#and how fucked it would be if everyone was STILL THERE after like. nearly a fucking century or some shit

[babygorewhore]

Invisibility.

Logan Howlett x fem reader

After going around checking on everyone, you overhear Logan in his room and you can’t resist watching despite feeling like a perv.

Requested by @hereforthehitsbaby I hope you enjoy!!!!!!

Warnings! Male Masturbation, unprotected sex, rough? Sex, claws come out briefly, misuse of mutation, stomach bulge!

It was an accident. Truly it was! Charles Xavier asked you to take a shift checking on everyone during the night. He knew you were a chronic insomniac. Your mutation also aided in the responsibility. Turning invisible.

The grunts you heard outside of Logan, one of the begrudging mutants who had a friendship with Charles, made you concerned he was hurt.

But it couldn’t be further from the truth.

When you listened closer, you heard more sounds but they were moans. Chasing pleasure that Logan couldn’t seem to satisfy.

You had a massive crush on the grumpy old man. His heart of gold won you over but his muscles also didn’t hurt. This was completely perverse but you silently opened the door.

While invisible, you pressed yourself in the corner and tried not to melt.

Logan was naked, light sweat coating his warm skin and his hair was messy. Large fist cupped around his dick, red tip throbbing with precum smearing down his shaft. It was better than the best porn you’d ever seen. His eyes were drifted shut and you pressed your thighs tightly together.

The blankets were torn, as if he clawed them. Logan’s nostrils expanded and his jaw moved in your direction. You tried to remain completely still and calm but your heartbeat thudded wildly.

He inhaled deeper and you knew in that moment, Logan was aware you were there. You prepared for anything, ready to sprint out but instead Logan started thrusting into his fist harder.

And moaning your name.

His balls thudded against the mattress and your entire body was on fire as Logan kept eye contact despite not being able to see you. Tugging and smearing cum all over his cock with a heavy hand. His neck strained as he sat up higher, opening his legs wider.

Your pussy fucking ached from how hot he looked. Knowing you were watching and continuing to jerk himself off. You wanted more than anything to go over and help him out but you also selfishly wanted to keep watching.

The selfishness faded quickly as Logan started moving faster. You couldn’t take it. You moved over, no longer being invisible and Logan reached forward. Gripping your pants, he tore them off, exposing your thighs and sopping underwear.

He hastily shoved your panties to the side, in a frenzy he clutched your hips, squeezing so hard it would bruise and you settled on his dick.

You let out a whimper at his girth, filling you to the brim as you started bouncing. Slickness giving you more give as you rode him. Logan cupped the back of your head, fingers pulling your hair as your mouth fell open.

“Dirty little girl, keep bouncing like that. fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.” Logan moaned and you shrieked as he drove his cock harder in you. Your hands steadied yourself on his chest and he smacked your ass.

“Atta girl. Fuck yourself on my dick, bub. That’s it, yeah. There you go, you can take it.” Logan felt your lower stomach, “feel me in your guts? that’s what happens to pervert girls who want my attention.”

He flipped you on your back, not giving you time to situate yourself as he thrusted into you, panties still moved to the side. Logan brought your legs over his shoulders, your ass off the bed as he rocked his hips. Balls slapping.

You were crying at how good it felt, nearly seeing white as he fucked you full. Your hands were clawing at the sheets and you gasped when Logan’s claws peeked out.

He growled as you tightened around him.

“You like that, princess? You like seeing them?” Your movements were sloppy and Logan centered you. “Where you going? Give me that fuckin pussy,”

You wailed as you came, trembling as panting and Logan wasn’t far off. He shifted your legs so he was gripping your knees. Driving his dick at a brutal pace.

Then it spilled into you, dripping out of your hole and you sobbed as Logan pinned your wrists down, sheathing back his claws. He shook and hovered above you as you both caught your breath.

“Didn’t take you as a stalker, bub,” His dog tag brushed your neck.

You swallowed and looked up at him. Logan chuckled and looked down at your connected bodies.

“Looks like you need more, don’t you? Need me to make you cum again, princess?”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @xxladymjxx @bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @hereforthehitsbaby @userchai @starkeysprincess @gh0stsp1d3r

[captainofthetidesbreath]

I will say, at the end of the day, I am very fond of Illario Dellamorte, despite it all. Yes, he managed to make every single POSSIBLE bad decision one can make, then figured out how to make a few more that nobody else would've thought possible. Yes, he was increasingly sloppy and incredibly stupid about it all. Yes, a lot of his frustration and rage is incredibly misdirected. Yes, I said before the game came out that I support him having a villain era, and I still do because it's fun and I love mess and drama—as much as he stresses me out and makes me want to strangle him because Jesus Fucking Christ.

Still, I think I like the idea of forgiving him. For me, there's something interesting in how he doesn't kill Caterina, in how he didn't ask for what happened to Lucanis and seems genuinely angry—wrong as he is to direct it at Lucanis—that the control that Lucanis so highly prized was taken from him rather than dying at his best, in how he can engineer Lucanis's death but experience a grief that still feels harrowingly genuine at the wake, in how he clearly is grasping at any possible advantage and is carelessly choosing his allies not because he believes in their goals or ideals but because he's desperately power-hungry and ambitious and no more. In how, if he is forgiven, Lucanis is impressed he almost got away with it, in how Illario goes to help the Crows in Minrathous in that last gambit.

He's a mess, and he's selfish and ambitious and vicious and contradictory. But, I have a soft spot for characters like him and relationships like his and Lucanis's, y'know? Forgiving him and forcing him to work out his life after he's burned nearly every bridge he has is just really interesting to me, especially given how Lucanis is still full of hope and affection for him alongside the hurt. How do you rebuild after all that, you don't even have the devil-may-care breezy mask anymore because everyone knows better now. Figure out where he fits now in his cousin's life, because I do think—at the end of the day—the affection and relief is still there from both sides, under it all. Deeply buried possibly, for Illario, but there.

I think there's enough pieces here to suggest that he and Lucanis have a chance to actually figure it out, and to suggest that Illario might actually get his shit together and be willing to given opportunity, time, and patience. It's also a messy choice (and a huge risk), but I do personally like the idea of forgiving him. I like the messy, insane, dramatic narrative of it. He has potential, as Lucanis himself notes. I would love to see if he can rise to it, now that he's gotten all of this out of his system.

Or, at least forgive him because there's something funny about that and I want to see what else he does if given the chance. It'll probably also be a mess, but I'd love to see what messes he gets up to when he's not plotting against the person closest to him in the world. It'll be fun! But, sincerely, I do think he can get his shit together, and I hope and believe he wants to. It's the more interesting and fun story to me, for both him and Lucanis, personally speaking.

[whatifitis]

♡ All The Stars Aligned - EO 31 ♡

Summary: Esteban is a huge fan of yours, so when he finds out he's going to a premiere for your new movie, he nearly shits himself.

Author's note: This was based on this request and I won't lie, I had quite a bit of fun writing this. I hope y'all like it! <3

WC: 2k+ some insta posts

CW: fangirl esteban, fluff, masterminding, pierre slapping the back of estebans head :)

The planets and the stars aligned, allowing Esteban to be in the same room, at the same time as you. 

It was no secret that Esteban has had a massive crush on you, having watched everything you’ve ever been in and gone through every piece of media you’ve ever participated in - even voicing his crush for you on several occasions. Practically everyone knew of his crush on you, you’d even seen some of the things he’d say about you, flattering you and making your cheeks flush. 

When his colleague, and friend, Charles Leclerc found out he was invited to the premiere, Charles knew he had to invite Esteban, and Pierre could come along as well. 

Esteban's reaction was priceless when he found out he was going to be in the same room as you. His scream could be heard from across the paddock. Charles made sure to record his reaction to show you at some point, if he is able to make a move or two on you at the premiere. 

Esteban knew he had to make a good first impression and come up with a plan on how he would make his move. Most people played checkers, but he was playing chess. He’s gonna lay all the groundwork and then just like clockwork, the dominos will cascade in a line. 

Now, Esteban had a few ideas on how he could impress you, but which one will be the best route? He could either pretend he doesn’t know you and play it cool, but that would be impossible considering the whole world knows about his crush on you. 

After some deliberation with Pierre and Charles, Esteban settles on what he calls “The plan of all plans that will put all the other plans to shame”, it’s a long title and he is well aware but who cares, he’s gonna be in the same room as his celebrity crush, no one would be chill if they were in his shoes right now. 

The plan is simple really, in one of the films you starred in, you and your love interest communicated via handwritten signs on paper. Kind of like the ‘You Belong With Me’ music video by Taylor Swift. Esteban came up with the idea because it is his favorite film ever and he thought it’d be a cute way to get your attention. Now, as for what he was gonna write on said piece of paper? He had no clue. He knew he was gonna carry at least two pieces of paper, one with an initial message and another with his phone number. 

After much deliberation with himself, Esteban decided on a quote from a book he had read a long time ago. He wasn’t sure if you would understand the reference but he thought it would be cute regardless. 

Now, the amount of paper he went through, trying to make the sign look as perfect as he can, is not important information. Just know he went through hell trying to make everything perfect. 

Esteban stood back for a moment to admire his work. A white piece of paper with the words ‘No matter the weather, I want to be with you’. If this fails, Esteban will never face the world again. Ok, that’s a bit of a stretch but he would be very devastated. 

The day of the premiere, the boys were in their hotel room getting ready, watching as Esteban nearly had a mental breakdown. 

“Non, non, non, non.” Pierre and Charles hear coming from the restroom. They watch as Esteban comes racing out in only a pair of underwear, holding his dress shirt on a hanger. “I’ve steamed AND ironed this shirt and there’s still a fucking wrinkle on this fucking FUCK.” Esteban just screams. 

Sharing a look of concern with each other, Pierre and Charles walk up to their friend to see if they can get rid of the wrinkle that he supposedly can’t get rid of on his shirt. 

There’s no wrinkle, “Mate,” Pierre begins, putting a hand on Esteban’s shoulder, “There is no wrinkle. The shirt has no wrinkles.”

“Yes, it does! It’s right there.” Esteban exclaims, pointing at a wrinkle free spot on the shirt.

With a sigh, Charles takes the shirt from Esteban’s hand and tells him, “I’ll take care of the shirt, you finish getting ready. We need to be out the door in an hour.” “An hour?! Oh mon dieu. I still need to iron my pants and don’t even get me started on my hair.” Esteban says, rummaging through his suitcase, looking for god knows what. 

Charles grabs Esteban’s pants and shirt with him into the restroom to iron and/or steam them. Meanwhile Pierre did the best he could in aiding Esteban whilst having a drink or two. 

After a very chaotic hour of Hurricane Esteban, the boys were already walking out the door, making their way to the theater for the premiere. Of course, Esteban was still losing his head, asking the boys a million questions such as, “Did I bring the papers?” Oui, “Do I have my watch on?” Oui, “Do we have the correct location for the theater?” Oui, “Do we-”

“Esteban!” Pierre shouts, “Shut up before I knock you out so hard, you won’t make it to the premiere.” giving the fakest smile known to man. This very quickly got Esteban to keep quiet. 

By the time the boys arrive at the red carpet, Esteban is practically shaking in his boots. He’s scanning the crowd over and over again, listening to everything and anything to get a sign as to where you are. 

“Mate, I think we’ll know when she arrives. I think we will go deaf.” Charles reassures Esteban. 

Esteban looks at his friend and realizes, maybe he can take a breather for now. He can try and calm his nerves before your arrival. 

The boys felt so out of place and lost, they decided to stay in one spot until they found you. That plan didn’t work in their favor though, after about 5 minutes, a crew member for the premiere came up and told the boys to move so that the photographers didn’t have any obstructions in the photos. So they moved to another section of the red carpet, standing in place until they were told once again to move because some dancers would be coming by to do a performance. After being told to move about 8 times, the boys finally found a spot to settle into. 

Esteban took this as a sign that he could finally begin to calm down and relax. They have a nice, safe spot now, one where it would be easy to spot you upon your arrival. Of course, this moment of calming didn’t last long. 

As soon as the crowd of fans started screaming their lungs out, Esteban joined in as well, even though he still hadn’t caught sight of you yet. Charles and Pierre had to cover their ears, hoping they wouldn’t lose their hearing at this moment. 

Esteban had still been screaming for a minute straight before Pierre wrapped his hand around Esteban’s mouth, trying to calm him down, and keep him from embarrassing Charles and himself. Once Esteban had calmed down, he licked Pierres hand. 

“Putain de salope.” Pierre grimaced, shaking his hand as if trying to flick off the spit, “Pourquoi?”

“You were gonna embarrass me! If Y/n saw you covering my mouth with your hand, who knows what she would’ve thought?!” Esteban said, throwing his hands in the air. 

Pierre just stared blankly at Esteban, “I would’ve embarrassed you? Okay, mister. You were screaming your head off like a fucking goat. I just saved your ass.”

“Whatever, now, where is she?” Esteban stands on his toes, as if he isn’t the tallest fucker there. 

In the midst of forcing and faking smiles, your eyes met his through the crowd. 

Putain de merde, thought Esteban. You looked absolutely ethereal in person. You were adorned in a pastel, tulle dress. Pink, green, and blue layers of fabric flow down your body, your torso wrapped by a corset of lace.

He could not stop staring at you, completely enamored by you. 

In the blink of an eye, your silhouette started to make its way to him. 

Remember that plan Esteban had? The one with the pieces of paper with a quote and his phone number? Yeah, he didn’t remember. He was too starstruck to even remember his own name. 

“Hi, you’re Esteban, right? I’m Y/n.” you state. 

“I-, ye- eug- I-” is all Esteban could get out, that is until Pierre smacked the back of his head and ran off into the crowd, followed by Charles as he did not want to be left standing next to a stuttering Esteban. “Hi, yeah. My name is Esteban. How are you?”. There was no hiding his heart eyes from you. It was so painfully obvious, written all over his face. 

“I’m okay, kind of nervous, I’ll be honest. How about you? How are you finding this chaos?”

“It’s really interesting, actually. This is my first time doing something like this so I’m enjoying the show.” he says, giving you the cheesiest smile ever. It was quite cute actually. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Just before you go to continue the conversation with Esteban, you get called away by your manager, needing you to complete some interviews before heading into the theater for the screening of your new movie.

“Shit, I’m sorry but I have to go. I’ll see you later though?” you ask, watching as Esteban nods his head in approval. As you pick up the skirt of your dress, turning to walk away, Esteban asks “How did you know who I was? How did you know my name?” 

Without a word, you simply wink at him and make your way to your manager across the carpet. 

Absolutely stunned, Esteban turns around to ask his friends if he just imagined that whole interaction, only to find no one around him. Where the fuck did they go?

-=+=-

Liked by estebanocon, francisca.gomez, and 50,823 others

entertainmenttonight Y/n L/n stuns in new (i have no clue who created this dress, couldn’t find the creator)’s dress, as she is welcomed by a warm crowd upon her arrival at the premiere of her new movie.

View all comments

User98 Did yall see y/n and esteban ocon together? 👀

↳User04 My worlds are colliding if that’s true

↳User77 who’s esteban ocon?

↳User32 he’s a f1 driver and he currently drives for the team Alpine!

User47 Y/n could hit me with her car and i’d say thank you

-=+=-

It was nearing time for the boys to head into their assigned room in the theater to watch the film and Esteban was growing anxious by the minute. He really wanted to be seated soon so he didn’t miss a moment of the film, but he couldn’t find his dumbass friends. 

After a few minutes of calling and texting them, receiving no reply, Esteban decided to just leave the boys wherever they were and he made his way inside the theater. 

On his walk to the correct theater room, Esteban couldn’t believe his eyes. The whole time he was freaking out about finding his friends, they were by the food tables the whole time?! Eating chocolate from a fountain?!

“Hey! Where the fuck did you guys go? And why are you eating chocolate without me?” Esteban questioned, mainly upset about the chocolate. 

With a mouth full of chocolate covered snacks, Charles explained “We didn’t want to be caught in the whirlwind of awkwardness that you were exhibiting. And then we found the fountain.”

Esteban just shook his head in disbelief, the utter betrayal he was feeling at the moment. He just took one last look at them before telling them to clean up so they could go sit in their seats. 

When the boys made it to their seats, the screening was about to begin. They watched as the director of the film walked before the screen, only to realize which room they were in. They were gonna be watching the film with the cast and crew?! They all exchanged some looks of disbelief and wondered if perhaps they had walked into the wrong room. Upon inspection of their tickets, they were indeed in the correct room. But how?

After a quick Q&A with the cast and the director, the film began and through the entirety of it, Esteban was captivated. He couldn’t even pay attention to the plot and the story running in front of him. Instead, he was captivated by you, the way your features would illuminate the entire room. His eyes were glued to your figure, always waiting for the next scene that would solely focus on you - you being the only thing that he wants to see for the rest of the night. 

As soon as the film ended, the room erupted in applause and cheers for you and the cast. You and your colleagues stand and bow, thanking the audience for everything and applauding the crew members who helped the film become what it was. 

As the applause and cheers continue, you turn, scanning the room for Esteban. Once you’ve spotted him, you watch as he claps and shouts loudly with a smile plastered across his face. You take it as a chance to blow him a kiss. He all but falls to the floor, needing Pierre and Charles to catch him and hold him up. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene. This man is the funniest and sweetest person you’ve known, and you can’t wait to see him afterwards. 

As everyone leaves the theater, the boys slowly walk about, listening to Esteban rave about the film and how you were so beautiful and talented and smart. He was even gushing about the moment you blew him a kiss. 

“To me! She blew a kiss to me! Can you believe that?” he asks, pointing to himself and squealing like a kid in a candy shop. 

Just as they're about to leave. Esteban feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and is surprised to find you standing there. 

“Hey, how’d you find the film?” you ask.

“I really enjoyed it. You were amazing, of course. Probably the best part of the film in my opinion. 

You softly laugh, “Quite the flatterer you are.”

“I try” Esteban shrugs, “ehm, I won’t lie. When I found out I was going to be here and that I might get a chance to meet you, I sort of came up with a plan on how I was going to impress you and such. It didn’t really go to plan, “ you both laugh, “I had this plan where I was going to hold up a piece of paper, like as a reference to one of your movies, and then I had another paper with my phone number on it, where I asked you on a date.”

“Can I see the paper?” you ask, genuinely curious as to what it says. 

You watch as Esteban reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and hands it to you. As you unfold the paper, your eyes widen when you read the words. 

“Oh my god! This is a quote from my favorite book, how did you know?” you look up at him, shock and surprise drawn all over your face. 

“What? It is? I genuinely didn’t know. I wrote it cause it’s from a book I read and I thought it was cute.”

You smile at his words, pocketing the paper for yourself. 

“Well, I guess I have to be honest too. I was the one who orchestrated our first meeting.”

“Huh?” Esteban lets out, jaw dropped. 

“I’ve seen the edits and such that fans tag me in, of you talking about me. I then went down a rabbit hole of videos and stalking your instagram. I thought you were cute and funny and I really wanted to meet you. So, when I found out Charles was already invited to the premiere, I messaged him on instagram, asking if he could bring you with him. He agreed and then I had to make sure you were in the right spot for our meeting, a spot that was the most secluded on the carpet, so we could have an actual conversation. I had my team and some of the crew members keep pushing you boys to different spots of the carpet until you went to where I wanted you guys. I also had them place you in the same theater room as me for the actual preview of the movie.” you confess, feeling your face heat at the confession. What if he thought you were a freak?

“You masterminded me.” was all he said. 

“What?” you question. 

“You masterminded me. You were the one playing chess while I was playing checkers. I was supposed to be the one to mastermind you!”

The both of you stand there in silence before absolutely cackling over the fact that you both tried so hard to get the others' attention. 

The chain reaction of countermoves assessed the equation of the two of you, so you couldn't lose. 

-=+=-

Liked by estebanocon, charlesleclerc, and 439,568 others

y/n such an enchanting night under the twinkling stars 🩷

Just wanted to say a quick thank you to the cast and crew who helped make all of this possible and to the fans for showing up and showing out! It was amazing meeting every single one of you and I can’t wait for you all to see the film 

You and I ended up in the same room, at the same time, because I’m a mastermind 😉

View all comments

User99 ehm, wtf is up with that last sentence?

Estebanocon was an amazing night and I’m very thankful for our meeting 😌

Charlesleclerc thank you y/n for inviting us, the film was wonderful (sorry about esteban btw)

↳User44 now charles… wdym when you apologize for esteban 🤨

Pierregasly how he pulled you, i have no clue

↳User01 WHAT?!

↳Pierregasly what 🧑‍🦯

[flamingoprincess25]

Hello! Are your headcannon requests still open? Okay, so I was thinking about that Disney princess post you made and I was wondering if you could maybe write headcannons about the boxers going to Disney World for a week. :3

Thnx in advance 💖✨️

OHOHOOHO I LOVE THIS ONE

(Let's see if I remember anything from my Disney trip in 2019 AUGHHH)

LITTLE MAC

The first thing he and Doc bought were obviously Mickey ears (Doc got ones that look like chocolate)

Doc gave Little Mac money to spend but it all got spent in one gift shop.

He did go to every park. (His favorite is Magic Kingdom)

Got to meet all the characters and get their autographs

GLASS JOE

Got a bit of social anxiety by the sheer amount of people in the parks

Was too broke and couldn't afford much

Absolutely LOVES the sweets they got

Threw up after riding Space mountain with the big boys.

Got a snowglobe (he loves collecting snowglobes)

VON KAISER

Actually brought his students with them. They basically fucked around with Aran Ryan.

Surprisingly, his favorite park is Epcot. (Almost thought it was the world's biggest golf ball 😭)

Makes sure everyone sticks in a group (it didn't last not even for 10 seconds)

Loves the Snow White coaster and would ride it over and over if the lines weren't so long.

DISCO KID

Blasted a whole Disney playlist the whole way there

Nearly passed away on some rides (*cough* tower of terror *cough*) and definitely passed out on a majority of the rides.

Attracted a crowd in Hollywood Studios from break dancing

Was SO HAPPY to meet Stitch (He was one of his favorites)

Would NOT stop singing the songs on repeat (Sandman wanted to BEAT his ass)

Got so many souvenirs he had to get another bag.

KING HIPPO

Has absolutely no idea where he's going or what this place is.

Fell in love with Animal Kingdom (some places in the park reminded him of home)

He actually got to see Kevin and he was so happy the whole trip. (He even got a Kevin plushie for himself)

Hogged everyones dole whip on the hottest day of the trip

Had a fucking BLAST at the water parks (don't know the names bc I never went there 😭)

PISTON HONDO

Didn't really mind the trip (He's been to Disney World Japan god knows how many times)

Attempted to take some of the food back home, only for it all to get eaten by Hippo

Was "Harassed" by storm troopers in Hollywood Studios

Kept comparing everything in Disney World to the one in Japan like bitch stfu and enjoy the trip.

Was mostly chill and did join some shenanigans.

BEAR HUGGER

Loves both Animal and Magic Kingdom

Fucking cried when he met Mickey (bro sobbed for hours)

Actually snuck his squirrel into the parks

Got Mickey ears for both him and his animal friends (Some were too big bless)

Oversleeps back at the hotel and sometimes misses the trams to the parks

Got a shit ton of stuffed animals

GREAT TIGER

Didn't need the trams to get to the park dude just fucking teleports there

He let's his clones fuck around but NOT with Aran Ryan or Von Kaisers students

Like Hondo, he was chill

Got to meet princess Jasmine and got her autograph.

Got a few collectibles (mostly jewelry)

Recorded a rap song about his trip a week later

DON FLAMENCO

OBVIOUSLY brought Carmen with him

He and Carmen wore matching Mickey ears

When he rode tower of terror, he let out the most girly horror scream in existence and was constantly bullied for it

Loved all the sweets they had but almost overindulged with an upset stomach.

He took Carmen to see all the Disney princesses

Became a princess at one point bc of Carmen (girly pop got him a dress, tiara, everything)

ARAN RYAN

Dude was a fucking menace

Took Von Kaisers students wherever they wanted to go (don't trust him babysitting he's gonna let me do fuck around and find out)

Almost got arrested....twice

Had beef with Merida and would shortly befriend the actress behind Merida. (He thought she was cool)

Shoplifted a bunch of shit and somehow got away with it

SODA POPINSKI

Fucking chugged down every drink the park had to offer

His favorite ride is Expedition Everest

Was unfortunately too tall for most of the rides

He didn't do much besides buy some souvenirs and meet characters (Cried when he met Olaf lmao)

BALD BULL

It was a nice trip for him but not with all the people pissing him off

Chilled in the pools at the hotels most of the time.

Was the spy in that one interactive Star Wars ride and made the most flabbergasted face known to man

Enjoyed the food there but almost caused a food fight.

SUPER MACHO MAN

Posed with the characters while getting his picture

Wanted to be in the shows they play but couldn't

Was another victim to the storm troopers but played along horrifyingly good (get bro an Oscar)

"I'm on a diettt" is later caught eating sweet shit

Absolutely LOVES Hollywood studios

The rest of the gang are the whole fucking reason why he's in debt

MR. SANDMAN

Didn't want to come but was forced to

Actually SMILED?! when he met Mickey and Minnie (he was picked on unfortunately)

Loves the star wars areas

Didn't buy much. All he got was a t shirt and a keychain

This is all I got for now (I tried, might edit it soon 😭) but let me know what y'all think!

Bonus HC: They did the most DIABOLICAL photo shoots on Splash Mountain (this takes place in 2009 SHHHH) for example:

(Anyways that's all!)

[deadhands69]

A New End: The Bet

MDNI

this one is sfw but the series contains eventual smut

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/(eventually afab?) reader

Warnings/Content/etc: swearing, mentions of violence, destruction destruction destruction, eventual spoilers, and eventual smut.

intro - (this is part one) - part 2 soon

A quiet chatter meets your ears as you enter the open living area. A few more people have joined in the few weeks after you’d moved into the league of villains headquarters which really livened up the place. For a room of villains, they’re a lot more entertaining to be around than you would have expected. You were worried it would be similar to your time at UA, but people were actually nice to you here.

Most of them.

The leader, Shigaraki, still hasn’t warmed up to you. Tensing every time you enter the room. Never quite looking you in the eyes. Your ideas were always held under higher scrutiny than the others. You’re not sure if he has higher expectations of you because of the information he expects your quirk to provide or if he just hates you, but with how he treats everyone else you've started leaning towards the latter. Fortunately, he rarely leaves his room - still recovering from some injuries earlier in the year. 

In any case, your quirk hadn’t warned you away from him which allowed you to hold out some hope that maybe he just needs time to get to know you.

Considering that half the league are practically homeless, it had become a daily occurrence to wake up to a full house. No one seemed to mind, especially Kurogiri who is currently brewing another pot of coffee for the group. You still weren’t close friends with anyone but the company is nice.

“I’ll bet it’s a boyfriend,” you overhear Toga exclaim, “I wonder if he’s cute!”

“Or she. Could be a girlfriend,” Twice adds. 

“What’s your bet?” Compress asks someone just behind the wall out of your sight, “where do you think [y/n] goes every night?”

From your vantage point in the door frame, they don’t realize you’re there yet. You pause at the sound of your name to listen a bit longer.

“Don’t know and don’t care,” Dabi retorts, “not my fucking business.”

“What if he’s the boyfriend?” Toga grumbles under her breath.

“Fuck off, I have better shit to do every night than date anyone.” And Dabi has a trail of bodies as alibis, you note to yourself if anyone tries to suggest that again.

“Alright,” Compress announces theatrically, “and now that everyone’s placed their bets-”

creakkkkk

The floorboards announce your presence as you shift your weight. 

Fuck. Eavesdropping time is over.

“Morning,” you say as casually as possible to the group of villains, most of them looking anywhere but you.

“Good morning,” Toga responds cheerfully. Without missing a beat she adds, “do you have a boyfriend?” “What? No…” you mumble while pouring yourself a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the empty spot between Spinner and Shigaraki.

“How about a secret love?” she presses again, this time nearly leaning over the table for an answer.

You laugh at the thought of announcing any secret over a crowded table before shaking your head and becoming very interested in the coffee mug in front of you. “Dirt-Cheap Donki-Oote” it reads.

Shigaraki scoffs to your right. Clearly he's bored of this conversation. He'd never come to your defense so you know he’s not changing the subject for your sake, but you’re still glad when he brings up the next mission instead.

That night, you sneak out a bit more quietly than usual. You had to wait longer for nightfall, considering that it's midsummer, but it should be worth it. Following the dark streets in the industrial area you’ve been living in, there are still a few new places you’d like to check out.

It was a silly hobby, really. You took it up years ago during your time at UA when you really needed it - you just never stopped. 

Upon arriving at your destination, you pause. No premonitions, safe.

Carefully, you cross the footprint into the demolished structure. Steel beams wrap up around you, twisted from failing to keep the concrete upright.

Up to now, your life was always planned out for you. Even more so with your future-based quirk. Getting glimpses of what’s to come always leaves you waiting for life to happen. Or worse, on stand-by until you know if you’ve successfully changed your fate or not. After a while, it felt like your whole life was being lived out ahead of you without a break. 

These buildings aren’t like that at all though. There’s something calming in the rubble that draws you into the present and keeps you here. It feels final. Finished. Everything that was waiting to happen here did, now it’s a modern ruin. A reminder of things that have already come to pass. There’s tranquility in that destruction. Some people touch grass, you prefer crumbling concrete. 

Finding a nice spot in the wreckage, you settle in for a while. 

The following night, you debate going out again. It was a long day of mission planning and you’re exhausted. You won’t be able to join said mission as your quirk was deemed to be more useful from afar, but regardless, you’re expected to sit in on all the meetings in case any visions present themselves (they didn't.) Sinking into your bed, it’s warm and comfortable. You could easily stay but the lure of tranquility calls to you. 

Out the door you go.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re nearly there. Footsteps echoing through the empty street, you glance around the abandoned buildings for your specific destination. A bush rustles behind you, causing your head to snap back.

Nothing. 

Probably just the wind.

Suddenly, a vision strikes you. Alarmed. Yet you don’t feel any danger. If you keep walking, Tomura Shigaraki will follow you down the street and enter the building behind you. Knocking a rock off a concrete block, startling you just enough that your quirk is giving you the heads up. Not the most exciting prophecy, but you know he’s there now. 

“You can come out, Shigaraki!” you call out in the general direction of his hiding place, “I know you’re there.

Slowly, he rises. A few leaves tangled in his hair.

“How?”

“Quirk,” you respond. Surely, he is who the group sent to follow you and confirm the guesses from their bet yesterday morning. 

“Come on.”

Hesitantly, he follows. 

You wonder how he managed to keep up earlier, considering that both of his legs are still recovering from being shot. He's not limping but certainly doesn't look like he's having an easy time walking. You slow down a bit. 

Approaching the address, you're starting to feel nervous. This is all to calm down, but the prospect of an audience is daunting. On second thought, he's wearing a literal hand on his face so he's not really in a place to judge. And even if he does think less of you, he couldn't hate you much more than he already does. Right? 

Surprisingly, his presence doesn't affect your experience much. He gives you space, sticking to the other side of the caved-in shell of a warehouse. 

“Why?” Shigaraki’s crimson eyes follow you through the space. Watching your fingers as they trace over fractured pillars and contorted metal.

That question. You’ve dreaded anyone else finding out what you do every night for that alone and here he is asking like it's not a big deal. What are you supposed to say, ‘I like being around demolished shit’? On second thought, yeah. That could work.

“It makes me calm, being here.”

“You like…decay?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah, I guess so,” considering your audience, you decide it wouldn't hurt to elaborate.

”There’s nothing to wait for - it’s already been destroyed. This is it.” 

His face doesn't give anything away, peering between fingers before staring back at his feet while he shuffles through the open area. 

“No wonder you’re here,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Did you win the bet?” you ask on the walk back home. 

“Bet?” he considers for a moment, “Oh. No. No one won.”

“What was your guess?”

“Being alone,” he winces slightly after stepping over a curb too quickly for his injured leg to keep up, “but they said that wasn't specific enough so I changed it to ghost hunting.”

You laugh, “ghost hunting??”

“It's not the worst guess. Magne thought you were an exotic dancer.”

“She has a lot more faith in me than I do,” you snicker mostly to yourself, “could you imagine?”

He says nothing. 

Suddenly, you remember you're talking to your fairly stern boss and not a friend your age. It's easy to forget when you're also roommates, the lines blur easily. 

Change of topic. 

Unfortunately, decay is all that comes to mind so you go with it. 

“Tell me about your quirk, how does it work?”

“You actually want to know?” he replies in the same incredulous voice as earlier. 

“Yeah. You decay things but obviously not everything. You were holding your phone earlier.”

“My pinky was off.”

“Huh?”

“I have to touch things with five fingers.”

“Got it. Did it take a lot of practice to learn your quirk?”

He laughs eerily, “No, definitely not. I never really practiced, I just kind of used it.”

Ah. Got it. Not asking on that one, you catch the implication. 

This conversation has to be so boring to him but at least you diffused some tension.

“I could show you, sometime,” he says quietly, still not looking directly at you. “If you want.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“That works.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You would say that.”

Maybe you're imagining it, but you almost think he's smiling under that hand. 

After last night, you thought you made some headway with Tomura Shigaraki but your working relationship remains the same as ever. All day, he laid into you for your ideas. Glowering over the table every time you so much as looked at him. When it came time to leave for the evening, you were absolutely convinced he’d back out - remembering how much he can’t stand you. But that wasn’t the case. Here he is, closely following you for the second night in a row. 

“Where do you want to go?” he asks. 

“I have three places saved to check out on this street,” you bring up the saved places map on your phone, “does that work for you?”

“Why not one of these?” he gestures towards the rows of abandoned buildings surrounding you, “doesn't have to be destroyed already, that's the point right?”

Oh. Yeah. That could work. 

You nod. 

“Pick one.” 

“Wait, really?”

“It's all the same to me anyways,” he watches as you consider your options. 

“Uhm, that one,” you point, “the one with a lot of windows.”

“Okay, stay back here.” He's already halfway across the street. 

Reaching a hand out, he touches the building as nonchalantly as he approached it. Cracks fracture from his fingertips, spreading over the entire structure. Within half a minute, the whole thing collapses loudly. A cloud of dust hangs in the air above him. He looks unphased. And it's… Hot? 

No, you think to yourself, it's just surprising. That's all. You'd just never seen him use his quirk before. 

Still, you have to admit - he's powerful. 

Quickly, you cross the street to join him. 

The freshly dusted concrete reminds you of the smell before rain, just sharper. Shards of glass glisten across the space, 

You spend a few minutes taking it all in. 

He simply watches you. 

“We've gotta go,” his quiet but direct voice urges as he shoves the hand from his face into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Hey!” you hear in the distance, as the two of you break into a sprint. 

You don't think it's a hero, probably some low level security guard but it's still best to not get caught. Especially with a wanted villain. Of course, Shigaraki could easily take him out but he's probably already called for backup so it doesn't really fix the issue. 

Running down the street, you're about to round the corner before your quirk screams at you to take another way. Yanking the shoulder of his hoodie, you pull him to the first door you run past. It's not budging but he dusts the lock quickly, pulling you inside. You thread a piece of rebar through the inner door handles just in case. 

Footsteps grow closer and you realize just how many windows your chosen hiding place has. Your quirk didn't warn you against it though? 

A pull on your arm brings you to a dark corner. Shoulder to shoulder, you're huddled out of sight. The street lights illuminating just enough to cast a streak of light over his face. 

It occurs to you now, you've never really seen his face. Especially not this close. 

He's younger than you thought. Considering that he's the leader and Girian introduced you, you assumed they were around the same age. Turns out, Shigaraki is a lot closer to your age. 

When he's not glaring at you, his eyes are really pretty. Dark red and striking against the pale of his skin. The thin skin around his face is dry and littered with scars. You hope it doesn't hurt. 

A minute passes as you admire his beauty, completely forgetting not to stare. 

Based on his expression, you'd think he was bored but the nervous itching and chewing the skin on his bottom lip gives away some anxiety. It's nice seeing he's actually human. 

With this new realization, you're acutely aware of the closeness. The way his shoulder brushes against yours. You can practically feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of both of your clothes. 

“What?” he asks, bringing you out of your trance. 

“Nothing,” you respond, feeling your cheeks burn. 

“We should probably go,” he jumps to his feet, “sounds like he went that way so let's find a door on the other side of the building.“

You follow him through the maze of hallways before coming to a way out. An old fire exit sign hangs from the ceiling above, long since burned out. 

Locked again. 

He shrugs and effortlessly crumbles the entire door for you to pass through. 

You had it right earlier: he's definitely hot.

m.list

[this was originally two parts but they were both short so it made more sense to make it one]

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Been thinking, how fucked would it be if after a Fazbear conviction over all the Mimic stuff coming to light through Roxy and Cassie, if they go to the other Fazbear locations and keep finding more fucking bodies under the floor?

This place has penguins, but also there's a dead guy under the stage. This place has robot sharks but there's a Mimic in there pretending to be a fish and a weird amount of bones in the pirate exhibit. And oh look! This one has another Glitchtrap! Wow! When does it end!

[bnhatrashsideblog]

If you think of it, many of the people in this fandom keep proving Monoma right and making his character have so much sense- like guys, class 1-B is not the lesser class. They aren't weaker than class 1-A, the classes weren't assigned by strength or anything like that. The only difference between the two classes is that the fucking MC is in one of them, which automatically makes them the center of attention. If Midoriya got assigned to class 1-B then no one would fucking think they're lesser than class 1-A lol.

"How Hagakure/Mineta/whatever got in class 1-A?" girl the question is how they got in the hero course, not class 1-A (which is a talk for another post, not this one). Them being in class 1-A doesn't mean they're automatically stronger than everyone in class 1-B

[nexus-nebulae]

another childhood bucket list item obtained: i finally have a snuggie

[dazais-guardian-angel]

went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠

[bibiana112]

Girl are you okay? Cause you've been looking through the "My lesbian experience with loneliness" tag again

Well the short answer is no :D

[benevolentvampire]

crying over weiss throwing her arms around yang in the camp

[bubblegumbeyotch]

.

[sunni-stuff]

P2 P3

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[eggnog-spills]

I don't know man. You suck. You suck, and he sucks. And I know I suck too. I'm fully aware that I suck. So do they honestly, and her. I'll defend them with my life but they both Fucking Suck. And so do I.

Maybe we were all never meant to work and maybe we were but we fucked it up along the way. Either way, maybe not wanting to be around you isn't me cutting you out of my life because I can't stand you or anything of the sort. Maybe it's just throwing in the towel and moving on because I still have no idea what's best for me. And I can't risk fucking everything up again. For both of us.

[trianglegoddess]

I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face. 

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word. 

And then they got invaded by Darkseid. 

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had. 

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members. 

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost. 

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now. 

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there. 

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth. 

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it. 

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!” 

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer. 

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.  

Instead he wails. 

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces. 

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise. 

It’s mourning. 

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left. 

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that. 

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win. 

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose. 

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up. 

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend. 

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched. 

Even as he stares Death in the eye. 

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail. 

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself. 

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face. 

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension. 

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all. 

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off. 

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price. 

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet. 

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”