and supportive friendship Adams has with Knight, who is not only her boss but has some fatherly affection for her.  He praises her work ethic and tells her that she shouldn’t listen to people who think she’s boring.  I guess we’re supposed to think it’s good that she quits working for him so she can run off with a drunk who’s threatened to slap her, because Gunn will make her life more exciting.

At the supposed climax, the natives (an assortment of ethnic-looking extras who never speak) take the group prisoner, and they are brought before the chief (a white guy in dark makeup), who tells them why outsiders aren’t allowed on the island.  The prisoners are taken to a hut where they are tied up.  One of them is possibly murdered by voodoo, and then the chief… just lets the rest of them leave.  No conditions specified, although it’s implied that the islanders have more voodoo dolls and plenty of pins.  We don’t even find out if they actually made it back.  To get to their boat, the party will have to pass back through the carnivorous jungle without a guide, and once they reach the beach, they’ll have to fix their engine.  It really feels like there ought to have been more of a climax, never mind a denouement. As the credits begin, I was just going, “that’s it?”

The actors are mostly mediocre.  Boris Karloff tries really hard to rise above the material but never gets there, which is understandable when his lines are things like, “no, you fool, they’ll slaughter us to bits!”.  All this badness really is a terrible shame, too, because Voodoo Island’s setpiece monsters, the man-eating plants, are actually incredibly cool.  They never look real, but they’re much more creative than the standard giant Venus’ flytrap.  There’s a thing that wraps long bean-like leaves around a swimmer and drowns her, another than catches its victims with a sticky bulbous stem, and yet a third that folds ferny fronds around prey and digests it!  A movie that made proper use of these monsters would be a great time. I hope the prop people went on to the better things they deserved.

(At the other end of the effects scale are the coconut crabs I mentioned.  These are not actual coconut crabs, but dead specimens of some other, much more gracile species.  This, too, is unfortunate, because coconut crabs are living crustacean nightmares capable of killing and eating seagulls.  One theory about Amelia Earhart’s ultimate fate is that she was devoured by coconut crabs.)

As for Voodoo Island having anything to say… it has some kind of muddled point about not dismissing the supernatural out of hand, but its ‘magic’ is pretty lame, and Knight’s arc is handled so badly that it passes by without making much of an impression.  The story does seem to have another possible theme, though.  As usual I can’t tell if this is intentional or not, but Voodoo Island seems to have something to say about concepts of ownership.

The hotelier has taken an interest in the island because he did an inventory of his properties and discovered he owned it. How he came to do so, we have no idea… it must have been sold to him by somebody else who’d likewise never been there, since the tribal chief tells us that Mitchell and his companions were the first white men to ever go there.  What made that person think they owned it?  Does the concept of ownership even mean anything when you don’t know that you own something?  Does owning something entitle you to destroy it?

The natives own the island in the much less abstract sense that they live there.  The chief tells the party that his people went to this island on purpose, because they thought its nasty flora would keep white people from following them there. They want no part of modern civilization, and seem completely unaware that somebody outside their community is claiming he owns this land.  Whether the idea of ‘owning’ land is even a meaningful one to them, we can’t tell. When the Lenape allowed the Dutch to live on Manhattan Island, they probably had no idea the settlers would consider the land exclusively theirs.

These are some things that still need thinking about in the twenty-first century, and if you’re going to watch Voodoo Island do it for that and for the fun monsters.  Even then, you’re likely to be disappointed.

[aaluminiumas]

Old Junk

        They didn’t meet often.

        In all honesty, Heisenberg himself didn’t know what he was waiting from those meetings: Julia couldn’t teach him any specific techniques, nor was she able to give him a piece of advice that may come in handy in the future, but somehow her decrepit hut on the outskirts of the village turned into a temporary shelter, a haven where he could conceal himself from Miranda’s omniscient eye and Dimitrescu’s stupid jeers.

        Julia barely spoke; in fact, she preferred to express herself by gestures and smiles as if she were mute. Unlike the secretive Donna, who'd rather stay aside and never mingle with the crowd, this particular woman never failed to be understood – touches and glances helped her reach her goal. Conversations were not her forte, but she didn’t need them anyway: something within her lukewarm brown eyes mildly directed the discussion, and Karl felt at ease. Albeit he rarely warned her about his visits, she seemed to be always waiting for him – and, spotting the familiar bulky figure clad in an old coat, she tended to stare at his swarthy face. Sometimes she brushed her hand across his hand and tenderly dragged him into the room. She beamed, literally. Why did he keep coming anyway?..    

        Heisenberg couldn’t remember where and how exactly they encountered: Julia had appeared in his life long before the factory, and, evidently, owing to her modest taciturnity, this manufacture was finally outlined and constructed. Fed up with Moreau’s mourn wailing, Alcina’s commanding tone, and Angie’s shrills, he set off to the shabby shackle on the riverbank and got down to his drafts. Julia never diverted his attention – she kept knitting, humming an ancient lullaby under her breath while Karl was trying to recall whether he’d heard the melody before. Someone had sung it in the past, but he failed to recollect who exactly did it.  Or maybe it was an illusion, and he’d caught the lyrics just because of the brief visits. Every once in a while he sneaked a look at her askance, from beneath the dark glasses:  gaunt and tiny, she practically dispersed in the ugly fuscous-colored sofa that creaked and squeaked so loudly that drove him crazy in a matter of seconds. Karl had offered to throw this monster away and get a new one, but Julia, laughing quietly, shook her head. She always loved old junk. Old junk like him.  

         Actually, Heisenberg wasn’t prone to nostalgia at all, as his reminiscences had always fallen apart in fragments; however, Julia's visage was printed to the back of his brain. If anything, she became the only person who wasn’t afraid of him. Her surprisingly smooth hands cautiously slid across his scars on the back and the chest, scrutinizing them and lingering on the blemishes that once had been the most painful wounds. She even dared touch his face and carefully took off his glasses. Did she think he wanted to show off and tried to evade her stare?..

        Putting the glasses aside, Julia tenderly took his visage in her hands.

        “I can’t quite grasp the color of your eyes,” she explained with a smile, “they are constantly changing.”

         Her fingertips soared over his nose bridge and flew over to the mark on the cheek, then lingered on the thick lips and softly ambled towards his chin and neck. The odor of car exhaust and cigar smoke didn’t scare her away; she still wanted to stay by his side. Till this very day, he racked his brain about her behavior: did she ever care about her life knowing she was crossing the line?..

        And then – Miranda, of course. A presumptuous witch with a local goddess’s manners. Called on him, invited him to visit her – and for the first time, he was there alone, without that sarcastic super-sized bitch.

        “What?” Heisenberg frivolously leaned over his hammer and lit his cigar. “Problems?”

        “Yes, Heisenberg,” replied Miranda revealing her holier-than-thou attitude, her pale eyes glued to him. “Problems indeed. And one of them is you.”

        The engineer saluted her jocularly.

         “At your disposal! As a matter of fact, I was sure that was the crux of your, ahem, system.” 

         “Don’t be a clown,” she snapped, “You perfectly understand what I am talking about. And you must get rid of her.”

         “What’s the point?” the glasses glimpsed from beneath the hat, his face imperturbable and slightly disinterested. “Lycans are going to take care of it anyway.”

         “Did you hear my order, Heisenberg?” Miranda repeated, completely ignoring his answer. 

         “I did,” he extinguished his cigar. “I’m on it.” 

         Arrogant bitch. He grabbed his hammer and left.

        “Just don’t hurt me too much,” Julia pleaded quietly, “I’m afraid of pain.”

        He couldn’t wrap his head around it. What was it like, to be afraid of pain? His entire like was somehow entangled with it, but he barely remembered those bits; he could count the highlights by the fingers on his one hand. First off, The Cadou, obviously; and the cold caused by the medical instruments – somewhere in the bowels. Then that goddamn steam machine that exploded in his hands. Thanks to it, his hands are now covered in scars. Details that flew off under pressure, a broken cyborg – something had almost blinded him, but luckily, all went well: the

only repercussion that remained was that his eyes were sore when the light was too bright.

         He killed her that night. Well, he didn’t like that – unlike the atrocious, brutal Dimitrescu, Karl didn’t see any point in regular, commonplace slaughter. Of course, he had little patience with intruders and those who got in his way, but the majority of the villagers rarely ventured to stick their noses outside, let alone confronting any of the lords. But Mirada obviously, hated this non-committal relationship of his: her “children” belonged solely to her. They must guard her and her interests. Advocate her. No one had the right to compete with her or to rebel against her. And Heisenberg, who had managed to avoid her omniscient eye, did fall into the category of the mutineers, even though he initially denied the mere idea of revolution. She loathed his independence and free will, she detested his attempt to break away from the others, and she showed her teeth, thus involuntarily revealing her intentions.

         Heisenberg gave his workshop an apathetic look, then glanced at his contorted reflection. Grinning to his doppelganger in the old sooty mirror, the engineer fished a cigar out of his pocket, fumbled with it, and lit the tip. The gloves and the coat were saturated with odors of oil and tobacco – that must be the reason why both the witches, Miranda and Dimitrescu, sniffed at his sight. Prigs. Useless creatures ready to slit anyone’s throat for power, butchering those who dared impinge upon what never truly belonged to them. He did not belong to them; but Miranda, that crazy bitch concerned about her own safety, held a different view and amplified her positions. Julia’s death – or Dimitrescu’s so-called daughters', – did not mean anything to her. In the former case, she found a quiet insurgent in those short meetings: they undermined her authority and monopoly over her ‘son’. As for the latter… she simply didn’t give a shit. Winters’ intrusion may have ruined her entire game, but his resolute resistance and Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra’s murder just proved his abilities and evinced his fighting qualities. He was a rival to be cautious about. Alcina’s feelings were never a thing to her.

         Go to hell, he thought. Instead of dealing with the problems on her own, Miranda keeps them on a tight leash impelling to clean things up after her. The villagers believed in her piety while their reputations got distorted and finally sullied. In the end, they were demonized to the extent that only the Duke dared speak to them. Well, there’s nothing to complain about, though: his cigars significantly dropped in price.

        Heisenberg leaned back in his chair and smirked under his breath. We’ll see what’s next. Not all his drafts had disappeared – the abysmal factory preserved a variety of secrets that would eventually help him overthrow this viper. Just you wait – and the decision will come by itself. Every minute counts: Ethan Winters has already got disposed of Donna and Moreau.