#Riot did it like this and there's not much to be done

[uboat53]

All right, I see enough of it going around that I need to address this doomerism among young Americans. Call this a LONG RANT (TM) or just an old man shouting from his porch if you will.

INTRODUCTION

Young people. The United States is not "falling apart". The world is not under threat of imminent collapse. Society is not coming apart at the seams, it is not going to disappear, and we do not need to prepare to replace it. The worst that will happen is that a lot of people will lose rights that they've gained over the last century and the government will become a whole lot less representative of the country it governs.

Don't get me wrong, this is bad, but it's not "start stockpiling dried food and weapons to prepare for societal collapse bad", and thinking that it is will stop you from doing a lot of the things that could be done to stop what's actually happening.

A BIT OF HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

The current state that we live in, particularly here in the US, is very new. Are the attacks on trans and gay people terrible? Absolutely. Is the return of white supremacy horrifying? Definitely. Are the efforts to deny rights to women deplorable? Yes. But you have to understand just how new many of the good things that are now under attack actually are.

I'm not even 40 yet and, when I graduated high school, 13 states still had "sodomy" on the books as a criminal offense. Gay people didn't even get the right to marry until I had already graduated college. The Violence Against Women Act didn't pass until I was almost out of elementary school. The Rodney King riots happened recently enough that I can actually remember watching them on the news.

And forget about me, Ruby Bridges desegregated the first previously all-white school in New Orleans in 1960. She's only turning 70 last year (as did the Brown v. Board of Education decision that banned segregation in the first place) and is very much alive. So are a lot of those people in the famous pictures screaming racist abuse at her. The US Supreme Court decision that established a right to interracial marriage (Loving v. Virginia, 1967) isn't even old enough to retire yet and Martin Luther King Jr., who often feels like a fairly distant historical figure to us, would only be 96 this year if he had lived.

All of this is to point out that, not only are the rights we're defending actually fairly new in US history, much less world history, but that many of the people who opposed these rights when they were put in place are still very much around and they're still unhappy that those rights exist.

WHAT'S REALLY HAPPENING

Here's the thing, what's really happening is not the destruction of the American political and social system, it's just a sustained effort to hijack and twist them. If the MAGA crowd have their way, the institutions of Congress, the Supreme Court, the Presidency, and the entire administrative state won't actually collapse or cease to exist, they'll just be changed such that they only represent the values and desires of white, Christian men. It'll be a disaster, to be sure, but it won't destroy the fundamental structure of how you live.

Frankly, what's the most creepy about it is how little you'll actually notice the change.

What you have to understand about government is that it's not some impartial reading of rules. There's a huge amount of discretion built into the system. And, to be clear, this is a good thing. No set of rules written in stone could ever hope to cover every situation that real people find themselves in. We allow officials at all levels to make judgement calls. They're guided by the rules, but they have a lot of room to make different decisions within those rules because we want them to consider the real-world circumstances.

Of course, given all of that, you can see how important the person in a given position can be. We've already seen a movement around the country focused on district attorney elections because, if you can replace a fire and brimstone conservative with a progressive or vice-versa, you can completely change how justice is administered in a particular jurisdiction.

MAGA conservatives have figured this out as well and they focus on it to a greater extent than just about anyone else. The death threats they send to, for example, election administrators aren't intended to destroy the apparatus of election management. They're intended to force the person out of the office for fear of their safety in the hopes that they can be replaced by a MAGA loyalist. As I said, the person is important.

This is happening now at just about every level, but many of those opposed to the MAGA movement misunderstand what's going on. They're not trying to destroy our governing institutions, they're trying to capture them.

THE HAZARDS OF DOOMERISM

The answer, of course, to what the MAGA crowd is doing is to outfight them. Polling fairly consistently shows that no more than about 30% of Americans actually believe MAGA nonsense and even less than that actively seek to put it into practice. If enough other people come out and reject their candidates, reject their ideas, and insist that authorities deal appropriately with their threats of violence, they will lose. And, let's face it, MAGA supporters are overwhelmingly older than the American population at large; if we hold them off long enough they'll die off, this isn't a group that's set to continue into the future.

By succumbing to doomerism, the idea that everything is already lost and that, rather than take over society, the MAGA crowd will destroy it, people are turning away from the one thing that could actually stop this takeover; political action. If you think that society is actively collapsing, you're not going to invest your time and energy in it, you're going to spend your time preparing for said collapse and attempting to shield yourself from the worst effects of a Mad Max world.

And, let's be clear, no amount of hoarding of dried food, guns, and seeds will do anything to protect you from a government that is committed to denying you basic rights. Doomerism, whether passively lying down and awaiting the end or actively preparing for the collapse of society, only distracts you from doing anything about what is actively happening.

CONCLUSION

Society is not about to collapse. I know it makes great disaster porn and gives people a sense of black and white certainty in a complex and often confusing world, but what's actually happening is that society and government are being captured one institution at a time by people who want to return to a time when only straight, white, Christian, cisgender men had any rights or representation in society. By embracing a narrative of societal collapse, you are disengaging from both society and government, making it easier for these people to capture them and, when society doesn't collapse, you're going to find that none of the things you've done to prepare for "the end" won't help you a bit.

This is the whole point, though, who benefits from you dooming it up? It's the people who want to do all the things that you don't like! They benefit from you giving up on society, they benefit from you failing to defend important institutions, and they benefit from you letting them get their people into important positions, so don't do that!

By giving up on society and becoming a doomer, you're letting all the things you dislike happen, but instead of society collapsing so that you don't have to deal with it, what's actually going to happen is that society will continue to exist under the control of people who want to take away all of your rights and opportunities. But here's the thing, that can only happen if you let it. Fascists (and that's exactly what the Moral Majority/Tea Party/MAGA/Whatever-they-call-themselves-next-week crowd are) make a lot of noise and threaten a lot of violence because they're trying to intimidate you into not fighting them, they're actually very weak and can't win if you stand up to them.

So fight back. Stop pretending that you're helpless and that nothing you do matters. Maybe you can't change the entire world by yourself, but every single thing you do adds up. Even just helping one person is enough, you could be the one to bring just one more person into the fight who tips the balance. More importantly, it's not a black and white, fascists win vs. fascists lose, situation; everything is in shades of gray. Every action, every good deed, every win makes the long term better than it would have been otherwise. If we lose trans rights but keep gay rights, that sucks, but it's still better than losing both and it means that we can focus our efforts on getting trans rights back instead of having to fight for both of them again.

Ultimately, though, doomerism isn't some brave position, it's the coward's way out. Giving up is exactly what the MAGA people want you to do, do you want to give them the win without even fighting for it?

[marysunburn]

A little retcon

I try my best to work with the questionable and centrist aspects of Azir and Xerath’s story to write something that’s both compelling in the whole "let's take a privileged jerk, hurt him and teach him a lesson" thing, and not full of terrible messages about how to resist oppression, but there’s one canonical thing I cannot let slide: Xerath’s naming.

We’re told Xerath’s name, meaning “the one who shares” in ancient Shuriman, is given by Azir as a secret moniker, while the man himself didn’t have a name in account of him being a slave.

But why?

Did he just… not have a name? Was he born without it? Didn’t his parents call him somehow?

And even if they didn’t name him – even for reasons that aren’t as squeaky as “Shuriman slaves don’t have names” – why does AZIR choose his name?

IT’S HIS GODDAMN NAME!

What is he, a pet? Wait no, he’s actually worse than that.

Azir isn’t a bright bulb, we get it, but shouldn’t Xerath himself consider a choice in what his name is? Or at least someone on Xerath’s own side?

So I’ll do something I’ve never done before in the Azir’s New Groove verse and perform a willing, focused retcon of canon informations. And this is how it goes.

~ ~ ~

“What constellation is this, father?”

“That’s the Protector, sweet.”

Hakim of Saikal was always a lover of astronomy, and even as his lungs fall under him and his sight dampens, he clings to this love like a safety raft.

It’s the only pure thing left, aside from his child and his wife Massika, currently distracted at removing unwanted entities from the dinner rice.

“Shouldn’t they protect us, then? We’re in pain.”

“Stars don’t do our bidding. They can, however, inspire us.”

Hakim cuddles his son to his chest. He’s strong, but life has crushed greater spirits. There’s an emptiness in his eyes no one deserves.

“Your name means ‘the one who shares’. It’s filled with meaning, just like you. That's why you must learn, build a position, and find protection in a safer spot than here."

The idea of leaving his son behind shakes Hakim to his core, but their life has taken such a toll on him and Massika that they, sage people as they are, know hard choices must be made. And Xerath – that's their child's name – must face these choices as sweetly as it can be done.

"There's a little protector in you too", Massika chimes in, placing the bowl of rice between the three and kissing each one's face. There's a strange heat coming from Hakim's skin. Please, hold on. Please.

"Remember what we taught you in history, Xerath. This empire of tyrants will eat itself up, and you will be there to share the seeds."

"I hope you too, mother", Xerath says.

[midnightwind]

beheld the new Viktor League of Legends design again and the depression is back

[infictionalwonderland]

. . . fred weasley with it girl veela girlfriend (you, bitch!)

babe.

he is your biggest fucking fan

drooling and wide eyes when he even HEARS the click of ur cunty shoes xxx

genuinely stand by the fact he has shirts with ur face on

to him, you’re everything & more

no1 advocate for anything you do

‘yeah, love, you should do that. definitely’

‘mhmm, anything you want darling’

GRRRRRRRR 🐱🐱🐱🐱

eats up every single one of ur cunty fits

you look so damn good babe and he makes sure you know it

‘you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, love. seriously’

‘if you don’t stop smiling like that, im gonna be forced to take you against this fucking wall love’

OOPSIES

HOW DID THAT GET THEERRREEEE

knows the whole school and literally the whole world is obsessed with you and is here for it

(but is also not)

he loves that people know how special you are bc you fckn are

but like

when he sees whores staring at you with gaping mouths and starry eyes he’s like

she’s MINE.

doesn’t enjoy people staring at his girl

10000% the type to wrap his arms around you and pull you back into him, genuinely acting as a shield for the stares

pd(bloody)a!!!

he’s a big big fan

obvs if it makes you uncomfy, he’ll understand and back off! your comfort is his main concern

HOWEVER

if you like it just like he does…

arm wrapped around you waist while you’re walking around

HANDDD HOLDING

he loves cuddling you

ur like his squishmallow ����😘😘

he really enjoys showing you, all the time, how much you mean to him. how obsessed he is with you. bc he wants you to know

will readily admit to the fact he is very much on ur pink bedazzled leash xxxxx

he’s ur mf bitch ❤️❤️❤️

if ppl try and take the mick out of him for it he literally could not care less

and what???? it’s true

he would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked

if he notices you getting uncomfortable w ppl staring at you, he’s not afraid to confront them (if you want that)

‘yeah, mind looking anywhere bloody else mate?’

‘if you done leering at my girl you wanker, feel free to piss off’

if people happen to not heed his warning, he’s not afraid to fight someone for you

(one time he did and arthur got called in to ‘deal’ with his son—he gave him an approving hug and a chocolate frog)

you & the weasels are like this 🤞

ginny does not resent you bc ur a veela, IN FACCTTTT she actually really looks up to you and admires you, knowing you’re so much more than ur beauty

she’s wants to BE you

(apart from the dating her brother part, gag)

george calls you ‘little legend’ he thinks you’re great for making his brother so starstruck and mushy-goey all the soft things.

genuinely cannot wait for the day you become his sister in law 🤧

after ron got over his creepy little crush, he’s grown to see you as someone he adores (even if he would never admit it) and someone he really feels safe with

you make him feel wanted in his family and actually loved—for that, he loves you more

charlie thinks ur an absolute riot 😭😭

the first time you met you had pulled a prank on the twins, turning their skin lilac and giving them unicorn horns with fuzzy purple fur everywhere (human unicorns)

he’s adored you ever since

bill loves you like a little sister and fleur and you are legit best mates!!!

arthur holds you very dear to him as he sees how good you are for his son and how much of a good individual you are in general

molly was slightly hesitant initially

BUTTT then you knitted her and arthur winter hats for christmas, sent them with a cutesy note and some sweets and she knew she’d love you

(she really, truly does)

#fredweasleyisurseximinion

he wrote that himself xxxx

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 6 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."

Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.

"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.

"Yes," she said bluntly.

"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.

"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."

"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.

She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."

Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.

"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.

"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.

"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.

She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."

Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."

"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.

"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.

"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.

You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.

Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.

He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"

"I need a favor," you immediately started with.

"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.

"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.

"For what?"

"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.

"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.

"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."

"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"

"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."

Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."

"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.

"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.

"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.

"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.

It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.

"Hey."

You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.

"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.

"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.

"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."

He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.

"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.

"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"

You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."

"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.

Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.

---

You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.

Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.

When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.

"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly.

"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.

"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.

"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.

He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."

"Is she not?"

"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.

The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"

"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.

"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.

"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.

"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.

"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.

"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.

"See?"

"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.

Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.

Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"

"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."

"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.

"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.

Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.

"Yeah?"

"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."

"Why?"

"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.

"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.

"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.

"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."

"Thanks, see ya."

"Bye."

You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.

The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.

You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.

Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.

Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.

"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.

"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.

"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.

She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."

You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.

Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"

She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.

"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.

She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.

Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.

You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.

The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.

"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."

You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.

"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.

She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.

You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.

"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.

The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.

Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.

He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.

With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"

You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.

"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.

"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.

"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.

"Kats?"

"What?"

"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.

"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.

---

Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.

The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.

"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.

His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.

"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.

"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"

You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.

Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"

"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."

"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.

"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side

He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.

"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.

"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."

You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."

"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.

"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.

"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.

"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.

"Figures, you put up a fight."

"I almost died," you clarified.

"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.

You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"

"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."

You hummed, "When can we go home?"

"I'd have to call the doctor in."

You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.

The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.

"Is she okay?" you asked.

"Who?"

"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.

He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."

"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.

"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."

"Then why do I feel bad?"

He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."

"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.

"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.

"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.

---

You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.

The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.

"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.

"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.

He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."

"Oh," you said sadly.

"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."

"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."

"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.

"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"

"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.

---

You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.

So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.

"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.

"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."

Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."

You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."

"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.

"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.

"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.

"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.

"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.

"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.

Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."

He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."

"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.

---

Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.

It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.

With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.

"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"

"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.

"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.

You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."

After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.

"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.

You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.

"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.

"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

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[natalievoncatte]

1. Leaves

Lena was, in all honesty, having the time of her life. Since they’d arrived here, she had finally relaxed. Really relaxed. Lex was gone. Capital-G Gone. The last of Cadmus had been mopped up. The Conpany was no longer a problem- L-Corp was being sold off, from entire divisions down to sales of old office chairs. The Estate and nine-tenths of the family holdings were all being sold off, and the money quietly funneled into a holding company. Sam Arias would manage Lena’s wealth.

Lena had nothing to do anymore, and it was glorious. She’d done what she’d never done in her entire life: rest. She ate when was hungry, slept when she was tired. She stayed up late finishing a thriller novel she’d grabbed off one of Kara’s tables and slept it off the following day. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, so one day she said, “Let’s go watch the leaves change.”

“Not much of that in National City,” Kara had said, not looking up from her laptop.

Lena was flipping channels when she made the suggestion, another pedestrian activity that had been too far beneath her to ever indulge during her CEO days.

“I’m serious,” said Lena. “I’ll rent us a cabin, book a flight, and we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Vermont, or maybe New Hampshire.”

Kara looked up. “I could just fly us.”

“Short distances only,” said Lena.

Kara weighed it for a moment. She looked at Lena for a drawn out instant, eyes darting this way and that. Lena knew she had a deadline; she had become privy to the details of Kara’s life ever since she started couch surfing at Kara’s place after dumping her chic penthouse on some petroleum heir from the Emirates.

She had been “crashing” at Kara’s place for three months and had her own key, but they weren’t talking about it. Lena had remained on the couch, falling asleep to YouTube videos of molten lava and cat purring sounds, while Kara puttered around the house.

There were moments of tension. Pauses during shared meals. Moments when they pressed closed on sofa, times when Kara got up to go to bed and Lena felt this yearning to follow that she never quite obeyed.

Kara was thinking. Hard.

“Rent a cabin?”

“Yeah, someplace remote. So you can take a break. You’ve been working harder than ever, Darling. It almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Kara swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll fly. The regular way.”

They did, arriving in Maine less than a day later. Lena rented a Land Rover (because they were on an Adventure) and did all the driving, three hours from the airport to the cabin.

Kara rode in silence, though Lena heard her gasp.

The trees were beautiful. They were alive with color, as if an impressionist master had made the world a canvas and run riot. It was more than a mass of reds and yellows and oranges. It was astonishing.

It was dark when they arrived at the cabin. Lena had chosen one with two bedrooms, though she hesitated when she did. It had a full kitchen with a gas stove and all the amenities but also a fire pit and picnic table and gazebo, and overlooked a private swath of a small lake. It was like something out of a Bob Ross painting.

They were both tired from the flight, or at least Lena was, and turned in right away. When she rose the next day, she cheerily told her cabin-mate she was headed into town to get some supplies.

Kara went out to chop wood. Lena, of course, watched a few swings before leaving. Kara didn’t really need an axe but Lena didn’t care; she was preoccupied watching the muscles of Kara’s shoulders and back as she swung the splitting maul.

Lena got back before noon and carried the groceries inside, enough for her to use the fancy kitchen to prepare a mighty feast for her companion.

She didn’t hear the sobs until she had most of it put away. Lena bolted to the back door and stopped.

Kara was sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the long board that acted as a seat. She was holding a single golden leaf on her hand, studying it and sobbing softly to herself.

“Kara?”

She looked up, soft blue eyes wet with tears. Lena felt a wave of grief but also panic, rushing to the table.

“Kara, what’s wrong?”

“I,” Kara started. “Lena, I’m scared.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Why?”

Kara looked at the leaf. “Another year past. The leaves turn colors and fall, school starts, things change.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alex is married now. They’ve got a kid to raise. Nia and Brainy will probably get married soon. We hadn’t had a game night in two months.”

Lena swallowed. Kara was right. When Lena had first joined, then rejoined, this wonderful found family had been aggressively social, and now they forgot to text as often as not. They all spent more time at home or at their real jobs than at the Tower. The world had just started moving on. Kara didn’t even wear the cape every day anymore.

“I know,” said Lena, her voice thick. “But you’ve got me.”

Lena felt her pulse start to race. Kara had been so distant, she couldn’t help wonder if she was enough. If boring, retired Lena wasn’t enough. Oh God, what if Kara was thinking about going to Argo? Or the future?

“Not forever,” said Kara, her voice cracking like glass. She let the leaf drop from her fingers. “Eventually you’ll go. All of you. Brainy, Nia, Alex, Clark if he doesn’t come back from Argo. You.”

“Oh,” Lena said, softly. “Oh, Kara.”

“I think I might be immortal,” Kara whispered. “I don’t feel any aches or pains. Nothing about me changes. I don’t forget things like people do. My body just keeps repairing itself and it never makes any mistakes. What if I’m just like this forever? Or even a thousand years? What if everyone is gone and their kids are gone and no one knows who I am anymore?!” she was frantic now, the words coming too fast.

Lena reached out, tentatively. She put her hands on Kara’s shoulders and pulled herself in, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

Birds chirped, the waters of the lake made soft glug-glugs, and all around them was the soft tapping sound of the leaves, already letting go.

“I won’t leave you,” Lena whispered. “Kara, I won’t. If I have to live forever I will. I’ll find a way. Tech, magic, fifth dimensional imps. I’ll find a way.”

Kara sighed, arms firmly around her.

“Do you need space?” Lena asked. “I could leave you alone for a bit. Look for a place when we get back, so I’m not on the couch all the time.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Kara blurted, almost cutting her off. “I know I’ve been distant, it’s just… I keep looking at you and thinking about all the time I’ve lost and all the mistakes I’ve made and how I’ll regret it forever. We have so little time and I’m so scared I’ll lose you.”

Lena pulled back to look at her. “We have a long time to make more memories. As many as we can.”

“I’ll lose you too,” said Kara. “I know you want more. A family, a partner. You’ll start to have less time for me. You’ll all just fall away and I’ll be stuck here alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara started to pull away. Lena stopped her with a tug on her arms. It stunned her, sometimes, how she could overpower a god with her tiny human hands. How she could stun the other whirlwind or a touch.

“Kara,” said Lena. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Me?” Kara squeaked.

Lena cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I mean, I didn’t dress like that and go stag for the hell of it. I just lost my nerve and you seemed so overwhelmed.”

Kara blinked a few times.

“You want me?” said Kara.

Lena felt a cold rush of terror. She’d just blurted it out, artlessly, unplanned.

“Like want me want me? Like kissing want me?”

Lena licked her lips. “Yes. I’d like to kiss you right now, if you let me.”

Kara settled back into the table, leaning forward. Lena leaned in, pushing her back slightly, moving her hands from shoulders to hips, scoring the way Kara tensed and trembled. She was hardly inexperienced, Lena knew, but something about this felt like a first kiss, even for her. It tasted like one, too, down to the quivery way their lips met.

Kissing quickly became something more. Lena didn’t know if she was pulling or Kara pushing. It didn’t much matter; the path led to the bed in Kara’s room, marked by a trail of shed clothing.

Years of anticipation overwhelmed them both; dinner was forgotten, and they didn’t even emerge until the next day.

It was in the morning sun, the light turning Kara’s skin gold, that Lena saw it. Twisted within one of the curling locks of hair, splayed around Kara’s head on the pillow, was a faintly visible thread of purest silver, chased through the gold like an engraver’s masterpiece. Lena couldn’t help but twirl the errant strands around her finger.

As Kara slept, she looked up through the window and watched the wind as it caressed the leaves.

[blueinsomnia]

Ekko and Jinx's History: A Simple Comment

So I read something the other day talking about how fans are making Ekko and Jinx's relationship romantic and not all male and female characters HAVE to be romantically involved. I agree with this. I'll go so far as to say that this is true for any character of any gender. In my own writing (with my original characters) I rarely have romantic undertones. Mostly just friends being friends. While I get the allure of the romantic chase, of most people we deal with in life we aren't connecting to them romantically. Friends are friends.

That said, this is not the case with Ekko and Jinx. From Ekko's release in 2015 there has always been some romantic undertones with Jinx. Riot has always been a bit mysterious about what his relationship is with Jinx. Ekko even has a line in the game where he says:

The foundation had been laid long before Arcane was released in 2021.

Between 2015 and 2021 (when Arcane was released), a lot of official art and such dropped hints about SOMETHING going on between them. Much like Jinx being Vi's sister. You have to remember that this was originally a secret. It was Ghostcrawler who finally confirmed fan theories, even though he tried to walk it back later. Oops! Ha, ha!

(An image from 2015)

To add to the mystery, on both of their official pages, Ekko is listed as connected to Jinx and Jinx is listed as connected to Ekko. However, at no point does Riot explain how they're connected. Their stories don't mention the other at all. So this means that some things were planned, but they weren't ready to reveal. I'm still of a mind that they were waiting to use Arcane as a vehicle to get into Jinx's history and how that intersected with Ekko and Vi. Before Arcane, we knew very little about Jinx and how she ends up the way she does.

Then, before Arcane came out we got this little nugget in Legends of Runeterra:

Remember, this is 100% from Riot themselves. Not the fans. Riot laid the seeds down and it was the fans who picked up on it and ran. I doubt anyone would have ever thought there was something between Ekko and Jinx without Riot dropping hints. By the time we got to Arcane Season 1, the train was already in motion.

Let's not even forget the insane number of Jinx references in the True Damage video they released in 2020. Generally it wasn't odd to see Ekko and there would be some sort of Jinx reference somewhere. That wasn't true for Jinx until recently.

After Arcane, Riot themselves has been dropping hints like crazy. Jinx has been putting Ekko's hourglass symbol on stuff. League Brazil did a huge Twitter AMA with Star Guardian Ekko and Jinx. Jinx goes to the Grammys with Ekko.

Another official Ekko and Jinx moment. Check out her shirt!

And let's not forget this one for the Billboard Music Awards:

They went to the event together!

So...while I see people saying that the fans were to blame for Jinx and Ekko being romantically involved, it should be pointed out that this is all Riot's doing. The best part is that the fans have been largely receptive to their efforts in promoting the couple. Riot has waited a long time to be able to say what they want to say about them.

And if there is any doubt about where they're going with them as a couple, let's just remember this cover for the art book for Arcane:

Another official piece done by Riot and Fortiche themselves.

Sorry for the long post, but I thought it was important to point out that it's not the fans who set this up. It'll be interesting to see where this all goes, but based on their track record so far, it should be clear where the end game is headed.

Thanks for reading!

[tashid4]

Virgin Kirishima

TW ‼️ smut (pls wear a condom)

Kirishima worked so hard all his life, believing that his quirk was weaker, inferior. He forced himself to work harder, training late at night and early every morning. He couldn't help it, he felt like he had to prove his worth.

Now he was one of the greatest hero in town, the powerful and strong Red Riot. He was part of the top 10 pro hero ranking, he was the symbol of manhood and brute strength. He saved more people than he could have ever imagined. We can basically say that he has succeeded in life. He is at the top of his career but there is someone he never managed to get. A relationship.

He was focused on his hero training, always working hard, he never really had time to fall in love. That's why he now is 23 and still a virgin. He was not ashamed but not proud of it either. He does not shout it on the rooftops. He never talked about this with his friends not even the closest one. Denki and Sero were both players, flirting with all the girls they laid their eyes on. Mina had a girlfriend for the past two years, Bakugo was too busy being the number 1 hero. And of course there was you. You joined the group after graduation, you worked in the same agency as Mina. You quickly became very close and she introduced you to the squad. Among all the members of the group, you were probably the biggest flirt. You were really pretty and you knew it. Always using your charms to get what you want. When you wanted something or someone, you got it.

Kiri knew you regularly have sex with Denki and Sero, the three of you were freaks, always escaping parties for "bathroom breaks". He knew it. To say that he was jealous would be a very weak word to describe how he really felt. He was dying of envy.

He spent his entire life training while everyone was falling in love and having their first experiences. Now he was falling being.

Tonight, when he accepted to go out, it was reluctantly. He was tired of seeing all his friends flirting in front of him, while he stayed at the table with his drink. And today wasn't an exception. He was at the bar alone with his beer. The third...Or maybe the fourth ?... Denki and Sero quickly left, Mina following them on the dancefloor. Bakugo had not even bothered to come.

"What are you doing here all alone handsome man?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and you appeared in his field of view right after. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. Didn't Mina said you were on a date on something ? Maybe he misunderstood.

"I could ask you the same question. Not with your date ?" You chuckle slightly at his words. "I was. But he was a dick. So I left."

Inside, he was satisfied with this answer but he could not let it appear. "Oh uhm, I'm - I'm sorry" "Oh don't worry I don't care. The guy wasn't worth it. Backshots with him were laaame as fuck"

He was shocked by your words, how were you so confident. Never holding back your words. Always saying what you think. How was he supposed to responde to this ? Fortunately you did not give him time to answer, yapping about how sex with him was not enough for you. "See, I need a real man, a strong one that could handle all of this" You said that while pointing at you. Of course Kirishima thought you had an handsome body, in fact, he believed everything about you was handsome. He was admiring and respecting you. "I bet women are delighted after a night with you"

His eyes widen at your words. Did he heard you right ? This simple sentence could have made him spit all his beer. His cheeks were probably red hot right now.

"Hgh I don't know...I've never done...you know...this"

You couldn't belive it. Eijiro Kirishima. The sturdy Hero, Red Riot. A virgin ? You laughed, not able to believe this. There's no way his sexy ass was a virgin. "Are you serious?"

If he hadn’t drunk so much beer, he probably wouldn’t have said so much. But alcohol put him in the mood for some confidence. And Damn. There's no shame in still being a virgin...

"Yeah I've never...got close enough with someone to do it".

He had to be joking. This man had so much sex appeal, he was so damn hot. His sharp teeth gave him a bad boy vibe which could have made anyone fall for him. But, however he didn’t seem to be joking. "Shit you really are serious".

He was feeling a bit embarassed now, his cheeks burning and his heart pounding in his chest. "You gonna judge me ?" "Not my style" You gave him a comforting smile, letting him know you were not making fun of him and never would. "How is that possible tho? I mean look at you. I'll die for those abs" A little laugh escaped him, no one ever told him things like this. He couldn't deny the fact it was clearly a boost for his ego. "I-i don't know, I was so focused on my hero training that I never found the time to... do it" "It's not a curse word you know you can say it" "What ?" "You can say sex, the sky's not gonna fall".

"Fine. I never... had sex." It was so cute how flustered he got, all by saying just one word. You were inexplicably attracted to him. He was always attractive in your eyes, but now that you had discovered this new side of him, you needed to know more. You wanted to know all the little secrets he was hiding.

"You know... I kinda want to have sex with you right now Kiri" He was unable to move, completely frozen in place. Having trouble breathing and drops of sweat running down his forehead. You were giggling, seeing him like this truly was a blessing. He was babbling, trying to form a coherent sentence but you shut him by grabbing his hand and guiding him outside the bar.

The car ride was surprisingly silent. Kiri was trying his best to keep it all together, preventing his heart from exploding.

You finally reached his apartment, everything was clean and tidy. Everything in its place. The total opposite of your loft which was a total mess. You don’t even give him time to close the door, you throw yourself on his lips to kiss him. They're fleshy and soft, waiting to be kissed. His body almost respond immediately to your touch. Picking you up with his strong arms that he carved for years. He simply carries you through the apartment, before putting you down on his bed.

The sudden confidence he gained earlier evaporates when he sees you on the bed. His bed. The one he sleeps in everynight. The one he would touch himself in when he could no longer contain his needs. You noticed the change of expression in his eyes and take control of the situation. You take off your top and switch place with him. Now he's the one on the bed, looking at you from below with adorable innocent eyes.

"Do you want me to strip for you baby? Does this would make you hard ?" "Ye-Yeah definitely." With a smirk you slowly started to get rid of your clothes. Being as slow as possible to tease him. You would eventually let him help you unclapping your bra. When you are fully naked in front of him, you come closer to him not once looking away from his beautiful eyes. "I think it's your turn now". You grab the bottom of his shirt waiting for his consent to take it off. Once you see him nod, you wast no time in removing every piece of clothes he was wearing. Leaving him in only an underwear. Through the fabric you can guess how big and hard he is. "Is it ok if i take this off" His only answer is a muffled whimper that makes you smile.

After taking his boxer off, you take some time to look at his dick. It's huge, like really huge. You gently stroke it before taking it in your mouth. Kirishima feels like he's gonna cum immediately when he feels your tongue circling around his tip. He never felt something like this. It's too much for him to handle. He has to restraint himself from cumming because he doesn't want you to think he's a needy little virgin. But without surprise, he fails and after less than 5 minutes your mouth is already full of his cum. Guilt takes hold of him but you confort him when you swallow it all.

You get back up and quickly find a place on his lap "You did so well for me baby. Now you gonna let me ride you uh ?"

"Yes please"

It's unbelievable how messy and vulnerable he looks right now. Probably one of the prettiest thing you ever saw. You start to move on his lap before riding him like a pro. Bouncing up and down on his dick. His hands start guiding your hips on him, the room filled with moans and other filthy noises. You're both sweaty and sticky but none of you care, too focused on the pleasure you're feeling. "I'm gonna finish soon" "Don't pull out, p-please" The moves became sloppy and messy before you both came with loud moans. "Shit that was so fucking good"

You give him your best smile before pulling him into a soft hug, letting him know you're not leaving. His first time couldn't have been better and he's happy that he waited for the right person. That he waited for you...

I know I already said it but please use condoms before having sex 🙏 It could save your life (and eventually prevent you from having a baby) Love you all XoXo

[copperbadge]

I'm in a new tabletop game a friend is running, and my weird fortune to accidentally double-class as a tank without any of the power of a tank continues.

I don't play physically strong characters -- I like the comedic potential of halflings and the relative simplicity of non-magic users, so I play weird halflings generally, but I seem to have a knack for using them to beat the shit out of enemies based purely on luck. In this case I was in a party that includes a paladin, and where literally everyone is larger than me with better combat and higher hit points. But I rolled lucky to attack the beast we were fighting, so I managed to land the first hit on him and take I think about half his hit points in a single blow, unarmed.

Well, okay, statswise I was unarmed, I had no weapon modifiers. For color, I had suggested that I improvised a weapon consisting of a couple of weighted objects tied up in a sock.

We determined that to do as much damage as I did, I must have done a running slide under the creature and hit it directly in the nuts.

Later I started a riot by notifying the entire population of our local medieval-style slum that the cops were about to raid, so I'm off to a cracking beginning as a fifty-pound, three foot tall ball of pure chaos.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I gotcha, dawg.

Well, there's lots I could say here, but perhaps the easiest thing to address is you yourself saying you want to remain anonymous so as not to get "in trouble" - I presume from Democrat Tumblr users(?)

In a democracy, you shouldn't have to be frightened to say who you voted for or the concerns you have about an election.

This present climate of fear of saying the wrong thing or using the wrong pronoun or is one of the things I find most refreshing about the Trump train: he's the only mainstream politician in America openly pushing back against Wokeness - which is a 21st rebranding of Political Correctness - which is in turn a perversion of the word "correct" to mean "in line with present party policy" that first appears in Chairman Mao's Little Red Book. Also the only U.S. mainstream politician against the present transgender madness (the castration, sterilization and brainwashing of children) and open borders. These are very commonsense positions necessary for any nation's survival that have massively widespread support amongst the majority of ordinary people, but no-one else in government was doing anything to represent them.

It took an outsider not in the pocket of the donors who own the arms companies and the oil companies and the media companies and the pharmaceutical companies and so on to actually push back against the status quo and have a thick-enough skin and good humour to not back down. That's who Trump is. Yes he's a flawed and sometimes buffoonish-like figure, but the fact that he is a bullheaded businessman has meant he's been able to look at America as an enterprise in decline that needs fixing and overhauling to make "great" again, and just charge through the red tape to do whatever actually needs doing.

The first Trump presidency was a time of democrats and other hysterical left-wing activists burning, looting and rioting in America, but on the global stage it was a time of relative peace: Trump invaded no country or started any new wars (the way Biden did only 6 weeks into his presidency), and there's no reason to think he will this time round either. He did nothing to incite the very silly January 6th free tour of the Capitol Building, but for telling people to be peaceful and go home he - the sitting president - was silenced and booted from every social media platform.

So much was made this election over abortion rights - and I myself have always been pro-choice - but he didn't (and has repeatedly stated he won't) ban abortion but simply made it an issue that individual states can decide for themselves, which makes sense given the range of opinions on that matter in different parts of the country. It's probably my least favourite aspect of his policies, but the fact that such a relatively trivial matter was placed front and center in the Democrats' campaign and all that the hosts of The View and other female media dross could talk about for a year just tells you how shockingly debased and distracted political discourse has become in the west.

I could go on, but rather than addressing one claim after another, I would suggest you simply make a list of all the things you can recall the media and the democrats claiming Trump has said or done, and then go look up the original unedited videos that the out of context soundbites have been taken from, and then ask yourself whether what they presented you with seems a fair and unbiased representation of any individual, and whether it seems reasonable to trust the people who relentlessly deceived you in this way. That would do more to broaden your point of view than anything I could say.

[synchodai]

When I say Tyland Lannister is my favorite character...

I am being 100% dead serious. Here is why I prefer this seemingly average nobleman over the many many many fan favorites in Fire and Blood.

Tyland Lannister is a second son in a story about second sons. Whether his feelings on this are as strong as Aemond's or Daemon's, we never know for sure in the books, but it's obvious that he's subservient to a mirror image of himself who only has more authority because of a few seconds separation between twins. It's a great display of both the arbitrariness and rigidity of succession.

His initial role in the Dance is as the master of coin for the greens. He's depicted as a typical Lannister: charming, comely, and cunning. He did what any savvy accountant would do and divided the crown's treasury amongst different allied regions for safe-keeping, ensuring that if King's Landing were sacked, their enemies wouldn't loot their coffers dry and they'd still have plenty of gold for their war efforts.

And of course, King's Landing gets sacked. Tyland is put in the black cells and ordered to be tortured by Rhaenyra to extract the gold's whereabouts. Winter is coming, people are starving and rioting, her army is dwindling, so she desperately needs that gold. Tyland is gelded, maimed, disfigured, and blinded but the torturers get nothing out of him.

Mind you, this man has been a rich, pampered bureaucrat all his life and he endured all that without breaking. When Aegon II releases Tyland from those cells, he has no fingernails, his eyes have been gouged out and/or sewn shut, this man who was once known for his good looks doesn't look human anymore — but he still manages to maintain his wits so much so that he plays an important role after the Dance.

Even with Rhaenyra dead, there are still armies raising their banners for her eldest surviving son, Aegon Trois. Tyland tells Adult Aegon to kill Child Aegon because obviously, the latter threatens the former's claim and Tyland's understandably angry over what his mom did. Aegon Dos is like, nah, I'll keep the boy hostage instead — that'll keep the armies at bay more than outright killing him.

So Tyland volunteers to go to Myr to hire sellswords for Aegon 2 since their armies are pretty much kaput after six years of this civil war. Tyland is blind at this point I remind you — there is a huge chance this man will never get to go home again. But he does it anyway, because even after years of fighting, he keeps his unwavering loyalty to the monarch he declared for.

Aegon II dies while Tyland is in Myr, and Tyland goes back to Westeros just in time to see Cregan Stark use his powers as the new Hand to marry Aegon III and Princess Jaehaera to unite the green and black sides. Cregan dusts off his hands, says my work here is done, warns the boy king not to trust anyone, then leaves for the North for everyone else to sort this mess out.

Now comes the part where Tyland shines as a character. He becomes the Hand of Aegon III and when you see his policies detailed in the book, it's clear that his goal is focused on repairs and renumerations. After what happened to him, he has every right to be spiteful and bitter against the blacks, but instead he "claimed a curious failure of memory, insisting that he could not recall who had been black and who had been green." He abolished the heavy taxes imposed on the smallfolk, sent out gold to lords whose holdings had been devastated during war, and set out to rebuild the Realm's granaries and fleet. Cleaning up is a tedious, unglamorous job — and because of his monstrous appearance and former allegiances, Tyland was looked upon with distrust.

And yet, while other regents grasped for power and tried taking advantage of the 13-year-old King Aegon III, Tyland seemed to be different. If he wanted power he could have married his twin brother's widow and convinced the boy-king to route more resources towards Casterly Rock and the Westerlands. But he didn't.

Instead, he genuinely seemed to be a father figure to Aegon III.

Tyland Lannister, blind and crippled, had always treated the king with deference, speaking to him gently, seeking to guide rather than command.

And for that, many lords saw him as a weak Hand. But Aegon, who cared for very little and never laughed and was always sullen, seemed to care for Tyland.

When the plague ravaged King's Landing, Tyland dutifully prioritized it over quashing the Ironborn raids at Lannisport. He was the last person to become afflicted with the Winter Fever, and the king sat by his Hand's side during his final hours. When the council starts discussing who should be the new Hand, Aegon (the boy who rarely ever speaks) says:

I would have Lord Rowan as my Hand. Ser Tyland thought well enough of him to offer him my sister’s hand in marriage, so I know he can be trusted.

This boy trusted Tyland, the man who only years ago wanted him dead.

So it's easy to imagine that this man saw Aegon III as the boy he was responsible for, as the son he could never have because of what the war had done to him. Tyland Lannister was a broken man who despite losing everything, his king and his brother and himself, kept a broken Realm and broken boy together when everyone else swarmed like vultures just trying to pick at carcasses.

What motivated this man's loyalty for a boy whose mother mutilated him? Did he regret pushing for the death of an innocent child and this was his penance? Did this man who gave everything for his cause think that this boy was something that could still give all that sacrifice and tragedy meaning? Was the mercy and kindness he afforded an apology for the horrifying trauma that scarred this boy — did he feel responsible for his mother's downfall and the failure to save his uncle? Did his disfigurement and blindness allow him to let go of the man he once was and become someone capable of seeing the folly of pride and power?

Here is his obituary in Fire and Blood:

Ser Tyland Lannister had never been beloved. After the death of Queen Rhaenyra, he had urged Aegon II to put her son Aegon to death as well, and certain blacks hated him for that. Yet after the death of Aegon II, he had remained to serve Aegon III, and certain greens hated him for that. Coming second from his mother’s womb, a few heartbeats after his twin brother, Jason, had denied him the glory of lordship and the gold of Casterly Rock, leaving him to make his own place in the world. Ser Tyland never married nor fathered children, so there were few to mourn him when he was carried off. The veil he wore to conceal his disfigured face gave rise to the tale that the visage underneath was monstrous and evil. Some called him craven for keeping Westeros out of the Daughters’ War and doing so little to curb the Greyjoys in the west. By moving three-quarters of the Crown’s gold from King’s Landing whilst Aegon II’s master of coin, Tyland Lannister had sown the seeds of Queen Rhaenyra’s downfall, a stroke of cunning that would in the end cost him his eyes, ears, and health, and cost the queen her throne and her very life. Yet it must be said that he served Rhaenyra’s son well and faithfully as Hand.

Tyland wasn't extraordinarily badass, noble, or even skilled. He was an excellent politician but no way the best. But I think that's what makes him compelling to me — that he's this down-to-earth depiction of a POW, a war veteran by all accounts, trying to pick up the pieces and slowly glue what remains of the Realm and himself back into something vaguely human.

We tell so many stories about the glory, the tragedy, and the losses of war. But I think it's important and beautiful to tell stories of those bravely and optimistically choosing to keep living in the aftermath as well.

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ 🎧 ✩ a hundred dialogue prompts

(but it’s one lyric each from my wrapped playlist)

¹⁾ “you say you want me, but you know i’m not what you need.”

²⁾ “all i ever needed is here, in my arms.”

³⁾ “call the police, there’s a madman around!”

⁴⁾ “i miss the man i was the moment we left off.”

⁵⁾ “you’d be surprised the places i find jesus.”

⁶⁾ “just trust me; you’ll be fine.”

⁷⁾ “i hope he never lets me down again.”

⁸⁾ “tonight you’ll have the answer.”

⁹⁾ “not what you want- i’m what you need.”

¹⁰⁾ “didn’t call when i got your number but i liked you a lot.”

¹¹⁾ “i take my whiskey neat.”

¹²⁾ “and i’m not here to be the saviour you long for.”

¹³⁾ “are you ready to swear, right here, right now?”

¹⁴⁾ “baby, take my hand!”

¹⁵⁾ “this could all be yours.”

¹⁶⁾ “i’m granting you more than the debt that i owe.”

¹⁷⁾ “am i worth saving?”

¹⁸⁾ “it’s made you colder.”

¹⁹⁾ “can you figure me out?”

²⁰⁾ “come on- take a ride with me.”

²¹⁾ “it’s too late for me now.”

²²⁾ “mama always said i was born on the wild side.”

²³⁾ “i’d sell my soul for you, babe.”

²⁴⁾ “i’ll do whatever it takes. i’ll go to my grave protecting me and mine.”

²⁵⁾ “i’m proud of all my scars.”

²⁶⁾ “i’m not the girl i set out to be.”

²⁷⁾ “lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails- “

²⁸⁾ “i’ll be gone by the morning light.”

²⁹⁾ “summer is slipping through my fingers.”

³⁰⁾ “man, i hate this part of texas.”

³¹⁾ “if you want a cowboy on a white horse… hold on tight, because i’m not there yet.”

³²⁾ “no rest for the wicked.”

³³⁾ “things we buried low are coming to the surface now, my love.”

³⁴⁾ “they say i’m trouble and i don’t give a damn.”

³⁶⁾ “i got a taste for men who’re older.”

³⁷⁾ “it’s my feeling we’ll win in the end.”

³⁸⁾ “i need you to see me for what i have become.”

³⁹⁾ “baby bunny, come clean.”

⁴⁰⁾ “can you taste it?”

⁴¹⁾ “i grew up with a gun in my hand.”

⁴²⁾ “call me when you get the chance.”

⁴³⁾ “they said this day wouldn’t come.”

⁴⁴⁾ “this is an omen. a warning.”

⁴⁵⁾ “that’s how you know that i’m coming for you.”

⁴⁶⁾ “anything to get me to sleep.”

⁴⁷⁾ “five in the morning ain’t no time to say goodbye.”

⁴⁸⁾ “you can’t be my saviour- i can’t be your sinner.”

⁴⁹⁾ “he’s sitting in the corner with a six pack of corona.”

⁵⁰⁾ “take everything.”

⁵¹⁾ “we can be like they are.”

⁵²⁾ “what do you want from me?”

⁵³⁾ “this summer i might’ve drowned.”

⁵⁴⁾ “we were tangled up like branches in a flood.”

⁵⁵⁾ “i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown.”

⁵⁶⁾ “pick yourself up, get back on again.”

⁵⁷⁾ “i need some room to breathe.”

⁵⁸⁾ “did you not say we were made for each other?”

⁵⁹⁾ “well, i grew up in the fallout from the riots in the nineties.”

⁶⁰⁾ “i’m missing you still.”

⁶¹⁾ “i can never take back the pain i’ve caused.”

⁶²⁾ “now i’ve said too much.”

⁶³⁾ “won’t you do this for me, son, if you can?”

⁶⁴⁾ “the damage is already done.”

⁶⁵⁾ “i’m scared of nothing and i’m scared to death.”

⁶⁶⁾ “you can hold me like he held her.”

⁶⁷⁾ “it wakes me in the middle of the night.”

⁶⁸⁾ “wash away the blood on my hands.”

⁶⁹⁾ “the dreams in which i’m dying are the best i’ve ever had.”

⁷⁰⁾ “i won’t back down.”

⁷¹⁾ “leave me alone in the dark.”

⁷²⁾ “i’ve been waiting for her, oh, so long.”

⁷³⁾ “help me to decide.”

⁷⁴⁾ “the money’s all gone.”

⁷⁵⁾ “hell, i ain’t the devil.”

⁷⁶⁾ “would we grow old together?”

⁷⁷⁾ “i’m a few years older than you.”

⁷⁸⁾ “so don’t say you love me- ‘cause you’ll never love me.”

⁷⁹⁾ “i’ve seen it all a million times.”

⁸⁰⁾ “you can always reach me.”

⁸¹⁾ “i don’t know who you think i am.”

⁸²⁾ “my darling believe me, i was born to be with you.”

⁸³⁾ “between the pain, and the way you look- “

⁸⁴⁾ “you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.”

⁸⁵⁾ “oh, i’m gonna lose control.”

⁸⁶⁾ “how d’you live like this?!”

⁸⁷⁾ “do you like that?”

⁸⁸⁾ “would you push me away again?”

⁸⁹⁾ “she’s a bad girlfriend.”

⁹⁰⁾ “today’s music ain’t got the same soul.”

⁹¹⁾ “i’m afraid they’re gonna find you.”

⁹²⁾ “i was far too scared to hit him, but i would hit him in a heartbeat now.”

⁹³⁾ “what am i to do?”

⁹⁴⁾ “come see what i mean.”

⁹⁵⁾ “i’ll never let you go.”

⁹⁶⁾ “getting drunk’s fine, it’s the getting by that’ll get a soul down.”

⁹⁷⁾ “come out from all your hidin’ out.”

⁹⁸⁾ “i ain’t perfect but i’m learning how to be the best i can.”

⁹⁹⁾ “i don’t ever wanna feel like i did that day.”

¹⁰⁰⁾ “and it was my mistake, ‘cause she never said a thing about jesus.”

[fishfission-dc]

Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 4: Jason)

<<Part 3: Tim    |    Part 5: Cass >>

[Masterlist]

Jason: Alright everyone get your hopes way down

Tim: I’m truly terrified of whatever you made for this

Dick: Let’s just be happy he participated!

Dick: Okay yeah nevermind

Bruce: Jason. This is-

Jason: Let’s just be happy I participated

Steph: If I’m not your favorite I’m rioting

Tim: Yeah this is the only right answer

Duke: He really does put up with way too much

Dick: Like childhood Bruce

Bruce: Hn. (in reluctant agreement)

Cass: (signs) I love you too :)

Damian: Cassandra is undoubtedly a very skilled combatant.

Steph: A rare good opinion from Jason

Jason: This is why you’re higher on the hate list

Duke: I am literally so honored, I would like to thank the Academy- 

Barbara: He called you “Nightlight”

Tim: And said your suit is ugly

Duke: I don’t even care. I’m too low on the hate list to care.

Dick: He said you’re going to snap?

Duke: I mean I don’t disagree

Tim: I’M THE FOURTH BEST?

Jason: After some new information learned in the previous presentation, Timmy should probably be a lot higher on the list. 

Steph: Oh calm down Timbo you barely got “tolerable”

Tim: HE TRIED TO KILL ME AND HE STILL LIKES ME BETTER THAN THE REST OF YOU

Barbara: Fair.

Dick: For the record, Jason, we are dating and I am not a cop anymore

Barbara: I still did date a cop though Dick he’s not wrong

Jason: See this is why she’s lower on the hate list than you

Barbara: You’re just scared to cross me

Jason: ...that too.

Tim: AHAAHAH

Damian: THIS IS UNFAIR

Steph: HAHHHAHHA

Damian: I AM NOT DONE GROWING YET TODD

Jason: You’re still short

Dick: It’s okay Damian, Jason was even shorter when he was your age!

Dick: ...crap.

Jason: Thank you for proving my point.

Tim: At least you’re not a cop anymore

Bruce: You broke his nose, Jason

Jason: He deserved it 

Steph: ...wait a minute

Tim: (laughing, in realization) You mean... no

Steph: guys wait no-

Steph: NO WAY AM I YOUR LEAST FAVORITE

Jason: THE F*@#%&$ YOGURT HAD MY NAME ON IT 

Steph: YOU CANT CALL DIBS ITS FIRST COME FIRST SERVE

[squabbling continues]

Dick: I’m surprised Bruce didn’t score the number one spot

Bruce: Hn. (in understanding)

Tim: I thought it’d be me honestly

Barbara: Oh come on, he loves all of us. He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t.

Cass: (signing) Agreed. I can go next?

<<Part 3: Tim    |    Part 5: Cass >>

[Masterlist]

[dynamightsfave]

bakugo katsuki—interviews

bakugo katsuki fucking hates interviews. in every shape and form. public conferences? "i did my fucking job. the building crashed down because the base sucked ass. that's not my fucking fault" one on one interviews? "why the fuck do they have so many damn questions about my methods? let them try and do what i do!" talk shows? "if you're not gonna ask me about my job, i don't know what the hell i’m doing here, my personal life is my goddamn business. also, if i wanted comedy i’d go to the fucking circus, at least the clowns wear their actual uniform instead of shitty suits"

safe to say, dynamight is every interviewer's nightmare. he's a wonderful and attentive person off camera (he’s still an asshole, but a nicer one), but when you start asking him questions and place a camera on his face, the brass defensiveness, one of the things that lingers from his stubborn teenage years, shines through. that and that mouth that curses more than a sailor in their golden years ever has. there's offers to take him of course, being in the top ten heroes ranking of not only japan, but the whole world. he's mostly partnered up in these interviews, so there's someone to lead the talking and answer for him when he doesn't want to give into "the stupidest fucking question he's had the misfortune to hear". 

red riot and shoto are the ones that are usually designated as his babysitters, but other old classmates have appeared onscreen with him as well. even deku, now a teacher, has made special features. but there's never much demand for an individual interview with pro hero dynamight, and if there ever is, bakugo usually rejects them without looking much into it.

which is why, his secretary was very confused when the mention of a last attempt at a talk show made his boss perk up rather than frown instantly. his lip didn’t instantly curl with a groan and his red irises didn’t meet the back of his skull. instead, he curiously eyed the schedule placed in front of him, and gave a curt nod in thanks when he was done. ryu developed a sense of uneasiness that took over his system. surely that was a sign of the end of the world. but he couldn’t really say anything, pinky and chargebolt recommended the interviewer and swore it would go well. maybe they were right? they needed it too, dynamight hadn't appeared on many public events lately. so there's that, now he just had to pray bakugo didn’t fuck it up.

and that brings us to right now, with dynamight taking a seat in front of you and the public’s applause dimming. the tension that fills the air lingers in the audience, and for once, bakugo and his interviewer seem to be completely at ease. ryu can’t help to think to himself that this is yet another sign that the world is about to end, and he wonders if he should call up his family to say a final goodbye. for now, maybe it’s better he focuses on what’s in front of him.

"great explosion murder god dynamight!" you smile at him, as if he was a friend you’re glad to see again, "so glad you could make it!"

you have that magnetism that makes every guest comfortable around you, familiarity being the base of your show. it’s a big part of why it became so popular, the charming host that interacts with their audience and speaks their mind in such an easy way.

katsuki smirks, chest a bit puffed and fingers drumming the armrest.

"sort of didn’t have a goddamn choice, did i?" while his response only makes the people watching tense more, you only chuckle, nodding as if you understood like nobody else.

"we’re our managers’ puppets aren’t we? either way, wonderful to have you," and goddammit, you never sound insincere, "these days it’s hard to have a minute of great explosion murder god dynamight"

"you know what they say, villains don’t rest. and if they don’t rest that just means us heroes have to work twice as hard as them" did he just answer without cursing? oh the world definitely ends today.

bakugo maintains eye contact with you while he lounges on his seat like he owns the place. he’s made hundreds of interviewers and others shrink with that attitude of his, but from the looks of it, you’re not only not one bit bothered by it, but you almost encourage it. your arms flex as you lean in towards him, agreeing with him.

"all right, since i don’t want to waste much of that precious time of yours..." eyes twinkling, you could even say teasing—dare i say flirty—, you tap a small melody onto your notebook with your pen, "let’s dive right in to the questions! promise this won’t be long. first off, i want to solve a doubt i’ve had for some time now"

he arches a brow, accepting the challenge. there’s the same amusement in his eyes that yours have, it sends chills across the room. it’s so weird to see the bakugo katsuki being not mean to someone that isn’t a little kid or a polite fan.

"i’ve said it a couple times now, and i have to admit it’s a bit of a mouthful. “great explosion murder god dynamight”. why that name? how on earth did you come up with it?"

it’s funny. you say it as if it isn’t a mouthful. quite the opposite, it rolls off your tongue like quick, flowing as if it’s escaped a million times, a prayer you know by heart. bakugo rolls his eyes, similar comments follow him practically every day everywhere he goes since he made the name up. he’s built up skin to them, not that they ever bothered him, he’s pretty proud of his hero name. some might say too proud.

"it’s a reflection of everything i am," he winces after a second, "maybe not the murder part."

"i do hear die is one of your favorite words tho"

"yeah well, it’s good to let the emotions out or whatever the hell. i try not to say it as much anymore, people say it’s rude or some shit," his hand makes a fast motion, as if to sweat it off, he really doesn’t give a damn, "anyway, the name’s like that because it had to embody how fucking awesome i am"

"ah, that makes sense," you nod along, not bothered by the curses, "a loud and bright name like your explosions. it does suit you"

at the compliment, the smirk returns to his lips, a small huff with it. he shuffles around to sit higher, now getting an idea of how this interview is going to go. katsuki finds that he doesn’t really mind it, at least the questions are off to a good start. and the host... well let’s just say he likes this one.

"i know, i picked it myself," he states, and you can’t help but laugh at how sure of himself he is. reminds you of a 6-year-old, not a single ounce of doubt in his body about how cool they are.

"would you say it was inspired by something else? maybe a hero you look up to?"

"nah, ‘t was all me," liar.

"i see. a unique name to say the least. but on the topic, is there any hero that you look up to? someone you aspire to be like. other than, i'm sure, best jeanist"

"obviously," he repeats, "but i mean; every kid and their goddamn mother has dreamt of becoming all might, he was n.1 longer than anyone. i’m sort of a basic bitch that way. when i was little i wanted to be like him, so i followed that dream until i made it real. and now i push myself to be as great as he was and more. plus ultra and all that bullshitr"

"wow. sounds like hard work," he grunts in agreement, and you purse your lips, "we all agree all might is a one of the greatest symbols we have, must have been incredible to be able to study under him. you mentioned the school’s motto. can you tell us about that? the ua days?"

katsuki smiles, his eyes drifting away to his hands. you can’t help but think he looks rather handsome, reminiscing his high school.

"in one word: it was fucking insane. he brought a lot of insight about what to expect in the actual field, and how to treat with bystanders—the little motherfuckers—, and he was always pushing us to do our best. he’s the sort of person you just know cares about what he’s doing," he explains, "our homeroom teacher, mr. aizawa was also very much like that, even though he didn’t look it. ua students are lucky when it comes to teachers. but they’re all ungrateful snotty brats"

it’s the first time bakugo katsuki has ever said something nice in public, even if it has some mean side dishes (wouldn’t be something bakugo katsuki said otherwise). at this point, it’s just you two in the room. no lights, no cameras, no audience, not even the questions you’ve jotted down in your notebook. only a conversation between two people. katsuki wonders if it’s a you effect, and he figures it must be, because he’s never as comfortable as he is talking to you. it comes so easy.

you smile, and it takes everything in you to not reach and put your hand on his arm at his words, the reminder of all the people watching in the room and through the cameras a dying reminder in the back of your mind. you like having him here, and you frankly don’t understand why other hosts dread his visits.

"sounds like a wonderful experience. i’ve talked to others from your course and they all speak of it with so much fondness, just like you. even with the hardships you had to endure," you clear your throat, voice dropping to barely a mutter. even the mic strapped to your blouse has trouble picking it up, "but i’m sure you don’t like thinking of them, i know i don’t. so, i know you’ve said all might and eraserhead are big inspirations, but do you have any other people you admire?"

you know you’re pushing your luck. your tone is far too friendly to be considered professional now and he’s not one to be heartfelt on camera. but if you could just get him to confirm what cellophane and shoto said last week... what you just know is the truth, but dynamight is a bit too proud to admit. you can see it in the way he looks away and puffs his cheeks to blow air.

"i mean, obviously, i’m incredibly grateful to best jeanist and edgeshot, they fucking saved my life," his cheeks grow the slightest bit of pink under your intense gaze. he almost chuckles as you nod entranced and edge just a tiny bit closer awaiting for the true answer. he guesses he might as well indulge, so, with a much lower tone, he continues, "and ya know, in class there were others that were pretty good too. not as incredible as i am, but close enough. if i had to pick any, maybe shitty hair and the dumbass deku. i guess"

screw the lights. your smile is blinding. it shines so much bakugo suddenly doesn’t feel like the answer was practically yanked from his throat. this is too much for his rearranged heart.

"that’s funny, they speak pretty highly of you too," you giggle. your eyes clash, and the small smile that forms on his face is instinct, he can’t control it. one, two, three.

"of course they fucking do. they better, else i’ll crush their bodies," he huffs, snapping back to his position before he was gobsmacked by you.

"all right, i’ve just got a couple more questions before we let you go," you get back on track too, despite the heat on the back of your neck, "uhm... oh yeah! well i guess you’ve answered this already, but just in case. you said red riot and deku were people you admired as heroes, i take it they are also the easiest to partner up with? i know pro hero deku is out of commission at the moment, but back when you still worked together"

dynamight actually thinks about this one. he furrows his brows, and his weight shifts on the sofa. he hums as his hand strokes his chin.

"well, it depends on the job. generally, i do like to partner up with them, we understand each other very well, as do everyone form our class. the time we spent training with each other pays off. so yeah, they’re easy to work with. but also, the half ‘n half bastard is quick to respond to what i do, and ponytail is a great strategist when it comes to infiltration or a mission that takes planning. the damn rabbit gets on my nerves a lot, but we make a good team. she should start thinking about retiring though, before she starts dragging me down"

"it’s lovely to hear the heroes of japan are so tight and coordinated. i must say, hearing you praise them is refreshing," your lip gets caught in your teeth in an attempt to stop the growing smirk, but your eyes betray you.

"oi, don’t misinterpret what i’m fucking sayin’. they’re all still pains in my ass, each worse than the last one"

"uh huh... okay, last question. if you weren’t a hero, what would you be?" that takes him aback.

"fuck you mean? i was always gonna be a damn hero. i don’t know. maybe one of those people that handle bombs in the army or some shit like that," he shrugs, but then a beat passes, "a firefighter"

"final answer?" you arch a brow. he grunts an affirmation, "o-kay! well, it’s been a pleasure to have you here, i hope we did not waste much of your time, but you’re free to go now. i appreciate that you didn’t shout"

he chuckles, following your steps as you get up and circle your table to get to him and say goodbye. the audience is clapping for you two, ryu is releasing the breath he’d been holding all throughout the interview, and the camera people are preparing to shut off. you reach him, and just like his smile before, his next actions are pure instinct. even more, they’re almost a routine.

his hand reaches for your waist, and he effortlessly pulls you closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. now, in this routine, it’s not common that you tense up. usually, you wrap your arms around him and nuzzle into his chest. you look up to him, eyes wide, and it takes one millisecond for him to realize what he’s done. he curses under his breath, and you laugh.

"welp, there’s that. no more hiding this," the stunned public is so silent they hear your whispers, "see you at home?"

katsuki gives you that low laugh you love, squishes your waist, and nods.

"yeah, see you at home"

ryu dials his family to say his goodbyes as his boss steps off the stage and the audience recovers from the shock. he prays the call gets through before the world suddenly explodes.

luckily, the world doesn’t combust, and he lives to see the heart magazines with your image on their covers and headlines screaming about japan’s favorite talk show’s host and potty mouth’s newly discovered relationship.

[falllpoutboy]

the ritualistic humiliation of alicent this season was absolutely disgusting and the show constantly needed to remind us that she is the character we should root against all the time and never feel bad for her, everyone else gets a pass because they’re a slave to fate, apparently, but not her. nearly every single plot point this season regarding her is swiftly followed by a punishment, whether literally or narratively.

she starts this season by having clandestine consensual sex with criston cole her sworn sword. they are so bad at being clandestine that otto and larys have clearly suspected something is going on with them. after being stood up by her, larys then replaces her regular lady’s maids with some from his staff so that they can spy and report back to him which makes alicent uncomfortable enough to send them away. that’s punishment #1

she and criston are having sex when b&c happens and are interrupted by helaena and jaehaera running in. but remember, jaehaerys was not the original target of b&c, and the mastermind behind it, daemon is redeemed by the end of this season, so alicent is so much of a POS hypocrite that while she too busy having sex with the LC of the kingsguard, her grandson dies on HER watch. and as much as i loved alicole, i really hate that the writers used their relationship to seemingly punish the characters when they literally haven’t done anything wrong. and now helaena knows about the affair too. punishment #2

alicent is confronted by rhaenyra at the sept of baelor, who lets slip that she heard viserys push for aegon to be king as his last words to her. but oh no, silly alicent, rhaenyra is here to tell you about the song of ice and fire, this stupid prophecy that has been passed from Targaeryen king to heir for generations now. how would alicent have known about it when she is neither king nor heir? doesn’t matter, she’s stupid for believing his words to be literal and stupid for playing a part in crowning her son. punishment #3

alicent takes moon tea, as an abortifacient or as a late contraceptive, we’ll never know! but the very act of taking moon tea is now perceived by grand maester orwylle, who now also has reason to suspect queen alicent has been having an affair. punishment #4

bitter and disillusioned with herself for not knowing about a stupid fucking prophecy nobody told her about and letting her horrible son aegon be crowned (even though the council was planning on installing him anyways), alicent talks down to aegon by reminding him he’ll never be as good of a king as his father (L O L) and he should do nothing. such a rousing speech leads to aegon getting drunk, flying out into battle on his dragon and getting maimed because of it. why did you say such mean things alicent? now look what you did. punishment #5

back at the small council, alicent advocates for herself to be regent with only one person there to agree with her, grand maester orwylle but not even her lover and closest confidant advocates for her. the son she is scared of the most becomes regent instead. silly alicent, don’t you know you will never be respected in a room full of men? how do you like misogyny, something you have apparently never personally experienced until this day, now? punishment #6

alicent goes to the sept of baelor to pray with helaena when a riot mob happens and is forced to retreat. this mob is apparently so righteously angry at not having enough food, they throw fish in her face with such good aim and call her the queen of fishes, alicent trips and falls for leaving helaena behind momentarily, and she also receives a bloody gash on her arm before barely escaping with her life and helaena. oh alicent, didn’t you know that the blockade of ships that carries food into the city which has been enforced by rhaenyra and corlys has actually been your fault the entire time?? punishment #7

back at the small council, alicent confronts aemond and is relieved by her duty on there by him. maybe its because she brings up a theory that he is now avenging the bullying he went through when he was young, which one could argue happened on her watch, is why she gets the boot. oh well, there goes any little ruling power and say in the war effort she had left. punishment #8

alicent sees off her brother ser gwayne who makes mention that their father otto kept her closer to him than gwayne because she was his favored child. Oh! so because alicent was otto’s favorite, it doesn’t really matter that he sold her into marriage and marital rape at age 14 last season. why would you ever want to be otto hightower’s favorite child? punishment #9

alicent also asks about daeron, with gwayne saying how unlike to aegon and aemond he is because he was raised away from them in Oldtown and not by her.. she even says this and gwayne dissuades her of that opinion but honestly, once alluded to that alicent is a bad mom, it’s just her biased brother claiming otherwise. punishment #10

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ ‘sayang’ is a double-edged sword — kuroo x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: based on the headcanon of a half-Indonesian kuroo. in which he learns that the language is full of contradictions.

content warnings: ANGST, mentions of bullying, homesickness

word count: 3.5k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

Sayang. A two syllable word that was the unofficial translation of love in the Indonesian language. Technically love was ‘cinta’, but you didn’t like how it felt in your mouth—bulky and awkward—too big for anything. You liked the way ‘sayang’ sounded better, the way it rolled off the tongue so easily—fleeting, almost carelessly. Sayang.

Aku sayang kamu. I love you.

Your mother called you sayang. You recalled running up to her after school, her arms outstretched and wide open, waiting to wrap around you. The sweet scent of her skin that was like honeysuckle and summer, the warmth of her smile—beaming at you from the driver’s seat as you babbled about your day. She would call you that term of endearment whenever she had the chance.

Sayang, come down for dinner. Sayang, it’s time to wake up. Sayang, have fun at school!

Indonesian was your mother tongue. The first language you had learned how to speak. In a way, your entire childhood was defined by it. There were things in your everyday vocabulary that didn’t make sense, or were different when translated. In that way, you always felt like there was something missing when you spoke English or Japanese. When you left Jakarta during the 1998 riots, your mother, alongside a handful of other families, managed to escape from the fiery wrath of the protestors, sought asylum from any other country that was willing to take you. Some of your friends moved to Singapore, others, Malaysia, or Taiwan—for you it was Japan, a country that once had colonized yours but was now your saving grace. With only two suitcases to your name and your mother’s limited Japanese learnt during her high-school years, the two of you tried to make home in the foreign country. You were starting all over again. Language. School. Friends. It would prove to be difficult.

Japanese kids were mean. Not beating-you-up kind of mean, but snickering-behind-your-back mean. Back home, they would say things to your face, pick fights and shouting matches with you, but here, they talked about you in hushed whispers and lingering gazes. It was in the sharpie doodles on your school shoes and the scattered laughter that echoed whenever you slipped up when you read aloud for the class. You were still bad at Japanese—the language a tangle of syllables in your mouth. Your mother told you that it was because your tongue was just used to speaking Indonesian. You thought it was because Japan was foreign to you, in the bad way. In the way that your body silently rebelled against it by fixing your jaw in ways so you couldn’t say things right—so that years later, even after you became fluent, the trace of your mother tongue still lingered.

That was the first thing that Kuroo Tetsuro pointed out. You talk funny, were his first words to you—finger pointed straight between your eyes. A rage bubbled in your chest at the mention of it. It was something that you were insecure about, something you felt the need to hide. You didn’t even know you were muttering to yourself when you played in the playground’s sandbox until he pointed it out to you, and you hated that, and you made sure to let him know how much you did—through a mash of fists and bruises and a black eye (his, not yours).

Your mother made you apologize—the Japanese way—kneeling, on the floor. You were red hot and flushed, humiliated for having done so. Not for beating up the kid but rather for having been caught, and having to apologize. Why should you? He started it. He was making fun of you. “You talk funny,” psh, he looked funny. His sharp cat-like eyes and almost permanent bed head—how could his parents let him out of the house looking like that? Someone might mistake him for a stray.

That apology was how you found out Kuroo was a little bit like you—half-Indonesian, from his mothers side. The tiny Indonesian population in Japan meant that whoever was from the motherland clung together like thieves at sea. Maybe it was because of familiarity, maybe because of homesickness. In a way, all they had left of their home country was each other, speaking the same language, knowing the same songs, the same streets—sometimes even the same people. For them, this was the closest thing to coming home. This was how you eventually became friends with Kuroo, after years and years of living down the street and your mother inviting him over and attending the same school and making the two of you befriend the other.

It was rough at first. You refused to speak Japanese around him, fearing the same insult would come and jab at you when you would. Despite his mother’s nationality, he was never able to understand or speak the language that you did—part of himself almost denying that part of him after his mother left. Maybe that was his way of getting revenge, refusing to acknowledge his mother’s culture, her homeland.

The two of you would pass the time playing congklak, the Indonesian version of the mancala. You practiced counting this way, dropping the shells in each divot one by one—starting again if there were any remaining. He babbled on about TV shows he watched, or mangas he read, trying to make a point about how Japanese he was, how un-Indonesian, and by extension, how unlike his mother. Sometimes you would watch Ikkyu-san together. Sometimes he would flip through the comics you had brought over—Mahabhrata and Gundala and Bobo. You remember the look on his face as he traced over the pages, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“It’s too confusing, all these words look foreign to me,” he would say, putting them back on the shelf.

“So what?” You shot back, “I had to do the same thing when I came here. Kanji still looks like scribbles to me.”

There was no mashing of fists or sound of crying this time, just a mutual understanding of the others’ struggle. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat and pick up the book again, finger tracing the sentences, sounding out the words—like a child learning how to read for the first time. You sighed, defeated, and sat down next to him, trying to teach him. He was a persistent child, often needing to get his way regardless of whatever circumstances but here he was—docile, obedient. Something between the two of you shifted.

Kuroo began to grow out of his shell in middle school; making new friends on the volleyball team and tagging along during their after-practice escapades, oftentimes raiding the local convenience store for all the goodies. Sometimes you would come with, slipping into the background of conversations and keeping to yourself. You still didn’t like talking in front of anyone—so you kept your lips pressed together and our gaze downcast, a faraway look in your eyes. Of course, this caught the attention of some of his teammates.

“Is she mute?” One of them had asked, hands shoved in his pockets, walking a few steps ahead of you. Despite you hanging back, you could still hear him, but then again, it wasn’t like he made any attempt to speak quietly either. Or maybe he thought that you were also deaf.

“Dude,” he sounds, offended for you, “she’s right here.”

“So? It’s not like she ever says anything. It’s like she’s deaf, or mute—or both.”

Kuroo frowns at this statement. At home, he sits across from you, pencil tapping against the pages of his ignored math homework. You look up at him with your eyebrow cocked, as if, beckoning for him to spit it out already.

“Would it kill you to make some friends?” He asks, words sharp and unforgiving. Your shoulders slump at the question, and you give him a deadpan look before returning your attention to your assignment, already miles ahead of him.

“I don’t need them,” you mumble, “too much of a hassle.”

“How do you survive without them? Like seriously, nobody to lean on?”

“That’s how I like it.”

He grumbles inaudibly under his breath at your response, a mixture of frustration and annoyance echoing through his voice. He chews on his bottom lip before speaking up again, this time, rather boldly.

“You’re not alone.” You look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He thumps his chest with his right hand almost solemnly, like making an oath. “You have me. I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line, not knowing what else to say. Instead, you nod your head in acknowledgement, and return your attention back to your homework. When you are done with the practice questions, you flip over your notebook so that he can copy your answers.

The first time he called you ‘sayang’ was in the spring of your freshman year. He said it after having heard your mother say that as she bid you goodbye for school. He had let it slip, almost by accident, as he repeated the word over and over in his mind as the two of you walked—sounding it out, feeling the weight of it in his mouth. He liked the way it rolled across his tongue, and something about it—the curve of the letters when spelled out, the softness of it seemed so you. When you had heard it, you stopped, the hair on the back of your neck raising as you looked back at him, almost incredulously. He stares back, puzzled at your reaction. This was the first time he had ever seen your reserved demeanor crack.

“What? What did I do?” He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“What did you say?”

“What, ‘sayang’?” His hands move up to straighten his tie, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry, was that a bad word?”

“No, it’s..” your voice trails off, cheeks reddening. You turn around and stomp forward, hands tight around the straps of your backpack. “Forget it. Don’t call me that.”

He stays at his place on the street, feet glued to the pavement, wondering what he had done wrong. The guilt creeps in, and in an attempt to absolve it, he hands you a steaming hot pork bun in between classes, even though the heat burns his skin and his fingertips are still red at the end of the school day. It’s something he’s willing to do for your forgiveness. Over the years he will find that he’s willing to do a lot for it, actually. Later, over dinner, he finds out through your mother that it's actually a term of endearment, something close to ‘my love’. The two of you exchanged awkward, embarrassed glances across the table.

The second time he called you ‘sayang’, it was by accident again—spoken absentmindedly as he thanked you for explaining the assignment. Thank you sayang, he said, before realizing and slapping his mouth with his hand. You looked at him with an equal amount of shock and horror. You excused yourself to the bathroom to compose yourself, and when you returned, the two of you acted like it had never happened. He wanted to apologize, but apologizing would mean having to explain himself, and that explanation would mean having to tell you that he had tried learning Indonesian and thought of calling you ‘sayang’ the same way they did in your mother’s sinetrons (Indonesian soap operas).

And you weren’t sure the exact moment that things had changed for the two of you. Before, it was a co-existence, the understanding that you existed in each other's worlds and just that. Now, it had warped into an odd and unfamiliar shape. He was running up to you in the hall, babbling on and on about every single thing—he was more Kuroo than he ever was before around you. And you couldn’t help but notice how much bolder and brighter he seemed. In the mornings on the walk to school, next to you, smiling through his stories of his strange dreams—you couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were actually hazel and not brown, and for a moment, before your consciousness kicked in, you thought he looked beautiful.

The third time he called you ‘sayang’, it was on purpose. No longer a freudian slip or accident, but deliberately—with intention.

The two of you were in the infirmary—you, pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek, and him, wincing at the sharp sensation. A fight had broken out. It was his friend, that same friend, calling you mute again, but this time Kuroo wasn’t as forgiving. There was the mashing of fists and bruises and a black eye again. His, not yours. Just like when you were kids the first time you met on the playground.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you speak up, finding some strength in the words. A rage bubbled in your stomach. You couldn’t make up whether you were upset at him or for him. He reaches out to touch the skin of your wrist, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort, and tries his best to keep his swollen eye open. The red will turn ugly and purple within a matter of hours.

“I wanted to,” he says softly, almost like a whisper, voice hoarse from yelling. “They don’t get to do that. Not to you.”

Your expression is almost pained, torn between screaming at him for his showmanship or kissing him for it. You couldn’t decide.

“Still,” you sound, “you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he repeats, this time, even softer. His other hand plucks out the second button from his uniform, his chest peeking through. He removes the ice pack and slips the button in between where your hand and his cheek meet. It’s still tender and aching, but the skin of his neck, where your pinkie finger grazed over, was so warm and inviting—so soft it seemed like a shame not to touch. You run your thumb over his jaw, tracing over the shape of it, and he winces. Still, he grabs your wrist and presses your hand against his cheek even harder, turning his head to plant a kiss on the skin of your palm.

You didn’t know your hands could ever feel like that. It was as if there were a hundred million nerves that you didn’t know previously existed, and now, suddenly all firing. It was almost too much.

“Sayang,” he mumbles into your hand, lips tracing on your skin—you don’t pull away. You are mesmerized, struck. How you went so long without having reached out for him you wouldn’t know. Again he calls you sayang, whispering it with his eyes closed, almost like a prayer. You bite your lip.

“Yes?” You answer.

His eyes flutter open, a small look of shock painted that is immediately replaced with relief, and then—a grin splitting his face, lips stretched as far as they could with the swelling. His hands wound tightly around yours, and again, that feeling of electricity, soaring right through you.

“You answered,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“You called,” you reply.

It would take 2 weeks for the black eye to heal completely, but even less time for him to slowly integrate ‘sayang’ into his everyday vocabulary. The word that once seemed awkward and bulky now slid off smoothly from his mouth every chance he got. He liked it. Liked the way it felt rolling off his tongue, liked the way you looked every time he did, but most importantly—he liked how nobody else (apart from your mother) called you that. Like an exclusive nickname, but thousand-fold. He tried learning Indonesian again, as an easy way to impress you. Selamat pagi (good morning). Terima kasih (thank you). Cantik (beautiful). On your birthday, he had prepared and memorized a little speech in your mother tongue. You laughed when he said ‘aku cinta kamu’. You tell him nobody says ‘I love you’ like that.

“They only use ‘aku sayang kamu’”, you explain.

“Why not ‘cinta’?” He pouts, flustered at his mistake. “Cinta also means love, right?”

“Cinta and sayang are different,” you explain, cutting into the cake your mother had baked: pandan with coconut and brown sugar frosting. She searched for the ingredients for weeks.

“Cinta is a declaration. Sayang is a promise,” you place the slice of cake on his plate, pushing it towards him, “sayang is the promise of loving someone no matter what—whether that love is reciprocated, whether it is burdensome.”

He shoves his mouth full in an attempt to soothe his embarrassment. The cake is fragrant and light, a foreign medley of flavors on his tongue. He looks over in your direction, happily digging into the treat, and worries that no matter how much he tries to learn about your culture, there will always be a divide—some unabridged gap he will never be able to cross. When the two of you join a cultural exchange trip to Indonesia in the summer before your senior year, he witnesses firsthand how you spring back to life—like a wilting plant finally being watered.

The two of you ravage through the city, attending bustling night markets and festivals. He watches in shock as you devour heaps of sambal with your food. You bargain with a lady for a fair price on batik, a souvenir and reminder of Indonesia that you wanted him to have. You wear these in weddings, you tell him. His mind wanders to you wearing white, walking down the aisle. You run up and down beaches, drink out of coconuts, plumeria flower tucked behind your ear, and chat with the locals—relieved to finally be surrounded by people who looked and talked like you. He watches you throw your head back laughing, and feels his heart ache. You had been homesick all this time. Trapped in a foreign country and forced to abandon your culture for his, living in a society that merely tolerated her identity, never embracing it. His home was not yours, this he now understood.

So when you told him that you were going to move back for college he wasn’t surprised. The country had recovered from the bloodbath of ‘98 and was now brimming with potential for growth. Even Forbes had called it the tiger of Southeast Asia. Some of your friends were also returning. It was a land of undiscovered opportunity.

“I have to go back,” you explained to him. “In Indonesia, I can be somebody; here, I am always second-class.”

And it stung, because he knew you were right, and he knew that it was cruel to make you stay—like keeping a butterfly in a jar. When he sends you off, he can’t help but think of his mother. That was one of the things the two of you had in common: the both of you leaving him. However, this time he doesn’t cry or scream or beg the way he did. He lets you go, maybe even with a little bit of grace, and he does so because cinta and sayang meant different things and he meant the latter.

“Aku sayang kamu,” he tells you as he waves you off. I love you. I love you enough to let you go.

When the two of you meet again, it will be years later and you will be older. You will be dressed in white and he will be in his batik that you had gotten for him all those years ago. He will stand, awestruck, as you walk down the aisle—not towards him, but towards somebody else, and his heart will ache in the way that it did only for you.

Sayang, he will think, but not in the affectionate way. In the way that implies unbelievable loss.

Sayang. A two-syllable word that’s used to convey both love and loss in the Indonesian language. It was strange, the way something could mean the exact opposite of itself, but Indonesian was strange like that. A language that was filled with metaphors and contradictions. One that is hard to forget, and even harder to unlearn. Each word carried a weight, a duality that made almost every conversation a dance between clarity and ambiguity. It was as if the language itself knew that life was never just one thing; it was a series of paradoxes, constantly contradicting itself, where joy and sorrow often walked hand in hand.

Its counterpart definition implied grief. You used it when talking about missed opportunities, or something that goes wrong when you wish it hadn’t. It almost means: what a shame. It was just one of those things that can’t be translated just as is, because the definition was so much deeper. The same way its first definition meant to love someone unconditionally, the second meant to describe the heartache that lingers in the face of loss, a longing that never quite fades. A word that blended affection and regret all in one and could only be understood by someone who felt both at once.

He felt it then, watching you get married to somebody else.

Sayang sekali, he says.

I love you, and also, what a waste.

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: my debut entry in the haikyuu fandom and its angst 😭😭 aNYWAYS WHERE ARE THE KUROO FANS MAKE SOME NOISE 🫵🫵🗣️🗣️‼️‼️ huge shoutout to @zumicho for having to hear me ramble on and on abt the fic and take forever to write it but it’s finally here !!!! and I’m so excited to share more w u guys aaaa I hope you guys like it 🥰🥰💥💥💥💥