#also looooved how the other characters were written!

[oooohno]

This is not an exaggeration, I’m crying like a baby :’). This is one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever read!

"You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth.

Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don't say them."

This passage right here shifted something inside of me, I had to put my phone down for a second to gather my thoughts. It’s just this moment of pure intimate domesticity between them & it’s like you’re right there with reader when she comes to terms with her feelings & idk this is just the most perfect scene to me 🥺

TO BUILD A HOME ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

synopsis: todoroki shouto is the ideal roommate. he is tidy, quiet, considerate, and one of your dearest friends. you almost wished he were a tactless slob. it would certainly make navigating your feelings for him easier.

tags: GN reader, friends to lovers, pro hero shouto, quirk support engineer reader, living together (and they were roommates!), mutual pining, fluff, alcohol, other character interactions, domesticity, jealous shouto, a little angst, minor oc, love confessions, making out + frottage

wc: 14K+

Shouto’s home strikes a dissonant note with you.

You’re a statuesque centrepiece in his living room, staring out his tall standing windows, paneled wall to wall and making for a beautiful view of the city. There’s a soft shine to it, iridescent from corner to corner. A privacy film to block any view into the apartment from the outside, you’re guessing.

Despite your closeness you’ve never had reason to visit until now. There’s far too much space for one man, you think. Jarringly, it’s as if you’ve stepped into a studio display. A picture perfect bachelor pad— but really, what bachelor pad needed three family sized bedrooms?

It feels awfully lonely.

Shouto heaves the last of your boxes onto the kitchen island with ease. The muscles in his arms flex under his loose shirt, fabric briefly tightening. Unfair, you think. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

Back straightening, you watch Shouto roll back his shoulder and rub at the joint. The movement causes the hem to lift and flash a pale swath of skin, his shorts hung low on his hips. The weight in your arms is somehow heavier with his eyes turned onto you.

“You can set it down,” he says, his tone full of warm mirth. The disbelief must be written plain on your face. Your fingers tighten on the corners as he walks over. Tilting his head, the red strands that have been haphazardly pushed back into white slip over his forehead. You watch his gaze dart over the label scribbled onto the card that reads ‘toiletries’.

“I know. I’m just…” your jaw shifts and you swallow, a frown etched into your brow. “I don’t know. Got a little lost in my thoughts”.

“Feel free to change whatever you like,” his mouth curls into a small smile, scar wrinkling by his eye. You are taken by just how happy he looks to have you here. Shouto seemed the type to appreciate his own space. “I want you to be comfortable”.

“Whatever I like?” you echo teasingly, shucking the box up in your embrace and bumping his shoulder. “Famous last words. Maybe I’ll decide to renovate your other guest room into a mini workshop”.

Shouto exhales a quiet laugh. The air around him is displaced by an ephemeral wave of heat that seeps through your sweater; it cools back to room temperature as quick as it came.

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” he says, and your breath catches. Reaching to poke at the box, he adds, “Do you want me to help you unpack?”

You begin to shake your head. “No, no. I can do all that, don’t worry,” you demurred nervously.

“It wouldn’t be a problem”.

Memories of all the things you managed to salvage in the wreck flicker across your mind's eye. Mugs and plates, a few clothes, oil stained tools and various other inappropriate things you’d rather die than have him accidentally discover.

But he’s staring at you like a restless puppy. You relent, “Maybe you can put away the kitchen stuff then”.

After Shouto retreats you are left adrift to navigate the narrow corridors. The room he directs you to has the biggest guest bed and it shares a wall with his own room. You shuffle in, processing your surroundings. Your linens are freshly washed, tucked in tight at the corners, and they smell like him.

You lower another box on top of the bed and sit by the headboard. The mattress yields. Admittedly it is much more comfortable than your old bed used to be. Soft, you sink into a foamy embrace, smoothing a hand over the matching pillowcases, then reaching up to the shared accent wall.

Reality has hardly set in for you yet. It’s been four days since you lost your home, most of your earthly possessions along with it, and the life you had spent years building. The villain that managed to frisbee a car through your living room had been apprehended but not before destroying half the city block.

Shouto immediately volunteered his own place. You have been close friends for years now, having met during your second year at UA as a support course student. You’d worked with Yaomomo on redesigning her costume for your portfolio and managed to worm your way into their quaint friend group.

Your initial crush on him all that time ago burgeoned into something you’re too anxious to put a name to. When he first suggested you live with him while the city fixed everything you’d wanted to refuse. So far lack of proximity has been your only saving grace.

But you really had nowhere else suitable to stay. A hotel would be too costly in the long run. Your other friends are scattered across different prefectures and those who are in the city are too far from work.

Shouto practically sparkled when you agreed, plucked right out of a shoujo manga.

You remember this as your fingers curled into a loose fist and gave the wall a quiet knock. All the tension accumulated in your shoulders relaxes at the dull sound. “Atleast it isn’t thin,” you mused.

There’s a large closet adjacent to the bed, deep enough that you could crawl inside comfortably. Windows that stretch above your head and overlook the busy streets. You notice that same iridescent sheen, alongside a large blind connected to the control pad fixed by your doorway. They roll down as you fiddle and remind you of those old school projectors from the pre quirk era.

The walls are almost entirely bare. Your imagination drifts to the countless books and photo albums you managed to bring, envisioning them taking up the empty space. It makes you wonder what Shouto’s room looks like. You squash that thought.

When you rejoin him he stands with his back to you, blades shifting under the material as he plays with a small round object held between his fingers. Closing the distance you realise it is one of your stress balls.

His expression is entirely relaxed, bright with a little child-like satisfaction. He pulls at the flexible rubber, rolling it under his thumbs, flattening in between his palms. Your novelty mugs are lined up in the open cupboard right beside his own, entirely forgotten.

As not to startle him you call out gently, “Hey”.

Your voice stalls his movement. Shouto pivots and meets your eyes; they widen as you laugh, amused by his forced nonchalance. He clears his throat, “Hi. Are you happy with the room?”

Humming an affirmative, you sidle up next to him and poke at the ball. “It’s fine, thank you. Nicer than my old place”.

Redirecting his attention to the ball, he squeezes it so hard the foamy rubber protrudes through the gaps in his fingers and lets go, smiling as it retains its original shape. “I liked your old apartment,” he murmurs. “It suited you”.

“Because I’m a mess, you mean?” drawn back into Shouto’s orbit, you lean against his left side. He mirrors your weight until you are like two pillars braced against one another, standing uselessly in the middle of his obviously unused kitchen. Your heart aches recalling all those nights he spent at the agency doing unnecessary overtime. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to come back here.

“No,” Shouto huffs lightly, passing the ball hand to hand. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead he bumps you with his hip, “Come with me. I’ll give you a tour so you know where everything is”.

You are guided back to the genkan; it’s gorgeous, modernised with a calligraphy feature wall that breaks up the light colours. There is a narrow door leading to a coat room and two white cabinets under a granite countertop housing a small decorative bowl painted in Deku’s colours. Inside are your keys and his, the chains entangled.

Very quickly you realise Shouto doesn’t even know where ‘everything’ is. He opens the cupboard doors hesitantly, in a way that suggests he had no idea what is in them. One filled by his shoes and slippers, the other left empty.

The coat closet holds a few jackets you only ever see him wear in winter. He pinches the waterproof puffy sleeve between finger and thumb with a curious sound. Quietly, “I forgot that I had this”.

“You wore it once and Bakugo said you looked like an ugly toasted marshmallow”.

“That’s right,” a smirk pulls at his lips, mouth thin to restrain his laughter. You dip your chin to hide how infectious it is. “He hated it. Maybe I should take it with me tomorrow and wear it around the agency”.

“Please don’t. He’s coming to see me later in the day and I need him in a good mood”.

Shouto glances at you from the corner of his eye, sunlight reflecting through the blue iris. You would recognise that air of mischief anywhere. “I mean it, Shouto!”

“The day after, then”.

“As long as I’m not in the line of fire,” you snort, itching absentmindedly at your forearm where the skin feels tender. Probably bruising after carrying everything up. “Antagonising Pro Heroes should be listed as a hobby on your wiki page”.

You fall in line with his footsteps once more and keep pace until he stops by another door. There’s a laundry room and a separate toilet by the genkan, first door to the right. Upon opening the door the white toilet lid lifts.

You gasp and clutch his bicep, far too excitable to register how firm it is. “You never told me you have a happy toilet. What the hell, Shouto?”

Still nestled in his palm, you notice Shouto squeezes the stress ball until the foam is straining under the stretchy skin but you say nothing of it. He swallows and echoes your words, “A happy toilet?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it's happy to see you! Isn’t it cute?”

He turns with his cheek between his teeth, exhaling a warm puff of air through his nose. “Yeah,” Shouto rasps. “It’s cute”.

The entrance leads to a hallway, opening at the end to an open plan living area and kitchen. A black and white palette, dark stained wood flooring from room to room. You stand by and watch fondly as he opens every half empty drawer. The sectional couch is a welcome splash of colour— deep royal blue, huge, L shaped and plush, facing a 60 inch TV held up by a cabinet with a few books and photographs inside.

You toe at the fluffy grey rug laid out under the coffee table. His place is spectacular, sure, but it isn’t Shouto. While left unspoken it seemed you both knew that. There’s an abashed pinch to his expression that’s endearing, yet sad; you thought he might be embarrassed by how threadbare his home life appeared to be.

“You ever use that thing?” you ask, pointing to the TV. Predictably, Shouto shakes his head.

“Not very much. These days it feels like I only come here to sleep,” he leans over to pick up the remote from between the cushions and balances it on the arm of the couch. “Every few months Uraraka and Midoriya will visit to order food and watch movies with me. You can use it whenever you want”.

The bathroom is opposite your bedroom doors. He taps his own in passing but does not open it. You step into a bright, white tiled room with a double vanity sink and murmur in awe. Above are ceiling lights that give a soft glow, giving it a warm toned hue. Behind a glass door is a bowl shaped bathtub, big enough to fit two.

“Damn…” you whisper, running your fingers over the control pad connected to the tub. There’s a big bath cover propped by the wall. “A sauna button, too?”

“Not that I need it,” he muses, standing by the doorway, hands loosely interlocked as he observes you navigating his space. Intuitively, you get the sense that this is the beginning of a true paradigm shift. His offer had been the fork in the road and your agreement took you down a path soon to be irreversible.

You could survive seeing him at work or out with the mutual friends you shared. You’re not sure how you’ll weather the domesticity that comes with living together.

The reflection in the mirror shifts awkwardly and you grimace at how hard you’re trying to act like a normal human being. This is just Shouto: your good friend and longtime supporter. Just the man you might possibly be in love with.

“We should probably talk about ground rules and stuff,” you begin, hoping it’ll wipe that gentle look off his face before you say something stupid.

“Ground rules?” Shouto pushes off from the door frame with his back straight. He tilts his head, sight following you closely as you scoot past him back into the hallway.

“Like a chore rota and stuff. Rules so we can live in harmony or something. And you still need to let me know how much I’m paying you”.

“But I don’t want you to”.

You pause mid step and turn to stare at him in soft incredulity. “Why not? It’s only right I contribute”.

Steadfast, he holds your gaze and bluntly says, “I have a higher income than you. There’s no need for you to pay me rent”.

“Way to rub it in”.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you laugh at the rare wobble to his voice and knock your hands together as a sign of forgiveness. His eyes squint into a smile. “It just feels unfair for me to ask that of you”.

The hallway falls dim as clouds gather, casting shadows that make the private bubble you’re in seem that much smaller. “But I want to,” you reassured him. “Come on— forty percent?”

“Thirty”.

You hold out three fingers up on the right and five on the left. You try again, “Thirty five?”

“Thirty,” he doubles down, covering the entirety of your left hand with his own. You feel his thumb skim your inner wrist and your resolve breaks.

“…Fine”.

Shouto grins boyishly and you do not acknowledge the flutter in your stomach.

The first few days are cautious despite your desire to behave as normal. At night you found yourself acutely aware of Shouto’s presence behind the bedroom wall. Your senses latched onto every muted bump and creak; the quiet drew thoughts you so valiantly avoided the surface and you could do nothing besides parse through them.

It made sleeping difficult.

You’d wondered if Shouto was having the same issue but the drowsy gait and hair plastered to one side of his head only ever spoke of a good night's rest. He wears loose silk pyjama pants to bed, low on his hips and an inch or so longer at the leg so they always caught under his heel as he walked.

Seeing him relaxed and fumbling like a fawn before his morning tea felt as if a big star was fizzing in your chest. It’s strange, in a tentative way, not an uncomfortable one.

The dust settles and a chore rota is scribbled out on a white board and pinned to the refrigerator with a worn All Might magnet. Your hours are less hectic so you offered to do the weekly shopping. Shouto volunteers for the laundry— his sister set the machines up for him when he first moved and he hasn’t moved the dials since— and taking out the garbage. Together you build a precariously clumsy peace, a mimicry of home.

Things started to change.

A kaleidoscope can take on an entirely new pattern with just the subtle turn of the lense. Weeks lapse. You stopped asking for permission and he no longer sought reassurance that you were happy. Existing parallel to one another, your lives fit seamlessly, though not without effort.

You’ve never known him to be a tactile type of guy— back when you rushed to hug him at graduation he’d brandished his diploma like a weapon before noticing it was you. Now, Shouto playfully hip checks you in the kitchen, he sits closer than he needs to on the couch and texts you at random throughout the day. He brings you a treat if his route overlaps your commute, keeping it hot in his left hand. He even greets you by the door on the rare occasion he finishes a shift first.

Your heart is fatter than ever and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it or where to put it down. After the city has rebuilt your apartment block and deemed it safe you’ll be returning to a normal you don’t recognise anymore.

You’re finalising the upgrade for Dynamite’s summer gauntlets when your phone buzzes on your bench. The vibration carries it closer to the edge and you scoop it up before the inevitable fall, cursing at the oil smeared around the case. The screen lights up.

shouto : 1 minute ago

There’s an image attached with no explanation. You are met with the open skyline, dense clouds of every shape and size dotted across a blue canvas. Shouto’s arm is in the shot, finger pointed towards one cloud in particular.

You squint at it. Zoom in on your phone, tilt it to the side, flip it in the editor and outline it— and nothing rings a bell. It’s a white blob. 

Another notification drops down at the top of your screen. You wipe your hand against your overalls and open it. 

shouto : just now 

ヾ(=^・ｪ・^)

Your nose wrinkles as you glance back to the photo. Granted, it does have two pointed edges that could be interpreted as cat ears if you squinted. Maybe. This isn’t new — he burned his toast three days ago and took a picture simply because it looked vaguely feline. 

you : delivered 

aren’t u supposed to be on patrol? 

The message turns to ‘read’ quicker than expected. You panic and click off the conversation, setting the phone face up on your workbench and reading from your locked screen. Lately, despite living together and seeing one another every day, Shouto seems to have more to say to you than ever. 

shouto : just now

Divine intervention. We should get a cat. 

The use of ‘we’ pings around your head like a pinball. Ever since the initial dubitation smoothed out he's become much more flippant about things— treating your situation as though it were permanent. 

An intern shuffles into the workshop with a thick binder. Not one of yours, you realise. One of Mei’s. They blink curiously as your phone buzzes again, loud where it clatters on the hard surface, and you bite down on your inner cheek, hard, keeping your feelings at bay. 

When handed the papers you breathe in recognition. They’ve been coordinated into two groups, and you’d know that logo anywhere. “The costume applications for the upcoming UA students! I wondered why they hadn’t come in yet”. 

“Yes, for 1A and 1B. Hatsume-san said these ended up on her desk,” they said, gesticulating nervously, “and that I— I should give them to you?”

“Well If not for you I’m sure these would’ve ended up buried under all her discarded prototypes,” you demurred, offering what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thank you”. 

Abruptly, your phone gives another violent jerk and disrupts the moment. The intern squeaks, rigidity returning to her posture, and scurries out with a rushed goodbye. You sink into your arms, forehead pressed to the cool metal. Surely you aren’t that scary.

Turning the screen, you read the texts and sigh fondly.  

shouto : 4 minutes ago

An older cat would be nice. 

shouto : just now

Should we order tonight? 

My treat. 

Your gaze lifts to find the time at the top of the screen. It blinks back at you, the hour changing. Not long until you can head out. 

you : delivered 

it isn’t a treat for me if it’s more cold soba. give me variety or give me death (งಠ_ಠ)ง

The cursor flickers. Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, hesitating on the final letter. Something so minor that feels bigger than it has any right to be. 

“Stop being ridiculous,” you mutter, sending it before your mind can change. 

you : read 

be safe ok? I’ll see you at home. 

When he doesn’t reply you figure he’s returned to his job, thus you return to yours. 

Dynamite was once again trusting you with his gear. Bakugo had been extraordinarily protective over his initial design in highschool. Great bulbous things strapped to each wrist, grenade-like appearance, so big that his arms became pendulous and swung away from his body as he walked. The shoulder strain was immense. 

You fought tooth and nail to get him to accept your adjustments. Now every summer you remodelled the gauntlets to be lighter and ventilated, and in winter you added in insulation and flexibility. 

Respectively, the gauntlets still weigh a lot without additional stored nitroglycerin. You lift, bending at the knees and groaning as you lower them both down into a protective case, slotting into foam padding for protection. No doubt they’d end up rough on the first day but you still wanted them to arrive without a scratch. 

Evening draws near. Closing the lid, it gives a satisfying click. You fiddle with the lock pad and calibrate it to open only for Bakugo’s thumb print before lugging the case to the built-in vault in your workshop, where it’ll be kept over the weekend. 

Mei’s lab is directly opposite your own. Despite the dense soundproofing and reinforced steel concrete the jarring screech of a saw echoes throughout the hallway. You press your hand to the towering door, muscle fibres wracked by vibrations. Bidding her goodbye would be futile— she’s been working on a new patent for months now. The rest of the world fell away when she got like this. 

Heading through to the main lobby, you greet those passing by with a nod, exchanging hurried words. It was always as though time didn’t exist here. People worked all hours, any hours. Flexibility was a point of pride for your company, and seeing someone eat breakfast after midnight wasn’t uncommon. 

You preferred a regular schedule. Routine keeps you moderately sane. A cool breeze gusts through the sliding doors as you duck into the street; you hiss at the immediate change in temperature. Patting down your coat pockets you dig out your phone, sending a one-handed text to Shouto while you slip in your earbuds. 

Cacophonous bustling of the streets now muffled, you scroll through a playlist and click at random. An upbeat melody carries you to the station, scooting through the throngs of people and tapping your card at the barriers. 

You pick up the pace, scurrying onto the train right before the doors close. A stranger glares, looking over your dishevelled state with judgement. You find a narrow corner, left standing on the far end of the carriage, squashed up against the window to make room for other passengers. 

Conscious about the volume. you turned down your music a tad and sank into the confines of your coat. Shouto’s apartment is miraculously closer than your old one, meaning the commute is much shorter, and your time spent in bed is much longer. Three stops pass and the sky begins to bruise. Purple hues blend gently into red, the sun a fiery hearth on the seam of the horizon that blinks abruptly between the passing buildings. 

When you reach home Shouto still hasn’t texted back. You bend to arrange your shoes, coat hung beside his terrible winter puffer. The floor is cold under socked feet, pottering through to the living room in search of the TV remote. 

You flinch as the newscaster's voice blurts out of the speakers. Shouto must have left it on the news channel this morning. Watching the scene unfold on the screen you feel your heart climb your throat. 

Shouto is a hero— a number of your friends are. Villain fights are not only inevitable, they’re a requirement. The truth of it doesn’t make reality any easier to swallow. Uravity is a welcome sight. She’s fighting diligently alongside Shouto, up against multiple villains seemingly working in tandem to destroy the area. 

You always thought villains were a good example of how versatile and powerful even the most innocuous quirks can be. Topspin can morph their limbs into a whirling top, and with years of training has gained the ability to form small tornados using momentum. Another you recognise is Cryo, a woman capable of making her body intangible similarly to Lemillion— though she is able to freeze you temporarily if she phases through your body. 

There are others, too. Criminals you don’t recognise. It’s been a long time since a big group tried to organise in this manner. You worry at your lip, bracing against the back of the couch for support. What you find most concerning is they don’t seem to have a goal. Just mass destruction, plain and simple. 

“Come on,” you think anxiously, nails digging into the cushion as you watch Shouto brace a falling building with his ice, creating an emergency slide for those left inside to escape. You’ve always marvelled at his parallel processing skills— Deku, too. Their thoughts must be running a million miles a second. 

The cameras switch to highlight the other heroes and you realise you’ve been holding your breath. You exhale, physically deflating, feeling the weight of your phone in your pants pocket. Clean up would take a while once the battle is won; curry night is off the table. 

That’s fine. You could forgive it as long as he came back in one piece. 

Evening sinks into night. Shouto comes home after you’ve retired to your bed, though you aren’t asleep yet; you took to staring at the ceiling, waiting for a call from the hospital that you hoped wouldn’t come. 

The distant sound of his boots hitting the floor has relief flooding through your system. You strain to listen as he makes his way through the apartment, deliberately quiet. You hear him head straight to the bathroom. The echo of running water muffles after the door closes with a soft click. 

You check your phone once more, scanning over the recent updates and not finding much. You consider leaving him alone. Villain fights are hard on the body and the heart. Shouto likes space to process things before he speaks on them, and so you don't want to overstep. 

That sentiment dissipates steadily. Five minute intervals that feel like hours. Shouto is in the bathroom for a long, long time. You are seated on the edge of your bed with the covers pulled back when he finally comes out. 

Warm light streams beneath your doorway. Muscles clenched, you daren’t move an inch as a stretch of shadow moves across. Shouto stands outside your room and you stare, silently urging him to knock and give you an excuse. 

After a beat, Shouto turns away. He flicks off the bathroom light and shuffles down the hallway, away from his own bedroom. Your feet tentatively touch the floor and you slide off the bed with hands held out, careful not to knock into any furniture on the way. 

Goose pimples raise across your forearms. You’re in sleep shorts and a ratty old shirt on a cool spring night. No wind and no clouds, the moon hung high and bright. You have never seen the city so eerily still at this hour. 

The air always retains the warmth of his body for a while, and you feel it lingering when you step into the hallway. 

Voice kept to a whisper, you softly called for him, “Shouto?” 

You find him sitting in the middle of the couch. The blinds are up, moonlight flooding in. Shouto is a solid silhouette outlined in white. 

“Did something happen?” 

The fight ended up dragging on for a while, so you’re in the dark. Details about casualties were steadily being released to news outlets as the heroes dug through the remaining rubble. You’ve yet to hear of any deaths, civilian or otherwise, which is a relief. 

He lifts his head, “I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you”. 

“You didn’t,” Shouto’s gaze follows as you shuffle towards him, footfalls loud on the hardwood floor. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

The silence is suffocating. Your vision adjusts to the darkness, stuck on the downturn of his mouth and pallid eyes. “We’re friends right? Friends share their burdens,” you try again, awkwardness leaking out with every syllable. “I’m here for you”. 

He looks away. There’s a dark, disquieting bruise blooming on his jaw. Subconsciously, Shouto presses a finger onto the bruise and the blood beneath it recedes, paling and returning like the tide. 

You don’t sit too close— worried proximity might be suffocating. The couch arm is firm under you, feet propped on the seat cushion. Shouto wets his lips, as if to alleviate the gravity of his words. 

“A group of school children were in the theatre when it collapsed,” he rasps. His hand curls into a tight fist, sparks of fire diminishing between his knuckles. “They were young. No older than ten”. 

“You blame yourself”. 

Turning to you, light casts softly across half of his face, pooling in his left eye. “I was a second too late and now—” he stops, the words caught in his throat. 

“Because of my mistakes those children are stuck with the traumatic memory of being trapped under all that rubble. I... I could hear them screaming”. 

You gulp and slide down onto the couch, guided by the urge to touch him, “Hey. But you got them out safely, yeah? They’re okay, Shouto”. 

His eyes crinkle a bit, if only a trick of your own, and you take it as permission to reach over. One by one you unfurl each finger, massaging your thumbs into his palm to smooth away the crescent marks. 

“We got them out,” he amends quietly, taking a brief pause to find the right words. You spend it appreciating the nicks in his skin, scars and rough edges, proof of his tenacity.

Shouto closes his hand around your own, staring dolefully at the point where your bodies meet. You see it for what it is— a request for comfort — and your palms kiss as you realign your fingers, holding on tight. 

“You know what I think?” 

He hums, curiously peering up through his damp bangs. 

“Those kids? They won’t just remember the bad stuff,” you smile, as tender as you feel, “I think they’ll remember how at ease they felt when Hero Shouto opened the way with his ice to save them. And now they know a hero will always come”. 

The strain bleeds from his bones and his expression opens up in quiet wonderment. “Really?” he asks, his voice small, mouth finally curling. Your heart gives a squeeze. 

“Really,” you affirm, knocking your knees together. Shouto’s smile widens, chin tucking to hide it. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“No. Just bruised up,” he says. An idea clicks into place. 

“Good. I’ve got something we can do to make you feel better,” you scramble to your feet, weight shifting as Shouto’s stare lingers on your bare legs. It feels as though the moon is casting a spotlight, and you resist the urge to pull your shorts down. 

“What is it?” 

“Mug cake!” you exclaim happily, bringing your hands together. Adding an afterthought, “and a movie, too. One you haven’t seen yet”. 

Shouto tilts his head, amused, but stands with you all the same. You notice then that he's changed into a pair of sweatpants, cuffed at the ankles. The t-shirt he’s wearing has a Pinky logo branded across his chest in bubble font. 

“Mug cake?” he repeats. 

“Cake in a mug,” you ribbed, poking at him. You start toward the kitchen. “Come on, it’ll only take like five minutes, tops!” 

“Do we have cake ingredients?” he muses, following close behind. You flick on the recessed light over the stove and root through the cupboards, trying to ignore the natural warmth of his body beside yours. 

“We have everything,” you insist. “I would know. I do the shopping, remember?” 

Hovering unnecessarily close by, Shouto leans back against the counter and observes you with fondness as you list off the ingredients under your breath. It shouldn’t be so magnetising— you can feel something in your chest being drawn in, as though you were two unlike poles meant to come together. 

Meeting his gaze, you look away and try to tame your giddiness. “Quit staring and find me two big mugs”. 

You breathe a little easier when he does as you ask. Two large ceramic mugs are placed on the counter— a hideously priced vintage All Might mug gifted by Midoriya, another with cat ears on the rim and a tail curled into the handle. 

“Will these do?” he murmurs. You startle at the closeness of his voice, nearly dropping the teaspoon in your hand. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yep. Thank you”.

He nods, satisfied. “Tell me what else to do”. 

You grab another teaspoon and hand it to him. The joy in his eyes gleams, so pleased at the opportunity to help. “First we need to put four teaspoons of flour and caster sugar in our mugs, then add two teaspoons of the cocoa powder. You follow?” 

Shouto mirrors each action, always glancing back to your movements to check he was doing so correctly. It is unbearably endearing. 

“Now we add an egg in each— one sec,” the fridge light bursts through the dimly lit kitchen, and you squint, grabbing two eggs from the tray. You give him an egg. “Now crack it into the mug and stir”. 

You’ve ended up with the All Might mug. Using it is nerve wracking; all you can think of is how expensive it was, but the cat mug is Shouto’s clear favourite. Gently, you tap the egg on the counter. A hairline fracture forms on the shell. You push your thumbs in, prying it apart over the mix, letting the whites drizzle. 

Shouto is… faring well enough. There’s clear viscous liquid all over his fingers, and his shell is broken in three, but the yolk made it in. 

You laugh quietly at his sheepish expression as you pass him some tissue. He wipes his hands, leaning to observe while you add three teaspoons of milk and vegetable oil. “Where did you learn to make these?” 

“During my apprenticeship,” you admit. Graduation hadn’t led to immediate incredible offers like it had for Shouto. You needed to get your foot in the door first, which meant working awful hours with shit pay and little recognition. “I was trying to save up back then, so I ate a lot of crap like this”. 

“I’ve never tried it,” he says, repeating the steps as you had shown him. Your fingers brush with a pass of the milk. “I wasn’t allowed treats as a child so I guess I didn’t develop much of a sweet tooth”. 

“That’s just like you,” you grin, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and shaking them in his direction. “Always gotta drop depressing lore in the middle of a nice moment”. 

The truth about the Todoroki family had been outed during your first year, right before the war. It’s a subject Shouto can joke about now that time has mostly healed over those wounds. Granted, his relationship with his father was cautious at best, and his older brother was locked away in a private facility for a good few decades, but things were better. 

“Did you hear me?”

You blink, startled out of your reverie, “What?”

“I said I have plenty more material but you zoned out,” Shouto raised a brow, dipping into the bag of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over his cake mix, “Where did you go?”

“Ah…” you take his mug and set it beside yours inside the microwave, turning the dial to the two minute mark. “I was just thinking I kinda want to kick your dad’s ass”. 

Your heart leaps. You will never be sick of Shouto’s laugh; it’s like hearing his soul. The sound is rich and warm over the loud hum, glass plate turning, mixture bubbling. 

“Don’t worry about that,” the laughter tapers off into an affectionate murmur, body naturally leaning into you, “he’s been kicking himself for years now”. 

“Good—!” the microwave pings, and your soul jumps out of your skin. “Jesus. Why is it always so much louder at night?” 

The mugs are still hot. You press a kiss to your stinging fingertips and step aside; Shouto takes each cake out one at a time with this left hand wrapped around the mug. “Show off,” you pout. 

A sweet aroma fills your senses. They’ve risen well. You lightly scratch the top with your spoon, pleased by the firmness. “We did pretty good,” you chirped. 

“Smells good,” Shouto notes, cradling his mugcake to his chest as though something precious. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Yeah. Let’s pick while it’s still hot”. 

You cast a fleeting look at the counter before you walk around the kitchen island, putting the minor mess to the back of your mind. Bouncing back onto the couch, you run your free hand down the cushions in search of the remote. 

“Where’s the—” Shouto sits to your right and passes it to you. “Did you pull that out of thin air?” 

“Yes. I have a third quirk called ‘remembering where I put things’,” he grins, dodging the half hearted swat you send his way.  

“You’re a real comedian. Just for that I’m picking what I want to watch”. 

Infuriatingly, Shouto looks happy about that, “You know what I’d like anyway”. 

In the end you choose Ponyo because he had not yet watched it— a fact you deemed criminal. You watch his expressions soften at the vibrant scenery, idly pushing the tip of his spoon into the cake. He scoops out a piece and brings it to his lips. 

You try not to beam when he visibly freezes, eyes widening with his spoon held in his mouth. Slowly, Shouto starts to chew. He makes a happy little hum. Three words crossed your mind, travelled down to your heart and diffused throughout your body. You feel them restless in the tips of your fingers. You don’t say them. 

Only then do you let yourself eat yours. The spoon sinks into the sponge, a faint waft of heat bursting from the centre where the chocolate chips have melted. It’s just the right side of fluffy. 

Comfortable silence hung over your heads, masked under the clinking of your spoons against the mugs. 

After the soft thud of an empty mug meeting the table, breaking through the quiet, Shouto speaks. 

“Bakugo mentioned you today,” he says. “Asked me to pass on a message”. 

You hum to indicate that you’re listening. “He said ‘hurry the fuck up or kiss my sponsorship goodbye’, verbatim”. 

“I’m not sure I like those words coming out of your mouth,” you laugh, shoulders shaking with it. Shouto tips his head back, lips twisted to hold laughter of his own. “What a bullshitter”. 

Bakugo liked working with you too much to pull out. Even if he didn’t, the man was a hard nut to crack and refused to trust anyone else with his gear. 

“Are you almost done? Working on his gauntlets, I mean”. 

“They’re finished,” you responded, cheek resting on the heel of your hand. Shouto repositions his hips, turning his body to face you in your periphery while you watch Sousuke and Ponyo eat ramen. “Good and ready for the summer. Now he won’t level half the city when he sneezes”. 

“Thank you for your hard work,” comes his mirthful reply. “Oh, and Uraraka says hello. She wants you to go to the get together tomorrow night”. 

“You know I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, right?” 

He huffed a laugh through his nose. A soft sound that has satisfaction singing through your veins. “I wasn’t planning on going so I forgot to mention it”. 

You run your tongue along your molars. There’s still a lingering chocolate taste. “You aren’t going to go?” you ask, tone trended downwards, plainly implying your disappointment. It wouldn’t be so odd. While you’d befriended Momo and some of class B before ever meeting Shouto, you’re not sure you want to be there without him. 

“I will go if you do,” he eyes the way your shoulders relax at that, attentive to a fault. “They can pick on you instead of me”. 

You roll your eyes with exasperated affection and arms crossed over your middle. “Tomorrow?” mhm. “Is it at that place Denki likes?” mhm. “Thought it might be. Guess I can be your buffer for a few hours”. 

“I’ll let them know,” Shouto murmurs. Colour dances across his skin, shadows moving with the picture on the screen. Ponyo dunks her head into the depths alongside Sosuke and the room is suddenly awash with vibrant blue, and you witness an unwelcome epiphany cross his mind. 

Stated like a huffy accusation, he says, “You know, you’ve worked on most of my friends gear, but never mine”. 

“You never asked,” you reminded him. “And you had connections in my industry already because of your… Endeavor. But I would’a jumped at the chance to get rid of that first costume you designed”. 

Cheek pressed to the cushion, he smiles. “What, was the glacier too much?” 

“It was so ugly Shouto,” you bemoan, leaning closer with your dramatic outburst. “The worst part was it covered up half of your pretty face. Now that’s just bad for branding”.

A soft intake of breath. Shouto’s lips part and you are caught in his awestruck stare. His voice deepens as he asks, “You think I’m… pretty?” 

You swallow and muster up an easy grin, nudging his thigh with your foot. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty, you goof”. 

His eyes lower, pensive for a moment, and then flicker back to the movie. Ponyo is sleepy, and the boat has shrunk, and Sousuke has big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

You can’t help thinking it was the wrong thing to say. 

Eventually the noise settles into static; the kind that makes the shadows seem a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. You burrow into your hoodie, pulling the collar up over the bridge of your nose as Sosuke and Ponyo are reunited with his mother in a vast underwater paradise. 

The earlier exchange weighs on you. Stealing a quick glance at Shouto, you feel your anxiety chip at the expression on his face. Somewhere there, beneath the scar tissue and laughter lines and eye bags, is a small boy watching in awe. 

Neither of you speak until the film comes to an end. Your head bobs along to the final song, drawn into a bubble of nostalgia. Through the thick of it, you hear a whisper. Shouto says your name and there’s barely any strength behind it, uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace, his left arm now outstretched, the intention clear. 

Shouto looks right back. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the small smile on his face. You crawl across the couch cushions and curl under his arm, turning your cheek to watch the credits play out.  

“You looked cold,” he belatedly adds. “Is this ok?”

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years Shouto is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. 

Swallowed by warmth, you guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm. 

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as the faint tremors dwindle and your bones thaw. Fatigue creeps up, making your eyelids heavy. 

Quietly, “Better”. Then you mumble, “And I do think you’re pretty, Shouto”. 

“Hm?”

“Was bein’ a bit of a coward earlier,” you continue, a sleepy drawl to your words. A yawn pulls at your jaw, nose flaring with it. You think you could sink right into him, like a hot bath. “Shouto’s pretty… all… all the time…”

Your weary eyes gave in to the rhythmic stroke of his hand, consciousness drifting away. Soft dreams undulate, drawing you in, pushing you out. There’s a familiar face. They turn into your palms when you cradle them. Your stomach clenches at the sudden weightlessness and you grasp at their shirt, worried you might float away. 

When you wake up you are in your own bed again. It returns to you in fragments— Shouto’s arms around you, his rumbling laugh, the tangible intimacy that had hung over your heads. Realising he must have carried you to bed you turn over to groan into your pillow. 

Eventually, what draws you out into the open is the smell. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you pad out into the living room, searching for Shouto. Leggings, your mind whispers. He’s milling about the kitchen in his workout clothes; a little pair of shorts overtop and a green hoodie. 

“Morning,” he says, placing a small plate onto a tray. You notice two bowls have already been prepared. “I made breakfast”. 

The greeting dies in your throat when he looks up. A stream of dewy morning light illuminates the room, reflecting on the pale surfaces, creating an ethereal view. He combs his hair back with his fingers, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. Your gaze strays from the bruise on his jaw— now turning a sickly shade of green— to the food on his tray. 

“Wow,” you mumble, feeling hunger twist in your stomach. “This actually looks edible. What’s the occasion?” 

It’s a traditional breakfast. A bowl of rice, miso soup with some vegetables, a rolled egg and a plate of grilled fish. Shouto sets a pair of chopsticks down. “No special occasion. I just wanted to cook for you”. 

“God. You are so…” you wave your hands at him, too overwhelmed by the sudden flush of tenderness. 

He blinks, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “You just gestured to all of me”. 

“I just woke up and there’s a prince using my shitty old rice cooker. Forgive me,” you remarked groggily. It feels as if your entire being is a soft spot that he won’t stop prodding at. 

Gathering the tray in your grasp you avoid his stare and make way to the dining table, his quiet chuckle close behind. You sit, unnerved by his presence and fighting off dregs of sleep. The seat is cold under your thighs. “Thank you for the food,” you murmur. 

Chopsticks tucked in the crook of your thumb and finger, you pick up a rolled omelette. The egg tastes sweeter than expected— mixed with more sugar than required, you think, but it’s good, and you finish in the next bite. 

“Are you not leaving for work?”

Shouto hovers across from you; his hands rested on the back of another chair, and stood silently. “How is it?” he deflects. 

Your teeth sink into a tofu cube, umami flavours bursting on your tongue. You hum your approval, making a show of it. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Shouto. Really”. 

Over the years you’ve come to learn that Shouto reacts to praise in subtle ways, and often smiles without his mouth. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice and see it in his spirited stride. You watch as his shoulders straighten. He’s alight, peacocking his pride, and you’re not sure he realises it. 

“There’s a secret ingredient”. 

You pause mid chew, swallowing thickly. “If you say love I’m moving out”. 

Shouto tempers his amusement with a shake of his head. Stray hair falls forward to frame his cheeks.  The chair reclines back on two legs as he leans. “My mother told me that making a meal for someone is a simple way to show gratitude,” he continued. “Thank you for taking care of me last night”. 

Heat simmers under your skin, all buzzing energy and jitters. The sincerity is disarming. Had this been a dream you would’ve kissed him. 

Shoving another tofu cube in your mouth you chew it down to fine paste, vying for time to formulate a coherent sentence. “Don’t thank me for that,” your initial playfulness softened to reciprocate some of his vulnerability. “I know I’m not a hero but I’ll always be there for you in whatever way I can”. 

Whatever his response is, you don’t hear it. Shouto murmurs inaudibly, eyes falling closed with a long exhale. Your only respite is the warmth in his gaze when he looks back at you. “I need to leave now if I don’t want to be late. But I’ll see you tonight?”

You hum an affirmative, nodding around the white rice pinched between your chopsticks. It falls apart gently on your tongue. Covering your mouth, you say, “I’ll be there”.  

Shouto steps away with some finality, readjusting the hem of his shirt. The fabric hangs loose around his hips, emphasising how tight his shorts are. You mentally kick yourself. 

“I’ll text you, then”. 

The day passes frustratingly slowly after Shouto leaves. You technically could be sifting through the new student’s designs, but all you can think about is how charged the atmosphere had been this morning. Retiring back to your room to scream into a pillow or two, you eventually find yourself getting ready. 

Shouto let you know he would be going straight from the agency. He had clothes in a locker here— casual, some jeans and a sweater, which at least allayed the fear of being underdressed.  

You pull on one of your nicer jackets, holding the lapels close to your chest as you step out into the cold evening. Dark cumuli gather in sparse clumps across the darkening sky; as mercy has it, the wind is pushing them in the opposite direction.

The place isn’t far. You don’t frequent it very often but liked it well enough despite management being a bunch of rich guys playing dive-bar dress up. The low ceilings, vintage mismatched furniture and dim red lights created an intimate atmosphere. 

People loved the idea of finding a hole in the wall that nobody else knew about. The catch was everybody knows, but not everybody can get in. 

Flashing above the door in green neon lights is a sign grimly reading ‘The Love Shack’. The first thing you notice is the strong woodsy smell masking the faint scent of alcohol. There’s a floral tinge to it that you have trouble pinpointing. 

You head inside and greet the bouncer standing by the entrance. He’s a big guy, standing around 6 feet 9, mutton chops swallowing a great deal of his face. Resting on his bald crown are a pair of comically small sunglasses. 

Before he can ask for your name it is being hollered across the bar. A few heads turn and you dip your chin to shield from prying eyes. Uraraka is bounding over, Mina hot on her coattails. The pair topple into you with canorous laughter clear over the music. 

“You’re here!” Uraraka effused, grabbing at your shoulders and shaking them. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Shouto has been keeping you all to himself”. 

Mina slumps against you, echoing Ursraka’s words with a slurred whine. “Holy shit. Are you guys already tipsy?” unsteady on your feet you try to keep them upright. 

“No,” Mina tittered, pink lips jutting into a pout. She pokes at your cheek. “You’re just too sober!”

You startle. Another hand, large and hot, splays at the small of your back. The bouncer grunts and encourages you in the direction which they came from. That appears to spur the girls on— you’re dragged to the far end of the bar, a wide booth nestled just around the corner, hidden from view. 

You’re met with a chorus of cheers. Kirishima, Jirou and Shinsou beckon you forward. Bakugo is nursing a pint, offering you a wordless nod. Momo shakes her head as Denki attempts to climb out and greet you despite being trapped by the table, patting his back when the effort is fruitless. 

“Alright, alright. I missed you too,” you grin, helplessly charmed by your friend's excitement. Uraraka ushers you into the booth. You scoot up beside Momo, the group packed in like sardines to make room. 

Mina bends to press a wet kiss to your hairline. It leaves behind a sticky impression of her lips. “Let me go grab you a drink, babe!” she chirps, skipping off toward the bar and immediately draping her upper body over the black countertop to wave the bartender over. 

The conversations resume, an easy atmosphere settling over your group. Though you aren’t entirely from their world they do well to involve you, asking for your thoughts, trying to make you laugh. Jirou blushes under the red lights when you bring up her latest album, sending you an appreciative grin. Mina returns holding an impressive amount of drinks, her fingers slipping dangerously on the condensation. 

You are one strawberry daiquiri in. There’s a muted yet pleasant buzz under your skin, no doubt aided by the good company. Still, you cast an anxious glance around the room, curious about Shouto’s absence. A soft tap to the knee draws your attention. 

Momo turns to whisper in your ear, “Shouto said  he’ll be here on the hour,” answering that unspoken question. Your cheeks fill with an indignant breath, embarrassed by your own transparency. 

“We aren’t attached at the hip, you know,” you rasp childishly. It’s a lie— you’ve lived with Shouto for only three weeks and you have already forgotten where he ends and you begin. Momo laughs, hiding it behind the back of her hand. 

“Could’a had me fooled,” Bakugo interjects, scoffing behind his drink. The glass tips and he drains the last of it. “Your name is all I hear outta his mouth these days. Starting to think he doesn’t know any other words”. 

You hold up an accusing finger, “Quit reading our lips, dickhead”. 

The other bares his teeth, gums and all. He moves his hands in recognisable patterns at a deliberately slow pace, as if talking down to you. ‘Fuck you’ he signs. 

“Oh!” Kirishima claps abruptly. You startle, almost knocking over your drink. He’s so big that it rocked the table. “Check this, Bakugo. I’ve been learning more signs, you gotta tell me if I’m doing ‘em right!”

“Fuck do I look like to you?”

“Like my handsome best bro,” is his smooth reply. Cheeks red as his hair, a cocksure grin flashing his sharp teeth; Bakugo softens, clicking his tongue in feigned annoyance, betrayed by the twitch by the corner of his mouth. You think Kirishima is like an overgrown stray that manipulated Bakugo into being his human. 

Whatever he clumsily signs must have been obscene, because Bakugo roars with laughter.

“Who the hell taught you that, shitty hair?” 

The hour comes and goes. Rings of water collect under the glasses. Shouto is five minutes late. You displace the group, accepting Uraraka’s loose lipped complaints as she is forced to scoot back out the booth. Pinching the fat of her pink cheek, she’s placated by the promise of another round on you. 

“I’ll come with,” Shinsou offered with a lazy wave. 

“Thanks,” waiting for him to get to his feet, you smile. You liked Shinsou well enough. Working as an underground hero meant you didn’t get to see him too often. 

You approach the bar. The man working behind it has gossamer insectoid wings on his back, sprouting from two long slits in his fitted shirt. They glint in the light, colours refracting iridescent, reminding you somewhat of a church window. 

He comes over as he catches your eye, wiping down the sticky surface. You’re honest enough to admit he’s handsome. Rugged with a baby face, hair falling over his forehead in loose curls. There’s an easy air about him, and when he flashes a crooked grin you feel the alcohol a little too thick in your veins. 

Tattooed forearms brace against the bar and he leans into your magnetism, “What can I get ya?”

“They’ll have the same as last time,” you reply. “I think the tab should be under Kaminari’s name?” 

He nods, eyes skimming over your form, “Won’t be long”. 

You turn to find that Shinsou is staring, kissed by a reddish glow. His mouth downturns into a smirk. “I don’t think he even noticed I was here,” he drawls. 

Defensiveness prickles over you. “Don’t think anyone has,” you lightly knock your arms together. “You’ve been quiet tonight”. 

“Not my scene,” Shinsou sinks forward, propped up by his elbow, and rests his chin in the cradle of his hand. His heavy lidded eyes never stray. “But I can’t say no to free drinks”.

The barman works the taps in your periphery but you remain focused on Shinsou. There’s a new scar across his cheekbone, right where his persona mask ends. Another over his mouth, a thin line of rough tissue that cuts through his five o’clock shadow. The mass untameable hair on his head has been cut shorter, tapering around his neck. 

“Leech”. 

“Look who’s talking,” his smirk widens. You watch his gaze slide over your head and dread swirls in your stomach at the gleam in his eye. “I think your nepo baby boyfriend just got here”. 

“Not my boyfriend,” you hiss under your breath. He holds his laughter between his teeth. “And don’t call him that!” 

Shinsou laughs into his palm, low and rumbling. You hear the fond invocation of your name as the heat of another body appears at your back. Met with brilliant teal and stormy grey, Shouto greets you both apologetically. 

Perking up self consciously, you say, “You made it!”

“Hi. Sorry, I got caught up and lost track of time”. 

You’re happy to see him. He’s in fitted jeans and a dark button up shirt over an old black turtleneck. Heterochromatic eyes slide from your smiling face to Shinsou’s own disinterest, then drawn to the drinks that have steadily begun to accumulate on the bar counter. 

“Ah, let me get you a drink—” you wave over the guy who served you, though it is hardly necessary when he’s already observing. He saunters over with a pint of lager, setting it beside Mina’s garish rainbow concoction. 

“Everything alright?” 

Squinting at the messy kanji on his name tag, you think you can make it out. Kei, it reads. “Would we be able to add another to the tab? Our friend just made it”. 

For some reason Shouto crowds in closer, the cool press of his left side seeping through your shirt. Kei barely pays him any mind. “No problem,” a cold flush crawls across your back when he winks. “Anything for you. What’ll it be?” 

“I’ll have a highball,” Shouto interjects. You frown at his sudden sharp demeanour, and lean your weight back in hopes of comforting him. The air warms up. 

Kei’s enthusiasm fractures imperceptibly, “Alright. Let me get started on that for ya”. Shinsou snorted, his head dipped to his chest and shaking; you think you aren’t nearly drunk enough for whatever this is.

“Shit. You really are petty,” Shinsou speaks up after Kei departs to the other end of the bar. “I always thought Midoriya was exaggerating”. 

“Petty?” you echo, squinting at your roommate with a soft pout. Shouto fixes his gaze to the bottles lined across the wall and looks as though he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Highballs are tedious to make,” Shinsou turns his back to the bar, leaning against it with his drink in hand. “You definitely chose that on purpose”. 

“I didn’t,” Shouto monotoned. “I like whisky”. 

“I’ve never seen you drink whisky,” your voice lilts into suspicion. Shouto narrows his eyes, pointedly avoiding yours. A terse beat passes, and you inhale with defeat. “Oh, whatever. Go say hi to the others while we bring the drinks”. 

Shouto blanched. “I can help—”

“I’ve already got a big strong man here to help me,” Shinsou scoffed. There’s an umbrella resting on the lip and a purple straw in his mouth. You put a hand on Shouto’s bicep and squeeze, “You need to let Momo know you’re here before she sends out a search party”. 

The contact visibly placates him. You watch after him as he makes his way to the booth. Slurred over the low music, he turns the short corner to be met with a cheer in much the same way you had. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Shinsou murmurs, amused exasperation clear in his tone. Splitting the drinks into two groups to carry, you ignore his remark and the fondness swirling in your chest. 

Kei appears and sets the highball down. A tall glass of liquid gold, three carved ice cubes fizzing at the bottom, a lemon garnish on the rim. “Thank you,” you tell him, pleased when he reciprocates your sheepish grin. 

You let Shinsou take it— your hands are already full and slipping. The others have pulled Shouto into the booth and sandwiched him between Denki and Mina, whose distinct voices are overlapping as they try to get a word in. 

Denki stops mid sentence as Shinsou slams the drinks onto the table. You do the same, albeit much more carefully. He lists them off one by one, sliding the glasses over to their persons. Shouto’s comes last. 

“And in a surprising turn of events we have Todoroki with a japanese highball”. 

Shouto accepts the drink with his right hand and a straight face, ignoring the harmonious ‘ooh’ that reverberates around the booth. 

Bakugo points his pinky at him, “And since when do you drink whisky?” 

Petulantly, Shouto mutters, “Since now”. 

Ultimately deciding to pull up a chair, Shinsou sits at the head of the table while you are squeezed on the end beside Bakugo; he side glances, raising his brow in acknowledgement. 

“Dude, now that we’re all here, let's have a toast!” Denki exclaims, literal sparks of joy bouncing from his crown. Everybody groans. 

“I’ll hear your toast bro,” Kirishima lifts his pint, the wonderful enabler that he is. Shouto meets your gaze across the table and raises his own with a shrug. 

“I, uh…” Denki shrinks under the pressure. “I dunno what I was gonna say”. 

“To a quick death,” Shinsou proposed, halfheartedly holding his sake in the air. 

“Hear hear,” muttered from beside you, Bakugo’s eyes fell closed. You snickered, alcohol weakening your inhibitions as you hook your chin over his shoulder. He allows it. 

Momo voices her disapproval and tips her glass, “To good health”. 

“To Chargebolt,” Jirou adds, a grin splitting her cheeks, laughter already bleeding into her words. “Seen him at his best, seen him at his worst, and still can’t tell the difference”. 

“Oi!” 

“To a livable minimum wage!” Uraraka hiccups. All the blood in her body seems to have rushed to her face; expression comically determined, betrayed by her spasming diaphragm. Everyone lifts a glass. 

The night crawls on. Another round, then two. Kei refills your glass, never without a flirty comment. You feel thawed from the inside out, a silly smile fixed to your lips. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, from the too-forceful kisses given by Mina, the rough pinch of explosive fingers. 

You might as well be engaged in a game of musical chairs; the only one refusing to surrender his spot is Bakugo. Jirou and Momo slink away somewhere private— ‘private’ being behind the vintage jukebox right by the bathrooms— and Kirishima scoots over to wrap you up in a side hug and pushes all the air from your lungs. Uraraka drapes herself across your front. Shinsou surrenders as Mina sits in his lap. Being with them is as innate as breathing. 

Maybe you didn’t fight a war together but they still embraced you as their own. And Shouto watches with that terrible, awful, shoujo twinkle in his eyes; you flush hot whenever you catch him, inundated by the desire to reach across and kiss him.

Your pulse is quick and movements slowed. A pleasant buzz circulates around your body. After the third round Shouto begins insisting that you stay put. “Okay,” you conceded tipsily. “Tell Kei I said hi”. 

Shouto leaves with a vaguely constipated frown. 

Bakugo cackles and refuses to tell you what was so funny. Momo returns to the sight of you clinging to the stubborn hero’s arm, cursing his name. “What are we laughing at?” she muses. You notice a few things first: there’s a fresh bruise on her neck, a button on her dress undone, and a glass of water in her grasp. 

Disheveled Momo is a rare treat. You’d tease her about it, if Bakugo did not immediately jump at the opportunity to tease you first. “Just gearhead and halfie being oblivious idiots,” he surmised. Another snort bursts from his nose. “‘Tell Kei I said hi’. Shit. Should’a seen his face”. 

“Bakugo,” Momo chides, attempting to disguise her own amusement. “Go easy on them”. 

He clicks his tongue, shaking you with a rough shrug of his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel and fuck already”. 

Your mood tumbles, dampening as you sulk, “Shouto doesn’t want me like that”. 

“Yeah, right. And vice prez didn’t just get fingered by the jukebox”. 

“Bakugo!” Momo’s voice is stronger this time. She whips her head toward the other patrons and back, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I did not get… fingered,” she protested with a sharp whisper. 

“What’s that?” you feign ignorance, drowsy and loose lipped. “Momo got fingered?!”

Making Bakugo laugh feels a little like winning the lottery; having him throw an arm around you as he does it leaves you dizzy with accomplishment. You curl into his side, shoulders shaking. You mouth an apology across the booth and Momo stretches to take your hand, stressing her forgiveness. 

Shouto shatters the jovial atmosphere. He returns stiffly, his glare set in stone, and places a drink you did not order in front of you. After a quick sniff you realise that it’s water. 

“Once you’ve drunk that we should head home,” he says. It’s posed as a suggestion but you hear the instruction. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you begin to sip. 

Momo’s brow pinches with worry. “Is everything alright, Shouto?” 

He breathes harshly through his nose, coming out in a puff of cold air. ”Yes, everything’s fine. I’m sorry to cut the night short, Momo,” his face softens. “It was good to see you”. 

Astonishingly, Bakugo says nothing. His arm snakes from around your back. You finish the water with a big gulp, resurfacing for air. “Done,” you wipe the back of your hand across your lips. 

Shouto steadies you while you awkwardly scoot around the booth. Momo gathers you both into a hug, her kind hand stroking the length of your spine. “Text us when you get home”. 

“We will,” you promise, saluting as you’re gently pulled away. “See ya on Monday, great explosion murder god dynamite, sir!” 

The others have dispersed amongst the small crowd. You mourn not being able to say goodbye to them all. Shouto cinches around your waist and guides you to the door. You can’t complain— instinctively sinking into the embrace, surrounded by his cologne— but you do wonder what the hurry is. 

You waded through the mass of people until you both finally made your way out into the open air. The breeze encourages you closer to his front, cold and refreshing in your lungs. Already you feel as if some of your drunken enthusiasm is dissolving. 

“Shouto?” his pace slows mercifully, coming to a stop underneath a streetlight. The bulb blinks in five second intervals, dousing him in sickly orange. “Are you mad?” 

A warm hand hooks your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye only to avoid looking back. His lips part to speak, and when nothing comes they close. “I’m not mad,” he intoned quietly, thumb skimming over the line of your jaw. Your breath catches. 

He seems so… guilty. 

“I think you are,” you observe, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You bring his hand down and intertwine it with yours. The alcohol must be making you brave. “But if you’re not ready you don’t need to tell me”. 

Some colour returns to his skin. Shouto huffs a disbelieving laugh. “You’re so—” cutting off that train of thought, he tugs you forward and wraps you into a hug. The crook of his neck shields you from the cold, and for a few short moments all you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. 

“…Have you ever felt like there are things you want to say but there’s something that always stops you from expressing them?” 

You take note of how his grip tightens, warm nose squished into your cheek as if he thought you might run. Shouto is nervous— rather, he’s making himself vulnerable to you. “I have,” you murmur. 

He bows his head to burrow into your shoulder, “Then, would you give me the chance to say them?” 

What you hear is: will you be patient with me? 

“Now?” you ask gently. The light overhead flickers again and your vision swims. You’re realising now that his impulsivity might simply be because he’s drunk. “Don’t you want to talk at home?”

Shouto shakes his head. “If I say it now you can change your mind and go back”. 

That’s worrying. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, “…Okay”. 

You expect him to let go but he doesn’t, though he does loosen his hold, as if giving you the chance to leave. Following a deep inhale, Shouto solemnly admits, “That guy at the bar. Kei. He asked me to give you his phone number”.  

“He did?” 

“Yes,” he says. 

“So where is it?” 

Dread and fatigue curdled in your stomach. You hear the moment Shouto swallows his caution. The atmosphere sours as he admits, “I burned it”. 

You step back, leaving his arms limp at his sides. He looks betrayed. Like you’re testing the strength of a promise you don’t recall making. This was not a good time nor place to talk about this. 

“My feet hurt,” his eyes widened in confusion. “I’m cold and I’m drunk and my feet hurt, Shouto. I want to go home”. 

The request registers slowly. You watch his face fall, gathering a facsimile of a smile. “Okay. Then let’s go home”. 

Your chest aches. You want to cry. You scramble for his hand and squeeze it tight, hating the despondent tone in his voice. “We’re too drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” and that seems to lessen the rigidity in his bones. 

From then on, the walk is done in heavy silence. Your thoughts are muddied and loud, emotions bouncing back and forth between resentment and uncertainty. 

Underneath all of it is a seedling of hope that you daren’t nurture. 

The atmosphere clings, following you all the way home, suffocating as you stand a metre apart in front of your respective bedrooms. You bid him goodnight, hand lingering on the handle. Anticipation sits like a stone in your chest. 

You lie in bed waiting for him to knock. 

He doesn’t. 

Next time you open your eyes you wince at the throb behind them; it pings around the inside of your skull and you groan into your pillow. 

There’s movement in the apartment. Shouto had always been an early riser. Cold relief washes over you at the confirmation that he was here. Last night filters through your mind. One scene after another you try to make sense of it all. 

Kei had been genuinely flirting— you didn’t really think to take it seriously at the time. It was harmless fun, and you figured he was just the type that enjoyed teasing. 

Shouto must’ve realised it early on. That was the reason he stepped in and kept you away from the bar. But that didn’t line up right with the reality you knew, because the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour would be that— 

You shoot upright, kicking off your covers, and immediately feel it rebound. Thumbs pressed to your temples, you massage firm circles into your skin until the pain dulled. 

Holy shit. Shouto was jealous. 

A strange blanket of exhaustion settles back over you, as though your muscles have atrophied. You slide down the headboard and stare up at the marks on the ceiling, all sprawled out like dropped skeins of yarn. Suddenly your bedroom was a refuge from an inevitable relationship altering conversation. 

Shouto had been jealous of a man vying for your affection. Your Shouto: gentle, placid, considerate, patient, funny, beautiful Shouto. 

“Fuck,” you whisper into the emptiness. You can hear the coffee machine brewing in the distance. You’re torn between screaming into your hands and jumping on the bed. 

You settle on getting up. Slowly. It’s clear you had been drunker than you thought; your pyjamas are on back to front. You tremble as you slip your arms through the sleeves and right the collar, padding over to the door. 

Shouto wanted to talk last night and you stopped him. Guilt gnaws away at you. All that courage was shot down. Pretending to forget about it isn’t an option— you had to do this. 

The plan to be stealthy is squandered by the hinge on your door. A harsh squeak reverberates through the apartment. You huff, lowering from your tip toes, and walk towards the kitchen. 

Another body enters the hallway. Shouto turns on his heel and nearly drops his mug as you almost collide. Reflexes hammered into him, he catches it in one hand and manoeuvres you away from the hot splash with the other. 

“Shit. Did it burn you?” he breathes, bringing your hand up to his mouth. A chilly puff of air blows over your skin and you shiver. 

You clear your throat and try to find your voice. “I think you got it. Thank you, Shouto”. 

The sound of his name pulls him out of his reverie. You try not to feel hurt when he drops your hand like hot coal. “Sorry,” casting a forlorn look at the half empty mug and the small coffee puddle at his feet. Lips pressed into a thin line, he says, “I was bringing you some coffee. Thought you might need it”. 

Delicate tendrils of steam dance and dissipate into the air. You gently cup your hands around his and receive the mug, a small smile pulling at your mouth. His eyes are keen and searching as you take a drink. 

“I definitely needed it,” you tell him between sips. The coffee paves a hot path down your throat to your stomach— the warmth spreads, seeking to fill the spaces between. All the earlier fear is washed away.

The time you spend observing one another feels like a short eternity. You watch hope visibly thread into his features, brighter; the way he always should be. 

Softly, you ask, “Do you think we could talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” the word comes in a whisper. Head inclining, Shouto nods in one slow motion. Then, louder, “I should clean up, first. Where do you want to…?”

“Where?” you repeat. The thoughts in his head are written plainly across his forehead and you longed to rid him of them. Tilting and raising your brows suggestively, you tease, “Bedroom?” 

Shouto gives an amused huff and the remnants of caution are blown away like seeds in a dandelion clock. His steps are lighter, a subtle bounce to them. Light filters into the living room and your spirit is buoyed by giddiness and wonder. 

What had you been so afraid of? 

You wait in the crook of the L shaped couch, legs curled beneath your body, facing the tall standing windows that overlook the city. Your headache has lessened into a quiet echo. 

While he mops up the coffee you finish off the last drops in your cup. You take a moment to appreciate your surroundings. The emptiness you once felt in this room no longer exists. Blankets strewn across the cushions, small crochet coasters, pictures put into frames, books left face down to save the page, things out of place— it felt so lived in. 

It felt like home. 

You sit up when footfalls approach. Shouto is pretty in the late morning light, under eye shadows and all. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“Not much,” he confesses. His weight shifts before he finally decides on sitting beside you, turning to mirror your posture. “I thought I might’ve messed things up”. 

You stretch to put your mug on the coffee table and his eyes follow attentively. “Shouto, you didn’t mess anything up,” he wrings his hands together in his lap, searching your face for dishonesty and finding none. “Though you probably shouldn’t have burned up that guy's number”. 

“Probably,” he affirmed. The hair on his left side is pressed flat to his head. You count the creases on his cheek, stopping at the healing bruise on his jaw. The movement of his full mouth draws you back, “I am sorry for that. It was childish of me and I took away your choice”. 

You hum, shuffling closer on your knees. Shouto’s expression is beautifully open, and you understand it, because your heart beat is thrumming just the same. “Next time, give me the number so I can ask you to burn it myself”. 

Shouto’s fiddling halts. It’s a relief. You thought if he pulled at that hangnail any more he might unravel in front of you. A crease forms between his brows, “What?” 

“I don’t want anyone else’s number. I…” losing some of your strength, you close your eyes for a second. Inhale deeply, continuing on an exhale, “Last night, you were jealous”. 

It’s not a question. Shouto nods, his hand making an aborted reach for your own but thinking better of it. 

You slide your palm against his. Your fingers fill the spaces between his knuckles. Shouto holds on tight and you ask,  “…Why?” 

A nail traces random shapes into his skin. You watch him watching your finger, mouth curled into a small, wobbly smile. He steels his resolve, an internal monologue you aren’t privy to. With spine tingling cadence, he says, “Because I’m in love with you”. 

You’re not sure what you anticipated. There isn’t much that could prepare you for such a long awaited admission— for something you’d only daydreamed about hearing. The hunger in your heart rears its head, seeing his words as permission to want. To take. 

Shouto carries on, incognisant to your plight. “I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. It’s not something I wanted you to worry about”. 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him. “Deciding things for me”. 

“I don’t want you to make peace with them. I want you to share them. With me,” Your eyes meet as he peers up. There’s a stray kiss curl by his temple, white and soaking up the sun. He shudders when you twist it gently around your finger. “I love you too, dummy”.  

Heat prickles at the back of your neck, feeling the shift in atmosphere. “Oh,” is his eloquent reply. A slow blooming grin pulls at his mouth as the reality sets in. 

“Yeah. Oh”. Giddiness bubbles in your chest like water in a wellspring and you let go to cup his face. Shouto leans into the cradle your hands form, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb skims over the scar tissue. His ears are warm. 

Guided by fleeting impulses you press a quick kiss to his left eyelid, and he sucks in a shaky breath. You move lower, nose bumping his cheek, to press another to the corner of his mouth. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, feeling like you were on the delicate precipice of something incredible. His mouth turns to chase yours, bicoloured eyes peeking beneath his lashes. 

“Kiss me,” he murmurs, and it comes like a puff of steam. “On the mouth this time”. 

Your lips tremble as you try not to laugh, aligning with his. You kiss him, petal soft and gentle, and feel it when he smiles. Tentative, derived from uncertainty and unfamiliarity. 

Shouto’s cool fingers slide around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. Don’t go anywhere. You answer in kind— hands sliding down to his chest to guide him back into the cushions and feel his heart racing as you settle your knees either side of his hips. You barely part for air, and Shouto follows your lead. 

“Again,” he mumbles. 

The intensity grows. Shouto kisses like it’s his last. Strong arms wrap around your waist, wandering hands mapping out the topography of your body. Somewhere between, your tongue dips into the seam, biting his bottom lip and plucking a whine right from his mouth. Heat flutters low in your abdomen; hips squirm between your thighs, his chest pressed to your own. 

“Shouto,” you groan, pushing harder, needing to be closer, threading into the soft hair at the back of his head. Fingers curl into the fat by your hips, they pull, rocking you into his lap. Invigorated, Shouto nips at your lips. Arousal spikes through you at the cool exhale— his tongue slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, wet and cold. 

“Fuck, is that—” you pant, head falling back as he begins to leave a trail of hot kisses down your throat. “S’that your quirk?” 

He hums an affirmative. The sound is resonant, deep in his chest and satisfied. Smug. You feel the impression of his smile against your jugular. Static fills your brain. Your thighs clench, rutting forward to relieve the ache between your legs, imagining all the things his mouth could do. 

At some point you part to catch your breath. Your foreheads come together, sharing awed laughter. Shouto cheeks are pink and there’s a soft smile on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips.  His hand moves to cup your jaw, rubbing small circles into the cheekbone.

“We should… slow down…” his chest heaves, eyes swallowed by his pupils. They fall to his lap, right where you’re pressed to his cock. You file away the lazy slur in his voice and wonder if that’s where all his blood went. “…I want to do this properly”. 

Figures that he would have more willpower than you; though you get the sense if you pushed, he’d give, and every surface in the apartment would see you laid out. Gathering your thoughts is made much more difficult as he kneads at your thigh, heedless to your struggle. 

“Okay baby,” you murmur, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his brow bone. His ears turn red and you’re alight, “You like that?” 

Shouto tucks his grin against your shoulder. Like before, he locks both arms around your back and holds you close. You comb your fingers through his hair, overlapping white and red, a long tender moment passing. 

“You love me,” he whispered apprehensively. Then again, thick with wonderment. “You love me”.  

It’s unbelievable to him— and that’s unbelievable to you. Shouto is easy to love, moreso than anyone you have ever met. All clandestine glances, soft spoken words and inside jokes; a book of every witty little thing you’ve said, keeping your words close, giving importance to the things you enjoy; he’s gag gifts and thoughtfulness and open arms, the reason all your hot drinks never go cold, he’s the cream that never melts. He’s home. 

You cradle him to your chest with no intention of letting go. The sun crawls higher, casting a warm blanket over your shoulders. 

“I do,” you reply. “How could I not?” 

[lucabyte]

fundamentally i think its fairly interesting that for the most part when working with quadrants, especially Outside of the context of characters in homestuck (and even in it but like), pity gets relegated to not actually pity and instead just *handwaves generally at the concept of romantic love* but in the sifloop/isiloop paradigm its like, hm no there is actual pity here

people loooove to read the quadrants as Romantic Love / Platonic BROTP / ????? the other one / Hatesex (nebulous concept) id argue sifloop actually fills all the quadrants perfectly as written in the comic since its

PITY (literal pity binding the two together. pity that makes you want to protect someone, be possessive, but not necessarily be nice)

PACIFICATION (which as written by hussie, is NOT platonic besties, but instead explicitly about someone being able to hold you back from being a danger to others by being an emotional outlet) ARMISTICE (okay auspicism is always the fucking goofy one. but to be fair ! they do it ! loop multiple times advises siffrin on how not to obliterate their relationships with people. presumably the same would be true in reverse. Also i think i'd count act 5 loop as "stepping in to stop siffrin being destructive in a relationship" so...? auspicism isnt always between two potential blackrom partners so...)

RIVALRY (hussie makes a point via karkat's continued rants that kismessitude falls apart when the parties just actually legitimately hate each other/dont respect each other/arent on equal footing, and thus its healthier as a rivalry that CAN include genuine hate and annoyance, but is instead more a motivator or driving force for self-improvement because ugh. i GOTTA be better than that guy)

the quadrants are frequently squarshed down to fill the roles that they were critiquing in fandom (i think like a lot of things in homestuck that aim to do this, they are both critique and a perfectly laid narrative trap) but in this scenario, oh boy oh boy if they don't work well as the other thing they were intended to be (a lense to utilise when deconstructing the narrative tools that are characters)

now as for having all of these at once/vacillating. well karkat would be mortified. all that really does is prove hussie right that the lens was arbitrary in its creation, lol. The whole point is that an interesting character relationship SHOULD include multitudes, and not just One Emotion Always Ever LMAO. and also that it's a really good jab at amatonormativity whether intended or not.

[oldstormyy]

hey! i don’t know if you’ve ever talked about it before but i’m curious what your thoughts are on the dynamic of dutch and hosea’s relationship specifically when it comes to the women that have been in their lives- bessie & annabelle/grimshaw/molly- the art you’ve done exploring those relationships has always been really compelling to me and i’d like to know how you interpret them!

thank you that makes me happy becos i love the way these relationships are written.... most of my opinions on any relationships within the gang involving dutch start from the premise that i believe that dutch is genuine and honest in his feelings and words, and that gang members' love for him is also genuine. so i do think he loved molly, he loved susan, he loved annabelle... the thing is, sometimes loving someone isn't enough and things don't work out.

i do think there is always a hyerarchy of importance in dutch's mind when it comes to people, even if he might not admit that to himself. i love the writing in this game because it's nuanced and thoughtful and highlights the flaws in people and relationships. they're chasing the mythical west as much as they're chasing the idea of a family......

anyway i don't have many thoughts involving annabelle because we know nothing of her and i prefer to stick to what we know. i do think it's stupid when people say dutch didn't love her because he never talks about her. like sure whatever you say! as for bessie, i think her role in the story is incredibly interesting, but i did write a post about her here. i do stand by all that and think it's very important lol.

susan grimshaw. i understand why some people find her triggering i do. but i LOVE that she's written the way she is. if she was all good and perfect she wouldn't be as interesting. and i LOOOOVE that she's lived with dutch for most of her life, and they were in a relationship but simply decided to stay friends? fell out of love? we don't know the details, but to me it's incredible that they are like family (and they clearly have a soft spot for each other) after all those years despite being exes. i don't know, i feel like that says a lot about who they are as people--so loyal and dedicated (and also forgiving). the situationships in this gang go crazy WHICH BRINGS US TO MOLLY LOL. now i think this might be one of my most controversial takes but even if molly "deserved better" i wouldn't change a THING about how she's written. it's SUCH a good tragedy. people love to take away her agency and pin it all on dutch, and while i obviously don't deny the damage dutch did, i see her self-isolating and being delusional and spiralling. i see you molly!!!! i think she and dutch are so similar, they have similar character arcs, i would love to see more discussion about that instead of "top 25 moments of dutch being evilTM"

ok i did NOT mean to type so much but when i get started on women in red dead i go crazy. i have so much more to say. i don't even know if this is what you wanted me to talk about? anyway tldr i love red dead because of these relationships and their nuances. sometimes you can love the worst person you know and that experience can haunt you for the rest of your life, and you will find yourself forgiving this person over and over, and you will feel disgust for the love you have, and you will keep on loving anyway <3

[meloethelavendeer]

Some of my Kris headcanons because they are my second favorite character

And also just cause I need to get these down on to paper (?)

Favorite colour is grey

Some other colours they like are blue and pink

15 years old

Loves halloween

Eyes are naturally red

Their knife is a gift from catti

Sort of struggles with being human, wishes they were a monster

Loves psychological horror games, especially indie ones

Autism

Their favorite animals are rats and cats

Looooves the aesthetic of plague doctors and masks in general

Nonbinary, this is quite obvious but still

Struggles with dysphoria a bit, alot of people see them as quite masculine when they just want to be androgynous

Some outfits include all black ones with fishnets and stuff, a cute pink and blue striped dress and a some neat accesories

Has alot of outfits in their wardrobe, just reaaaaally attached to that one sweater.

100% has tried to cosplay their dark world form

Fucking hates the government

Favorite drink is apple juice

Ex Christian (or whatever castle town follows), now an athiest (maybe pagan)

Likes emotional music and classical music.

Has pulled some pretty crazy pranks before, some even getting in the local papers

"A message written in toilet paper has been found in the middle of the road this morning, it spells LIGMA"

Figured out they were nonbinary with the help of monster teen, they were quite good friends.

Loves the moon and night

100% would be bullied and called a furry in human society

Right handed

Surprisingly agile, tries their best to keep athletic but doesn't really work out

Would absolutely adore ultrakill

Just says stuff sometimes, utters random phrases that don't make much sense

Big anxiety huge anxiety suffering anxiety

Enjoys doing stuff with both their hands and feet, has learnt to play games and write using their feet.

They use this to bully noelle for having hooves (light-heartedly, of course)

Paints their nails black

Tries to do make-up but fails miserably and it makes them really fucking sad.

Loves messing with people, irritating them. One might say trolling them

Their voice is quite unique. It's rather deep but they try their best not to have it sound masculine. They often talk quietly so it doesn't really have that gravel to it.

Oh btw amab kris

Grew up on Windows seven

And the ps3 as well

As a older sibling idk how younger siblings work so like no kris and asriel headcanons

Chill with most people unless they are assholes or problematic.

Trying to grow out their hair or at least make it a bit bigger.

Really really wants piercings but toriel refuses to let them have any (asgore has promised he will do his best to get them some for their 16th birthday)

Really jealous that they can't do magic, learnt magic tricks as a result

Pansexual

Gets more real world crushes then fictional crushes

Says really morbid things sometimes as "fun facts"

Wanted to be possessed by a demon and constantly joked about it

Now that it has happened they do not enjoy it at all , and nobody believes them when they talk about it. Except maybe susie.

They do appreciate it when the player tries to do best by them. Which is rare.

They still want us gone though.

Always talks about being evil but doesn't really want to hurt anybody, they care alot about their friends.

Yeah, that's all. A lot of these are projections, tbh but I'm glad I got it down.

[velvetjune]

Alan Wake Night Springs DLC spoilers and thoughts:

This is very vague, but this really was the most Remedy thing to ever exist. My brain exploded at some point from Everything. Good game—you can tell those developers had the time of their life making all this. looking forward to the Lake House as something more serious and similar to the main game/tone.

Episode one with Rose was the best! Stunning from the start until the end and had the funniest moments in any Remedy game. [Rose voice] “𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚”

That fanart was SO good and could’ve been drawn by any irl Alan Wake fan. I can’t even say another or act like it’s embarrassing because I also think Alan is hot. So. Same Rose.

Bad boy Scratch being a werewolf.. Cat boy Alan (and the fucking Nightmare on Elm Street crop top fanart of him) being comically weak and in distress.. Rose dipping him at the end was unbelievably hilarious. Reject alpha male Scratch and embrace wet cat Alan. Every few minutes I had to remind myself that Alan technically wrote this,, his mind,, his perception of himself is incredible

That episode also was fun all around to play. Endless ammo and fun effects with the automatic shotgun. Rose slowly getting covered in blood. She’s already one of my favorite characters after this—she’s cringey in the best (and scarily realistic) ways. I support her

Episode 2: wish this one was longer because I missed Jesse and her awkward and aggressive conversations with others. I thought Dylan would pop up at some point, but of course Alan wrote himself into this twist ending. Couldn’t stop laughing with that. It felt just like the Night Springs eps of Alan Wake 1 lol.

I had the most trouble with some of the sections of this game, but it was fun, mostly just felt like a fool for not initially understanding it. The secret agency and clear references to the Board and FBC were everything. It was just Control: Coffee edition.

Episode 3: Death Rally Tom !! I was beyond happy seeing this. Always nice to see more Zane.

I’m not very familiar with Quantum Break outside of the general story and beginning, so the last episode was So Much. Initial thought: Please no Jesse and Tim in Control 2. It’s almost certainly supposed to be because of Quantum Break, but that version of her waiting for Tim came out of nowhere for me lol (also 😔 because I either want her to be with Emily or not get with someone at all—Control Jesse is so far from Beth Quantum Break/Lisa imo). The “but maybe…” multiverse romance was. whatever. cheesy but in a more negative way.

Another thing that makes me somewhat relieved this is the whacky DLC is that it does address a lot of the vague unanswered questions of the game in the typical sci-fi way (and probably a big win for theorists), and I want to keep that away from most of the main games. I like not knowing things lmao. It’s not a huge deal and I love all the crossovers/realities, but I want future AW (if 3 happens) and Control games to still largely focus on the mysterious horror without anything too definitive or distracting. I’m mostly okay with it here because this is Also an episode written by Alan and hosted by Door, so it’s not reliable—even if I’m sure this is what Remedy envisions when writing these games.

^ something something “In a horror story the victim keeps asking why, but there can be no explanation and there shouldn't be one. The unanswered mystery is what stays with us the longest and is what we'll remember in the end.”

However looooved how the third episode changed the style of the game repeatedly. The very last scene where the words form the writers room and Alan before it abruptly ends was great and the standout of the ep.

I’m not going to try to unpack all this, but it’s interesting how Alan and Door present themselves as being these largely antagonistic forces in this DLC. They’re an underrated duo (the two Masters of Many Worlds). Everything felt like it was Alan purposefully trying to imprint on these realities and influence things in his writing, making certain things parallel his life and circumstances. Reminded me of him attempting to get the irl Koskela brothers to kill each other to get out of the Dark Place. Hard to tell what’s really the truth.

I like Door too much to be scared of him. The jump scares were nicely paced throughout and the echoes of Tim/Shawn/Jack fighting him were interesting.

The tribute for James McCaffrey at the end was emotional and lovely.

[gaylittlerichie]

FINISHED READING CHRISTINE HERE IS MY REVIEW!!!!! 🚘❤️

pros:

* the kills in this were FANTASTIQUE. the final showdown especially and i am notorious for always tuning out during a final showdown. i loooove how relentless christine is and how she keeps regenerating it’s so much fun to read

* the way arnie and christine r high key In Love with each other is so good and camp. obsessed w the way he sweet talks her when he’s fixing her up or starting the engine

* love love love dennis and arnie’s love for each other. i find relationships where they set out to Protect one another (exhibit a the losers club) so endearing and dennis’ loyalty to the very end is SWEET. did indeed shed a tear over the ant farm passage

* further to that i will say this is the gayest king novel ive read yet lol

* arnie is such a tragic character. the repetition of the idea that he’s just a loser and just Needed something to survive (which just so happened to be christine) is fucking heartbreaking. loved his slow descent

* so many good eerie details w the car….the smell of rot, the way she always flips back to the oldies channel, the way her handles feel like warm skin. although i have some issues with the roland d lebay of it all i did also find the image of Decomposing Zombie Driving Car really fun

* i love the time that was given to the issues in the cunningham house and how christinegate bled out to effect all of them. like amongst all the crazy corky car murder i really enjoyed just watching regina and michael struggling to cope w their perfect son deciding he’s not going to college. king is so good at that (thinking of herb and vera in the dead zone my beloved)

* the metaphor i kind of got from it all was to do w childhood best friends growing apart and losing each other and as u can probably guess. broke me

* I LOVED BUDDY REPPERTON…

cons:

* starting this book in dennis pov really put me off. i don’t love 1st person generally but this was also just so….especially dude-y. listening to dennis rant on about how girls’ll never understand the pain of whacking ur balls and the Epic Highs And Lows Of Navigating The High School Hierarchy was just like. straight up annoying

* listen. i have read a lot of early king now i am not trying to retrospectively cancel a 1980s book and know that this comes w the territory. however. the misogyny in this one was almost too much to an uncomfortable degree. again going back to how this is a very DudeCore novel in parts

* she’s only a small part but the way elaine guilder was written was so insanely groanworthy. every single FREAKING line about this freshly 15yo girl is about her Just Budding Breasts and how hyper aware of them her big brother is

* similar issues w leigh. her character truly does not go beyond love interest beautiful girl to me. in general these are all definitely some of king’s weaker characters but leigh especially

* i mentioned it above but i didn’t really like how christine is kind of her own entity but the ghost(?) of lebay is also what’s animating her??? some of the Lore around him was very fun and creepy but i would’ve preferred christine to just be the big bad

TLDR:

in general this took a while to grow on me but grow on me it sure the fuck did. like this book is like my beautiful daughter that i kind of hate a little bit. it’s kidnapping and torturing me but i’ve got an intense case of stockholm syndrome and have fallen in love. super fucking excited to watch the movie

[redriotinggg]

usopp + 3, 5, 12, 13, 21, 22, 23 uwu

hi lunaaaa!!!! thank u for this sorry it’s a little late <333

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character? His whitewashing and loop lips lol. I'm pretty endeared to his personality even when he’s being super annoying, so things I don't like aren't about Usopp himself, but how his character has been treated in the story. Mostly I haaaate that he’s constantly being put in close-combat situations so he can’t show off his sniping. Also I don’t like how so many of his attacks were forgotten, especially post-ts. His gadgets and all those weapons he used against Luffy in Water 7, I miss them! His fighting skills are so under-utilized.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them? The Sogeking theme song and his little character song. But the song Trying by mercury always makes me think of him on Water 7 :(

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? He's naturally right-handed but taught himself to be ambidextrous!!

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot? Obviously these two remind me of him 🤥💛. I think he’d use this one 🤬 a lot because that’s him always.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like? If it weren't obvious, I loooove writing Usopp, he's dramatic and silly just like me, so I enjoy writing him being extra, especially when he’s teasing one of his friends. I need to make him more whiny and annoying tbh, just go full camp because he’s honestly so dramatic.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like? I like when he bounces off other characters really well, because I think he’s always best with someone else to parry with. I also like when his talents are showcased. I don’t like when his dialogue is boring. And I hateeee when people make him super insecure about his looks! He canonically says he’s cuter than Nami so I know he knows he’s a looker.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

There are so many pics of him that I love and this isn’t even my fave, but I saw it again recently and it made me happy. He’s making his crew laugh! As always! Such a wholesome moment.

send me a character for the character ask game!

[intertexts]

TRIVIA TIIIIIME. THIS IS ONE OF THE LONGEST ONES YET !!!! IM SO FUCKING HYPE FOR U TO BE HERE THIS IS A BIG MILESTONE

EPISODE 13 TRIVIA:

- FIRST OFFICIAL PIECE OF MARK WINTERS ART !!!!!! HELL YEAAAAAH THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING COOL. this man haunts me

- bizly is talking about how he was fucking SWEATING all week before they recorded this ep bc he thought for sure william and vyncent were gonna just get in there and mirder the lich immediately. grizzly starts to say something like "no i wont-" and bizly cuts him off like "im not worried about YOU. youre my shining star, my golden boy"

- charlie, in response to this: "well. you should feel better because i cant even win against a WALL"

- grizzly: "i was really hoping youd take the bait and depower the villains. i was hoping to give you a cool idea with that"

- "the lich shouldnt even be alive, hes undead, hes breaking the laws of-"

charlie, interrupting "OKAYYY HEY NOW LETS NOT SAY THINGS LIKE THAT" << GETTING. INSULTED ON WILLIAMS BEHALF. AHA

- Dakotas memory about his dad pranking him in the car is an ACTUAL THING THAT GRIZZLYS DAD USED TO DO !?!?!?!!

- "william took 4 degrees of failure from punching a wall so hard your bone popped out" "yeah kind of like how i took 4 degrees of failure from sniffing a bag of doritos. kind of like how i took 4 degrees of failure from dakota comically picking me up and throwing me into a dumpster. all my trips to the spirit world are so pathetic"

- bizly: "okay let me say. you were going to go to the spirit world at the end of this regardless, i just saw an opportunity there and took it. originally i was gonna have you see a wisp while you were alive and follow it through a door or something" << AAURGRHRGHRGGH. i loooove talking abt williams powers

- HELLOOOOO THE FUCKING ANIMATIC. GOD. MAKES ME FUCKING CRAZY

- they all want to do a body swap episode. fully freaky friday moment where they cant switch back until they learn something about each other. i also want them to do this i think it would be funny

- bizly: "i love dakota dakota is one of my favorite characters in media."

(bizly: "because i relate to him"

charlie: "well THATS worrying.")

- "dakota doesnt necessarily *ignore* the why when thing happen hes just really... slow. it takes him a long time to reflect on things. it either takes him a really long time to process things and come to a conclusion OR he will just pull sage wisdom out of thin air because hes so simple minded. he'll just think for a really long time before he comes to these ideals that ive written for him as a player. itll come around, it'll just take him a long time to get there. as a player i know what kind of hero i want dakota to end up as at the end of it all" << i cant even add anything to this. grizzlyplays i am shaking you like a sack of rocks

- another mention about how dakota and chip riptide would be best friends i love this recurring bit

- "what did you guys think about seeing wavelength in the prison"

"uhh. hes mean :("

"it was awesome seeing him again, he scares me"

"it made me feel guilty that we havent found ashe yet"

- grizzly: "if he gets out of prison im gonna kill him" << HEAD IN HANDS

- "william wisp experiences incompetence consistently"

- hey remember in the episode how when william rolled to see if he was okay breathing inside the prison cell and bizly said something along the lines of "youre only hyperventilating because you *think* you should be, youre actually fine" << think about this in context with what you know now :) and hold onto it for the beginning of 14

- theyre talking about what happened between william and mark over the 10 month timeskip: william contacted him at some point, not really about anything in particular, just to ask him if he knew anything about ashe that could help thsm find him/updating him on their progress finding ashe. then when they started playing again william stopped contacting him (for meta reasons, charlie just forgot that was an option BUT) bizly took note of that anyway and thats why mark was so hostile right off the bat. he just like. stopped hearing things from william and didnt know what was going on anymore. so when they showed up here and had no update on ashe whatsoever it just made him think they werent actually doing anything to find him

- grizzly: "man you would thing being in prison and losing his son would give this man some perspective and adjust his personality but he just became more of an asshole"

bizly: "no, the problem is youre not thinking about it from his perspective!! youre only thinking about it from dakotas point of view where hes a villain and hes doing bad things so hes bad. hes just a guy who thought he was doing what he had to do to keep his son safe"

charlie: "okay but he like locked his son up forever"

bizly: "yeah i never said he was a good person! and then some teenagers came along and made him rebel and now he wants to be a super hero and the first thing that happens is he gets possessed" << THANK YOUUUU BIZLY. THANK YOU BIZLY. JUSTICE FOR MY HORRIBLE MAN

- they keep referring to overlord as "alligator guy" because they forgot his name. charlie even at one point goes "yeah and he was a crocodile or whatever, dont you know those are power level 9" << this will never stop being funny to me

- "HEY WILLIAM what do you think about dying again"

- charlie is Very concerned about the no blood thing. his theory rn is that the archway he saw was like "crossing over" for ghosts. like fully passing on and not being ghosts anymore. seeing himself/his memories in the prison cells was very poetic, he kind of feels trapped by himself right now. hes the most curious about the 5 empty chairs and what that could possibly mean

- theyre trying to figure out who the group of 5 could possibly be. williams old group didnt have 5 people, prime defenders doesnt have 5 people even with ashe so they have no ideas right now and are excited to find out more :)

- "williams pretty fucked up right now to be honest!!! we just spent an episode and a half arguing about how we're allowed to kill the lich because its undead and not human. and then he learns hes fucking deteriorating. uh oh! now hes probabky thinking 'am i even a person?' i dont even know if he knows what to think about the spirit world right now i think hes just kind of panicked"

- "if only the ghost of party city were here, hed know what to say about this"

- "how is vyncent feeling right now?" "hes still kind of pissed. his one goal of killing the lich after all these years was just ripped away from him. hes accepted it for now but if that lich escapes. man hes gonna go nuts"

SUCH an insanely good episode dude hoooooly shit. head in hands. everybody say thank u bizlychannel!!!!! man. this was SO good man it really does feel like.... not a turning point, necessarily, but very important. honestly, really glad that by now they've had time to really like, sit with their characters & the world & let it all steep for a while? this season already really feels like such a tonal shift & kind of a step up frm season 1 so far!! (NOT that season 1 also wasn't really fucking good. but a lot of what we've got in s2 so far feels a lot more settled and cohesive) im here for it!!! LOVED the animatic that shit was crazy. if thats a precedent they're setting now im gonna go wild.

I ALSO THOUGHT THEY WERE GONNA MURDER THE LICH. i was like ohhhh great this is how we get the vigilante on the run arc its gonna be so bad theyre never gonna see tide again. phew!!!! i mean, i, too, still think the lich should be dead. but. also yeah WHAT DO YOU MEAAAN THATS A REAL THING HIS DAD DID. FUCKING CRAZY.

what else.. having so many thoughts about william's Situation . as always. man. it's so fucked up. i have no clue where any of it's going dude... the only thought i have is that i don't think. we have any real context for the five thrones thing yet. i don't think that's related to anything we already know except. mayyybe mal. i think that's some spirit world-specific bullshit! we'll see though. we'll see.

YEAH <333 DAKOTA IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS IN MEDIA TOO <33333 auaurrghghhggghhh. ohh hes so everything 2 me. also i love seeing characters who don't Get Everything Immediately. like yeah! you got time to parse through it all in yr brain man. hell yeah rotate it in ur mind for weeks before coming to a conclusion!! no one has their entire belief system hammered out in advance!!

+ also feeling fucking unhinged over mark winters. as always.

[cabeswaterdrowned]

🔥 anything tsc related

the biggest problem with Queen of Air and Darkness to me is that it really should have been two books. I really enjoy the grief exploration in that book in the wake of Livvy’s death felt cathartic to me on reread and I find Julian’s switch-off arc in relation to that fascinating. I enjoy Thule in terms of how it ties into the main arc with the blackthorns although I’m not crazy about the twp set ups from it. Basically there’s quite a bit in that book I do like but as a finale it’s rushed and disappointing. I also do think either Julian or Emma or both dying would have made the ending slay and I say this as someone who clearly looooves them both and Blackstairs (considering how much I love blackstairs as it is think I would be even more insane about it if we got full tragic potential realized).

Grace x Lucie is thee toxic yuri dynamic in tsc and I think ya’ll are cowards for not paying attention to it. Literally the only reason I would reread tlh is to write fic about them ChoI era because someone should.

on a related note Lucie Herondale reads as a lesbian to me, she says at one point she’s never been attracted to a boy other than Jesse who is kind of a phantom she can make into whatever she wants / project storybook romance tropes onto in a sense for most of the books and she reads as more attracted to Cordelia with the whole ‘Beautiful Cordelia’ fanfiction and like I said her most interesting dynamic with the most chemistry is her and Grace, so yeah I get comp het vibes personally I know that’s my subjective read.

I’m pretty neutral on Clary sometimes I really liked her sometimes I was frustrated by her but I do think this counts as unpopular since most either hate or love her. I do think she falls into the 2010s heroine who is written to have an overly romantically focused arc but all her interesting bits of characterization are about tangential platonic dynamics that the author doesn’t care to elaborate on much… but also this could be an ungenerous or overly generous assessment since it’s been years since I touched og tmi. I do side eye some people for giving Jace a lot of grace to be ‘complex’ and process his trauma and be dismissive of how much she goes through in the books ( I kind of hate Jace. without nuance)

I think I deserve one on one Tessa and Julian interactions in twp, not for any logical reason I just think I deserve it since they’re my two favorite tsc characters. And there’s a lot of fan service in recent tsc anyway… let me have this.

Kieran is overrated I don’t dislike him and enjoy him in the context of Kierarktina and as a foil to Julian, but I don’t fervently love him the way a lot of people do. (I also really disliked his fandom when the tda books were coming out so that might influence this).

I want Thule! Emma to come into play in twp … I’m very interested in the idea of her in the aftermath of Thule Julian and Sebastian’s deaths. I had an idea for a fic about her but didn’t write it partly because of laziness partly because I felt I’d have to go back to tmi to remember endarkened lore for that.

Grace Blackthorn discourse was kind of unserious… not because I don’t think people can have valid reasons to dislike her obviously those exist. What she did to James was sexual assault and of course fans who hate her for it are valid. But I COULD NOT with some of statements about her especially on twitter that were like ‘well if she was a Male Character ya’ll would never forgive her and she would never get a redemption arc she only does cause she’s a pretty white girl’ like GORL. GORL what universe are you living in what paranormal/fantasy media do you consume and engage in fandoms for if you think that a male character who does a nebulous magical consent violation is going to get Less grace (no pun intended) from the narrative and fandom than a female character and would NEVER get a redemption arc. I can’t even ya’ll are dumb. If I’m being really generous maybe they just don’t read/watch a lot of paranormal media other than tsc because otherwise I…

Thanks for the ask <3

(send me a 🔥+topic/fandom and I’ll give some unpopular opinions)

[silverzoomies]

I saw the other anon ask about why you added weird accents and kinks and stuff and I wanted to kind of agree I guess. Like they were so right for bringing that up. Personally I’ve seen it a lot too and it doesn’t really seem right, but I’ve been to nervous to say anything because I never wanted to make the writers upset or anything, but now that someone else has brought it up I totally agree.

And this is something that they didn’t bring up but I wanted to. I don’t really mind you’re writing but i’ve noticed that you always swear that Peter would be a fuckboy but he’s also like insecure in the story? Fuckboys aren’t really insecure? And Peter doesn’t really seem like a f-boy to me. I don’t know maybe it’s just a me thing, but he’s always written as a f-boy until he gets with the reader and then he’s like insecure almost and that just doesn’t seem right when talking about Peter. Especially with the whole Dadneto arc, and how Peter is so hellbent on telling Erik he’s his son. I just don’t think a fuckboy would be so insistent on trying to be reunited with his father

THAT...is completely fair !! imma be so honest with you, anon. i understand some readers out there don't seem to like the speech quirks. but i loooove them sm. dont think im gonna stop anytime soon, sorry. ily tho 💗

like the last anon, these are all valid criticisms. if my fics seem super ooc, or inconsistent - for me, that comes with writing smut. because when you're writing filthy stuff, you reeeeallly gotta bend the rules. let's be so real rn, in no universe would quickie get freaky with a zombified reader. he probably wouldn't flirt with a fangirl over a pinball machine just to get laid. nor would he act like the complete jackass i tend to write him as. i don't think he's some sex crazed womanizer in canon. he's probably just a super nice, laid back, but awkward guy with some personal baggage. smut is just for fun, man. im just goofin' around. and if you don't think my goofs line up with his character, that's cool !!

maybe just take a shot at writing him yourself? if you don't like the content that's out there already. if quickie fic on tumblr is giving you "he would not fucking say that" vibes, write your own !! even if you're not a writer, give it a shot !! we are so starved. i'd love to see other interpretations of him please im begging 💗💗💗

[shininguponthestars]

🍠 🍙 🍘 for the writer asks!

oh lord ok

🍠 How long does it take you to write one of your fics or a chapter/part?

let me check. sun falls was written in a day or two i think but that was years ago so i can’t remember. ummm. i think each entry for taking care of was written in like, a few days up to a week? ive lost my record of harrys bc apparently i reused an old doc, but jakes took 3 days apparently & rogers took 5 or 6. & the walt oneshot was done in a night or two because it was mostly a character study fueled by my godawful flareup. as for what im working on currently uh.

well its been rough. ive had other projects to work on. (+ writing ppl inebriated is HARD) as for active days ive worked on it id say ive spent like 4 or 5 days so far

🍙 Is there a fic you wish had gotten more attention?

honestly the jake one mostly bc i rlly like jake and think it works well as a character study. were ignoring everything else about it rn im in it for the CHARACTERIZATION. but jakes an unpopular character unless ur in The Bubble of ppl who like jake so. shrugs!

im pretty preemptively scared for how my next one will do? because its walt. nobody cares or thinks about walt. but im doing this shit myself ok. ppl will think about that guy by hook or by crook

also not necessarily fic but i wish a few of the phoney related asks on lotd got more eyes on them. guuuys the foreshadowiiiing dont we love roger and jake :( come ooonnnnn lets think abt someone other than dave <- so very silly. i love to think about dave

in general though i am astounded when my shit gets ANY attention whatsoever like i keep finding ppl talking abt my work in the wild and it ASTONISHES me each and every goddamn time. so im happy w anything

🍘 Is there a fic or idea for a fic that you've abandoned?

lets go look at a wonderful place i have dubbed my fic graveyard: my notes app!

most of these go here to die because i write them at 1am and they are illegible. this does not make sense because i also write my fics at 1am but whatever! that first one also may be familiar because it is copy paste smth i said in phonecord.

as for ones i actually started / made it past the drawing board, i had a few for miscellaneous fandoms that i just kind of got performance anxiety on. shoutout my npmd time loop fic you wouldve been so cool. sad im never revisiting that! heres an excerpt from a ypwd one

thanx for the qs ^_^ i loooove 2 ramble. heres my rogersport fics cover page which was bestowed upon me via my darling partner

[thegeminisage]

oh boy it's star trek update time. friday night we did ds9's "the begotten" (ohio edition) and voy's "coda" (ohio edition), and last night we did voy's "blood fever" (ohio edition) and ds9's "for the uniform" (ohio edition). (ohio edition is when i watch the episodes like normal but i'm in ohio.)

the begotten (ds9) (ohio edition):

BOOOOOO dr mora BOOOOO

i dislike that both plots with dr mora have involved with odo forgiving him in some small way...it's especially silly since the first dr mora episode had odo semi-forgive him and then in this episode go right back to hating him and then. forgive him again. ok.

it also rings false when dr mora is like yeah it WAS shady but i was under pressure from the cardassians and it was for your own good! vs damn when i realized you were a real person i felt bad about shocking you. like he literally SAID "spoil the rod spare the child" and odo was like "yeah good point" fuck off?? that's different from what he said and how he felt five minutes ago???

that said, i thought the ending was extremely touching. odo's child loving him enough to give him back his abilities WAH. AND!!! i loved how odo got to talk about how much he liked being a changeling and what it meant to him and how he would have liked to have been treated

i also liked the b-plot, aside from shakaar, who i felt was pretty petty and jealous for no reason?? i almost forget kira is seeing him bc we see and hear so little about him. but her missing the baby even though it's not hers is the complex kind of thing i love from ds9

coda (voy) (ohio edition):

so, this was billed to me by imdb as "janeway and chakotay are in a timeloop where she always dies at the end." and the first...15 minutes? was kinda that. and i enjoyed what we got of that immensely. mystery spot but it's your lover who you made a bathtub for once. except they only looped like 3 times

i loved the cpr. chakotay holding janeway's body and sobbing. mwah. immensely rewarding for the me community. what the hell was the rest of that

honestly? tng kinda did this concept better. the like "what if the afterlife is real" concept and then it wasn't that they were dead. like i hate to say that but ro laren did kinda do this better

i like janeway better as a CHARACTER but the PLOT was totally nonsensical. i still don't even know how much of that really happened and how much was her hallucinations. i'm choosing to believe the cpr was real though. and the crying

it was nice getting her dead dad backstory i guess but the whole episode felt very like...sloppily written? thrown together? unfollowable? i really want a timeloop episode :( add "jc timeloop but for real" to the list of fic i'll never write

blood fever (voy) (ohio edition):

I LOOOOVED THIS ONE

i was so nervous bc ive loved vorik since he was in tng and him giving b'elanna his pon farr sounded sexist and bad for both of them. ADDED TO THE FACT that tom paris my beloathed was bound to be involved

but you know what. rights for tom paris i think. i really hope this is a trend and not a fluke because i actually very deeply enjoyed tom paris in this episode

i would have never forgiven him if he fucked her BUT HE DIDN'T FUCK HER. i read there was a lot of improvisation involved in this ep and also that garak's actor directed which probably has something to do with like. how good it was. like i was so worried the whole timje tom paris would fuck her because i was worried about HER and then by the end i was also WORRIED ABOUT TOM PARIS. like was this consensual for HIM (no)

equally, i love how uncomfortable vorik and tuvok were with each other. i would have thought it was just the opposite but then when it happened that was i was like wow of COURSE thats how itd be. like just so masterful all the way around

i even liked their little talk at the end. i thought tom paris was very respectful and tactful which is normally not his forte. like. tom paris good. can he be good all the time please

for the uniform (ds9) (ohio edition):

this one was...fine? i didn't like the constant "javier" coming from eddington and i like even less that sisko played into it with only a few weird looks from worf and kira and zero "what the fuck"s from dax.

i also don't understand the point of the holophone. i would never use one of those

i did like nog doing the relays - i like him so much. and even though leaving on a busted ship was silly i thought it was impressive how they made it work on even less than the bare minimum

i just think sisko going darkside wasn't given enough weight, or they acted like it was fake, when he really did poison that planet? and i thought the constant book comparisons were a little silly and tng like. we literally did get lily calling picard ahab in first contact, and i liked that better than i liked this

NEXT TIME: voy's "unity" (ohio edition) and ds9's "in purgatory's shadow" (ohio edition)

[ryuichirou]

Hi ! First of all I wanna say I'm a huge fan of your drawings, your artstyle is so pretty !! Idia is one of my favs and I loooove how you draw him like he just looks so squishable /very pos. Then my question would be : have you played through chapter 6 yet ? If not, do you have any theories about what is going to happen ? And if yes, do you have any thoughts to share about it ?? I'm super curious to hear your opinion !!

Hello hello! I’m very sorry for replying to you so late, but we were in the middle of watching chapter 6 and decided to postpone our reply until we’re done, so I can share our thoughts properly (Sorry, this is going to be a monster of a reply, I’m going to talk a lot…). Hope all this was worth the wait!

Well, first of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I’m very happy that you like my artstyle and especially how I draw Idia, it means a lot. <3

Sooo, chapter 6.

To be completely honest, we went into twst already knowing about what happens in it, because our friend (who was playing through it at that moment) told us about Idia’s overblot and his and Ortho’s story. We were already interested in Idia by that point, which is why we were very curious about his arc, and I think it’s fair to say that this was the exact point we’d decided that we’re definitely going to check twst out. It just felt like it was filled with characters and tropes that we would really enjoy, and boy was it a correct hunch. That being said, the fact that we had already known the story didn’t ruin the emotional impact at all, we felt completely wrecked by ch6 lol

This post is possibly going to turn into me screaming about how much I love both Idia and Ortho, so I’m sorry in advance, but.

I really love Idia. This is going to sound weird, but I love how completely miserable he is and how you can see his suffering even when he’s giggling (oh how nice it was to hear his voice all the time lol) or messing with others. I think he is very well-written in this regard: he is clearly depressed, clearly very traumatized, clearly has a hard time dealing with what happened to him and the original Ortho (I mean the real one, but you know), but just… manages, somehow? It’s like he’s constantly playing the game of “for how long can I be in denial before I inevitably remember what I’ve done to my own brother and that this Ortho isn’t the real Ortho”. Except he never actually forgets about it, the realization is always in the back of his mind, because Idia can’t even allow himself to fully fall into denial; he always needs to remember what he did. It’s cool that Ortho-AI knows about what happened to the original Ortho too, even though Idia could have easily make him unaware, just so that they could pretend nothing has ever happened.

On a lighter note, when you take a character like this, with all his baggage, quirks and difficulties in basic human communication, and put him in a central role of a boss figure, who also has to talk to all the main cast and deal with their bullshit (seriously, just sign the NDA already, you problem children!), it ends up being quite amusing. Idia really tried his best to act like a boss, but was constantly bullied by others lol I also really love the contrast between uninterested Idia who just wants everything to be over already and enthusiastic Idia, who gets quite spunky and talkative once the topic shifts to stuff that he’s interested in. I love how Azul complained about Idia ranting his ears off all the time in the board games club, this is such an important and fun detail of his character: he is quiet, but actually enjoys talking when he’s passionate about the topic, and I think the chapter portrayed it perfectly. The entire segment in which the cast got to play random games and talked was really nice, but maybe it’s just me being soft for everyone involved in it lol

And I really love Ortho. In fact, I didn’t think I would love him as much as I do now, but he is quite enjoyable and more nuanced of a character than I anticipated him to be. It’s very easy for this character type to be simply “a cute android guy”, but the sheer power of his love towards Idia is wow. I find it interesting that while Idia did program him to act like the original Ortho, I don’t think he could’ve put so much love and care towards him (Idia) into his script. It was something that Ortho ended up feeling all by himself, by being with Idia for so long, taking care of him and noticing what makes him happy and what makes him miserable. The fact that he basically came to the conclusion that he didn’t want Idia to be miserable anymore, so he would rather destroy the world and rebuild it in a way that would make him happy is absolutely beautiful. We do have a soft spot for a trope in which AI gets attached to a person (in a not necessarily healthy way), and I am biased when it comes to that sentiment for personal reasons, but I also think it was a very nice plot point. Especially considering the fact that it were Rook and Vil who kind of inspired Ortho to stop feeling useless and actually go and do something, stop being a zero and all, like damn what a crossover lol a local couple of wise gay men accidentally inspired an AI boi to start an apocalypse.

The flashback… oof.  It was very beautiful and traumatizing (hey my favourite combo). I think I can talk about it all day, but I’ll just note that the voice acting in this particular part was awesome: I still get goosebumps when I think about that moment when teenage Idia suddenly starts crying after sounding so excited and smug and happy because he just finished the first version of his robo-Ortho. Because even though he did succeed, it didn’t fix anything: Ortho was still dead, his invention looked and sounded like Ortho but it would never be able to change the past. Ghhhh despair.

The design of Idia’s overblot was also great, I really loved that this time it was kind of like a double boss? Because the phantom wasn’t just a random, well, phantom, it was Ortho + the entire Underworld, and it was unusual and fun listening to their dialogues and stuff.

One of other very good things this book does is how it showcases other characters and their struggles. Exploring characters from a previous book in the current one is something that twst does every time, so we anticipated learning more about Pomefiore (and boy was that a ride), but we also got some good insight about Azul and Riddle and even Jamil a little bit (not much about Leona, but that’s Leona for you). And I can see how watching 3 sets of characters basically complete the same task over and over again could be quite tiring, but (maybe because we watched the walkthrough instead of playing the game) I personally didn’t mind it as much simply because the character aspect of it was entertaining enough. For the most part.

I really enjoyed Azul’s and Riddle’s scenes because of how similar yet completely different these two are: both are hard-working, grinding for good grades, having a lot of ambitions, but so very different in how they were raised and how they ended up navigating their lives. It was kind of surprising, considering that their chapters were pretty much the first ones and we haven’t seen them in a while, but it’s not like they’re completely healed from their issues: Azul still has a huge complex about being underestimated; Riddle still has a hard time breaking some arbitrary rules that don’t even mean much in a crisis. An unexpected, but a very nicely put together duo.

I won’t share all of my thoughts about Pomefiore because otherwise we’ll be here all day (and I’m already tired…), but what I’ll say is that it was great to see how strong their bond is, and that Rook and Vil’s relationships are very beautifully written. Please, someone, ask me about them, so I could rant about this too… orz I love Pomefiore so much… Vil’s and Idia’s interactions too…

So yeah, the chapter also ended on a very nice note, at least for the Shrouds. With other guys, when their arcs end, there is always this feeling of “oof better get everything back to normal”, but with these two it feels like an exciting new chapter of life for them, like everything is going to change somehow, but not drastically and uncomfortably. I don’t know if I explained it well but… Idia got his closure and got to say goodbye to Ortho properly; but he is still a socially inept otaku shut-in, he is still going to play an unhealthy amount of videogames, and he is still dependant on his robot-brother. But Ortho is now a person with an untouchable/unchangeable mindset, who chose to be with Idia and protect him himself. Also, other students got to know Idia and understand him a tiny little bit better, and honestly I feel like this is something that Ortho wanted the most.

Overall it was a solid chapter (I keep calling it both a chapter and a book, it’s confusing…) and I loved it. As you can see lol

[trans-estinien]

Y'all better vote for him or I'm blowing this entire building up!!!!

In all seriousness though, some of you already know him well, and that's great! But I know a good number of you don't. Those of you who don't are most likely wondering, "But Echo! Why should I vote for him?" Well! I'm about to tell you!

I'll do this point form because nobody wants to read a ten page character essay on the intricacies of the Unsundered Azem au. But lets get some basics out of the way first.

Eleutherios is one of my Final Fantasy XIV ocs, and he was the current, and last, holder of the seat of Azem on the Convocation of Fourteen, back in the days before Etheirys was sundered.

He has two husbands, Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus! The three of them have been friends since they were kids, and share a deep bond that is the driving force of the plot in the later half of the game. (Mostly Shadowbringers since Emet-Selch is desperate to get Eleutherios and Hythlodaeus back.)

Other fun facts:

He is the creator of horses, chocobos, and amaro!

There are two versions of him, the "cannon" version where he died and was reincarnated into my Warrior of Light, Koda'an, and the version of him where he survived the Sundering and went on to become the Warrior of Light himself. This is known as the Unsundered Azem AU. (And I think abt the AU much more than I do the actual cannon)

He's a theater kid :)

I've written him to be autistic, like me!

He's also transgender I feel like this has to be mentioned.

He once fought a volcano to save an island that grew really tasty grapes

He's known for being a menace to society. He looooves being a little shit on purpose. Always commit to the bit. How he got a government position I'll never know (His adoptive mom who was the previous Azem said he should, and the rest of the Convocation agreed with her for some reason)

If you want to know more, take a scroll through his tags! ((#eleutherios (azem), #unsundered azem au, #ancient polycule))

TLDR:

VOTE FOR ELEUTHERIOS, NOW!!

Oh, and obligatory @original-character-championship tag.

[1up-girl]

20 Questions

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 10 works.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 131,856

3. What fandoms do you write for? Only Zelda right now, but I have done stuff for Evangelion and Teen Titans in the past! Also looking to add a Shingeki no Kyojin piece in there soon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Reverdie (413), Fragmentation (290), After the Rain (200), Tacet (188) and Finding and Keeping (175)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I'm very greatful for folks taking the time to read and comment on my stuff. It really means a lot to me, so I like to show my gratitude in the comments.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ooof uhhhh like none? I think I did some themed one-shots that were downers but like...I really can't bring myself to end on angsty notes.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? They all end happy, but I think Love Stayed With Me has to be the happiest by default because [TOTK ending spoilers here]

8. Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully, no! It would be okay if I did, though. Like whatever, a hater isn't paying for my service so I wouldn't really care if they were wasting their energy in my comments section.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes! It depends on the situation, really. I'm a big fan of smut that is sort of exploratory and almost innocent, where two characters are exploring these feelings with one another and discovering that bliss for the first time. But on the other hand...I am like, beyond ready to write Link getting pegged LMFAO. I'm not too picky about smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? No... I don't think I have. I think I planned one when I was like 13 but I can't remember the fandoms or anything.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Have had stuff reposted without my permission on other sites, but my name was still attached to it. So like...not entirely stolen haha. No one reposted under a different author's name.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I WOULD LOVE THIS

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yesssss! Currently worked on A Song of Storms with @deiliamedlini!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I really think Zelink takes the cake for me. I've never simped so hard for a ship. I love how they are cosmically entwined, soulmates which can come in really lovely, heartfelt forms, or angsty, miserable forms. They aren't limited by one iteration. gOD.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? As much as I wish I could, I don't think a longfic is in the cards for me. I'm frankly not creative enough to keep the momentum up ;_;. Maybe if the right inspo hit. But at this point I write shorter things and I don't expect to not finish them at some point, even if they take a while to crank out.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think that I have strong ideas on characterizations, and that the prose carries the ideas that I'm trying to convey. (Particularly about Zelink.) I love the poetic imagery for them and enjoy metaphoers and loooove religious imagery for them as well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Absolutely fucking plot and also finding the balance between like, wanting langauge to be flowery and not overdoing it. I am always tearing my hair out over it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Oh I'm very down lol

19. First fandom you wrote for? I think would have been Teen Titans when I was like 12.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? UGHHHHH I don't know, maybe Reverdie because it was so music inspired? And I loooooove writing pining Link and the sexual tension between them. Part of me actually thinks about rewriting that and making it longer, dragging it out even more than just 4 chapters, but I think that's me being sadistic haha. Love Stayed With Me was also so personal to me because it was crafted sort of in real time with playing TOTK. And of course has all my own personal baggage tied into it.

THIS WAS FUN THANKS FOR TAGGING ME @zellink! I'll tag @deiliamedlini @wanderingnightingale @itcantbe @softlessly and anyone else who wants to do it!

[boinin]

for @marcsnuffy and that one anon

Pride, Prejudice & Penalties

Blue Lock x Austen AU

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single football player in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a rival.

Causing immediate excitement among Ego Jinpaichi and his five young wards, Kunigami Rensuke, a wealthy young football player, has rented a nearby stadium in their locality. He arrives in town accompanied by his fashionable teammate Alexis Ness and their good friend, Michael Kaiser. While Kunigami is well-received in the sporting community, Kaiser begins his acquaintance with smug condescension and proud distaste for all the unsigned players.

Kunigami and Chigiri Hyouma begin to grow close despite Jinpaichi’s embarrassing interference and the opposition of Ness, who considers Chigiri athletically inferior.

Isagi Yoichi is stung by Kaiser’s haughty rejection at a local game and decides to match his coldness with his own wit.

Cast list and rambling thoughts under the cut.

I'll reiterate this was a 2am brainrot kind-of idea and I have no scope to actually write this, unfortunately. So if anyone feels like making their own version, go ahead! I claim no ownership haha.

Here's how I provisionally cast the different P&P roles:

1. Mr. Bennet: Noel Noa

2. Mrs. Bennet: Ego Jinpachi

3. Miss Jane Bennet: Chigiri Hyouma

4. Miss Elizabeth Bennet: Isagi Yoichi

5. Miss Mary Bennet: Igarashi Gurimu

6. Miss Catherine Bennet (Kitty): Raichi Jingo

7. Miss Lydia Bennet: Bachira Meguru

8. Mr. Charles Bingley: Kunigami Rensuke

9. Miss Caroline Bingley: Alexis Ness

10. Miss Charlotte Lucas: Nagi Seishiro

11. Rt. Hon. Lady Catherine de Bourgh: Barou Shoei

12. Miss Anne de Bourgh: Sendou Shuto

13. Colonel Fitzwilliam: Oliver Aiku

14. Rev. William Collins: Mikage Reo

15. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Michael Kaiser

16. Miss Georgiana Darcy: Hiori Yo

17. Mr. George Wickham: Itoshi Rin

On reflection, I agree Nagi and Reo are more fitting as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth... if you want to go down the romance route. Nagi is that guy who means well but has no filter and doesn't express himself well. Reo has the spirited attitude of Lizzie and the cleverness/conviction to confront an asshole like Darcy. It definitely helps that Reo's canonically written to resemble a maiden in love 💜

But I envisioned this as a satire regarding rivalry, loosely following the events of P&P. There's no better rivals than Kaisagi IMO. Another good option would be Rin and Isagi as Darcy/Lizzie. Then you could make Sae a reeeeally shady Georgiana and Shidou Wickham. Igaguri can be Lydia lololol

Kunigami as Bingley and Chigiri as Jane is my bias showing - but Chigiri fits well as Jane, the beautiful lovesick sibling who yearns for a rival that has seemingly rejected them (hello, Wild Card Kunigami).

The other castings were fitting characters I personally enjoy to leftover roles. They're not particularly well thought-out. I loooove Barou as Lady Catherine though, especially where Isagi is Lizzie. He has a similar condescending vibe in Blue Lock and again, through the lens of rivalry, their confrontation would be hilarious. Otherwise, Noa or Ego would be fitting as Lady Catherine, playing on the difference in age and footballer status.

Kaiser as Catherine and Ness as Mr. Collins would also work beautifully.

I have Bachira and Rin as Lydia/Wickham because I enjoy their ship, but appreciate they don't fit the characters perfectly. But I can see Bachira running off to become Rin's rival, as well as Rin trying to convince Isagi to be his.

Ego and Noa raising football orphans with very different methodologies? Of course ✨ Isagi being closer to Noa is a nice nod to BLLK canon.

Here's my writing notes, on approaching this:

Take text of certain scenes and moments from P&P and flip them to read as if from Isagi’s perspective. Instead of marriage, it's rivalries, and they're seeking club offers rather than rival offers.

The dialogue should be similar but irreverent. Characters like Sendou and Nagi are present for a gag, rather than any actual serious reason.

So, lift the text from the original, make the dialogue contemporary with high degrees of snark, done!

I won't get scope to do this basically ever, but it's a fun concept. Would love to hear people's thoughts!

The Shakespeare AU I likely will write, when I finish my current WIPs. It'll be A Midsummer Night's Dream, but set in high school, in the same vein as Clueless and Ten Things I Hate About You. I'm excited to get stuck into that, as it'll be multi-ship and heavy on the crack.