#as my friend said I’ve been on an art rampage

[rainbowpufflez]

More things for moots >:3 this time @johnbleepingzoidberg ‘s PerfWorld fankid Valentin Sycamore !!!

Also I couldn’t help myself

[bugwolfsstuff]

Here's a snippet of the Halloween fic wip, cause I decided to rewrite this chapter

@smileyalater @thel1ghtningthief @unubinary @bodeyeen2132

I am trying to fit a Valgrace plot

Camp Halfblood! Camp Halfblood! BE GLAD YOU'RE STILL ALIVE

Chapter 1. Leo’s Pov 

The meeting room of the Big House was in complete chaos and not of the fun kind when I walked in.  

Connor (or Travis? I can never tell them apart) Stoll from Hermes was picking at the peeling paint of the meeting table (which was really just a Ping-Pong table with foldable chairs around it). His brother was trying to put a whoopee cushion on my chair. Clarisse, my buddy Frank’s scary older sister from Ares was sharpening her spear Lamer. Clovis from Hypnos was slumped over in his seat, fast asleep. My friends Piper and Jason were in their seats looking really bored.  A girl with a blue bob was sitting in the Demeter seat looking like she was about to blow a gasket. She seemed to be Miranda’s replacement. 

The rest of the counsellors (the newbies) who I didn’t know were yelling amongst themselves. 

“What are we going to do?” I heard someone yell. “Miranda is dead!” 

Dios, I thought. Not something you want to hear when you walk in the room. Personally, I’d prefer it if every time I walked in everyone cheered and threw confetti. 

“No, she isn't you idiot! She’s in the infirmary!” Someone else yelled. 

Oh, that’s better, I thought. I squeezed my way past Clovis to my seat. Since I came back from, you know dying, my siblings made me head counsellor. So, it was up to me, Captain Valdez, supreme leader of Cabin Nine to sit at the Ping-Pong table with the big kids and help solve the latest camp crisis.... 

Whatever that crisis was. I’ve been in Bunker nine working on upgrading Festus for the past...three maybe five days? And Nyssa didn’t explain much except ‘Miranda got attacked in the fields, Leo get your butt to the Big House stat’. 

It was fine though; I figured this was going to be a quick meeting. In and out. Lots of people get attacked or mauled at camp. As much as I hate to say it, this was the normal at Camp. This was probably just going to be a quick meeting on weapon training and a slideshow presentation on the art of not dying. 

I pushed the whoopee cushion onto the floor and smiled at the Stoll brother closest to me, sliding into my seat “Hey, what’d I miss?” I asked. 

“Nothing much” Piper said across from me. 

I sighed, pulling out some pipe cleaners from my belt. “What even happened? Did the strawberries go rogue and start going on a rampage or something?” 

Before Piper could open her mouth to reply, Chiron, the camp’s unofficial camp director walked in—or more wheeled in, he was in his wheelchair. Will Solace from Apollo and what I'm assuming was the school year counsellor for Annabeth’s cabin followed him close behind, taking their seats. 

“Counsellors!” Chiron called over the noise, “Let’s come to order now,”  

The room fell into silence, and everyone looked at him and Will. 

He wheeled himself over to his spot at the end of the table “As some of you have already heard. Miranda is in the infirmary from very...” He cleared his throat, “.... gruesome injuries sustained from an attack in the Strawberry fields.” He glanced at Miranda’s blue haired replacement, “Don’t worry, she’s okay.” 

I felt like that was contradicting, but that seemed to calm her down. 

“Do we know what attacked Miranda?” Jason asked from the end of the table, looking cool in a rugged way, he was growing his hair out. He’s a son of Jupiter, so while me and Piper were living it up, starting super cool clubs and making up secret handshakes; He was on the other side of the Ping Pong table with the other big three kids, who were only there half of the time. 

Will Solace shook his head, pulling his bloody medical gloves off and putting them on the table (gross, dude), “No, no one saw it. It disappeared into the strawberry plants before anyone could see it properly.” He replied. 

“What about the bite mark? And the scratches?” Annabeth's brother asked, “That could help identify it!”. 

Will shook his head, “I already told you, that’s what’s weird about it, the bite didn’t look like any monster I’ve seen before.” He paused, frowning. “It looked… almost human.” 

Jason frowned too, “Maybe an Empusa?” 

“Doubt it,” Will said, “They usually go for men, and we would of saw it and it disappeared into the plants, very few things do that”. 

Miranda’s replacement perked up “Maybe the dryads saw something? We could ask—” 

Clarisse cut her off with a snort “Already tried, Sherman’s on a warpath. He asked the nymphs if they saw anything. They all refused to talk”. She lowered her spear, glancing around the room, “I uh...I wouldn’t be so sure on their loyalty.” 

Everyone stared at Clarisse. If we were in a movie the soundtrack would be going Dun dun dunnn, right then.  

Jason’s brow furrowed, “You think the Dryads are in on it?” 

“Not saying they are,” Clarisse replied, “But it’s suspicious they’re not talking. Normally, they’d be jumping to defend their territory.” 

“How dare you!” Miranda’s replacement looked around to see if anyone was going to back her up “You all can’t really be thinking—” 

Jason cut her off, “—So, the dryads clearly know something. That’s not good, this is more serious than we thought."  

I thought he could say that again. Even I knew how bad it was; if the nymphs were covering for a monster, then we were in Trouble with a capital T. Camp was surrounded by nature, they outnumber us. If they decided to do a plant uprising, we’d lose a lot more than the pretty ladies who serve our food at meals. 

He looked serious now, his blue eyes were deathly calm, like a storm right before the lightning strike. The small scar on his lip quivered. His elbows were up on the ping-pong table and his chin was resting on his chin, which meant he means business, and he was doing his ‘I have a plan; trust me I am the leader’ face. 

I looked down at my hands, I somehow managed to tie my pipe cleaners to both of my sleeves like hand cuffs. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Jason said slipping into his leader voice, and I decided to ignore my pipe cleaner imprisonment to listen to him, “Stolls, Clarisse, get your cabins to patrol the campgrounds, especially near the forest and the fields. Leo and Malcolm, both your cabins can collaborate on traps, right?” 

Annabeth’s brother—Malcolm, nodded. Clarisse grunted and the Stolls grinned. 

I saluted with both my hands (still handcuffed) “Aye Aye Commander Grace! I won't let you down!” I promised. 

Jason smiled at me before turning to Piper and continuing, I grinned back, “Okay, Piper, you and I are going to take a walk and try and figure out what’s up with the nymphs”. 

Piper nodded. 

Jason nodded back and then looked at the remaining counsellors, he went down the list of cabins, giving them each a job. No one argued with him. That was the thing with Jason’s leader voice, it was like charmspeak. When he spoke, you listened. 

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Hello, I’m new to your blog and saw some of your Xenophanes and MX content. I recently saw your new post about GB and I wanted to request something with him and Turmoil. So on the Mario’s Madness wiki it says the Turmoil and GB are friends. So I thought what if GB and Turmoil were also friends with reader. So Reader is a demonic entity that takes the form of Rosalina (From Super Mario Galaxy). Reader is mostly a chill and mature person (When they’re not murdering their victims.) but sometimes they join in on Turmoil and GB’s schemes. Reader has some of Rosalina’s powers. (Such as Flight/Float, Telekinesis, Teleportation, and Telepathy.) I can only imagine the amount of shenanigans that the three of them can come up with. That’s all I can think of right now.. ☺️

(If it’s okay can you use They/Them Pronouns for Reader please.)

Also here’s the proof:

Being Best Pals With GB And Turmoil

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

I actually knew that the two of them were friends from looking at the wiki as well. For some reason I was slightly surprised even though it makes sense that they would but regardless I really like it. Hope you enjoy reading this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Murdering + Corpses⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: GB + Turmoil

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by Marco Antonio on Twitter + Banner by zhsoftly (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- Honestly I can imagine it being a field day being friends with both GB and Turmoil. Most of it coming from GB and with Turmoil just following along because why not. I like to think that you met GB before Turmoil. You managed to meet GB while you were on your usual rampage of gaining more victims just to play with. Since your character mostly resides in comet observatory which is in space you often find yourself going to earth once in a while which is the time you earn your victims who were foolish enough to fall for your power. One of these times you happened to glance upon the monochrome plumber. Well more like he happened to glance upon you.

- You see as GB just happened to stumble upon you while you were murdering your most recent victim and decided that he was going to bother you. He didn’t have any specific reason except he thought that your powers were interesting. Besides that he just thought ‘I don’t know who they are but I’m going to be they’re friend now’ that was it. So he went up to you admittingly catching you a bit off guard and immediately started a conversation with you as if you didn’t just murdered someone.

+ “Why hello there? Haven’t seen you here before, who are you?” GB said in a sly tone yet cautious although curious to who you were he still had his guard up in case he needed to defend himself. However despite being caught off guard by him you were honestly impressed by his carefree attitude and his natural approach to you. It seems like he doesn’t fear you and that caught your interest. You managed to immediately calm yourself before giving GB a slight smile while looking down at him. “I could say the same as well. Aren’t you aware that I just murdered someone, aren’t you afraid?” You asked curiously why he isn’t running away like everyone to which he gave you a slight chuckle “I’m flattered that you think I'd be scared. Trust me I’ve seen stuff like this” He said looking up at you through his cap with a smug look on his face. You raised an eyebrow at him before speaking up “you’ve seen stuff like this? You caught my interest” You gave him a smile in return before seeing him bring out a hand and started to shake yours “Same here, you can call me GB. If you please be so kind as to tell me your name?” “I’m [Name] pleasure to meet you GB” you said, shaking his hand in return.

- Pretty much since then you two have been inseparable. Like partners in crime. If you were doing something he had to do it as well. If people saw one or the other they always prepared themselves to see the other. That's how much you two hang out with each other. You two just naturally get along despite you mostly being mature for who you were and with how GB is. Guess it’s just how it works.

- For how you met Turmoil you and GB managed to find him in the forest that he resides alongside his recently eaten victims. At first the two of you were surprised to see him. Was a little thing like him able to cause something like this? Apparently so. If you had to admit he was actually kind of cute.

+ You and GB gave each other confused looks as you saw Turmoil staring off into space like he wasn’t even acknowledging you two. Little did the two of you know he technically did acknowledge you two just in a different way, through sound and smell. But later on you two did learn that he was blind. “Are you two my enemies?” The voice that came out of Turmoil surprised the two of you. His voice was gargled like he had swallowed a bunch of razors. Out of you and GB you were the one to speak up first not knowing how your pal may instigate him. You lowered yourself to meet him at eye level before saying “I promise you, whoever you are we aren’t your enemies. Tell me, did you cause this mess?” You could see GB copying your movements lowering himself before asking “yeah did you? If you did then I’ve got to admit I’m impressed” before you know it Turmoil gave off a smile. Nothing sinister, just a genuine smile it was like he was happy to meet you two “oh that’s great, I’m glad to meet new people as long as you two aren’t enemies you won’t end up like them” ‘them’ referring to the multiple koopas, galoombas and wigglers that were scattered across the ground. You gave him a nod before asking “I’m curious what is your name, little one?” “Turmoil you can call me Turmoil” you gave him a smile although he couldn’t see it he could sense it that you were “what’s yours and the man standing next to you names?” He asked to which you told your name and GB’s name to him. It seemed like GB was pleased to see someone Turmoil.

- You thought that it was chaotic with just you and GB. Well prepare yourself because it’s going to be a lot more chaotic with Turmoil around. Although the three of you have the same motives it seems like GB and Turmoil have the same personality while you were calm and mature when you aren’t claiming lives like them but you don’t mind it. In fact you find it more fun with the two of them compared to others. Do you know that one meme where a dude is struggling to keep his children with their harness on? Well that’s basically the three of you with you occasionally being the dude and the other two being the children.

- I like to think that Turmoil kind of acts like a dog around you. I’m pretty sure that it’s canon or maybe was canon that although he still has some humanity left in him he still can go overboard. You tend to notice him following you around. Due to him being blind he often relies on echolocation and his great sense of smell to know not just you or GB but pretty much anyone especially his enemies. Although he can and does that he also prefers to stick around either you or GB just for some familiarity. But he can manage just by himself.

- Be prepared to look down at the two of them all the time. If I’m correct Rosalina has a canon height of 7ft or at least around 7ft and with you being a demonic entity you can make yourself even taller than that if you wanted to. I like to think that GB has the same height as Mario, possibly shorter but only by an inch or so but in his true form is only a bit taller than his non evil counterpart but not taller than you. Obviously Turmoil will be shorter than the both of you combined so regardless of Rosalina’s canon height or your height you’ll have to look down at him no matter what. To be honest even though you're his best pal he kind of hates the height difference between you and him. He’s often the jokester between the three of you but as soon as you tease him about his height he gets pouty. Kinda funny if you imagine it. For Turmoil he couldn’t care less. He’s pretty much used to people being taller than him. Plus I don’t think he realise how tall you are unless you tell him directly but regardless even before then he has some sort of knowledge that you were tall. Sometimes when he is bored he likes to climb on you and rest on your shoulders to which you just let him.

- Since Rosalina has her Lumas and with you being her demonic counterpart you have your version of Lumas as well just more demonic than the original. They are like your little helpers telling you things about your victims, giving you information best suited for you and warning you of anyone going after you which is rare but regardless they tell you.

- GB absolutely loves your little minions treating them like they were his pet. Gently tickling them with the tip of his fingers as they rest in his hand. Turmoil on the other hand may have accidentally almost eaten one of your Lumas before getting told off by you telling him that they belong to you and aren’t enemies (I know in canon they aren’t enemies to Mario but this isn’t the canon Mario universe). But besides that they actually get along with each other. Sometimes Turmoil likes to fly around on the bunch of them because why not.

- All and all despite the contrast in personality between the three of you, you lot are the best of friends and often get into shit with you getting all of you out of said shit that the other two manage to convince and rope you into.

———————————

[afpwestcoast]

The Social, Orlando, FL, 6/18/23

Before the show I ran into Brian on the street and asked him what the new song (which had been dubbed Tom’s New Favorite Song at last night’s show) was actually called. He said it’s called ‘Boyfriend in a Coma’ and was actually written about 19 years ago but had only recently been arranged as a Dresden Dolls song. It’s based on her then-boyfriend Brendon suddenly collapsing during a load-out after a show, developing Guillain–Barré syndrome, and going into a coma for like 6 months, during which time Amanda hardly left his bedside. You can hear a demo of it here. It will always be Tom’s New Favorite Song to me.

When my nephew was 12 or 13 years old he googled Amanda Palmer to find out why his uncle kept jetting around all over the place to see her. Afterwards, due to the number of pictures that came up of Amanda in various stages of undress, he asked, “Is she a porn star?”

When I told Amanda this story she inscribed a copy of ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ for him: “To Dylan - I am not a porn star. No really. Love, -Amanda.” I gave him the book for his 18th birthday.

He’s now 26, and he lives in Orlando, so I brought him to the show. When I planted him in the front row against the stage I said, “Just so you understand: there are thousands of people all over the world who would kill to be standing where you are right now.” At the time I’m sure there was some eye rolling, but by the end of the evening I think he understood.

Unfortunately, guest bassist Tilley Komorny had come down with COVID in the past 24 hours, so we were not able to fight for our right (to party!). Despite this the band torched through another stellar set, with only minimal property damage.

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (featuring Brian on guitar to start)

Sex Changes

Gravity

Backstabber - Due to a “band miscommunication” they actually started playing different songs. I kinda think they shoulda just gone with it, but they restarted and both played Backstabber.

Modern Moonlight - Once again Brian led the crowd in the backing-vocal part before diving into the song.

My Alcoholic Friends

There was a pause in the set to introduce the band, tape down the piano pedal, and, of course, say GAY!

Rock and Roll Part 2 (aka The Hey Song - Gary Glitter cover) - Brief excerpt with the shout of “Hey!” replaced with “GAY!”

“If you’re looking for a gay band, look no further!”

Boyfriend in a Coma - By way of introduction Amanda said, “I’ve been sitting here for the last few nights thinking ‘I wouldn’t want to break up with me.’ Just warning you: I’m like the goth Taylor Swift. If you go out with me, and we break up in a bad way, you’re fucked. You’re SO fucked! This song is not quite really like that, but it lives in that dimension.”

Merch commercial

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Bad Habit

Missed Me

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) - During her rampage up and down the bar tonight Amanda actually broke one of the lighting fixtures. “We broke that light, which means we’re gonna have to pay for that light. Buy more merch!”

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift)

After taking a huge swig of wine straight from the bottle, Amanda said, “The truth is I stopped being as much of a lush when I had a child cause it just didn’t work. I don’t know if anybody has ever tried to have a small child and be hungover, but it’s fucking impossible.”

Whakanewha (pronounced Fuckin-A-Fa)

Mrs. O

Twenty Years Ago, Part 2 - Another impromptu composition about a song about climate denialism being more true now than when it was written 20 years ago. Conclusion: That’s fucked up.

They then welcomed to the stage Father Nathan Monk, who told the story of why he left the priesthood. Bottom line: The conservative (read: ignorant, bigoted, and, frankly, unchristian) dictates of his church were incompatible with his progressive world view.

Mandy Goes to Med School

Coin-Operated Boy - At the start of the song instead of singing the lyrics Amanda just sang, “Gay, gaygaygaygaygay” to the tune. Then at the end she changed the line to “Gay and to the point.”

Half Jack

——

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

Girl Anachronism - At this point, at the end of the third night in a row, I was exhausted and could barely stand. In a fit of wishful thinking, I actually thought they were going to close with “Sing,” and I would have a nice, calm denouement - I even took out my earplugs. Instead, I got a face full of Girl A. I managed to power through … and then collapsed on the stage.

Photo Gallery:

Dylan’s final few moments of pre-Dresden Dolls innocence (photo by Laurie Steiger)

Merch commercial; I was too enthralled through the first part of the set to take pix

Welcome to the Internet!

Grrrrrr!

Amsterdam

One of those light fixtures will not survive

Delilah

Let’s see how fast this thing can go!

Brian: You know what you did. Amanda: I know tee-hee!

Father Nathan Monk

The many faces of Brian Viglione

Really dude?

I remain convinced that Amanda’s stare can shatter glass

The end!

I’m not the only one who collapsed on the stage afterwards

[queenimmadolla]

Someone asked pinkrelish if the reader in her series was white, cause she rbed a bunch of fan art from different artists that depict reader as white, and someone sent in an ask saying the first anon might have gotten the wrong idea due to the fanart

https://www.tumblr.com/pinkrelish/717773696352288768/miss-mouse-is-white?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/pinkrelish/717776873301721088/most-of-if-not-all-the-artworkmoodboards-ive?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/pinkrelish/717787746591244288/prev-anon-here-youve-done-a-great-job-in-keeping?source=share

But then a writer friend of theirs that had previously made a collage/moodboard type thing for them misinterpret the ask, thinking it was attacking the writer as well as the collage they made and kind of went on a rampage to “defend” their friend, made a post about how people need to get off anon and say something to have a conversation. When another poc user tried to reason with them in the comments of their post, saying the asks weren’t attacking anyone (I mean read them for yourself) they kept almost intentionally misinterpreting what they were saying, putting words into their mouth, told them that if they don’t like art/visuals that depict white readers, to simply block the people making them and it won’t be a problem, etc, then blocked them. Then they made a post about how they’re gonna stick up for their friends and “block bullshit” and kept reiterating that moodboards/fic headers/artworks are all usually self-inserts in a way and we can’t blame anyone for the fact that these things are so white washed. So yeah, that’s what happened 💀 the person who got the asks is quite a big writer so that’s prob why you got the asks too.

I almost wasn’t gonna respond to this, but that’s a bystander effect and I refuse to participate in that anymore lol.

Okay, so Pinkrelish is an incredibly talented writer, and I’ve been following along with her works before I even knew they had a tumblr! They have this gymnast!reader fic that I LOVE so much, which I came across on ao3 like last fall. I don’t know her personally, but I do know I have witnessed her reblog and support all the fanart she is sent and tagged in. We of course are aware that fanart is usually the artist self-inserting into the non-descriptive reader insert, which is 100% appropriate! That’s why we write, so whomever our audience is can see themselves in the works!

Obviously, POC have a lot harder of a time getting their art interacted with, but Alyson would support any form of fanart sent her way, it’s an honor as a writer to see people depicting themselves in what we write.

I’m not gonna touch too much on the other writer right now, because I don’t know a lot of the situation nor who it even was and I’m dyeing my hair rn so I can’t look around, but I hope they’ve been made aware this was not an attack and a counter attack was completely unnecessary. I do think it’s disparaging for POCs to voice things that concern them only to be shut down in a matter such as the one you described (because it looks like Pinkrelish responded positively, and in my opinion wonderfully, in terms of acknowledging the struggles of POCs on this hellsite so whatever aggression you said was on display from someone else was actually unneeded).

I will always encourage other people of color to speak up, because on anon or off anon (because I know that anon would have been clearly brutalized had they spoken from their account as implied, and so long as what is being said is mot hate), what you have to say matters. This is a place for conversation and we all need to be a little more open minded.

Alyson loves everyone though, so if you’re a POC and you’ve got some beautiful ass TYP fanart you’ve been afraid to post in this fandom for obvious reasons (and withholding from me), she’s the type of writer who would love to see it :)

(P.s., most writers would love fanart SO POST IT PLS)

[anjumstar]

feel it in my body, know it in my mind

warnings: 18+ minors dni, mostly top!Deku, bottom!Bakugou, switching, anal sex, oral sex, biting, exhibitionism, medically inadvisable decisions, having sex while sick, dirty talk, light praise kink

rating: explicit

pairing: dekubaku

word count: 18.5k

summary: Five times that Katsuki and Izuku probably shouldn’t have sex and one time that they absolutely should.

a/n: This, folks, is arguably too much smut. It’s all pwp. But here it is, beta’d by my lovely, lovely friend, @/silver-weasel​, who assisted me with this piece from the moment where the idea hit me all the way to today. Additional thanks to @/spacelabrathor​, who sent in the prompt requests that were supposed to be for drabbles OOPS. And thank you to me, for, after nine years, finally writing a 5+1 fic 😌

master list

one

It’d been seven years since Izuku first broke his bones for sport in front of the former class 1-A, and finally, Katsuki was starting to understand Izuku’s motives.

Perhaps it was shortsighted to think (which tracked well with Izuku circa age fifteen), but it was an inconvenience to worry so much about injuries when the business end of the equation had a rampaging villain that had to be defeated, and the other side had a healer who, nine times out of ten, could fix the problem to an immediately workable degree.

So was breaking Katsuki’s leg the right decision? Hell yes. Something was going to break on that four-story fall, and Katsuki was always going to choose his legs to fall victim instead of the civilians who’d been his arms. A flawless victory, snapped tibia and fibula aside.

And now they were healed…mostly. He’d been in the hospital for three days, but two of those had just been sleeping off the fatigue of rapid-bone growth. And he was stuck in a boot for the week (no crutches, though, hallelujah), but Katsuki was sure that was just a conspiracy to keep him on desk work for a few days.

As it was, the rest of today was going to be spent at home. Katsuki’s eyes bleared at the dove-gray walls of his bedroom, the way he’d left the room perfectly neat before work three days ago. The only things differentiating it from the hospital was the lack of machinery and mass reproduced art on the walls. His were bare but for his curtains and mounted TV. He’d have to decorate some day.

So, as he lay down in bed (two days of bedrest and he was still fucking exhausted), he turned to his boyfriend, and said, “Fuck me.”

Izuku’s arms had been outstretched, ready to help Katsuki into bed (fuck that, he didn’t need help. He could have used his quirk and blasted himself into bed arms only, if need be), but they suddenly recoiled in and he took a sudden step back. “Wh-What?”

Katsuki was already taking off his shirt. “C’mon, I’ve barely seen you in weeks outside you showing up to see me in the damn hospital. I can’t remember the last time we fucked.”

That was a lie. He actually could remember that it had been three weeks ago (far too long, frankly, but they’d been busy. They were always busy) and it had just been a blow job and some hand stuff before Raccoon Eyes’ fucking baby shower. Luckily, it had made them late (Katsuki had a strict party policy of last in, first out, while Izuku preferred first in to help with set up, and last out to help with cleanup. This time they’d compromised and Katsuki found himself throwing away pink balloons and wrapping paper for forty-five minutes.)

“You’re injured, Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, and Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff, one that scratched up the whole back of his throat, just for emphasis.

“You’ve punched villains stupid with both arms broken—I can be fucked stupid with a mostly healed leg.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed against Katsuki’s flawless logic. There was nothing that Izuku could say to outwit Katsuki in this argument that, more importantly, Izuku assuredly already knew he was on the wrong side of. Because, for however much Katsuki wanted it, Izuku was almost guaranteed to want it more. Katsuki was trained in recognizing patterns in behavior and this one had been obvious for ages now.

Katsuki kept his eyes on Izuku’s as he reached for his bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms (the benefits to keeping a tidy room) and held one in each hand.

Izuku exhaled (the first sign of defeat—showing a soft stomach to the enemy) and looked to the side, saying “Fuck it,” before reaching behind and pulling off his shirt as well.

A smile rose quickly to Katsuki’s face, making their first kiss as much teeth as lips and tongue as Izuku gingerly maneuvered over Katsuki, being mindful of his leg.

Katsuki began to harden in his pants immediately, looking forward to a quick, flash in the pan sex session that would leave him properly wrung out and ready for one last good sleep before a mindnumbing week of desk duty. But who knew, maybe the boring work days would leave him available for more rendezvous like this with his boyfriend than usual.

“God, I’ve missed you, Kacchan, I’m so happy you’re okay,” Izuku whispered into Katsuki’s neck as he ran his fingers around the elastic waist of Katsuki’s sweatpants. Doting boyfriend that Izuku was, he’d brought Katsuki an easy change of clothes at the hospital so that he didn’t have to stump home in his damaged hero suit. It had already been sent for repairs and would be good as new once Katsuki was cleared for action again.

Katsuki bit his lip, the onslaught already sending tingles down his neck, landing as bubbling warm fuzzies in his chest. He reached for Izuku’s shorts and pushed them down as far as he could without preamble. They landed just below the swell of Izuku’s ass, and Katsuki gave each cheek a hard squeeze. Izuku’s ass was one rare part of his body that was soft and nearly scarless; it exaggerated the roughness of every callus roughening Katsuki’s hands.

“Take ‘em off,” Katsuki growled.

“Yes, just—” Izuku trailed off, grinding his still clothed front against Katsuki’s own, fingers below the waist of both Katsuki’s pants and boxers. “You’re so warm.”

He was warm, hot, in fact. Alone in the hospital with nothing but his gown and a threadbare blanket had been regrettably cold, and the new heat was refilling him rapidly.

“Off,” Katsuki demanded again, and this time Izuku complied. He hastily kicked his shorts down his legs and off the end of the bed before attempting to do the same with Katsuki’s, only for one leg to get stuck at the boot. Izuku looked to Katsuki.

“Leave ‘em,” Katsuki said, grabbing Izuku by the hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

Katsuki bent his legs, the heavy boot making the act a little more lumbering than usual. The fabric of his pants stretched between Katsuki’s thighs, digging into the thick, resistant muscle. Frankly, he had half a mind to have Izuku tear them down the seam with One for All (or Katsuki could just burn them through himself).

But, for now, he dealt with it, as Izuku fumbled blindly for the lube and popped the cap. Izuku had never come into possession of much patience, and Katsuki didn’t have particularly much to spare at the moment. Therefore, the lube landed cold and plentiful between Katsuki’s legs before Izuku dove in to warm it up with his fingers.

After weeks, Katsuki was tight, and wouldn’t be able to do something without at least a sloppy bit of prep. But Izuku was nothing if not studied, and began curling one and then two fingers inside Katsuki almost immediately, finding the spots that made him tighten up in pleasure and then loosen in the desire for more.

As Izuku worked, Katsuki kept one hand firmly in his hair and the other moved down to his ass, pressing them hip against hip so that their cocks slotted together with moistened friction. The barrier of Katsuki’s pants was pressing against Izuku’s middle, but neither man particularly minded as they made contact everywhere else they could.

When Izuku had finally opened up Katsuki thoroughly (well, somewhat thoroughly. Thoroughly enough), Katsuki’s legs were embarrassingly weak. Blame the boot, the short dry spell, the atrophying two days in bed—Katsuki had a need. And he scratched Izuku’s working arm down the side to make that need clear.

Nonverbal communication had long been good for them, so that was all Izuku needed to pull back and slip on a condom. His oft-broken fingers weren’t the most deft, but he was practiced and motivated.

There was something Katsuki always enjoyed about that first press in after a decently long bout without sex (or sex toys). The stretch, the reminder of Izuku’s girth, the promise that Katsuki would be feeling their coupling for hours afterwards. It was worth the extra time needed with prep (really, the extra time was nothing but good unless they were in a hurry) just to have that whole experience again and again. Like the first time, but with the benefits of being trained in being good at bottoming. At having formed those delicious neural pathways that told him that yes, this was good, and it was right. It was an ancient way of people enjoying one another and he and Izuku were just the two lucky ones benefiting right now.

Izuku hissed as he bottomed out, giving away his pleasure after the long wait too. Again, Katsuki’s stupid fucking pants grew tight between them, a pink line already forming across Izuku’s middle like jagged teeth marks.

“This is bullshit,” Katsuki muttered, his leg already cold and numb at the toes from being angled away from and above the rest of his body. This fucking boot was going to be the death of him.

Izuku, seeming to agree, grabbed both of Katsuki’s legs just above the knee, and swung the good one over his shoulder while holding the boot in one hand, making his bicep ripple and flex. Then he pulled out and thrust back in and Katsuki groaned. Much better.

This was medicine. This was what the fucking hospital was missing. All thoughts about the injury and the shitty coming week of work and bothersome recovery were overwritten as Izuku worked into him, pacing slow and steady, each thrust going nearly his whole length out before finding home back inside Katsuki again. It was good to start, but Katsuki needed satisfaction.

“You don’t have to be gentle. I won’t break, fuckhead,” Katsuki breathed. His injury wasn’t in his goddamn ass, after all.

“Gimme a second,” Izuku said, but that’s all he needed as he squeezed Katsuki’s legs tight and pushed hard inside him, to the point that Katsuki could feel every angle of Izuku’s pelvic bone against his ass.

Thank you, Katsuki thought as the tension was pounded out of him. Better than any physical therapy massage he’d ever received, that was for sure. Despite being folded in half.

He just grunted and groaned, though, enjoying the way Izuku’s voice rang out over his. Where Katsuki’s noises were low and guttural, direct answers to Izuku’s thrusts hitting his core and pushing sounds out of him, Izuku’s voice was keening, increasing in volume the closer he got.

They started as little huffs, higher in pitch from the get-go than anything Katsuki produced. Then, strained “Hahs” started to form before Izuku would inevitably lose himself entirely to babbling. It was a progression Katsuki was treated to almost every time they got to make love, at least when the volume could be spared.

Katsuki coaxed the sounds out of Izuku, freeing the other man’s mouth by beginning to work his mouth down his neck, pulling a brand new, “Haah, Kacchan,” out of him.

Encouraged, Katsuki nibbled at the tender skin at the base of the throat—another rare soft spot on Izuku—coloring a bruise that his hero costume would easily cover.

“Wow, Kacchan, you’re so—”

Katsuki bit harder, Izuku’s words destroyed and turned to a thin whine before he licked up to Izuku’s ear.

Izuku moaned, hiking Katsuki’s legs up higher, pulling at the thick, tight muscles of Katsuki’s hamstrings. Damn hospital stay, keeping him out of shape. Katsuki breathed through the stretch and took one hand off of Izuku to reach down toward his own weeping cock.

Then, Izuku thrust in hard, the kind of hit to take Katsuki’s breath away, and sat there, deep as he could go. He reached under Katsuki’s pants and brushed his hand away, grabbing Katsuki firmly around the base.

“Let me, Kacchan.”

Katsuki, usually so full of defiance and rebuttals, kept his mouth shut. Teeth clenched, in fact, as he hissed, cool breath sucking between his teeth. It was almost too much—the heat of being struck by dueling pleasure, the speed of his incoming peak suddenly doubling.

“Kacchan, Kacchan,” Izuku chanted, in tune with the slap of the fleshy base of his hand hitting Katsuki’s lower abs, clenched for dear life.

“Deku,” Katsuki strained, both hands resorting to Izuku’s back, an effort to lay claim to every inch of Izuku’s skin that was yet unmarred. It was all his, his landscape to tend and burn with the seasons.

“I…” Izuku stuttered, his voice becoming stopped up and overwhelmed by everything else. “I…Kacchan.”

Izuku began stroking Katsuki with real vigor. Not a squeeze too tight, unaware of his own strength (no, Izuku was very aware of his own strength by now), but with all due speed. Speed that was only bearable from the copious globules of precome Katsuki had already drooled out. But even still, there was a slight burn from the friction that had Katsuki caught between wanting to lean in and pull away—like every other moment he’d shared with Izuku in their lives so far.

He came, suddenly and violently, streams of hot spend lashing over Izuku’s fist and Katsuki’s own stomach. And then he was tight inside, tighter than he had been to begin with, and Izuku’s voice was strangled, squeezed nearly as tight as his cock. Suddenly, there was no deeper he could go inside Katsuki, not without more drag than was comfortable in the immediate aftermath of an orgasm, so he ground in, gyrating his hips where he could before he too followed in completion.

The whimper that broke loose when Izuku finished was beautiful, the all-powerful number-one hero reduced to whines, naked and sweaty atop his lover. Izuku’s collapse wasn’t quite as boneless as usual, his skin having no opportunity to glue to Katsuki’s, sweat via sweat, as the damn sweatpants got caught between them once again.

“Stupid, fucking…” Katsuki breathed, the words lacking their usual bite as his breath slowly came back under him. “Deku, do something about my damn legs.”

“Oh,” Izuku grunted, the syllable coming out liquid, formless.

He moved Katsuki’s legs from his hand and his shoulder respectively, and the wooden creaking of Katsuki’s knees made itself known immediately. As Izuku straightened out Katsuki’s bum one, he winced, his muscles rebelling against the point of tension they’d been held at for so long.

“Oof, we should not have done that,” Izuku said, post-nut clarity coming to him as he reached for one of their discarded shirts and wiped the worst of their crime off of his hand and then Katsuki’s stomach.

“Shut up,” Katsuki said, struggling to balance his weight on his good leg and his upper back as he brought his pants and boxers back over his hips. It was never a mistake, not with them. Katsuki wouldn’t take back a single moment in love with Izuku for all the legacy in the world. He’d be more likely to give up his own life.

Izuku followed Katsuki’s lead and grabbed his shorts off the floor before snuggling in against Katsuki’s side, putting his hand against Katsuki’s chest. That relaxation that Katsuki never felt in the hospital fell heavily over him, like a weighted blanket or submerging in a sensory deprivation tank. Katsuki turned his head towards Izuku’s head, smelling the sweat over top of what lingered of his melon shampoo.

“Gotta go, Deku,” he mumbled, half of his face unmoving against his pillow. “You have actual work tomorrow.”

“You have actual work too,” Izuku protested. Though they both knew what he meant. “Wanna stay, wanna help.”

Continuing his dissent, Izuku wrapped a leg around Katsuki’s good one, and shoved his other underneath.

“Fine, you can stay, you can’t help,” Katsuki compromised, pulling a sheet half over his body. It wasn’t even that late—they’d both be up again shortly after sundown, guaranteed. Their sleep was fucked.

“Mm, okay.”

Behind that sweet smile, no one would suspect the man of telling a flat-out lie, but there he was. Lying to Katsuki’s face, and Katsuki was going to let him. Sometimes it was easier like that.

It was hard for it to feel like a lie when they were both sharing it.

two

Izuku could not look away. Physically. His eyes. Were stuck.

Not a quirk accident or anything, although Izuku considered it for a moment as his brain managed as best it could on low battery mode. But it didn’t seem likely, as his and Katsuki’s shift had yet to actually start. Yeah, no, wow, he was frozen.

“Goddamn it, Deku—every season? Seriously?”

Izuku blinked. Katsuki’s hands were clapping in front of him, the softened thwap echoing against the metal and tile of the locker room through the thick fabric of his gloves. The action, however, drew Izuku’s attention to Katsuki’s pectorals, which squeezed and unsqueezed beneath their new covering with every beat of his hands.

The thick, black material of Katsuki’s winter uniform should have rendered the definition of Katsuki’s well defined chest hidden, lacking visual depth, but no. The way that the deep V of Katsuki’s summer uniform had given way to a broad turtleneck only turned the whole game into a tease. It told Izuku’s mind to imagine what yesterday’s uniform had revealed. And that, of course, led him to imagine all the things that only he was able to see. Out of uniform. And well, then he was gone.

“Hey, shitnerd—”

“Let’s go to the showers, Kacchan,” Izuku suggested suddenly, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and wasting no time in dragging him in that direction.

The rolling of Katsuki’s eyes behind him was practically audible, sounding like God, this again and damned hero costume fetish. But his arm was pliable behind Izuku, his body easily being dragged from the lockers to the showers.

“Every fucking time, Deku,” Katsuki complained (if only for show), as Izuku dragged him into a stall and immediately fell to his knees. His kneepads rendered the action almost silent, instead highlighting the sound of Katsuki’s fly being unzipped. “I was just naked, I put on clothes, and now you wanna fuck?”

“Shh, Kacchan, careful…” There was enough growl in Katsuki’s voice that the echo probably wasn’t fully intelligible, but Izuku hardly wanted to stack risk atop risk. Even if it was a bit thrilling.

Izuku could admit that Katsuki was right; this did happen every season. Every time Katsuki switched over from summer to winter or winter to summer (winter was especially good, because then the switch back would be just a few months away), Izuku was struck, yet again, by how awesome he looked in his hero uniform. How badass, and brave, and strong, and delectable. Izuku placed his hands on the fronts of Katsuki’s thighs, wrapped his thumbs around the backs and squeezed. Then he pulled Katsuki’s still-soft cock out of the flap of his briefs, into his mouth, and began to get to work.

“Fuck, if this is all it takes…” Katsuki began, threading his fingers through Izuku’s hair, “I should—shit—take some spare costumes home.”

Izuku hummed at Katsuki’s idea, nuzzling his head up into his hands. Katsuki was already beginning to harden in Izuku’s mouth—Izuku could nearly taste the hot, throbbing pulse on his tongue as Katsuki’s cock grew heavier and heavier.

“Like that, Deku?” Katsuki goaded. “Maybe bring some to yours and mine—whatever your filthy mind wants.”

The idea of Dynamight spread atop his bed (either of their beds, or anywhere, really) was mind numbing, life shattering. Izuku could barely stand it. He whined around Katsuki’s cock, quieting only when Katsuki put a soft hand to his throat. No pressure, just a reminder.

“Quiet, dumbass, or you won’t get to do this in the spring.”

Katsuki’s grin was spread wide over his teeth, like what he’d said was a joke (both well aware that it wasn’t). Izuku hushed up, straightened his posture, and got back to work. It was easy to forget, really, while doing such a familiar activity, that they weren’t at home. They couldn’t go wild loving on each other, not here. No, this had to be quick, and efficient. Izuku could do that too.

He sucked Katsuki down in one go, quieting himself but working a strangled moan out of Katsuki. His hands wrapped around behind Katsuki, squeezing his ass just above the crease of his thighs. He pressed his fingers in hard, wanting to make up for the thick, flame retardant fabric of the pants separating them. Blue sparks flew from his fingertips and Katsuki groaned, his arm flying over his eyes as his head tilted back.

They were lucky that they could get away with this with little risk of discovery. All the sidekick teams at the agency had graduated shift times, so whole groups of heroes weren’t clocking out at the same time. So no one was likely to return from or leave for a shift right now except for them. It didn’t guarantee privacy, but it did lend Izuku some extra sense of permission.

Or maybe he’d just come to like a little danger over the years.

Izuku kept up his grip on Katsuki’s ass, his knuckles stiffening, but the contact oh so delightful as he pressed his nose against the elastic to Kastuki’s underwear. On a normal day, he’d be nosing against the trail of flaxen hair there, but not today. Today, he was with Dynamight.

“Deku,” Katsuki groaned, (maybe warned) as Izuku gave a good suck before coming up for air.

Izuku’s eyes were watering from the lack of air, the repeated intrusion in his throat, but he felt like they were twinkling. It was such an unquestionable victory to have Katsuki here, willingly taking precious moments away from hero work (time that they’d make up—Izuku swore) while Izuku could take what he wanted from the man he admired most. Whether a change in hero costume triggered it or not, he could never get enough Katsuki.

When he sunk down again, Izuku was sure that Katsuki was getting close. His eyes were screwed tight, one hand nearly ripping Izuku’s hair from the roots and the other having moved to grip the top of the stall wall. The self-satisfaction was blooming already in Izuku’s chest, giving him that much more motivation to succeed. The sooner Katsuki came, the sooner Izuku could see him as Dynamight in action. Truly, Izuku didn’t know which he wanted to see more.

Izuku trailed his tongue up Katsuki’s shaft, zigzagging over a bulging vein as he did. Then he sucked his way back down, drool escaping his mouth, probably wetting Katsuki’s uniform a little. Izuku could only imagine how sex wrecked his hair would be by the time they were done. How pink his lips would be from taking Katsuki’s cock in again and again. How visibly pleased he’d be to anyone who saw them once they started their shift.

“Fuck, Deku, I’m cumming,” Katsuki groaned, head hitting metal behind him.

Pain blossomed along Izuku’s scalp as Katsuki gave one last tug on Izuku’s hair, all while keeping the man in place on his cock. Izuku thrilled at it, head feeling light and empty as he swallowed and swallowed down Katsuki’s load.

When Izuku finally slid off Katsuki’s cock, already softening again, he looked up at Katsuki with heavy eyes and a lazy smile twerking half of his mouth. “Mm, thank you, Kacchan.”

He zipped Katsuki’s fly back up and allowed Katsuki to lift him from under his arms, putting them face to face again. Izuku’s cheeks were hot, the lack of oxygen having caused a blood rush to his face, but they seemed to flush all over again as he saw the front of Katsuki’s hero costume once more.

“Really, Deku?” Katsuki demurred, though his voice was probably a little breathier than he would have preferred. He got closer so that his breath was right on Izuku’s neck. “Already can’t handle it?”

He gave Izuku’s straining erection a few good palms, kissing him on the lips as he did so. He could assuredly taste those bitter, salty notes coating Izuku’s tongue, but that had never stopped either of them before. He pulled away, lips a little pink now to match both of their faces.

“Take care of you later, Deku.”

three

“Deku,” Katsuki growled, anger already blooming. “You’re supposed to be ready to go.”

Katsuki was certain, certain, that he’d instructed Izuku to be ready, in his costume, twenty minutes before they had to leave. Of course, that twenty minutes that he’d factored in had been just in case the nerd failed at his task (he was known all around their agency and indeed the whole hero network for getting in the zone with a task and having to be reminded of meetings, meals, and, of course, dates.)

“The rankings have already been made, Kacchan,” Izuku said, casually opening the door to let Katsuki in. “They’re not determined by when we get there.”

Izuku’s face was pink, his forehead just a little bit shiny, and Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “You sick or something?”

“No, just come in, Kacchan.”

Katsuki bent down to take off his shoes, the whole chore feeling like a waste of time before he even got to the first buckle. He was donning his hero costume sans accessories. He’d have duds on for the actual ceremony (no need for live grenades on his belt for a froufrou ceremony, even if his hips felt bare and hollow without them) and they simply were not wearable in the car.

When he was through, the boots heavily discarded, Izuku pulled Katsuki from the genkan and kissed him before Katsuki’s feet were even flat on the ground. It was not a welcome home kiss, nor a congrats on being the number two hero in Japan kiss. This was a riled up Izuku trying to start something with Katsuki kiss. Katsuki pulled back.

“You’re supposed to be getting dressed, idiot.”

“But, Kacchan, I prepared.”

“You’re not prepared, you’re wearing a t-shirt that says dressed up and has a hole in the shoulder.”

Katsuki stuck his pinky in the hole, making it stretch wider as the thin threads pulled and snapped.

“No, Kacchan,” Izuku said, taking Katsuki’s hand off his shoulder, and threading their fingers together. “I prepared.”

Katsuki blinked, Izuku’s words no more elucidating on the second listen than the first. “Say something helpful, Deku.”

Izuku leaned in again, his mouth drawing towards Katsuki’s ear, his breath tickling the shell.

Whispering had never made sense to Katsuki before Izuku. Before Izuku, he’d never shared secrets, shared intimacy. He’d never had anything to say that couldn’t be yelled. But that was different now, so he leaned in as Izuku said, “I want you.”

He recoiled. “Deku, no. We’ve got places to be, and my ass didn’t sign up for—”

“No, Kacchan,” Izuku put a hand on Katsuki’s chest, and the way that Izuku’s eye sparkled with excitement up at him kept him from barreling on anyway, “I want you to take me.”

Katsuki’s mouth dried. “Wha—” he started, clearing his throat, “What are you talking about.”

“I prepared, Kacchan!” Izuku said, his excitement overwhelming his seduction. “I’ve been practicing for weeks!”

“And you thought now was the right time?” Katsuki’s voice went up in pitch, higher than he would have liked, but couldn’t help it. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting when he’d come to pick Izuku up.

“Prepping took longer than I thought,” Izuku said, that blush that had been present since he’d answered the door deepening and ripening. “You do a lot of work.”

Katsuki stared dryly at him. Of course he did.

The thing was, they’d tried this before. Ages ago, at the beginning. They’d tried that arrangement, and, well, it hadn’t been successful. So, they’d fallen into their way of doing it, and Katsuki was satisfied with it. It wasn’t like things were stale—no, whatever words described what things felt like between them, it was anything but stale. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t consistent, but it was what Katsuki wanted. He was what Katsuki wanted. However he got him.

But it wasn’t that he didn’t want things…the other way. He’d just taken it off the table. But with Izuku looking at him, so excited in a way that Katsuki didn’t think that he’d see. No nervousness or uncertainty. And twenty minutes really wasn’t that short a time if he’d already prepared…

“Fuck, alright,” Katsuki said, pushing Izuku backward with one hand and unclicking his belt with the other. “Towel, lube, condom, and set an alarm on your phone. Twenty minutes—nineteen.”

Izuku grinned. “Yes, Kacchan!”

He took long, fast strides toward his bedroom, tapping his phone with one and and pulling Katsuki behind him with the other, like he’d get lost. Like they hadn’t fucked on or against nearly every surface of that apartment, like they hadn’t fucked in most of the ways the two of them could think of. Except this way.

It turned out that Izuku had already set out all the necessary props, coloring Izuku’s use of the word prepared a different way. Katsuki could have his head for dropping this on him when they were on a time crunch, but it could also be a blessing in disguise; Katsuki wasn’t convinced he’d be able to last very long.

Izuku’s shirt was already coming off, his lounge pants soon to follow—he wasn’t about to waste any of their limited time. Katsuki’s costume was a bit more of a hassle, though he’d never been more grateful to not have his accessories on. His pants fell to the floor with a clang, and his shirt fell softly after. Then the two men were tumbling into bed, Katsuki atop Izuku in a position of newfound power.

Every part in sex had power, because every part held danger. Katsuki was acutely aware of the twin power and responsibility one had when topping in anal sex—he’d learned it with Izuku. And, for a guy who didn’t often feel nervous, it was troubling to look down at the man underneath him and feel it in his palms, an unsteadying rush of adrenaline tingling down his limbs.

“Are you okay with this, Kacchan?” Izuku asked when the silence went on too long, brushing his fingers lightly through the hair right past Katsuki’s temple. “We don’t have to do it now—I probably shouldn’t have sprung—”

“It’s fine, idiot, I just needed a minute.”

Izuku grinned cheekily. “We have about seventeen.”

“Fuck, let’s get on with it,” Katsuki said, diving in.

“Okay,” Izuku replied, and the sound was immediately swallowed by Katsuki’s mouth.

They kissed for a moment, chapped lips meeting against chapped lips. There was always a bit of roughness between them, even at their most tender. The scars and calluses on their skin, the drag of the towel underneath them, separating them from Izuku’s soft blue, yellow, and red, sheets. Katsuki trailed down Izuku’s neck, earning a warm hum out of the other man, finding softness where he could. Kissing, Katsuki could do, always.

Izuku gasped, his breath already coming up short as Katsuki lowered himself and sucked against his nipple. “God, I love you.”

“Mm,” Katsuki hummed against Izuku’s warm skin. “Me too.”

Katsuki wanted to take his time, slowly take Izuku apart so that he could enjoy the rise, get that much higher so that the fall would be that much better (it was always better that way for Katsuki). The idea of this time being a negative sequel to their first attempts, or the rougher times that Katsuki had experienced bottoming made his chest ache. He only ever wanted to be good for Izuku.

He’d promised to never cause him pain again.

So Katsuki reached down to feel what exactly Izuku had done for prep. The amount of lube that had been used was apparent before Katsuki even made it to the cleft of Izuku’s ass—it was spread to the cheeks, even making it a bit down his thighs. Silicone-based, if the lasting power was anything to go off of.

“You don’t have to do much,” Izuku breathed. “I stretched too.”

“Fuck, I woulda loved to see that, Deku,” Katsuki groaned, catching Izuku’s mouth once more as he reached for the lube—for his own fingers if nothing else. And, of course, eventually his cock, which was already rising right on schedule with their time crunch.

“Next time,” Izuku promised, biting Katsuki’s lower lip before pulling away with wide eyes. “Oops, marks.”

For once, Katsuki found himself wishing that he wasn’t in the top ten. That he wasn’t on that stage he’d been dreaming of his whole life (despite the fact that the ceremony had only been around for seven years). Then he wouldn’t have to worry about his lips looking like he’d just kissed his boyfriend for hours, or else downed a bottle of red wine. He wouldn’t be concerned about being late and could make love to Izuku all evening. But no, his lifelong dream was a cockblocker, twisted and cruel.

When he sank a slick finger inside Izuku, it was familiar. Even if he’d never fucked Izuku before, ass play had never been off the table—though he’d never been so wet and open before. He kept his eyes on Izuku’s face, watching for any sign of discomfort, any sign of pain. But there were only smiling and soft little groans. He was moving like he did on the uncommon mornings Katsuki allowed himself to sleep over, waking up happy to see the world.

“You can be rough—I can take it,” Izuku said, wiggling his hips as though demanding that Katsuki do more.

“Like fuck you can,” Katsuki scoffed, prodding further with a second finger and earning himself a gasp.

“I can,” Izuku fought back. “Do three.”

Katsuki did, keeping his eyes on Izuku the whole time and God if the sight didn’t make him hard. Izuku was biting his lip, feet flexed at the ankles, hands over his head, clutching the pillows. Over the years, Katsuki had witnessed Izuku in all forms of pain, physical and mental—this wasn’t either of those. Katsuki wanted to know how long Izuku had been practicing this, was seeping precome at the thought of Izuku teasing himself for weeks now, even months, in preparation of taking Katsuki.

“Been thinking about me while you stuff yourself, nerd?” Katsuki asked as he thrust three fingers, feeling around for what brought out the best reactions in Izuku, memorizing them for later.

“I’m always thinking about you, Kacchan,” he breathed, the words falling out like rain from clouds, fast and true.

That was it—Katsuki had to have him. He would have liked to have worked Izuku for longer, but Izuku had been right; he’d prepped himself well beforehand. Any longer would have only been indulgence—indulgence that he planned to take and take and take in the future.

“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki groaned, pulling out his fingers and kissing Izuku hard on the mouth. Hard not because it felt better that way, but to remind Izuku what he did to him. That Katsuki wanted to absolutely devour him at every moment. That he was an absolute bastard for doing this just before the biggest event of the year.

“Please, Kacchan, please, I’ve waited so long.”

“Impatient asshole,” Katsuki grumbled as he reached for the condom. “Couldn’t have waited till the party was over.”

“I really couldn’t.” Izuku grinned, eyes staring as he watched Katsuki roll the condom over himself. The first time he’d done it in ages.

The nerves were back again, starting in his fingers, though he managed the condom with no problem. But then he looked back at Izuku and that familiar feeling of expectation that had painted his whole life drenched him in a second, giving him pause. This wasn’t something he was practiced at. He knew what to do, obviously, and he’d been on the receiving end of it enough times to have a good idea of how to get it right. But he wasn’t used to doing things without practicing. Practicing until he couldn’t get it wrong, until the chances of harm were minimal.

Izuku’s body had totally rejected this the first and last time they’d tried. It had been way back at the beginning, when they’re level of comfort was nothing like it was now. When their knowledge of each other’s bodies had been novice and their communication had been ass. It was totally different. Back then, Izuku had been tied tight as a knot. Now, he was open with every meaning of the word.

Suddenly, Izuku reached for Katsuki’s hand, much the way he often did when their roles were reversed. Katsuki met him, both their knuckles pressing into the bed below. He gave a little squeeze and a nod of reassurance, and Katsuki nodded back. Alright, this was it.

Katsuki held himself in his hand and nudged his way toward Izuku’s hole. The resistance that he met right away as the head of his cock kissed the opening was nerve-wracking. But then he remembered how often this was his favorite part. Feeling Izuku, taking him in—it wasn’t always the most comfortable feeling, but it was often the most intimate. The way he was forced to go slow, to take his time and feel it out, even after this long together.

So Katsuki took his time pressing in, leaning down and resting his forehead against Izuku’s, the heat and the sweat sticking them together instantly. “Feel okay?” he asked as he was about halfway in.

“It’s good, Kacchan, really good,” Izuku responded, though his words came out stiff, like he was breathing through something. Katsuki pulled back to get a better look and was met with Izuku’s red-rimmed eyes, glittering and nearly spilling over at the corners.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, stilling his movements immediately. No harm, not towards Izuku.

“No, I’m just happy,” Izuku sniffled. He reached up with a grabby arm for the back of Katsuki’s neck and pulled him down, murmuring, “Kiss, Kacchan.”

Gratefully, Katsuki went with Izuku’s hold and kissed him languidly. Their lips slotted together, tasting each other as Katsuki sunk the rest of the way in, groaning into Izuku’s mouth.

God, this was what Izuku felt every time they had sex? The heat and the tightness and the duty? Suddenly, Katsuki was struck by the need to hold Izuku, take him apart piece by piece until he was shivering with pleasure. Sure, Katsuki always wanted to make Izuku feel good, but this was different. This was new.

Katsuki began rocking in and out, the muscles in his thighs taut as he tried to figure out the best way to do this. He wished that they had more time to get this right but, on the other hand, Katsuki had never been one to try and be the best slowly.

Exploring around with his fingers was not at all a direct analog for feeling with his dick, but Katsuki did his best to search for the places that made Izuku’s breath hitch, gasping against his mouth. It was easy when Izuku was so bad at hiding his responses, giving all those same little sounds he gave when he was on top, or when Katsuki’s mouth was wrapped around him. Maybe there wasn’t so much new to learn after all.

“More, Kacchan, more,” Izuku demanded, lifting his hips just slightly so that his scalding cock brushed against Katsuki’s stomach. “I told you I can take it.”

“You think you can take it until you suddenly can’t, dumbass,” Katsuki retorted, thinking not just of how Izuku was as a person, but what bottoming was like, whether you were new or not. Faster was not always better. “Just—fuck—trust me.”

“I do, I do,” Izuku babbled, insisted as his back arched, either really feeling it or just searching for the right spot inside of him. Katsuki couldn’t quite tell but decided to tip the scales in his favor.

Izuku keened into Katsuki’s mouth when Katsuki finally grasped his cock in his hand. Another familiar action that he could strategize with and build off of. He gave a few strokes, managed them at the same rhythm with which he was pumping into Izuku.

“God,” Izuku cried, squeezing Katsuki’s hand in his tighter. His meaty thighs came up and wrapped around Katsuki’s waist and part of his ribs. They were hard and strong, especially the muscles right around his groin, which were sharp and protruding, digging into Katsuki’s hips when they met, gripping them until he pulled back again. Katsuki thrust in and ground against Izuku, just to feel all that strength holding him closest, wanting him to give more.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Deku,” Katsuki breathed, kissing Izuku’s temple and tasting salt on the tip of his tongue. “Are you close?”

“Yes, Kacchan, I—yes.”

“Yeah? You like what I’m doing to you, Deku?”

“Always—fuck, yes, Kacchan.”

“Gonna—?”

“Yes, please, kiss me.”

Their kiss vibrated as Izuku groaned into it, finishing swiftly on Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki gasped at the feeling of Izuku suddenly clenching around him, experiencing his orgasm in an entirely different way. It was overwhelming.

Katsuki couldn’t hang on any longer. He didn’t even manage half a thrust before he was cumming hard into the condom, orgasming to the sound of Izuku’s alarm going off. All the soft, syrupy feelings he’d been enjoying suddenly crystalized and cracked, shattering to the audio of a beeping that could rouse the dead, much less two men who could barely sleep through the night as it was.

“Fuuuck,” Katsuki groaned. “Can’t even fucking bask, dammit.”

“C’mon, Kacchan,” Izuku said, patting Katsuki’s bicep. His voice was heavy, perhaps a little love drunk, but his eyes were still bright and alert as he pushed himself up to his forearms and reached to silence his phone. Izuku always had the ability to bounce back quickly, whether it was from certain defeat in battle, or overcoming the kind of refractory period adult men were supposed to have.

“God fucking dammit,” Katsuki grumbled, pulling out and schlicking off the spent condom. It harshed his endorphin high almost as much as the alarm had. “We’re gonna do that again sometime when there’s not a damn time limit.”

“So you wanna do it again?” Izuku asked, reaching over the bed and tossing Katsuki’s underwear at him before grabbing his own. As he got up, he groaned a little and then giggled. “Oof, feels funny.”

“ ‘S why I told you to take it easy, dumbass.”

“You’d think you’d be more complimentary to my ass after this, Kacchan.”

Katsuki looked at Izuku, a wash of that softness coming back again. He took a step towards Izuku and ran his fingers through his hair, giving the curls back a little bit of their usual fluff. They were sweaty at the roots, but they would pass by the time they arrived. Then he gave Izuku a soft kiss. Just two seconds of contact (it was all they had to spare) just to remind him…to remind him.

Izuku smiled when Katsuki pulled back, murmuring a little “Kacchan,” before heading to the closet. Even just the couple steps Izuku took seemed to bear a little waddle, but Katsuki was sure that Izuku would get his muscles back under him by the time they appeared in public. Or, at least, he’d fake the hell out of it. Last year he’d had three broken toes and Katsuki wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t heard from the radiologist himself.

Katsuki began restoring his uniform, pinching his shirt with only his fingertips, desperately wishing they could fit in a shower before they left, but, well, they’d made their bed. He glanced at Izuku, who was grabbing his own uniform out of his closet. “Do you?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna do it again? Some other time.”

“I liked it,” Izuku said with a grin. “I still like it the other way, though.”

Katsuki flushed. He didn’t know why, perhaps because the blood in his body was still rerouting and was confused why he wasn’t still prone, snuggling with his boyfriend in bed. “Me too.”

There was no doubt: Katsuki wanted to master doing it this way. Much as he wanted the opportunity to take his time with Izuku, tease him out and let him feel the best of what he could make Katuski feel, he also wanted to memorize Izuku’s sweet spots, get to a point where he could get him off this way in twenty minutes again, no stress. Five minutes, even. He wanted everything.

Izuku’s uniform was already on, the stretchy one piece proving a lot more advantageous in this circumstance than Katsuki’s, even with all his accessories in the car. So Katsuki was only just clicking his belt when Izuku leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, kissing him chastely on the mouth. “Thank you,” he said with a wide smile.

Katsuki smiled, shaking his head. “You’re welcome, dumbass.”

Then, urgently, Izuku grabbed his hand. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

If he didn’t love him so much, he’d kill him.

three point five: interlude

Having sex before the ceremony had been such a stupid decision, something Katsuki had whispered to Izuku no less than thirty times over the course of the night, including twice on stage (they weren’t miked—the risk was negligible at best).

Seeing the blush that rose on Izuku’s face, as though he hadn’t been the seductress in the whole affair, was immensely satisfying, though that wasn’t Katsuki’s main motivator. No, the main motivator was that it was the goddamn truth. Katsuki fucking hated all these dumbass ceremonies; he didn’t like networking, he didn’t like interviews, and he didn’t like people, dammit. He didn’t even like late evenings and now his body was whining that it had missed a nap with his boyfriend on his sweaty bed.

But dammit, Izuku had been so hot. Him wanting Katsuki even after all this time was hot and God, Katsuki could admit that he was a little bit whipped. And the fact that he’d wanted to open himself up to Katsuki in that way…well, now Katsuki understood why Izuku had cried the first time Katsuki had done that for him. It had felt like a privilege.

Now, however, he was sleepy, and grumpy, and bitter that he’d had the wise idea to drive because now Izuku was dozing in the passenger seat while Katsuki kept his eyes on the road. God, piss poor planning all day between the two of them. If anyone knew what idiots they were, the both of them would have their rankings bumped.

But no, only Izuku knew what an idiot Katsuki was. And while Katsuki loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen what an idiot Izuku was, he’d like to think that there were certain sides to him that only Katsuki got to see as well.

When Katsuki pulled into the parking space, he put a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Deku. Wake up, dumbass.”

“I’m awake,” Izuku mumbled, despite his eyes still being closed. His hand swung up at the elbow and grasped Katsuki’s, wrapping his fingertips around the thumb. “Come in with me.”

“Deku, it’s late, I gotta get home.”

Izuku’s eyes blinked open, half lidded but still huge and expressive on his face. He rolled his shoulder in, as if to take Katsuki’s hand for his own, his grip only tightening. “Move in with me.”

The top layer of Katsuki’s sleepiness burnt away, and his surface nerves suddenly sharp and alert. “What?”

“I don’t like when you say that you’re going home and it means somewhere where I’m not,” Izuku said, his tired face making him look petulant, childlike. Like a boy pouting over his toy being taken away before dinnertime. “My home is with you.”

“Then you should move in with me, dumbass,” Katsuki retorted, adjusting his hips so that he was facing Izuku more fully. Already, Izuku was leaning one side against the seat, his curls rustled in the way they’d been trying to hide for the whole ceremony.

“No,” Izuku said firmly, his voice growing fuller and more alive each second. “No, because if I move in with you, I won’t change anything. I’ll just bring my clothes and it’ll still be your place. But if you move in with me, you’ll change everything to suit you, and then it’ll be like we’re actually here together.”

Katsuki blinked. “That’s stupid.”

“No, Kacchan, it’s not!” Izuku insisted, sitting up properly, allowing their joined hands to fall to the center console. “I want you to take my life and make it yours.”

If there was one thing Izuku had always been able to pull off, it was earnestness. It was in his pale knuckles as he clenched Katsuki’s hand. It was in his downturned mouth and downturned eyebrows and eyes that found every sparkle that the dim streetlights had to offer. And Katsuki was fool enough to think that when you were together with someone who was earnest like that, maybe it was even a little romantic.

He sighed. “I’ll come in.”

Izuku’s eyebrows bounced up. “You’ll move in?”

“No, I’ll come in, fucker.” He ran a hand over his face. God he was tired. “We’ll talk about the rest tomorrow when it’s not the fucking dead of night.”

Two hands were suddenly wrapped around his, and Izuku was bouncing up and down in the faux-leather seat. “Thank you, Kacchan, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get inside before I decide to sleep in the backseat.” Katsuki unclipped his seatbelt and Izuku followed suit.

“I’d snuggle with you,” he offered.

“And you’d be dumb for doing it.”

He came around the side of the car and found Izuku’s hand again.

Tomorrow morning, he’d say yes. Katsuki might have been fucking exhausted, but he was one hundred percent certain that a little rest wouldn’t change his mind. Living with Izuku was inevitable. The only reason that they didn’t stay over more nights was so as not to accidentally start living together before talking about it. Izuku and Katsuki had done so many things accidentally without talking about them that they’d just about hit their quota and could well and truly be fucked if they did any more.

So, after a talk, he’d say yes. And after that, perhaps, they’d make love.

four

Izuku needed to get it together. Severely. Pronto. He was literally professionally trained in keeping cool under pressure, and yet he felt mere moments away from blowing a top.

If the world had a foremost expert on Bakugou Katsuki, Izuku liked to think it would be him. Aside from Katsuki’s parents, Izuku had time on his side. By now, in terms of time spent in each other’s company, he might even have the Bakugous beat. He was Katsuki’s confidant, lover, partner (in romance and in heroics), roommate, boyfriend, oldest friend. He’d earned the title, dammit. Hero Deku: Number One Hero, Number One Bakugou Katsuki Expert.

But there was still so much he didn’t know. He kept on learning foods that Katsuki didn’t like (bread and butter pickles; they weren’t as crunchy as dill) and habits that came from living together full time (vacuuming the couch?). It turned out he’d always be getting more notebooks to fill with new knowledge about Katsuki. Metaphorically, of course (Dynamight was the only one who filled actual pages of Izuku’s notebooks).

This, however, was something that Izuku couldn’t have predicted. Flipping through those metaphorical notebooks, there weren’t any signs pointing him towards this being the case. There simply wasn’t precedent.

Bakugou Katsuki was good with kids.

Babies, to be exact, or rather, baby. Izuku had seen Katsuki with kids before, but babies were new. Almost as new as Kirishima Akane was herself. Just a few months old and being rocked asleep against Katsuki’s chest. He had a cloth thrown over his shoulder like a pro, unlike Izuku, who was shirtless because said shirt was in the wash after having suffered a, well, predictable baby incident. Of the spit up variety.

Izuku found himself being lulled by Katsuki’s gentle bouncing as well, not to sleep, but into a daze of sorts. Backed into a daydream of a little domestic fantasy where Katsuki wasn’t his boyfriend, but his husband, where maybe instead of moving into Izuku’s apartment, he and Katsuki had bought a house together, where maybe, just maybe, they’d had a little baby just like little Akane who slept between them and needed them for everything she did.

“I think we can finally put her to bed,” Katsuki whispered, the rocking coming to a stop as the baby rested against his pecs. Izuku had fallen asleep there before too—it was a good spot.

She’d been fussy for a while, so the use of the word finally wasn’t any exaggeration on Katsuki’s part. Izuku didn’t know if it was because her parents were gone or if it was his and Katsuki’s inexperience or if this was just normal for Akane and they had no frame of reference. This was their first time babysitting her, after all, giving the parents a well-earned date night.

Katsuki put her down in the bassinet with a gentleness that Izuku rarely got to see, because the only person to usually receive that from Katsuki was him. It was fascinating to observe from a third person perspective, and it turned over in his stomach.

When Akane was laid down, Izuku couldn’t help but tiptoe over to her and see her smushy face all lax, her body all wrapped like a little burrito. He would check Katsuki’s swaddling work, but it appeared he’d done it as flawlessly as he did everything else.

“Goodnight, little baby,” Izuku whispered, waving at her before standing up.

The room was dim, drawn with blackout curtains just for a baby and parents who slept at any and all hours of the day that they could. But if Izuku hadn’t been able to see Katuski’s eyes on him anyway, he would have felt them. Katsuki had had eyes only for the baby for the last twenty minutes of soothing and bouncing, so the heavy return of them to himself was palpable. His skin prickled.

After a moment of both men staring, Katsuki nodded his head towards the bedroom door, and both men crept out, treading lightly with their slippers. The next thing Izuku knew, Katsuki had him pressed against the living room wall and was kissing him straight into it.

“Kacch—”

“Walking around shirtless like that all day, what the fuck are you doing to me, Deku?”

“I—”

“And you’re so good with her, fuck, why do I like you being so fucking nice?”

“No, Kacchan, you—” Izuku gasped as Katsuki pinched his nipple hard, “—you’re the one who’s good with her. You look like a real parent—you’d be such a good dad.”

“God, fuck—okay. Bathroom. You go to the bathroom, I’m gonna find some lube.”

Izuku’s hands had been gripping at Katsuki’s sides, slowly riding his shirt up, but they suddenly loosened. “What? Here?”

“Hardly the worst place we’ve done it, nerd,” Katsuki replied, already heading for Eijirou and Mina’s bedroom. “When I get back I want your bottom to match your top.”

Katsuki was off and rustling through their friend’s belongings before Izuku could respond, but really, who was Izuku to say no? He grabbed the baby monitor that was on the living room table and brought it with him, setting it on the sink before closing the door and stripping down. He was already half hard nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for Katsuki to get back.

“Why’d you close the door, dumbass?” Katsuki asked, his voice carrying through the door before he’d opened it. “Worried she’ll walk outta bed and catch us?”

Katsuki’s shirt had been lost on the journey, presumably thrown on the floor someplace. His pants were still on, but unbuttoned in the front, his boxers tenting noticeably through the gap.

“Noise, Kacchan, I don’t wanna wake her,” Izuku whispered, eyeing the lube and condoms Katsuki held in each hand. Izuku tried not to take note of how much was used. He was already preparing to defile their friends’ bathroom; he did not need any insight into their sex life on top of that.

“Fine,” Katsuki said, placing his goods on the sink and nudging the door closed with his foot. Then he put his hands on the counter and arched his ass up. “Now do your worst.”

The rest of Izuku’s blood rushed to his cock—how could it not with Kacchan presented like that? He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s bare waist, kissing the side of his neck. They made eye contact in the medicine cabinet and Izuku saw Katsuki’s eyes close in a slow blink when Izuku ground his hard on into Katsuki’s clothed ass. His posture stayed strong, bending back into it, not crumbling to any of Izuku’s significant strength.

Tenderly, Izuku slipped his hands down the front of Katsuki’s loosened pants, beneath his boxers, and ran them flat down Katsuki’s thighs. The pants lowered an inch or two in the process, revealing the uppermost curve of Katsuki’s ass to Izuku’s hungry eyes. Heat radiated from Katsuki’s clothed cock towards Izuku’s hands, but Izuku didn’t touch it, not yet.

Neither of them had any idea how long they had before Akane would wake up, but it was still a good couple hours before their friends would be back. Izuku could still hear Eijirou’s voice on the phone to Katsuki, Thanks, bro, you’re saving us! Izuku couldn’t help but giggle into Katsuki’s shoulder. Gosh, they were being so bad, but he really, really couldn’t help it.

“What are you laughing about, loser?” Katsuki asked. His voice had been soft all day, like a bull trying to tiptoe through a china shop. More bits of Katsuki that Izuku wasn’t used to seeing outside of their home, outside of their most intimate moments. But here they were for him to watch anew.

“Just that Eijirou-kun and Mina-san are probably, hopefully too tired to kill us for this.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes in the mirror, grinding back against Izuku. “We’re trained in stealth, dumbass. It’ll be fucking fine so long as you actually get on with it.”

“Yes, Kacchan,” Izuku said before sucking on the crook of Katuski’s neck, moving his hands inwards so that he was just barely squeezing Katsuki’s inner thighs, brushing just around the base of his dick.

Katsuki groaned, bucking into Izuku’s hold, but Izuku didn’t do anything more just yet, keeping Katsuki’s hips in place while affixing most of his attention to Katsuki’s neck. In this position, there was little Katsuki could do to return what he got, bite back like he usually did. It was Izuku’s opportunity to lavish kisses and marks upon Katsuki, worship him piece by piece, love him while he could do nothing but fog up the bathroom mirror.

Izuku continued roaming Katsuki’s thighs, allowing his arms to catch on the bands of his jeans and boxers and slip them down ever lower, not in any real hurry. With his ass arched up the way it was, Katsuki’s thighs were drawn tight in the back. The strength of his hamstrings pushed against Izuku’s southward bound hands, strong and taut. As Izuku continued feeling up his boyfriend, it became more the tension of his arms that was keeping Katsuki’s pants up than the meat of Katsuki’s ass and thighs. So, in a swift movement, Izuku let them fall to Katsuki’s ankles and wrapped a hand around the base of Katsuki’s cock, earning a prolonged groan from the other man.

“Like that, Kacchan?”

“I’d like it more if it weren’t at a fucking snail’s pace, but sure, I like it.”

It wouldn’t be like Katsuki to admit that he liked being taken apart slowly, that he liked tenderness and affection, or even that he liked the attention that he’d sought his whole life (not this kind of attention, but Izuku had found the correlation to be a direct one).

“Sorry, I can’t help but want to touch Kacchan as much as I can,” Izuku cooed, stroking Katsuki too slowly to do more than tease and send a bit of heat to Katsuki’s face. “It’s never enough.”

“Fucking insatiable perv,” Katsuki huffed, almost looking like he had a point as Izuku stood there, one hand on Katsuki’s cock, the other reaching for the lube.

“Only for Kacchan,” he whispered, flipping open the lube cap with his thumb.

Izuku took a second to remember that this was not his house and not his lube, that this encounter would have to contain a bit more decorum than Izuku and Katsuki usually prioritized. He squeezed out a liberal amount of the smooth gel and spread it between his fingers before separating his hips from Katsuki’s and pressing one digit in.

“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed, leaning back into the stretch.

“Two?”

Izuku could already feel that Katsuki could take two. It had become easier to fool around since moving in together, despite their schedules not lessening any. If anything, with Mina and Eijirou taking off for parental leave, they had more on their plates. Perhaps that justified fucking against their bathroom counter.

“Yes,” Katsuki insisted, pressing back further, his torso leaning down further as he distanced himself from the sink.

Izuku smiled, glad that Katsuki was no longer looking in the mirror to see it. Katsuki might not admit to his neediness, but it was something that Izuku reveled in. Being needed by Katsuki would always make him feel important in a way totally separate from hero work. In a way just between them.

He added a second finger, spreading them out for a few moments before moving onto a third and then a fourth. The whole time, Izuku kept up teasing little motions on Katsuki’s cock. Slow strokes and squeezes, reminding him of what Izuku could do, but wouldn’t. Not until the time was right. It left Katsuki groaning and huffing, as close to a whimpering mess as Izuku could usually get him. It was rare that Katsuki would fully forget himself in sex and let go; rather, every noise of pleasure came out as a concession. A prize that Izuku won until they got to the rare moments that Katsuki gave freely, openly, wildly.

“Deku, just…”

“Just what, Kacchan?”

“Just—fuck—you know.”

“I don’t know, Kacchan, what do you want?”

Katsuki growled. “If you don’t know, then I should probably pull my pants up and not tell you,” he bit back, turning his head sharply to look Izuku in his teasing eyes.

“You’re probably right, Kacchan,” Izuku said, smiling. He kissed Katsuki’s cheek. “How about I fuck you?”

“What I’ve been saying…” Katuski grumbled as Izuku removed his fingers.

Izuku grabbed a condom and rolled it on, wasting no time before he was positioning himself at Katsuki’s entrance. He was buzzing, perhaps feeling a bit pent up from all his teasing as well, desperate to finally feel Katsuki around him again. Wow, he couldn’t believe he’d put it off as long as he had.

He pushed in, the feeling always a dual one of pleasure and relief. Even though the tension was still only building, his orgasm still (relatively) far off, it was a burden off his chest to finally be inside Katsuki, absorbing the heat, feeling the squeeze that was just tight enough, work resulted from his own hand. It was sexy to watch Katsuki open himself up, but Izuku preferred to do it himself, always. Every opportunity to touch Katsuki was one he’d take again and again.

“God, Deku, yes, fuck, how do you always feel so good?”

Izuku whined, burying his forehead against Katsuki’s neck. “Evil, Kacchan, evil.”

Katsuki’s chest rumbled, Izuku could feel it against the arm he’d wrapped around Katsuki’s chest, one bouncing laugh making his ribs expand and contract. “Not my fault your dick’s so fucking good.”

But it was his fault that he was saying so, pressing against Izuku’s weakness. Being complimented on the field was a daily thing, something Izuku took pride in, but was also important because he needed to know what he was doing well to be a good hero. He also needed to have a positive public image to continue being able to serve in the capacity that he did.

Compliments in bed, however, annihilated him. Because they were from Katsuki, someone by whom praise was not given easily. And Izuku could. Not. Take it.

“Kacchan, please,” Izuku whined, his voice sounding like he was moments from crying, even though  his eyes weren’t there (yet). The compliments left him feeling overstimulated, even so early on. Overwhelmed, but in a way he didn’t dare walk away from.

“Keep going,” Katsuki grit out, and that Izuku could deal with. Direct instruction, fine, done. He would do it happily for Katsuki.

He did more than that, actually, setting a slightly faster pace. It was so easy to take control from this position. Izuku missed the kissing, and his easy access to Katsuki’s face, but he couldn’t begrudge the way that their bodies melded perfectly like this. Izuku’s whole front was curved along the line of Kastuki’s spine, held close by the arm wrapped diagonally along his front. Then there was the hand Izuku had moved from Katsuki’s cock to his hip, his grip firm and confident.

No, nothing was wrong with this position. It was nice, as a treat, especially so with Katsuki’s face twisted in the mirror, bottom lip bitten, eyes screwed shut. But Izuku would definitely make sure next time was face to face. Otherwise, he’d be forced to miss Kacchan while he was right in front of him, and that would be hard to explain.

“I’m gonna finish,” Katuski hissed. “God, it’s too much.”

“You can finish whenever you want, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, his mouth close to Katsuki’s ear from where it was buried in his neck. “Please, I want you to.”

Katsuki groaned and took one hand off the sink, sending both boys forward before Izuku steadied them again. Then he was fisting himself, racing towards a finish that Izuku wasn’t far behind.

“Wanna see you, Kacchan,” Izuku chanted, locking his eyes on the mirror as he kept up his thrusting. “It’s everything I want.”

“Fuck, Deku,” Katsuki said, and Izuku could feel him begin to really clench around him. Not in orgasm, not yet, but so close. Izuku could probably count off the seconds that remained if he wanted, but he stayed locked in the moment instead.

Katsuki’s eyes opened, but they were wrecked. When he blinked, tears formed at the corners, just begging to fall but still managing to hold on. Izuku held Katsuki even tighter, not because it created better leverage, but just because he wanted to.

The feeling started at Izuku’s elbow, with Katsuki’s abdomen suddenly squeezing tight, folding further into his hold. Then it was that incredible clenching around his cock, searing hot even through the condom. Izuku couldn’t last through it, falling into a moan over top of Katsuki’s gasp, both of their voices ringing against the bathroom tile.

“Good fucking God,” Katsuki groaned, his second hand falling heavily on the sink’s rim. “It’s worth cumming in the sink for a nut like that, shit.”

Izuku giggled, continuing to nuzzle into Katsuki’s neck. He smelled like sweat and baby powder; it made the whole thing feel thrillingly domestic, despite the fact that they were defiling their friends’ bathroom. Respectfully.

To that end, Izuku pulled out before he could make a mess, and discarded the condom in the trash. He even went the extra mile and covered it up with some toilet tissue while Katsuki busied himself with soaping up the sink. After he was through with that and Izuku had cleaned himself, Katsuki had the bottle of lube under the faucet with soap and water. Katsuki caught his eye and said, “Leave no trace, dumbass.”

“Thought that was for, like, hiking,” Izuku said through a grin.

“Shut the hell up and put your clothes back on.”

“Alright, lover,” Izuku said, giving Katsuki a quick kiss on the cheek before reaching down to restore his pants and underwear. Maybe the laundry was done running too.

Already, Izuku could see the beginnings of the marks that were to bloom on the back of Katsuki’s neck, feeling ever grateful for Katsuki’s winter costume. It would hide those bruises in public, but at home, they’d rest above the crew-neck tees and tanks that Katsuki lounged in.

“You know I can see you, right?” Katsuki spoke into the mirror, eyeing Izuku in the reflection.

“Can’t help it,” Izuku said, coming back behind Katsuki just like how they’d started off, except now he was the one wearing pants. He wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s middle and rested his chin on his shoulder. “I just really, really, really like you.”

“Psh,” Katsuki scoffed, reaching for a hand towel. “Not what you usually say. What, didn’t have a good enough time?”

“Mm, I always have the best time with Kacchan. I love you.”

“Damn straight,” Katsuki said, taking one of Izuku’s hands in his. He threaded their fingers together and then kissed the back of it softly. “Love you too. Now wash these monstrosities.”

“Yes, sir.”

five

“Do you regret boving in wid be now?”

Katsuki looked down at Izuku being swallowed by his hideous gray plaid couch. His buff body was lost, neck and head aside, in the corner against the armrest, the rest of him covered by the thick, knit blanket Katsuki had bought to cover it up. It wasn’t saving the couch, but it was doing its darndest to cover up the disaster that was Midoriya Izuku.

“No, I don’t regret moving in with you,” Katsuki answered. “I do kinda regret sharing a ventilation system with you, though.”

Izuku pouted for only a moment before it broke apart into a cough that was loud and phlegmy. Not particularly wet or rattling—Izuku wasn’t dying. It was just a garden variety cold with a low fever. If Katsuki was to believe Izuku, that was, instead of assuming that he was playing things down as he was known to do.

But no, Katsuki trusted Izuku, if only for the fact that Izuku loved to work and taking a cold seriously and getting the proper rest would be the quickest way to get back in the action. He was predictable in that way.

“Sorry about our date.”

Izuku was looking up at Katsuki with wide and perpetually watery eyes. Katsuki didn’t know if the cold had rendered them itchy or if he was hot with fever or if he was just on the edge of tears like he always was.

“Don’t worry about that, idiot,” Katsuki said, taking off his jacket and sitting on the couch.

He’d brought a nice change of clothes to work, nothing too fancy, just a button down shirt, leather jacket, and some jeans. All with the hope of making it out of work soon enough to meet Izuku for dinner in the thin period of time they could see each other since their shift schedule had been changed.

And he had made it out in time. Only dinner was now going to be miso soup instead of wherever the hell they would have gone. Katsuki already had it warming on the stove.

“Hey,” Katsuki said, grabbing Izuku’s face by the chin and turning it towards him. “Love you. Okay?”

Izuku’s mouth fell into a narrow little frown, and he looked just that much closer to crying. “Even when I’m gross?”

“You’ve always been gross.”

Izuku’s face softened. “You know, from anyone else that would be dickish, but somehow it’s really sweet from you.”

Katsuki scoffed. “You’re just in love with me.”

“A little.”

They both found themselves leaning in towards each other, that natural gravity that they’d always had still exerting its force over them. Suddenly, Izuku recoiled, putting a hand over his nose and mouth.

“No, I’m sick!” he cried, the rasp in his voice coming out strongly. “Stay back!”

“Oh my God, Deku,” Katuski laughed as he leaned back. “It’s not like you have some kind of contagious quirk, fuck. We’ve been through worse.”

“I know, God, it’s stupid,” Izuku said, collapsing back into his dent in the couch. “I had plans too.”

“Another hot date?”

“Shut up.” Izuku shoved Katsuki’s shoulder, making Katsuki cackle. “With you, you moron.”

“And here I thought I was gonna have to beat some punk up,” Katsuki said, grinning. “What were these plans?”

Izuku sunk further into the couch. “Well, they weren’t plans-plans, just, I don’t know.”

“Spit it out, Deku.”

“We were gonna have sex!” Izuku exclaimed, turning the shade of a full-color peach: all red but for a few splotchy, pale patches. Katsuki suspected it was not because of the fever.

A little thrill shot through Katsuki’s body at the thought. Yeah, of course that had been the plan. Obviously. Katsuki hadn’t been able to prep at work, per se, but he had taken care to eat smart and try and time his day out accordingly. Somehow, it almost always seemed like it had been too long since they’d been together, even after moving in to the same bedroom. And this would have been a nice little spot of relief.

Although…

“Let’s do it anyway.” He began unbuttoning his dark blue shirt.

“Wh-What?” Izuku’s face scrunched in such a way that Katsuki would have laughed on any other occasion, but he was on a mission of seduction, dammit.

“No kissing,” Katsuki said first, halfway down his shirt with the buttons. “And a condom, obviously, so it’s practically like we wouldn’t be touching.”

“Practically…?” Izuku’s eyes were wide, totally lost. Then he blinked and shook his head. “What? It’s totally not!”

Katsuki slipped the shirt off, hating how the tightness of the cuffed sleeves was such a greater hassle than the athleisure tanks and tees he usually wore. He tossed it over the back of the couch and out of sight. Then he sat back, crossed his arms, and looked at Izuku. “Look, do you wanna do it or not?”

Izuku gaped at him for a moment, eyes searching his face and then falling to his chest and arms before returning up again. Then, a pointed finger shot out in accusation. “You’re using your hotness against me!”

So what if he was? Katsuki was well aware of how his arms naturally flexed in this position, how they framed his pecs in a way that would make Izuku think about kissing or biting them—whatever his pervy brain could cook up.

“Is it working?”

Izuku stared at him for a second, allowing himself another indulgent look at Katsuki’s arms and torso. Then he blurted out, “Damn it, yes,” and in one motion threw his blanket to the floor and shoved Katsuki flat on the couch. Katsuki grinned with all his teeth.

“Fuck yeah.”

Izuku dove right in with Katsuki’s chest, laving his tongue over a nipple and sucking it in his mouth. Katsuki’s legs were spread on either side of Izuku’s waist, both bent at the knee, and Izuku did nothing to avoid grinding his abs against Katsuki’s hardening cock. His skin was so hot, even through Katsuki’s dress pants that already Katsuki was wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. And that spoke nothing to the scorching heat of Izuku’s mouth.

Once one side of Katsuki’s chest was properly treated, Izuku switched to the other, starting off with a bite that had Katsuki’s hand flying up to his mouth. It was too early in the game to be falling apart already, not while Izuku was still fully dressed. Then, suddenly, Izuku popped up and kissed the back of Katsuki’s hand.

“Mm, it’s gonna be so hard not to kiss, Kacchan.”

Katsuki agreed. Every part of sex with Izuku was good, at least it was by now. But kissing was special. A reminder that no matter how rowdy they got, everything they did was still out of love. That their love was first.

“Gonna have to just keep that mouth busy with other things then, nerd,” Katsuki said, bopping Izuku on the head and shoving him back down.

Izuku hummed against Katsuki’s skin, kissing his way back down to the bitten nipple. There were no teeth marks, but the skin around both pecs was already turning red. Izuku sucked a spot on his sternum that would be sure to bruise tomorrow.

He was thumbing Katsuki’s pants off, unbuttoning the top, lowering the zipper and pulling them down Katsuki’s legs until he had to lean back to throw them and his boxers the same way Katsuki had his shirt.

Without taking his mouth off of Katsuki’s skin, Izuku reached towards the drawers in the coffee table and began feeling around for the one with the lube in it. Despite the fact that Izuku couldn’t see him, Katsuki rolled his eyes, batting away Izuku’s hand as he pulled at the right handle and grabbed the lube himself.

“Mm,” Izuku hummed by means of thanks as he kissed down Katsuki’s body and popped open the mostly full bottle of lube.

Since moving in together, Izuku and Katsuki had stocked a few bottles of the silicone-based stuff all over the apartment. Living room, kitchen, bathroom and, of course, the bedroom. One for each bedside table. And it wasn’t even out of any out of control horniness (well, a little), but more out of laziness. Really. Who wanted to trek all the way to the bedroom when they were already hot and heavy in the…anywhere else?

Okay, so maybe the jury was out on whether it was more horniness or laziness, but either way, the idea of having Izuku on the couch was too delicious to resist. Suddenly, Katsuki found himself shoving Izuku by the chest and swinging them both sideways so that Katsuki was seated across Izuku’s clothed thighs.

“Shirt off, fucker.”

Izuku chuckled, though the sound came out short and raspy. He pulled off his sweaty t-shirt in one swift move and then sat back against the couch, letting Katsuki wrap his arms around Izuku’s bare shoulders.

Katsuki’s quads were flexed up to the hip as he sat up, hovering a bit above Izuku’s waist, providing easy access. His nose brushed against Izuku’s hair, and he breathed in. So sweaty already, but such a familiar smell. It was the scent of his pillow, a hug after a day of work that hadn’t borne too much destruction, or a day at the gym. They might not have been able to kiss, but this was still good. It was grounding, it was intimate.

Izuku began probing Katsuki with his knobby fingers, just playing around outside for a moment, teasing Katsuki’s hole as they breathed into one another. As Katsuki was breathing into Izuku’s hair, Izuku’s breath was hot and humid against Katsuki’s collarbone. The heat of fever maybe, Katsuki didn’t know, but it made his spine shiver in contrast, unable to wait for the rest of his body to reach that temperature.

One finger pushed in and Katsuki couldn’t help but lead the way, riding it, leaning down to whisper in Izuku’s ear, tell him to use a second. Then, figuring it was relatively safe as far as germs went, he nibbled on the shell of Izuku’s ear while grinding down on his hand.

“God, you’re so sexy,” Izuku breathed, almost sounding exasperated by it. Like Katsuki’s sexiness was exhausting for Izuku to take in. Unlike usual, when he complained that he couldn’t get enough.

“You are,” Katsuki paid back, working his fingers up Izuku’s hair, resting his elbows atop Izuku’s shoulders. His freckles made it all the way up his forehead, getting lost in his hairline, and Katsuki wondered if Izuku had little secret freckles beneath all those curls. He felt like he should know, like there shouldn’t be a single part of Izuku’s body that was a mystery to him.

“Fuck, Kacchan,” Izuku groaned, the vowels coming out long and drawled. The congestion had Izuku’s consonants sounding all closed and stuffy, but his vowels still rang clear. They had a little less variety in pitch than usual, and a lot more gravel, but Katsuki couldn’t help but like the throatiness. It made his lover sound desperate, debauched. Katsuki liked him like that.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Katsuki continued, playing with Izuku’s hair, giving it the attention  he’d give his lips, or maybe a tongue across his throat if he could. “Your thighs are so thick I can barely wrap my knees around them.”

“Don’t lie, Kacchan,” Izuku whined, tilting his head into Katsuki’s hands. “You’re so flexible, anything you try we can always do. Your body is so perfect, so, so perfect, Kacchan.”

Izuku accentuated his point, running his free hand from Katsuki’s ass (where he’d been squeezing, maybe for Katsuki’s balance, maybe just to cop a feel) up his back and around one broad shoulder. All the while, his hand was firm, pushing them closer together chest to chest, digging deep enough into Kastuki’s muscles that they ached and yearned for more.

“Shut up,” Katsuki groaned, grinding down until his ass tapped Izuku’s thighs, then coming back up. Somewhere along the way, Izuku had gotten up to four fingers. “God, just shut up.”

“I can’t,” Izuku insisted, working his fingers in and out at a good pace. “You bring it out in me. You’re so amazing I can’t possibly keep to myself. I’m only human, Kacchan.”

It was like being next to a bonfire on an early spring night: the draw to the fire is so strong, the warmth is so delicious, necessary, life-giving. But some innate part of you is sure that the fire will kill you if you get too close. Izuku’s words were like tongues of fire on a beach—the center of his attention yet too hot to touch. Dancing in his eyes but blinding to look at.

“You…fuck, I love—ngh!”

Izuku’s grin in Katsuki’s shoulder was moist from all the kissing he’d been lavashing upon Katsuki’s skin as he suddenly pressed against and began stroking Katsuki’s prostate. Fucking cheater.

“Trying to get a headstart, asshole?” Katsuki grit out, his thighs suddenly tensing from being kept at a working angle for so long.

“Maybe,” Izuku grinned, looking up at Katsuki. “I’m not exactly at top physical condition.”

It was true, but anyone but Katsuki would hardly know it. There was evidence in Izuku’s red nose, but his eyes were about as watery as usual. No, perhaps they were more pink-rimmed than Katsuki usually found them. For as easy as Izuku cried, he didn’t necessarily cry all that often, not as much as his friends gave him guff for.

Even though Katsuki could enumerate all the spots of illness on Izuku, Izuku still looked damn good to him. Sweaty and hard underneath him, chest shiny and splatter painted with freckles.

God, Katsuki wanted to kiss him. Instead, he sat down on Izuku’s thighs again, his own quads and hamstrings buzzing with the effort, and began tugging at his pants. Tapered sweatpants that had the cuffs shoved halfway up Izuku’s incredible calves. Calves that jutted out like a goddamn horse’s did, lined with veins and thin, black hair. Katsuki bothered getting all the way off Izuku and the couch just to pull them all the way down and gawk at his boyfriend’s legs.

Then, a condom was in hand and Katsuki was back in Izuku’s lap, body already cooling from the loss of moments apart. But now that they were wholly skin on skin (except for the plentiful skin-on-couch action), the warmth was coming back to Katsuki at every spot of connection. Their thighs, their hands, their cocks, just brushing against each other before Katsuki rolled the condom on.

Izuku had worked him open well that sliding down on his cock was no problem. Katsuki found himself fully seated, ass full in just one solid thrust, and he had to press his hands flat against Izuku’s chest to keep away. He turned his head to the side, rolling his chin toward one shoulder as he began to thrust, happy to take on this amount of effort for his sick boyfriend.

“Kacchan,” Izuku groaned, his head falling back against the sofa. Good, that was less temptation. “You’re so good to me.”

“Best boyfriend ever, right?” Katsuki couldn’t resist.

From this angle, Izuku was all smile unless Katsuki rose all the way up, nearly off his cock entirely, which he did once before slamming back down again and bouncing in a series of shallow thrusts. His thighs were going to be broken tomorrow.

“Best boyfriend ever.”

Izuku seemed to forget that it had been Katsuki’s desire to go ahead with this part of their evening plans, but Katsuki was happy to let that go as he focused on the bigger task of riding them both to completion. That prostate play really had been an unfair advantage on Izuku’s part, and Katsuki worried that he might already be halfway to his peak. God, he should have teased Izuku a little while he’d had the chance, made the other boy whimper and moan for him. Being sick as he was, Katsuki bet he could have gotten Izuku to crumble in minutes.

So Katsuki did what he could in the moment, which was lean into Izuku’s neck and give to it what he couldn’t give to his mouth. Izuku had so many sensitive spots, but his neck was Katsuki’s favorite. So long and delicate atop all of that hard-earned muscle. So many freckles to bite and lick and taste. Izuku groaned right into his ear, his breath coming out like steam.

“I’m not even—hng—not even gonna try and control myself, Kacchan,” Izuku said, music to Katsuki’s ears.

“Who ever asked you to, dumbass?”

“Ju-Just wanna be good for you, Kacchan,” Izuku whined, his voice especially pathetic in this state. Katsuki didn’t mind it.

“You’re always good, Deku, so fucking good.”

Izuku gasped, and Katsuki had to pull back to see it. Izuku’s eyes were all clarity, like pools of green Caribbean seawater. Katsuki ground down and clenched, watching how Izuku’s eyes screwed shut in response. He kept squeezing around Izuku, another grand show of muscle control, and the next thing he knew, Izuku was moaning, his shoulders collapsing as he came. His core shuddered through it, rolling against Katsuki’s as he managed a few last thrusts upward, but then he was gone, energy sapped.

“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku said quietly, but Katsuki would have none of that.

“For fucking what? That’s what I wanted.”

Izuku blinked his eyes up at Katsuki, as if looking for assurance, and Katsuki did everything in his power to give that to him. Sure eyes, furrowed brow, slightly parted mouth as he continued to breathe heavily. Izuku straightened up again, his second wind coming fast. A hand wrapped around Katsuki’s cock and began pumping readily, using Katsuki’s precome as lubricant. Izuku was still hard enough that Katsuki could grind and bounce a little, and he couldn’t help but groan, finding Izuku’s freshly determined face sexy.

He was so close—had been the whole time, really. But there was one thing that was sure to push him over the edge. And he shouldn’t need it, really, not with a hand on his cock and a cock up his ass. Shouldn’t need it, but he wanted it, and Katsuki got what he wanted dammit, and this was no exception. He wouldn’t let it be.

“Kiss me,” Katsuki breathed, his back curling as he leaned in towards Izuku’s face.

“What?” Izuku reeled back in alarm. “No, Kacchan, you’ll get sick!”

“I don’t care,” Katsuki said. “It’s probably too late already. You’re in me, in the air I breathe, in my bed at night. If you’re sick, I’m sick, just kiss me.”

Katsuki leaned closer again, and Izuku didn’t move, his lips slightly parted as if in preparation. Their breaths were already intertwined and, with every meaning of the words, it was too late for him where Izuku was concerned. So he kept leaning in, checking in with Izuku’s eyes a couple times before they were too close to see, and then they kissed.

With it came such relief. Katsuki had never known a kiss to feel so missing before, but it was wrong to make love to Izuku without it. So he kissed, and kissed, and then he came, his jaw falling slack against Izuku’s as he spilled between them. Izuku groaned as well, his cock giving a valiant twitch before they both collapsed into the couch, sticky and satiated.

They would have stayed like that longer, comforted by the feeling of their chests rising and falling into each other, like the rush of tide against the sand that met it. But Izuku had to extract himself and Katsuki needed to clean them both up. He stumbled to the kitchen for a rag, throwing out the used condom along the way, and then an “Oh, shit,” escaped his mouth as he scrambled for the stove.

Well. The miso soup had warmed.

The bottom of the pot had scorched in the outline of rectangles of seaweed, and little bits of tofu now clung to the bottom, drying out in a layer of slimy concentrate. Katsuki turned off the stove immediately and then just stared at it in betrayal. Stupid, fucking soup.

He’d order some for delivery. And then he’d buy more packets in preparation for two days from now when he, assuredly, would be in the same sorry shape Izuku was on the couch right now. So fucking stupid.

It was worth it, though, Katsuki thought as he poured some white vinegar into the pot, the scorched smell releasing further into the room along with the sour haze of vinegar. Being with Izuku was always worth it.

He just hoped they’d both have the will to resist when his turn to be sick came.

plus one

The hour was late, the still of the night late. The late hour after dusk when poets wrote about ghosts and wishing stars and unrequited love. The kind of late on a weeknight that had Izuku wincing at every beep the elevator gave, hoping that his odd hours weren’t waking the neighbors.

It had been a long shift. Nothing too exciting to grab Izuku’s attention and carry him through the long afternoon into night. Rather, there’d only been a few little incidents to leave him tired and sore on the journey home. He’d managed to jump it, hopping from building to building, but only because it would get him home quicker than public transit. And because he, sometimes to his own detriment, had an unparalleled ability to power through. When the end result was worth it, that was.

And it was. He and Katsuki had been suffering opposite schedules for weeks; sometimes the only time they got together was in each other’s arms in the dead of night, trading every little bit of body heat they had like it was conversation, like it was errands and meals shared.

Izuku turned the key in the latch slowly, quiet as he could. There were, to Izuku’s chagrin, many downsides of dating a hero. The injuries, the schedules, of course, but his boyfriend’s heightened senses were a beast all their own. And Izuku’s own were no better. Any rogue sound would send either man flying from bed, ready to annihilate any intruder or vengeful villain.

Of course, neither event had happened, yet, but that didn’t mean that both men hadn’t suffered many sleepless nights anyway.

Izuku took off his shoes carefully. These sneakers were his favorite, but they were bulky, not exactly lending themselves well to stealth. He only allowed one step inside before they had to come off, to be placed on the shelf with care.

His shirt was next, coming off as he walked down the hallway. He folded it as the living room came into view. Katsuki had left the hallway light on for Izuku, even though the light bled under their bedroom door. Izuku turned off the light and managed with the guide of the city’s light pollution coming through their windows. It would be enough as his eyes adjusted.

The shirt went on the back of the couch, on top of the blanket that Katsuki had bought in exchange for letting Izuku keep his supposedly ugly sectional. Maybe it was ugly, but both men had enjoyed fucking on and against it enough, if Izuku said so himself.

Izuku moved to take off his pants, folding them on top of the shirt as well. Katsuki would forgive the clothes not making it into the laundry hamper in exchange for not being woken up by the shuffling he’d have to endure if Izuku undressed in their room. So, after quickly brushing his teeth and washing his face, Izuku tiptoed into the bedroom and found Katsuki turned in toward Izuku’s side of the bed, nose tucked into Izuku’s pillow. Izuku bit his lips, both of them, perhaps too hard as he tried not to squeal.

He restrained himself and, with as much subtlety as he could manage, crawled onto his side of the bed, unable to stop the grin that arose when he found himself facing his love.

“Ngh…Deku,” Katsuki mumbled into the pillow.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Izuku whispered, putting a hand in Katsuki’s hair and caressing it.

Katsuki stretched, tangling his limbs with Izuku’s. He was warm all over, heated from hours beneath the covers, and Izuku struggled not to bury his cold toes beneath Katsuki’s legs, dig his nose, frozen from leaping across rooftops, into his cheek. “Dun tell me what t’ do, Deku.”

“You have to get up in a few hours, Kacchan.”

“Day off.”

That gave Izuku pause. Had they really been out of sync so long that Izuku had overlooked Katsuki’s day off? He could really wake up next to Katsuki instead of alone, tangled in pulled up blankets to make up for the missing body heat? Maybe sharing a lazy morning together with coffee and breakfast? Izuku’s toes wriggled at the idea.

Izuku’s space was being encroached upon, Katsuki’s breath suddenly on his cheek, his warmth filling every cold gap in Izuku’s body. His eyes had finally opened and Izuku’s crossed trying to keep them in view. There were so many places they were almost touching. Their foreheads, their noses, their chests. They probably could have fit in a twin-sized bed like this.

“Kacchan?” Izuku whispered as Katsuki threw a leg over Izuku’s hip, an arm across his shoulders. Caging him in with every limb available.

“Deku…” Katsuki murmured, touching their noses tip to tip, then slotting them to the side. If Izuku puckered his lips, they would touch Kacchan’s. “Why do I have to miss you so much?”

“I’m right here,” Izuku whispered, drawing closer where he could. His hips, his arms, his legs.

Katsuki closed that final gap and pressed his lips against Izuku’s. Between the two of them, their tongues tasted like mint, sharp and clean. “I like you best when you’re here,” Katsuki said between kisses. “I hate you when you’re not here.”

Izuku giggled, but it came out more like a hum as his lips closed around Katsuki’s. “So fickle, Kacchan.”

“So stupid, Deku.”

“Kiss me stupid, Kacchan.”

Katsuki obliged, grinding his hips into Izuku’s as he did so. Izuku hoped it would work, because he didn’t want to think right now, because if he did, he’d think about how much he missed Katsuki too. It didn’t always cross his mind while he was on the job, but in the locker room where only quiet voices echoed, or on the way home when all he could think about was returning to his Kacchan again. He’d think about how they were still “rookies” despite having saved the world multiple times over, with minimal control over their schedules or lives. How they were paying their dues and one day, they’d be able to pick. They’d never go weeks without waking up beside each other. Not so far as they could help it.

“Shh, Izuku.” Katsuki pulled back, eyes squared as they flicked between both of Izuku’s. A hand was in his hair, stroking it groundingly. “Be here.”

Izuku blinked out of it, seeing only Katsuki. The whole room was dark, but Katsuki’s moonlit hair and all seeing eyes were especially bright. “I’m here, Kacchan, I’m here.”

And he went back in, kissing Katsuki more forcefully now. He could have knocked Katsuki back to his side of the bed but, even sleepy, Katsuki couldn’t be toppled that easily. Katsuki met him push for push, gripping Izuku’s hair more tightly by the moment, wrapping his leg tighter around Izuku’s back so that he really couldn’t get away.

“I want you, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed. The exhaustion he’d felt earlier had melted away. Something about Katsuki always ignited embers within Izuku. They could never fizzle out or quiet down in Katsuki’s presence. It was always more, more, more.

“Then have me,” came the reply. Then, quieter: “You can always have me.”

Little could usually come between Katsuki and his sleep, but it seemed that tonight Katsuki needed it as much as Izuku did. There was a desperation between them that time apart had only stoked. Once they were together, the flames erupted.

They were rising rapidly, so Izuku wasted little time in reaching for the band of Katsuki’s boxers. It was difficult to make quick work of them, with both their legs tangled together as they were, and both men so unwilling to separate. But, eventually, Katsuki went willingly, taking his leg back from over Izuku’s hip just long enough for his boxers and then Izuku’s to be strewn to the floor. It wasn’t lost on Izuku that that would mean that clothes were once again scattered on his side while Katsuki’s was pristine. Daily habits following them into bed. The little things that made their lives together.

“Can’t wait, Deku,” Katsuki panted.

Izuku got the hint and reached for the familiar box and bottle out of the bedside table. Katsuki never stopped leaning into him, pushing his face into Izuku’s neck, his chest, his shoulder, painting each one with kisses and nibbles. He nearly could have pushed Izuku off the edge of the bed just with the insistence of his kissing.

The bottle snapped open and Izuku dolloped lubricant on three fingers, using the other hand to hold the blankets up as he reached down between Katsuki’s legs.

“Just work the lube in—don’t worry about stretching,” Katsuki said, widening his legs, making himself easily available.

“Did you stretch earlier?” Izuku asked, brows furrowed. It didn’t feel like it, as he pressed two fingers in. Katsuki was tight with the evidence of weeks spent out of each other’s arms. Izuku began stretching him automatically, his fingers knowing the strokes by rote.

“No, but it’ll be fine, just—please.”

Katsuki put a hand to Izuku’s shoulder and pushed, truly almost knocking Izuku off the bed this time. With the reflexes of a hero, Katsuki pulled him back as Izuku’s legs shot diagonally across the bed in an effort to rebalance himself. As both of their heads lolled over the edge of the bed, they began to giggle. Their rumbling chests reverberated against each other and their foreheads pressed together. They breathed each other’s air and expelled it as laughter.

“Alright, fucker, get back here,” Katsuki huffed as he manhandled Izuku back onto the bed whilst Izuku continued to laugh, covering his face with his non-lube-slick hand.

“We can do it on the floor if you want, Kacch—”

“Play your cards carefully, Deku, wise guys don’t get laid.”

“Okay,” Izuku tried his best to cover a laugh; it came out as a snort, “so—”

“Just gimme the fucking lube.”

Izuku giggled as he went ahead and handed Katsuki the lube. His laughter deflated into a groan when, a moment later, Katsuki’s hand was firmly on his cock, stroking it slickly up and down. When Katsuki began to climb on top of him again, though, multiple alarm bells began to go off. He really hadn’t stretched Katsuki hardly at all, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him. Also:

“Kacchan, condom.”

“No,” Katsuki said simply, lining Izuku’s cock up with his hole, slick slipping against slick.

“Wh-What?”

Katsuki had a hard rule about condoms. Izuku had never bottomed without one—Katsuki’s demand—so he didn’t know, but Katsuki said that the cleanup wasn’t worth it. That if the cleanup had a chance of lasting longer than the actual sex, he was out. Condoms forever.

“Just once,” Katsuki whispered, as though Izuku was the one who needed convincing.

Izuku put a hand on his cheek. “Whatever you want, Kacchan.”

Katsuki kissed him softly, their lips only breaking apart when Katsuki began to lower himself onto Izuku. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, as it read on both of their faces. Katsuki’s eyebrows were drawn, teeth clenched as he hissed. Izuku felt as though his heart was stopping—chest suddenly too wide or too small—with how tight and hot it was. But he trusted Katsuki to know what he was doing. And Katsuki was sticking with it, not popping off and saying “Nope” as he had been unafraid to do in the past. So Izuku just let his hand run down Katsuki’s broad bicep, stroking the muscle, feel how the heat that had covered his sleeping body was escaping into the room, into Izuku as well.

When Katsuki was finally seated atop Izuku’s hips, the both of them went still. No movement but for their ribs expanding into one another with each breath. For all the contact that they now shared, though, Katsuki’s eyes were still what struck Izuku the most. They were the thing he didn’t dare pull away from—why would he?

“Are you okay?” he finally asked quietly. It harkened back to their first time full of uncertainty and nervousness, unsure if what he was doing was okay. Although, Izuku wasn’t nervous now, even if his heart was beating in the same way. It had been so long since Izuku had felt Katsuki like this, flesh against flesh, that it might as well have been the first time.

Katsuki was quiet for a second but for his evening breaths. Izuku could imagine all of the once-worn responses: Don’t you dare worry about me, Deku and I’ll kill you for worrying about me!

“Fine,” Katsuki said finally, his voice almost shuddering over the single syllable. “Lemme just…”

Izuku brought Katsuki’s lips towards his—they were already on their way to him, he swore. They kissed lazily as Katsuki slowly ground atop Izuku’s lap. Everything was so much more than usual. Hotter, slicker, more sensitive a thousand times over. Izuku wasn’t sure how long he’d last like this. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but lift his hips up in relaxed intervals. He wasn’t really pushing deeper—there wasn’t any deeper to go—but his body could barely help it. It just naturally wanted to give itself to Katsuki.

“Mm, you’re gonna kill me, nerd.”

Izuku could have scoffed, but he didn’t have the breath in him. “I could never, Kacchan.”

“No,” Katsuki responded immediately, as was natural to him. “You…you…”

Katsuki broke apart his own speech as he began to move, really move, lifting himself off of Izuku and landing softly. But only via his hips—their chests and faces stayed close, legs flanking each other like vines growing in twain. Each thrust was slow, deliberate, in no real rush. Like they’d edge each other forever and then fall asleep like that, without finishing. Just locked together until morning. Izuku didn’t half mind the idea.

As Izuku came to understand Katsuki’s rhythm, he began thrusting in turn, their skin not quite slapping together. The words of sex were sometimes so violent: slapping, pounding, smacking—never just meeting. But that’s what Izuku and Katsuki’s hips were doing: meeting, just kissing each other before rising and coming together yet again. There was an ease to it, a familiarity that had taken years to find with Katsuki, but was now his greatest possession. A gem he’d swallowed to keep safe in his core, whole and warm.

“Can I…?” Izuku asked, putting his arms on Katsuki’s sides. His elbows were held tight at Katsuki’s waist while his hands were up at the top of Katsuki’s ribs. He didn’t finish the question, but there was trust in Katsuki’s eyes as Izuku lowered him back to the bed, both of them on their sides, Izuku’s cock still deep within Katsuki.

Katsuki’s leg came around Izuku’s hip and it was just like when they were tangled in sleep together, trying to osmose the other’s comfort before another day of work. Two different levels of intimacy were twisting and melding and it led Izuku to kiss Katsuki’s cheek, just like he would when they were lucky enough to go to sleep together. Katsuki turned into it and slotted their lips together once again as Izuku began finding a rhythm with which to thrust from his side.

It took a learning curve; somehow this position was new to them even after all this time. Face to face, as was typical, but each one of them having half the leverage, neither able to take control completely. As they began to find their way into it, Izuku couldn’t help but think that maybe it was perfect for them.

The bed dampened with their sweat as Izuku was almost overwhelmed by the heat. The fact that they were doing this under the covers, which had already been warmed by Katsuki’s body. The fact that there were no barriers between them, clothing or condom. It was nothing but skin on skin, mouth on mouth, and Izuku was sweating through it, making every touch slippery and perhaps unsure. But they just gripped each other harder and carried on, getting closer to completion all the time.

Katsuki’s cockhead kept rubbing against Izuku’s stomach, bumping over an abdominal muscle here, catching on his belly button there. But Izuku had no idea if it was enough, if Katsuki was getting close. Whatever it was, Izuku would probably finish the moment Katsuki did, if not sooner. If he lost his discipline, he’d probably find himself cumming deep in Katsuki in an instant—which he still didn’t even know if Katsuki would be okay with. So he reached for Katsuki’s hand and clenched it, holding on.

“Deku…” Katsuki whispered into Izuku’s mouth. His voice was so light while the word bore such weight. Weight from years of history, accolades, and love.

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered back. “Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.”

They were hardly kissing, mouths barely moving. It was more like CPR, if anything, mouths hovering over top each other, each feeding the other life-giving breaths. Like they were saving each other’s lives.

“ ‘M close,” Katsuki murmured, and Izuku ground in, letting Katsuki’s cock smear precome across his lower abs.

“I’m…gonna cum with you,” Izuku grit out, his breath catching at the end, when Katsuki twitched around him. “Want me to pull out?”

“No.” Katsuki shook his head, the tips of his bangs brushing through the sweat that beaded on Izuku’s forehead. “I’m gonna fucking regret it, but no.”

“I never regret anything with Kacchan.” For once, his voice came out whole and clear.

Katsuki huffed a couple times, words seemingly lost on his tongue. His eyes kept screwing shut, almost in grimaces of pain. But little sounds would escape him, groans and mewls, and so Izuku kept going. He kept going and going, never once losing their rhythm, never once losing his damp grip on Katsuki’s hand. And the moment that Katsuki clenched around him, Izuku was gone, keening gutterally in Katsuki’s mouth as he came, finally came inside Katsuki.

It was almost unbearable, being hugged so tight by a heat so searing. To feel his spend spilling into his lover as Katsuki released between their bodies. Maybe it was the exhaustion or perhaps some sweat had made it into his eyes, but Izuku found himself blinking rapidly, catching some kind of moistness in his eyelashes.

“Fucking sap,” Katsuki whispered, brushing his thumb under one of Izuku’s eyes and then the other.

“Mhmm,” Izuku agreed. His nose brushed against Katsuki’s as he nodded and then their lips met again in the tiniest kiss.

It was a different feeling, pulling out without a condom to tie up and dispose of. Izuku hissed at the oversensitivity—the exchange made for the sparks he’d felt while inside, he supposed. Then they scooted over to the dry side of the bed, the cold of the clean sheets like a rush of water over their already cooling bodies.

They were still wrapped up face to face. Katsuki said something about his leaking ass being his problem, not Izuku’s. But whatever the reason, Izuku didn’t mind. He never had quite worked out a favorite between sleeping facing each other or tucked together back to front. He’d take both forever.

“I regret a lot of things with you,” Katsuki murmured eventually, after their breaths had already steadied, eyes already closed. It took a second for Izuku to realize what he was talking about. But they blinked back open as Katsuki continued speaking, his eyes radiating with a kind of fervor that Izuku usually saw reserved for combat. When there was someone to save. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop regretting those things, but I’ve never regretted a single second since we started. So make sure that’s in your nerd brain.”

Somehow, they’d kept holding hands. In the agreement not to bother with underwear or the mess of the bed, they’d stayed together, wrapped up as much as possible. A greedy exchange. Their hold had loosened in the pursuit of sleep, but Katsuki had tightened it again. Izuku squeezed right back.

“I know, Kacchan, I know.”

“I’ll give you everything.”

“I know, Kacchan.”

They’d had an agreement long ago not to dwell on the past. Both men had assumed with a certain clairvoyance that they’d never make it through if they did. So neither of them were ever trying to make up for one thing or another—they’d get lost that way. Instead, what they made together was always new. New and not perfect but theirs, all theirs.

“Now sleep, Deku. Y’kept me up.”

Izuku chuckled, the mint long lost from his breath. “Sleep, sleep, Kacchan.”

and in the morning when I’m waking up I swear that you’re the first thing that I’m thinking of I feel it in my body, know it in my mind oh I, I’m gonna love you for a long time

[heliosthegriffin]

A blade should be sharp at all times

Marrows up to the group, his tail wagging ecstatically behind him: You guys want to play a prank on Juan?

Ren and Nora’s eyes narrow, but they say nothing.

Flynt, Cobalt, Ivory, Neon, Yang and Elm all look at him with obvious interest.

Harriet snorts dismissively: Why would I want to bother the new meat? He’s got enough problems as it is.

Winter nods her head in agreement.

Marrow’s tail stops wagging, as he looks offended: Because it would be funny!

Harriet rolls her eyes and walks away.

Marrow: Fine, be that way!

He turns back to the more interested members of the room: So, what about you guys? Wanna hear it?

Ren says nothing and Nora motions for him to continue: Depends on what the prank is?

Yang nods along: Yeah, Xiao-Long as it’s nothing too mean to Milf-Magnet.

The rest of the room groans; while Yang absorbs the life-force they’ve lost to her pun.

Marrow smiles and continues: It’s nothing too out there, it’s just an old Atlas military tradition, to see how prepared a recruit is for field work.

Ren rubs his chin: I don’t know, Jaune and the rest of us have spent pretty of time in the field, he hardly ever leaves his armor, or his weapons besides when he cleans himself.

Marrows smile widens: That’s the idea!

Ren’s eyes widen in disbelief: You’re going to prank him in the showers?

Marrow doesn’t say a thing but his tail wags faster.

Ren groans and hold his face.

Nora though...

Her face splits into a manic grin as she starts cackling wildly, falling onto her back as she laughs so hard.

Ren shakes his head in leaves.

Marrow points his hand at Ren: STAY!

Ren freezes in place.

Marrow a little sheepishly: Uh, can’t have you spoiling the surpise, sorry.

Nora still keeps on laughing.

Ren’s pink eyes sparkle briefly, then a magenta pulse of aura breaks Marrows hold on him.

Marrows eyes widen in disbelief.

Ren rolls his neck and scowls at Marrow: Believe it or not, having strong aura control is just as important as a strong semblance.

Marrow falls to his knees, his tail desperately waving behind him: Please, please, don’t tell Joanna!

Ren shakes his head and leaves.

Nora: Don’t worry, he won’t say a thing or do anything, in fact, neither will I. Have fun kids.

Nora then follows Ren out.

The room goes silent.

Yang: Well, that’s ominous.

She then notices Winter is still in the room.

Yang: Why are you still here?

Winter huffs: To make sure you all don’t go too far with your ‘Prank’. I will observe and intervene should you all go to far.

Marrow cheers: Yay! Alright, everyone here is how it’ll work. Flynt, Ivory, and Cobalt, you three will being most of the legwork. Cobalt and Ivory, find Jaune and tell him he’s got special permission to use the Specialist private bathrooms, Flynt I want you to hide in the bathroom and use your semblance to make it seem like we’re under attack to scare him out.

Marrow takes a breath and turns to Neon, Yang and Elm: Here’s you girls is part, to really sell it I want you all to make sound noises and make it seem like you’re fighting, then when Joe runs out from the showers I’ll make his freeze, then you girls can throw cold water on him! He’ll be so embarrassed!

Ivory and Cobalt shrug, though Flynt, Neon and Yang seem a little put off.

Neon: I don’t know, seem a little mean spirited.

Flynt: Yeah, we’re not best friends and all, but I don’t want to embarrest the guy.

Yang scratches her chin: It doesn’t seem very, cool thing to do to a friend.

Elm though looked excited: Don’t worry! This is nothing, what’s a little nudity between comrades! If you’re out in the field and not prepared to fight at anytime, even naked, or if you get embarrassed by your comrades seeming you nude, you’re not cut out for being a Hunter. Hell, all of the Ace-Ops have done it. Even Winter!

The sound of a sword leaving it’s sheath rang out.

Winter says says menacingly. I made you promise to never speak of it again, all of you.

Elm: Oops.

Marrow waves them off: Whatever! Anyway this is just a rite of passage in Atlas, come on guys it’ll be a laugh.

The group thinks it over and eventually complies.

Marrow: Alright! Lets get this show on the road!

--------

Ivory and Cobalt escort Jaune through the halls.

Jaune: Wow, Gen. Ironwood really said I could use the Specialist Showers? That’s really kind of him!

Ivory nods and smiles: Gen. Ironwood always takes care of his own.

Cobalt taps Jaune’s shoulder and gives him a approving look. 

Cobalt: Deserve it, hard training and self-improvement are their own reward. But, Top Brass notice.

Jaune’s cheek glow slightly, a slight smile forming: Thanks, It really hard sometime, you know, to be able to see that I’ve improved, heh, no matter how much I feel like i’ve grown, I still feel like a waste of space and a burden on my team.

The group comes to a stop, Ivory and Cobalt looking slightly uncomfortable now.

Jaune turns around flashing them a pleasant grin, “Well, thanks guys. I’ll make sure to tell the General thanks, and that I won’t disappoint his trust for giving me a chance to be Huntsman.

Ivory and Cobalt say nothing and nod.

Jaune then enters the private bathroom.

Cobalt and Ivory look at each other.

Ivory: Are we the baddies?

Cobolt: Yes, but better him, than us.

Ivory sighs and taps his wrist, a small ringing occurs.

Ivory: The target is in position.

-------

Jaune walks through the state of the art bathroom humming a pleasent tune, completely unaware of the watching eyes on him.

He goes into a stall and undresses, the prying eyes losing sight of him.

Jaune then leaves the stall a towel wrapped around his waist and goes the hi-tech showers, another towel bundled in his arms.

Flynt watches Jaune enter the shower stall and sighs deeply, he liked Jaune, he really did, a decent guy all-around. But, if it kept others from seeing’s Flynt’s birthmark for another day, he would do what must be done.

He used his semblance, dividing himself into four copies of himself and then took off running inbetween the stalls.

Flynt x4: We’re under attack!

As Flynt came to the end of the room, he was not prepared for what happened next.

--------

Neon and Yang sparred with Elm in the changing room, where Jaune would have to enter to get dressed, trying to create as authenity as possible combat sounds.

Elm grabbed Yangs right hook and swung her into Neon.

Elm smiles: Got to be quicker than that.

Yang and Neon got off of each other and squared up for round two.

Marrow whispered yelled at them: It’s time! Get into postion, I just heard Flynt.

The girls and Elm nodded picking up bucket of ice-water while Marrow got ready to freeze Jaune. With Marrow having to stop himself from cracking up at the thought of Jaun’s expression.

Yang looked slightly recluntant, but the idea of a good prank won out.

Winter sighed in the corner ready to stop the prank if it goes to far, and hopefully preserve some decency.

The wall to the showers exploded out towards them, a spray of dust and stone and metal sharpnel covering the room, as heavy wet foot steps ran towards them as bellowing war howl echoed out from the destroyed room.

A figure running through the cloud of dust glowing a faint golden white, carrying a mechashifted sword in two hands over his head, the blade glowing blue from the hardlight dust along with gravity dust purple in the middle.

Jaune then leaps out of the dust howling: Just try and take them from me again you bastards! I’ll split you in twain, I’ll break you over my knees and slay you! I won’t let you take them from me again!

The group stands dazed as Jaune runs straight through them and through a wall, completely naked, his towel being shredding into binding that tied his meaty tube of a cock to his lower-thigh, while holding his sword overhead before slashing in front of him creating a hole for him to jump out into the campus.

A blush creeps up the faces of those present.

Marrow burst out laughing: That was amazing! Did anyone, get a picture?

Elm falls to her knees: I think I’m in love?

Neon shake her head sadly: No, I was too... Mesmerized.

Yang: So that’s why he wears two belts.

Winter...

Winter has disappeered.

------

Later that evening....

Atlas Reporter: A well-known Huntsman known as Jaune Arc has gone on a murderous Grimm-Hunting rampage all while streaking! What will those crazy kids think of next! Next on the block, pregnancy rates in Mantle having been climbing by over 750% over the last six hours, is this related to the previous new? The Answer may surprise you.

Ren flicks the Scroll-Box closed.

He then rests his head on Nora’s shoulder. 

Ren: Yep, it happened again.

Nora: We did nothign to stop it.

Ren: We could have warned them... But, better they learn first hand.

Nora: You did it because you thought it was funny, don’t you dare lie to me.

Ren smiles as he opens the scroll so that Nora can see, the Scroll showing a madly blushing Winter chasing after Jaune in a Bullhead, providing both aerial support, and firing t-shirt and boxer shorts at him, while he rampages through a horde of Grimm.

Ren smirking and pulling Nora close: You know me too well.

[tazwren]

My two cents on the devolution of fandom spaces...

As a former mod of a fandom space and a woman of colour, I do not feel safe.

Seeing what has been done to so many in this fandom, by a particular group of white American women, in the name of moral policing is both abhorrent and demoralising. As it also is to repeatedly see the same narrative being shoved at everyone as the gospel truth.

A narrative that very conveniently either becomes about fic or has nothing to do with fic, depending on how people want to swing things. A narrative that will accuse a person of Jewish heritage of anti-Semitism, a person of colour of racism, a practising Muslim of being an Islamaphobe. A narrative that will define for you and me and all of us comprising this myriad of multitudes in the world what generational or personal trauma includes and what induces the same.

Those of you who know me, know what I’ve been dealing with the past few days & why I haven’t spoken up before now. Before I logged out a couple days ago, I saw what looked like more of the usual nonsense by the same group of people I’ve kept my distance from once their true colours were revealed. What I didn’t expect is that they would think themselves so above the norms of human decency and accountability that they would go after not one but two women of colour this time around in their rabidity. And many others who spoke up, as it turns out.

It hurts to see what these women, that I know of, have had to endure and to see the passivity of the community, save for a few voices, in sitting back and letting the circus rampage through town. It hurt when I was at the receiving end of it and it hurts now.

Why? Because it shows me a microcosm of the world that I don’t really relate to, that makes no sense to me with the values I was brought up with, and which reduces basic human decency to a commodity to be trampled upon and for you to be seen as weak for having. Because people who willingly laud you for your art / writing / wit, meet you with effusive claims of love and affection and friendship, who have no qualms in taking your help when it suits them, will throw you under the bus and let the wolves ravage you when it doesn't.

Before I get into that, let me talk a little bit about what has transpired over the past few days to a week, and what has been systemically taking place over perhaps the past year in this fandom.

One thing is that everyone who makes a statement about anything suddenly has people in their mentions demanding they show what gives them the right to hold that particular opinion. A critical thing people forget about fandom is that it is a place where people hide their identity for a variety of reasons, all valid, and this approach to fiction and conversations where everyone has to reveal every part of their past and identity as a means of establishing their "credentials" in order to present their views comes in direct contradiction with how fandoms operate. It violates people's rights to privacy.

The other is that there has been an increase in the voices that purportedly stand up to “speak for” the marginalised, the abused, those discriminated against and those who belong to minorities who “need to be protected / kept safe”. An admirable sentiment, to be sure. If it weren’t for the fact that none of these groups of people needed saving, speaking for or the protection of this particular group of voices.

Voices who only want to define and use these people as "model victims" to hurt other white women and establish their supremacy over both them and other POC. Voices that will present their "truth" as they see fit and sans context or present you with screenshots of snippets of conversations held in supposedly secure spaces that they have no qualms in violating in the interest of the "greater good" and claim offense / silencing if the misdemeanour is pointed out or action is taken against them, Voices that will conveniently categorize you as a "token POC" or "white adjacent" when you do not support or align with their narrative. Voices that belong to a predominantly white American group of women, whose real agenda, as is evidenced by their modus operandi, has nothing to do with real altruism or a drive for justice or indeed to right wrongs.

No, their agenda is purely power.

To hold sway over groups of followers, to shepherd them as though they are sheep who cannot think for themselves, and to set themselves up as white saviours who call out those who step out of line, or are deemed to be problematic and toxic and unsafe. To be the owners of the only "safe spaces" in fandom and to drive other groups and spaces to be boycotted or worse.

Now, I've long wondered, who indeed are these women to decide that for anyone? In a world comprising multiple cultures, religions, groups, subgroups, genders and which contains multitudes, who are these women and what gives them the right to foist their puritanical standards on everyone, very conveniently disguised as concern for the moral well being of everyone and the consumption, of all things, of fiction?

Certainly, there are many things in this world that people regard with justifiably equal dislike / horror / sadness. At the same time, there is much that is not shared, that is particular to a culture and to a person’s background. There is a multitude of perspectives that make the whole. And the white women of the United States of America have not cornered the market on what those are, or indeed even own any curatorship or censorship of the same. They cannot, because each person’s culture and background and joy and trauma is their own, as are their ways of dealing with it all.

That being said, let’s talk about their pack behaviour and the devolution I’ve witnessed on social media as basic human decency is bartered for clout.

I’m all for standing up for someone who doesn’t have a voice or a platform, or maybe afraid of repercussions to voice dissent. I’m all for being there for our fellow human beings as they face struggles of often unconscionable and unfathomable proportions. I’m all for holding people accountable for their negative behaviours as they impact the larger community.

What I am unequivocally NOT for is treating such situations as an opportunity to preach, to virtue-signal, to shame and to put on blast the alleged wrong-doers. I say alleged because that’s what most accusations are on these platforms—allegations to do with things that disturb our sense of balance or make us wrinkle our noses or that we deem bad, and therefore make the accused deserving of the full force of the community’s misbehaviour and censure.

I ask you if you were found guilty of a crime in real life—you know, the one away from your phones and keyboards—would you not have an opportunity to retain a lawyer, to plead your case in a court of law, to acquit yourself? Or, if found guilty, would you not have the opportunity for correction and rehabilitation? Yes, you say? (If you say no, then that explains the spate of state-perpetuated injustices across the USA, but that is a different matter).

Why then are people treated so abhorrently in this court of public opinion? What gives you, me, any one of us the right to judge people so vilely and with a metaphorical gun to their heads? What gives anyone the right to say you better agree with everything I say, retract everything you said and grovel for it or we will eviscerate you in public, shame you, force you to change or delete the content that offends us and still ostracise you and in some cases even threaten you with bodily harm or death, or doxx you?

Why is there no grace in how people are approached or dealt with? Whatever happened to allowing people to learn from their mistakes, where applicable, or hearing them out and giving them a chance to explain their side of something we may not fully understand?

Why is there no accountability for such behaviour on the part of the accusers?

What makes the rest of you sit back and allow this to happen? What makes you think this is in any shape or form okay to watch? Today, it is a virtual stranger at the receiving end, one you can distance yourself from quite conveniently saying Oh, she just mods a group I am in, or I only read their fics a couple times or I only followed them for their art or jokes or whatever flavour of excuse you choose. Tomorrow, it will be one of your own - or it may very well be you. And you'd better hope there's someone left to speak up for you.

The irony is you will have allowed it to happen by letting the wolf in the fold. By letting these white women manipulate you, and the community you claim to be a part of, so unapologetically, so maliciously and so unashamedly that before you can do anything about it the cancer has taken hold.

If this was happening in the world outside of social media, they would have to follow due process, to present real evidence based on facts (not based on emotions, rumours or perceptions) and would have to allow the person they are accusing to present a counter-argument, to defend themselves or be defended. Failure to do so is a miscarriage of justice and, depending on whether this is a professional or legal proceeding, they would either seriously risk their jobs or have the case thrown out of court. If not face action themselves for attempting to derail the process of justice.

Why then are they permitted to range so freely through the landscape of fandom, snarling and biting at who they please, or who displeases them?

I have no shame in saying I was at the receiving end of their behaviour for defending a friend they put on blast and I will tell you right here and now, I am a woman of colour who feels unsafe and attacked by these so-called self-appointed white saviours of your social media experience, these so-called upholders of the common morality—whatever that means—who will fight for you the evils of problematic and toxic writers who dare to have an opinion not aligned with theirs and who do not bow to their clout. Not that they care, so long as they can ignore this fact since it doesn’t fit their narrative. So long as they can ignore what has just been done to so many people in the name of cleansing the fandom.

If any one of these women were truly interested in alleviating the troubles and pains of the discriminated, the marginalized, the trauma-affected, I invite them to please come roll their sleeves up and help in the multitudes of troubles that wrack this world, not just in the backyards of their minds. My country is amidst a struggle for the basics of human life in this horrific pandemic and, prior to that, for basic constitutional rights for religious minorities. Do not patronize me and lecture me on trauma and racism and discrimination. Do not marginalise me in your attempt to pontificate and set your pearl-clutching puritanical selves above the rest, or assuage your white guilt.

A largely American audience or fanbase in this fandom is purely a function of access and interest—other cultures have vast followings for things you couldn't begin to fathom—and it doesn't mean you are entitled in any shape or form to be spokespeople for the rest of the world. We have no interest in being colonized again by white oppressors.

If you disagree with what I have said, I congratulate you on being a part of their coterie and wish you much joy in being the sheep in their fold. Kindly unfollow or block me on the way off of this post.

[bryan360]

Here’s my note before I’ll get started….

(DON’T YOU EVER COPY FROM MINE OR MY FRIEND’S WORK, CHARACTERS, AND STUFF IF ONE OF YOU ARE IMPOSTERS WHO HAD HABITS OF PLAGIARISM! I WILL BLOCK YOU FROM MY BLOG IF I SEE YOUR POST WITH MINE OR MY FRIEND’S ORIGINAL WORK BEING EDITED ALL OVER! I’LL EVEN SHARE IT ONTO MY BLOG SO IF EVERYONE WILL SEE THAT YOU TRYING TO COPY MINE OR MY FRIEND’S THINGS FOR NO GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER! That will be all….I mean it.)

My Jellystone! Mains

Hello to my true followers and closest friends! Though I wanted bring something new around the tablet after I’ve been into C.H. Greenblatt’s Jellystone!; for bringing back some memories when watching his other works like Cartoon Network’s Chowder and having unexpected changes to the original Hanna-Barbera characters. However, I’m here to bring you this latest art style drawing change like something never been seen before. For the first time ever, I decided to have this for my mains 🐰🖌Maxwell, 🐰👊💥May, and 🦊⚽️Sam front and center! It happens after I’ve been doing my working draft finished back in September. 19th, 2021; thought before doing Riya Speedster’s 8th birthday posting next. Link Here

Nevertheless, it was an alright progress to go along as when making Maxwell, May, and Sam in their “C.H. Greenblatt-ish” style themselves. Though they’re still the same kids remains unchanged, (mostly if their genders were to swapped when that happens, but I’ll let that passed because reasons ^^*) but their looks will be different to compared from their original looks. When in their Jellystone! vibe after entering the world, just imagined when they were in crazy situations whether getting away from Cindy Bear’s gelatin ray blast, Cattanooga Cat’s robotic rampage, or Yogi Bear’s monstrous hunger that could eat the entire town! I got from watching some YouTube clips, by the way. However from what they're doing in poses, our best guess is where they joining the marching sequence from the show's intro; alongside with other characters including Doggie Daddy, Augie Doggie, Shag Rugg, and Jabberjaw when everything all having fun. That is until making a break for it after someone or something crashing a building which causes to tumble another building and the next like as a domino effect....eventually they would be squashed at the intro ends. Taking about making this a comedic timing. I watched this from YouTube as well and its not bad to included Hanna-Barbera characters doing their marching parade in style; whether for comedy purposes like any cartoon shows where everything goes wrong during the show's intro.

Though couldn't help but to feel bad if Maxwell, May, and Sam gonna survive through this. That being said, at least the world of Jellystone would be an alright place to stay when meeting some familiar people who appeared from past Hanna-Barbera cartoons.

Hope if everyone and my friends would gave me likes and reblogs to this latest post I’ve made. Thought It would help me to share his other two siblings in spotlights for a change. It’s been long years after doing Maxwell’s art style drawing posts for my DeviantArt page; especially knowing the first one back in April. 18th, 2018 of how it started. Link Here #2

However while I’ll be continuing on with Maxwell’s art style drawing posts in the near future, time will tell if I could do on other Animal OCs like 🐶Wilson “Long Ears” or 🥜Brown the Squirrel to share in spotlight as well. Until then, this will be my Tumblr Exclusive to share like I did with Chip and Potato Maxwell’s part. Link Here #3

🐰🖌Maxwell, 🐰👊💥May, and 🦊⚽️Sam (in their Jellystone! art style) created by me; BryanVelasquez87 (Bryan360)

Title Logo Image - Link Here #4

Edited Background - Link Here #5

@murumokirby360 @carmenramcat

[katsrnerstories]

BillDip SlowBurn FanFic Chap. 1

Bill had destroyed Dipper's mind.

It has been a few years since weirdmageddon. Since Dipper and Mabel defeated demons from hellish planes of existence and saved the world and their friends from soul and mind crushing madness.  

Dippers a freshman in college now. It was a moment that he had wished for for years. Highschool had been…

Well it wasn't the worst it could have been. Dipper hit a major glow up around the beginning of junior year (with Mabel's help of course) and life was a little easier. He was asked out on dates, went to a few parties here and there that people dragged him to, had some typical highschool fun in the city...

Until around that same time he started getting replies from colleges his senior year, he started to see Bill again. Every once in a while his mind would wander back to that summer, but it was always the good things or nightmares of the horrors they saw.

It started with just a little glimpse here and there. An eye in the back corner of his periphery, some yellow glimpse in a dark room. 

A ghostly hand on his shoulder.

But these things were nothing to the first time Dipper realized something was wrong.

Dipper saw Bill in his dreams. And those dreams were beyond nightmares.

He had had nightmares before. Nightmares of weirdmageddon were common for both dipper and Mabel. But these… these were real; as much as a dream could be.

Because of Gravity Falls, Dipper really wasn't afraid of a lot of things that would have scared him. The unknown was comforting to him. Maybe because it wasn't too unknown to him and Mabel.

But bill. During those nightmares, brought everything he feared to the frontlines. 

It had been a while since Mabel and him shared a room, so Mabel really didn't know about the fear Dipper experienced those nights. 

She was more focused on getting to LA.

She wants to be a criminal psychoanalyst. To look at the minds of people and figure how they tick. Criminals especially. 

Dipper could swear that Bill had done something to her to make her go down such a dark career path, but he couldn't say anything; he neither had a psychology degree nor was untouched by Bill himself.

Who really knows, it could have been anything else that happened to her in those hellish four years of highschool. 

She had moved away quickly after highschool ended to learn in LA. Of course they facetime and text all the time, but the separation was still felt by both of them.

Everyone missed her presence. Her positivity, her unique personality. 

That had transformed into something much darker come junior and senior year. She found out after a few failed boyfriends that she was not only Asexual, but that guys and even girls, can’t seem to give that part of a relationship up. Some even found it offensive that she felt that way.

Dipper went back to oregon. Of course he was in the city, but on weekends he would visit the Mystery Shack and Gravity Falls. 

Soos was happy to give him one of the rooms in the basement. Sometimes even Grunkle Stan or Grunkle Ford would visit. 

They decided shortly after Dipper and Mabel left that they would travel. Of course Ford's labs still sit under the mystery shack, but when Mabel and Dipper visited Soos the summer of their junior year Ford gave them full control of the labs (as long as Dipper kept everyone safe. Which he did too much annoyance of Mabel)

Soos and his wife at that time had just had a little baby boy, and now have a comfortable four kids, two boys and two girls (three of them were triplets) and run the shack not to much better than Stan did, with the same soul in the campy attractions and overpriced merchandise. 

Wendy is in her senior year at a community college in Oregon city, right around the same place Dipper decided to go to school. They hang out pretty regularly, just around weekly.

Robby left gravity falls as soon as he got his GED. Went for New York, looking for a punk career. He sends Wendy emails every once in a while about his music and where he's at. 

Shockingly, Pacifica stayed in Oregon, going to the same college Dipper goes to. They see each other, and after leaving her family, she found a lot out about herself and became a much better person. 

She found she loved a good smoke and art. Apparently, something she hid from the world was that she loved art. She was probably one of the best artists Dipper had seen. After she left the hell hole of her family, she became really chill. Calm. even nice. 

Her and Dipper have coffee pretty much every day. She was one of the only people who also knew what he had gone through.

And she was the only person who noticed as Dipper got worse and worse for wear. 

Bill had been particularly evil the past few weeks, taking much more joy in Dippers struggle. Long ago Dipper had just sort of given up on screaming for Bill to stop. But he always refused to make a deal with him to stop the fear. Not again. 

“Another nightmare again?” Pacifica asks, as Dipper requests 5 shots of caffeine in his already bitter caffeinated black coffee. 

“Yeah. it's getting harder and harder to say no every night. And honestly the empty dorm isn't helping.” 

“Why don't you just move in with me? I've got an extra room that's got your name written on the door if you want it.” 

Dipper almost accepted, but decided against it. It was kind of weird, no matter how good of friends they were, to live with the ex that made you realized you were gay.

It wasn't her fault, it was just…

He liked a different kind of ass, as Mabel had said when he came out.

No, the daily overpriced coffee meetup was enough. 

“Have you talked about it to Ford? Hes got to know something about it if he went through the same thing?” 

“I don't want to bother them with it. They thought they got rid of Bill that summer, we all did. Bills my problem now.”

Pacifica gives him a knowing look. She knew that he was breaking, but couldn't figure out how to help him. 

“Hows journalism?” Pacifica takes her coffee as she changes the subject.

“As boring as it ever is. Graphic design?”

“As confusing as ever.” Dipper takes a big sip from his steaming coffee. It's a briskly cold morning, enough he brought out his knit set Mabel had made for him on their 18th birthday. He had no shame in wearing it, and it in fact felt comforting today, to know that she was still with him in heart at least.

She never grew out of her sweater thing. She still makes sweaters, using it to get her to the next rent payment sometimes. Everyone can count on a big box with sweaters from her every Christmas here in Oregon. 

With their coffees in hand, Dipper and Mabel head off to campus. And once they made it there they said their goodbyes with a hug and went their separate ways to start the day. 

Dipper wanders into the lecture hall for his advanced maths class. People filter in as he types away on his computer. 

The students around him wanted to be scientists, economists, etc. everyone found it weird that a creative writing major was not only taking advanced maths, this early in the morning, but was killing it. His grades spoke for themselves. 

The class starts and Dipper still types away on his computer. He had been bored the night before as he was staving off sleeping and had read a chapter ahead in their textbook. He taught himself the three hour lesson that day in an hour. 

It was no doubt that Dipper took after his great uncle Stanford. Grunkle Ford told him at one point that Dipper reminded him of a young Dr. Fiddleford. Dipper didn't really like being compared to the scientist that started a whole cult under Gravity Falls before going batshit crazy himself for a very long time.

He only hoped that he wouldn't end up like him. He didn't want to be some crazy man who roams the town. 

Dipper had a story that he needed to finish for his next class. He had started to wear away the stories of Gravity Falls with his creative writing classes that he now had to actually think about what story to write. Mabel helped him out with the premise of the story last night. So he spent that class writing a simple flash fiction of one roaming the backrooms. (an urban legend Mabel had read about in an article somewhere.)

He found comfort in knowing that one thing did not exist to him. That one thing did not sit in the pits of Gravity Falls waiting for Dipper or one of them to unearth it.

The story reminded Dipper of falling through the endless pit just outside the Mystery Shack. A hole where they reminisced on days of the summer as they spent the day, or who knows how long, falling. they were all lucky that it was not, truly, endless. 

And quickly the story was finished and the class closed early. 

Dipper went for an early lunch. He scrolls through his phone, seeing Mabels three new instagram posts and all the other people she introduced him to. 

After Mabel found out Dipper was gay, she went on a mission to hook him up with some LA guy. Oregons not terrible with their acceptance, but it's not something to be very open about. Plus Dipper wasn't the kind to walk pride without someone like Mabel hyping the both of them up. Because god knows that she needs just as much hyping up with who she is as Dipper.

When he walks into his empty apartment, anxiety wells up in Dippers chest. Quickly he turns on the TV, letting it run as white noise as he makes his lunch. The apartment had been empty since his recent relationship ended. Dipper is glad it ended, as the abuse just got too much; yet it was bad for Dipper to be left alone with his thoughts. Especially in an apartment that seemed to hold so much sadness and bad memories.

Mabel, after helping Dippers style, had made him a whole cookbook for him. It had all different kinds of foods, but the main dishes all were healthy. She had gone on a fitness rampage her sophomore year and had never truly grown out of it. It was from a bad place, but she turned it to a positive. As she always does. 

She had told him that it was the first thing other than sleep to keep alive longer. She had made him promise that he would try to stay alive. 

At this point it was the only thing keeping Dipper alive. 

Bill had taxed his mind so much it was rare to find him not paranoid. Bill made Dippers anxiety beyond chronic, and the lack of sleep did not help his depression. 

That had developed after Pacifica. It wasn't because of the break up, more at the fact that she had helped him so much. 

She had accepted him being gay. She had helped him gain friends during their relationship, and she even helped him when money wasn't the best. 

All this caused his anxiety to get to his head. 

What if they think I’m evil for breaking it off with her? What if she'll never want to see me again? What if, what if, what if…

His depression had just gotten  worse after the breakup and dealing with being alone again. It was the reason Dipper stayed with someone like that for so long. 

All of the depression and anxiety ended up crashing down at the same time Bill Cypher ended up crashing into the picture. 

At that point Bill only came to terrorise Dipper a few nights a month. It was easier to deal with.  Now it's every night.

Dipper finishes making his food, sitting down in front of the TV to watch a show on Netflix. 

He had been getting through the true crime shows. He swore that eventually he'd eventually either run a show like it with Mabel or be one of the cold cases lost to the world. 

Yet within only a few minutes Dipper not only found himself asleep, but stuck in the mindscape. 

“Been trying to avoid me, Pine Tree?”

Dipper no longer was shocked by Bill's voice. In fact the more and more he heard his voice, the more and more it began to sound almost human.

[red-hood-redemption]

SO I know I’m like, super late to the party, but I finally got my hands on Robin 2021 and there is literally no one for me to talk to about it so now I’m just screaming my thoughts into the void ✌

First off, before i even bought the first two issues, I read through a lot of other people’s opinions on it to kinda get an idea of where it was going characterization-wise for Damian, and because of all the mixed reactions, I figured I should just read it myself and find out. Now I am the FURTHEST thing from a comic book authority, so like, this is truly just an opinion piece but if it convinces anyone to give the run a chance, then yay!!! Honestly, I’m really glad I gave it a shot because I’m genuinely hooked! I’m actually excited about this series (and it scares me lol)!!!

I'm gonna separate my thoughts into two sections: characters, and story, mainly for my own ease, but also if anyone cares more about one thing or the other it's easier to distinguish. But,  the line is a little blurry so if I end up getting a little too much into the characterization in the story section, just bear with me lmao. OH and I'm going to try and keep this as un-spoilery as possible but we'll just have to see. SOOOOOOOO

Characters

I think it goes without saying that Melnikov's art is absolutely gorgeous, and really does show how much Damian has grown up. It makes me want to sob its so beautiful, everyone is so pretty, even the guy that looks like a washed up, high as fuck Tony Stark lmao. But moving on to the actual characters,

Rose Wilson

I honestly don't know too much about Rose, I haven't read enough about her to say anything about her characterization and how it compares to her other appearances, or whether or not she is OOC, but so far, I'm enjoying her taking up the "big sis" role, like, immediately lmao.

I don't know how much I trust her yet, but I definitely get the vibe that even if she does betray Dami in any way, she's probably gonna stick her neck out for Dami again and he's probably gonna do the same.

I'm really intrigued about her motivations for being here. Obviously, Respawn has something to do with it, but I want to know what's up with that. I've seen a lot of theories and I'm so excited. Also side note, that Black Swan chick is hot, and I can't wait to see more of her in action!!!

I feel like Ravager knows a WHOLE lot more than Dami does about the interesting things going on on the island, mainly because she's been doing a lot more sitting and waiting than he has as of yet, but I'm hoping to see more of the two of them doing detective-y sleuthing together. We love a mysteryyyy

Flatline

Okay but real talk, why does she look like a character straight out of Monster High

Honestly tho, I dig it. It's cute! She's cute! She isn't annoying (yet) but I don't know if I care too much about her other than she would make a cute friend for Dami.

I think the problem with DC is that they know people LOVE Harley Quinn and they try so hard to make characters just like her but it always falls short, so honestly I am a little wary of her character development in this run, but I'm willing to give her a shot since her little coffin purse on the cover of the second issue is so damn cute. I'm a slut for character design, okay?

Oh speaking of Flatline and Dami, I don't ship it and I don't want them to force a romantic relationship into Damian's "coming of age"/"soul-searching" moment okay? Because that's what this run is about, at least to me! More on that in the story section!

They're literally 13/14 years old. That's 8th-9th grade, babes lets think about that for a minute

Also let's stop the whole "lets introduce a female character just to make her a love interest!" bullshit okay?

Basically, Flatline is interesting, or at least has the potential to be, but I don't want to get my hopes up because DC is notorious for disservicing their female characters 😕

I think the mixed reaction to her is valid, I don't think she's had much time to make a solid impression yet, so I guess you'd have to read it for yourself. Personally, I don't understand why people immediately hate her, especially because she's like, 14, and what kid that age isn't annoying? like at least a little bit lmao! But, yeah. I don't trust her either but literally everyone on this island is sketchy at least and a murderer at best, so hey 🤷‍♀️

Damian

His new outfit lmaoooo at first I was like "WHaT is this child wearing? You'd think Dick would have rubbed off on him and taught him what good taste looks like" but then I saw the later outfit, with the gold patterning and those sleeeevessssss ugh and I take it all back. A Fashion Icon TM. Truly stunning. A sight to behold. So proud, look at him go 😪

I think there's a lot of different opinions on Damian's characterization in this run, and I can definitely see where its coming from, but I disagree with the notion that Damian has been done dirty and reverted to a blood-thirsty, feral child.  And I have a LOT of opinions on the whole "feral" thing regarding Damian period (but that's for another time).

I don't think of Dami's rampage as a regression for his character. He's letting of emotions right then and I think its very similar to him venting. Its just not verbal, its physical and he knows he's not going to have to grapple with the consequences of his actions on the first kill. He knows he's technically not doing anything wrong.

He is clearly upset at Bruce and his failure to protect Alfred, and while Dami and Bruce are really often described as being very similar personality-wise, they are still distinctly different individuals who came to their current moral codes in vastly different ways. Bruce came to his "no killing" rule on his own; he made that decision for himself. It wasn't taught to him, it was a moment-of-truth kind of situation. Damian, on the other hand is in a vastly different situation.

Dami is, I think, at the beginning of the climb to his own moment-of-truth. He is in his rebellious phase like Dick, where he's gone off to spread his wings. It's not his conscious intention (at least that's not the vibe I got from reading the first two issues), but its directly underlying his "mission".

Damian is growing out of the expectations of his parents and into his own person. We all know he's been thrown from one moral code to another, both drastically different from each other. I don't think its a regression for him to lose his way a little, because realistically, he's going to have to in order to find it, specifically a moral compass that he forged on his own. He's just what? 14? Like hell a kid his age wants to listen to any form of authority. He's as stubborn as it comes. Damian needs to come to his decision regarding the path he takes in life on his own. It can't be made for him. He's seen and lived both sides of the coin, and I don't think he should be forced just yet to choose a side or pave a middle ground, but I do think that he should get the opportunity to see and experience all the gray areas on his own.

I think I'll transition from characterization to story here, because let's face it, this story is about Damian dealing with his confused emotions right now, in the wake of losing Alfred, a man that kind of acted like a grounding presence, a voice of reason, or a moral compass for him (and honestly Bruce and the rest of the bat crew if we're honest).

Story

So there's a lottttt going on in the story that is really enticing and exciting, and I'm really interested to see how it all plays out.

All the rules to the tournament are so, sketchy? Like they don't sound like they are meant to be sketchy, its basic safety and guidelines or whatever but with all the glowy green shit and the stakes of the tournament? Yeah, you can bet your ass its the "no fighting at night" and other shit is gonna be broken, and that's likely when the fun begins *insert evil laughter*😈

I was slightly put off by the whole "let me teach you to have fun" thing with Rose, because it's not like Dick, Steph, Jon, and like the Titans haven't done that with him too, but eh, not something I'm too concerned about. It's definitely just a segway to get us introduced to more characters that might become Damian's friends which will be interesting considering what Mother Soul said about fraternizing.

And that's another thing! I want Damian to make some friends! I know he already has some, but here's the thing: I think he's already been struggling with belonging, and he's definitely been feeling the disconnect between his life and other kids', whether they're supers/vigilantes or not. I think it'd be nice to see Dami have the experience of meeting people who he at first thinks are just like him!! and then realizing that maybe he doesn't really fit in here either, and that it's okay to feel like you don't belong, as isolating as it may feel at times. It just means you have a set of values. I want him to realize that its not always a bad thing, and you learn more about yourself and your own heart this way.

And from there,,, lets talk about the thing that stuck out to me the most in these two issues! GUILT!! It's mentioned SOO many times already, and I think its going to be a really fun, heartbreaking, and interesting aspect to explore about Damian. Is it guilt about his actions? Leaving behind family? Not being able to save Alfred? Not being a perfect example of Robin? He may call himself Robin but he doesn't sport the OG look or symbol like before. I love that his guilt takes on the form of Alfred though, or at least his conscious. I think it'd be really interesting to see this conscious disappear when Dami strays too far from his center, and when he finds it again, it reappears.

I really think that seeing Damian's actions in this run as a failure of character development is an unfair assessment, though. You can't do everything right in order to grow! You have to screw up, lose your way, experiment with life to find your fit, right?

Something tells me he doesn’t care for the tournament itself, but the end result, and the people behind it and more about WHY it was hidden from him. I mean he finds out the tournament TRULY begins once everyone has died once and tHEN he kill everyone? Felt to me less like a “killing spree” as everyone put it to a calculated decision to get the tournament going. He literally cuts Mother Soul off in the middle of her speaking to start fighting at the beginning

Anyway, just my thoughts lol. I do have some issues with the past two issues, and I might make a separate post about that, but honestly not enough for me to dislike Robin 2021 so far. I mean, besides the very obvious white-washing in the second issue, because DC can absolutely do better. And they should. It’s like they thought we wouldn’t notice???? But besides that, story and characterization-wise I’m looking forward to more. Here’s to hoping it stays that way, just with a better colorist!

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[cherryblossomflowers]

Day 26: Naughty

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: YN and Jensen try to understand why their son continues to misbehave.

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Depression

A/N: Day 26 of my writing challenge! The story from the reader is actually a true story about myself. No hate on any SPN Cast/Character. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

December One Shots Masterlist

Jensen spins YN after he helps her out of the car. They had just gotten home from their date night, something they haven't gotten to do in a long time.

It had been roughly a year since their last date night. And with 3 kids at home, it was hard to find time to do so.

Jensen had finally talked YN into hiring a babysitter for a night so they could go out. She was against it for a long time, especially being a work-from-home mother and it being 3 days until Christmas, but she agreed that they needed a night away from everything.

The two had gone out to dinner, went dancing for a couple hours, and ended the night with a walk around the park. Now that they were home, they felt so relaxed and ready to call it a night.

But when Jensen opened the front door, he knew that idea went right out the window.

The house was completely trashed. Their Christmas tree was on the ground with broken ornaments everywhere, there was water all over the kitchen floor, food covered the walls, and there was a game controller in the TV.

"What in the world..." YN mumbled as she stepped over broken glass.

Jensen looked around, "Where are the kids?"

They looked up when they heard footsteps running down the stairs. Their babysitter, Jenny, had a panicked look on her face when she got to them.

She was panting as she explained, "Mr. and Mrs. Ackles, I am so sorry about your house. I've been trying to clean it as fast as I could but-"

"Let me guess," YN crossed her arms, "It was Randy."

Jenny nodded, "Your son went on a rampage and just started throwing things and breaking things," she paused a moment, "But the trashed house isn't all."

"What do you mean?" Jensen asked.

Jenny took a deep breath, "Randy told Claire and Charlotte that there was no such thing as Santa Claus."

"He what!?" YN yelled.

"They've been in their room crying for hours now. I've tried everything to calm them down, but between that and telling Randy to stop breaking things..." Jenny trailed off.

Jensen pulled out his wallet, "Jenny, you can go on home. I'm sure YN and I can handle it from here," he pulled out a $100 bill, "Here's a bonus for...dealing with all this. We understand if you don't want to babysit anymore."

She took the money from him, "Mr. Ackles, I would love to come back any time you need me to. But maybe after Christmas when Randy is a bit more calm."

"Thank you, Jenny," YN spoke softly, "Be safe getting home."

Jenny waved as she left the Ackles residence. Jensen shut the door behind her then turned to YN. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, both wondering what they should do.

"You want to talk with the girls or Randy first?" Jensen asked.

YN closed her eyes and sighed, "You go to Randy. After I calm the girls down, I'll meet you in his room."

He nodded, "Want me to wait until you get in there do dish out a punishment?"

"Don't worry about a punishment," YN shook her head, "I've got a better idea."

YN started walking up the stairs with Jensen right behind her. As they got to the second floor, they could hear music blasting from Randy's room and their daughter's wailing from their room. They split up, Jensen going left to Randy's bedroom and YN going right to Claire and Charlotte's bedroom.

It didn't take long for YN to calm down the girls. Claire and Charlotte were only 6 and 7 years old, and YN was more than capable of proving to them that Santa was real. She knew the girls loved Christmas and they weren't ready to give up on the magic just yet.

After giving their mom hugs and kisses, Claire and Charlotte moved over to their doll house and were back to being energetic and happy. And now YN had to go and talk to her teenage son, which probably meant a lot of shouting from him.

YN closed her daughters' bedroom, "Now comes the hard part," she walked over to Randy's bedroom door and knocked.

She pushed it open and saw Jensen and Randy sitting on the bed. Randy had his hood covering his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Jensen looked up at YN and shrugged at her.

YN closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, "We're not mad, Randy."

Jensen's eyes widened, "We're not?!"

"Shh!" she glared at him, "No, we're not. We're just confused."

"What's there to be confused about?" Randy mumbled.

YN walked over to him and bent down to look at his face, "You've been lashing out like this for the past 3 years, but only when it's December. And we've never stopped to ask why."

Randy looked up at her, "What do you mean?"

YN glanced at Jensen before looking back at her son, "We clean up the mess, we come up here and punish you by taking your phone or your games away, and then we assume everything is fine," she paused for a moment, "But it's not because we never asked you why you do it."

Jensen reached over and wrapped an arm around Randy's shoulder, "We're just worried something's going on. We just want to make sure you're okay."

"And if you don't want to talk about it right now, that's fine. Whenever you're ready, we're here to listen," YN smiled.

Randy pushed his hood off his face and rubbed his eyes, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, honey," YN replied.

"Why can't I enjoy Christmas like I used to?"

Jensen and YN felt their hearts drop at their son's question. They looked at each other and neither of them knew what to do or say.

"How do you mean, son?" Jensen asked.

Randy shrugged, "Claire and Charlotte get up every year on Christmas day and run downstairs, yelling about how Santa brought them what they asked for," he looked at YN, "But I know there's no Santa. I know it's you and Dad that put everything out and eat the cookies and drink the milk."

YN felt a tear roll down her face, "Honey you haven't believed in Santa in years. You stopped when-"

"When I got into a fight at school over it? I know," Randy wiped his eyes, "The girls still believe though. I wish I still did. Maybe that's why I don't enjoy it...because the magic is gone."

Tears rolled down Jensen's face as he listened to his son. It broke his and YN's hearts to know this is how he felt. And who knows how long he had been feeling like this.

"Does it bother you that we still tell Claire and Charlotte about Santa?" Jensen asked.

Randy shook his head, "No, not at all. It's kind of nice to see them get excited. I just wish I could feel like that, too."

YN sighed, "Randy, let me tell you the story of when I stopped believing. I was actually your age."

"You were 13 when you stopped believing?" Randy exclaimed.

YN nodded, "I held on as long as I could. But I stopped when I was at my grandparent's house and they were talking about my presents. My grandpa got me new colored pencils for my art class. In my head I was thinking about how Santa knew I needed new pencils, but when my aunt walked in the room and asked my grandpa where he got them, I felt my heart drop."

"Did they know you still believed?"

"I don't know," YN shrugged, "I just remember going throughout the day thinking about my past Christmases. I would remember seeing presents next to the tree and thinking how my parents got them for me and not Santa. I was so broken."

"What did you tell your parents?" Randy asked.

YN sighed, "I didn't, not for a couple years. They thought I believed until I was 15. That was the year that I started to really not enjoy Christmas. I would hate going to my grandparent's house, I hated opening presents, I even hated decorating."

Randy looked down at his feet, "How did you get over it?"

YN smiled, "I tried to find just one reason to like Christmas: lights, music, family, food, friends, etc. And luckily, I finally found it."

"What was it?"

YN turned and looked at Jensen, "It was when you were about 4 years old and you ran into our bedroom. You shook my shoulder to wake me up. I was so tired, but seeing that smile on your face made getting up before the sun worth it," she paused and chuckled, "And when we all got downstairs, you didn't go for your presents at all."

Randy gave her a confused look, "I didn't?"

"No," YN shook her head, "You turned to me and your dad and said 'Mommy, can I give my toys away?'. When I asked why, you said 'I have everything I want already. I have you and Daddy.'"

Jensen smiled, "I remember that. We put all the Christmas presents in the truck, took them to a local hospital, and gave them to the kids. And it was all your idea."

"Wow, I did that?" Randy sighed, "I wonder why."

"Because you and I see the joy in others," YN took his hand in hers, "The joy of giving back to others. That magic feeling you have isn't gone. It just got pushed aside. You just have to find that spark again."

Randy smiled, "Thanks, Mom," he looked at Jensen, "Thanks, Dad. And I'm sorry for how I've been acting."

"It's okay," Jensen said, "You're a teenager. If you didn't lash out, I would've been worried."

YN chuckled, "I've got to agree with your dad on that one."

"I guess I should start cleaning up the house," Randy sulked.

YN laid a hand on his cheek, "Let's worry about that tomorrow, honey."

Randy stood from his bed, "Well I want to at least apologize to Claire and Charlotte."

"I think that's a good idea," Jensen nodded.

Randy walked out of his room and down the hallway to his sister's bedroom. YN and Jensen watched him open there door and sit down in front of them. They couldn't hear what he was saying to the girls, but when they stood up and hugged him, YN and Jensen knew he said just the right thing.

"We've raised him very well," Jensen whispered.

"He gets that soft side of him from my side of the family," YN winked.

Jensen chuckled, "Yeah, but he got the good looks from me."

"Hey now," YN turned to him, "Who says he didn't get it from me?"

"Either way, he's a good kid. And he had great parents to help him figure that out."

"Yeah, that's true."

Jensen sighed, "You do know that we're going to have to stay up and try to clean some of the house."

YN groaned, "I know. But that's a part of being parents."

"We could've just punished him and told him he had to clean it," Jensen suggested.

YN shook her head, "No. I think he learned his lesson a different way."

The two watched Randy play with his sisters from his doorway. Every once in a while, Randy turned around and smiled at his parents. They would smile back at him and wave to him.

"I'm just glad he's finding that spark again," YN spoke quietly.

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

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​​​​​​ @smollestbean-2​​​​​​ @kitwithnokat​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​ @desiredposion​​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​​​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​​​​​ @starchildwild​​​​​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​​​​​

@emery--nicole--morrison​​​​​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​​​​​​ @akshi8278​​​​​​​ @avocadogirl216​​​​​​​

@imthedoctorlove​​​​​​​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom

[radiant-flutterbun]

Mason’s Brightside Part 2

   Part 1

“No Mason, weird dreams are not a symptom of the herb I gave you last night,” Alaria sighed “If you had listened to me you would know the opposite is true.”

    “No dreams is a symptom?”

    “Yes and so are dehydration headaches so make sure you drink lots of water.”

Alaria shooed Mason outside of the healing den and he nearly crashed into Corkscrew, a spiral.

    “Watch where you’re going!” Corkscrew snarled.

    Mason ignored him and went to get something to drink, his mind however was still thinking about that dream. He’d never been a vivid dreamer. Something about it was so unnatural.

    Evan came up to him later in the day and he described the dream to him.

    “Weird right?”

    “Yeah but sometimes a dream is just a dream. Don’t read too much into it.”

    “But it felt so real!”

    “You sure it’s not… Ya know your mind playing tricks on you?”

    Mason glared at Evan “It wasn’t that.”

    “Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to imply…” Evan coughed “Maybe you’re just not used to a good night’s sleep is all.”

    Mason thought about that for a moment “That… Ok yeah that I can believe.”

    The next night he was given the same herb from Alaria and he found himself right back at the Emperor’s Wake.

    “Good to see you again Mason,” It was the tundra. They were sitting beside him, so close that Mason could feel their fur on him “Are you on your way?”

    “I-” Mason began and then he snarled “What are you doing in my head?”

    The tundra looked back at him calmly, “You can thank our local dreamwalker for that.”

    “Dreamwalker…?”

    “You’ll be waking soon. I don’t have time to explain. Please come here to the Emperor’s Wake. I’ll explain everything. It’ll be much easier in person, I promise.”

    Mason was about to speak when he found himself awake, sunlight danced across his room. 

    He began to pack his things. It didn’t take long. Being formerly dead, he didn’t have any personal belongings from his world. All he had were just a few art supplies Flare had been kind enough to give him, a simple dagger, a water canister, a few snacks and a blanket. Everything fit neatly in a bag he wrapped over his shoulder.

    He trotted down the stairs from his room and into the clan lobby. He made his way to the main exit when Evan found him.

    “Where are you going?” He asked, seeing the bag.

    Mason sighed “The Emperor’s Wake.”

    “What? Isn’t that where that monster is?”

    “Yep.”

    “And you want to go there?!”

    “Correct.”

    “Why?”

    “Because that’s where the dragons in my dreams told me to go.”

    “So you’re just going to listen to random dream dragons now?”

    “See this is why I was trying to avoid you.”

    Evan looked hurt “You were planning on leaving without telling me?”

    “Because I knew this would happen! I knew you wouldn’t understand! Listen, I've been here before. I know that whoever these dragons are, they're not going to get out of my head until I do what they want me to do.”

    “Hey no offense Mason but the last time you listened to some... thing in your mind you ended up hurting a kid.”

    Mason snarled “He wasn’t just a kid. Don’t oversimplify what Muerto is.”

    “I’m just saying, if you knew that was Match speaking to you, would you still have done the things you did?”

    “Yes. Match is just another self centered god, but at least me listening to him, capturing Muerto, weakening him. Getting him to spill his dirty little secrets. At least that did something! You would have rotted away to nothing and we would have all been trapped in that horrible place until we died. I got the gods’ attention. I changed things!”

    Evan took a deep breath “Ok. Yeah you’re right. But I also don’t have to like what we had to do to get where we are now. Maybe this time we can take some time to think about what we’re getting into before we have to hurt anyone?”

    “We? You want to come with me?”

    “I don’t like the idea of being near that monster, but I hate the idea of letting you go alone even more.”

***

    Mason waited for Evan to pack his things. Like him, it wasn’t much so they were off on their journey soon enough. Evan felt bad leaving without a word so he took the time to leave a note for Nike.

    The two took off and soared over the Sunbeam Ruins in the direction of the area now known as the Emperor’s Wake. Mason had a map with him to help him keep track of their journey. As he flapped his wings he noted how natural flight felt to him. It was strange to him how quickly he picked up the skill. His original body was not one designed for flight and never in a million years would he have guessed he’d eventually become a dragon. Sepulchral had taught him to fly after he had entered the Dragon Planet. Sepulchral was a good teacher, and unlike all of the other Selcouth creatures that were brought to Sornieth, Sepulchral actually had wings back in their world, making him uniquely experienced with flight. But even with such an excellent teacher, Mason felt like he shouldn’t have picked up the skill quite so quickly. It only made it more frustrating that relearning to draw was not as natural to him.

    “Sorry about planning to take off without you,” Mason said after a few miles of silence.

    “Hey, it's cool. No big deal,” Evan responded.

    “What were you going to tell me the other day, by the way? I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. Sorry again.”

    “Oh that?” Evan laughed nervously “That was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

    Mason glanced at his friend “Alright…” He thought about pushing the subject, but decided to let it go.

    The two flew in silence until it got dark. They camped out in a secluded pine forest for the night and took off again when it was morning. 

    Their flight was uneventful until they flew over a patch of land that was scarred in an unusual way. Most of the Sunbeam Ruins were filled with rolling fields of grass and green pine trees dotted with ruins from a forgotten era. But this patch of land was blackened and dead. It was not burned like a fire found it, rather it looked like a perfect circle of the land just shriveled up and died. Below structures that were not ancient ruins were crushed and destroyed like a tornado ran through the community.

    “What do you suppose happened down there?” Evan asked.

    Mason shook his head “Nothing good probably. Let's keep moving.”

    It wasn’t long before the land began to look more like what Mason saw in his dreams. There were tell-tale signs of destruction, but not quite like the shriveled dead land they had just passed. Mason searched the ground below him and nearly stopped mid flight. There on top of a hill covered in ruins was the same rugged tundra that had spoken to him.

    Mason landed beside them with a thud and Evan landed more gracefully beside him.

    “You!” Mason snarled.

    The tundra smiled and waved “Mason! So good to see you in person. And oh look! You brought a friend.”

    “Why were you in my head? How do you know who I am? What do you want with me?”

    “Holy shit,” Evan was ignoring the tundra and instead his eyes were fixed on the horizon “It’s real.”

    Mason heard a roar and looked up. There in the distance was the rampaging beast, the Emperor Luminax. It was even more horrible than it was in his dreams.

    “Terrifying isn’t it?” The tundra asked, following Mason’s gaze.

    “It’s just… Hard to believe it’s real.”

    “I know. Seeing your first Emperor… It makes you wonder what’s real and what’s fake. But that thing is real alright. It’s destroying lives and the gods are doing nothing about it.”

    Mason snorted “Yeah that sounds about right.”

    “Ah, don’t like gods do you?” The tiny bug dragon from Mason’s dream landed on top of the tundra’s head “I knew this one would fit in well!”

    Mason peeled his eyes away from the undead creature in the distance “Ok, no more talking until you two explain why you were in my head.”

    “Ah that would be Karyu’s doing,” The tundra addressed the bug sitting on their head.

    “How dare you!” Mason lunged forward to swat the bug, but they quickly flew away. Mason ended up hitting the large tundra’s antlers instead. Mason’s hand stung and the tundra glared at him.

    “Maybe instead of threatening my friend, you could sit down and listen.” The tundra shoved Mason to the ground. Mason tried to get back up, but stopped when the tundra gave him another glare.

    Karyu flew back onto the tundra’s head and pointed at Mason “That one tortured a kid god, so I guess I shouldn’t really be too surprised. Still, he has use here.”

    Mason’s eyes widened “How did you-”

    “My name is Perryn,” The tundra cut Mason off and smiled “I’m an Emperor hunter, and my friend Karyu here is a dream walker.”

    “And demigod!” Once again Karyu took off from their perch on Perryn’s head. They circled in the air and as they landed they began to transform. Before Mason’s eyes the little bug dragon grew in size. They spun so fast it forced Mason to blink and with that one blink a new creature was standing where the bug disappeared. Its body was unmistakably human to Mason, but it still had some of the bug features of its dragon form. Antennae sprung up from Karyu’s head and insectoid wings from their back. They wore a long robe and their long purple hair touched the ground. They were still small, Perryn towered over them and so would have Mason if he had been standing, but they were no longer squishable. 

    “My mother is the goddess of dreams for this world, and lucky me, I’ve inherited some of her powers,” Karyu walked up to Mason and poked his snout. He snapped at their fingers “You have the most fascinating dreams out of everyones’ I’ve walked through. So many memories are mixed with yours. Some juicy ones too!”

    “No. You didn’t.”

    “It’s just a shame that lately you haven't been dreaming much. I’m guessing insomnia? Well that’s no good for me or my pals here at The Guild of Osiris! I was afraid if your sleeping patterns continued I would have lost contact with you! And that would have been a real bummer.”

    “Which is why Karyu had to bring me into the picture,” Perryn said “We needed you to come here before they lost contact with you and they thought you would listen to me and not them.”

    “And I was fucking right!” Karyu grinned and then leaned close to Mason and whispered “I just thought Perryn would be more your type. I’m gorgeous, I know, but I’m taken.”

    Mason just stared at Karyu. He opened his mouth and then closed it like a fish out of water.

    “Yes. Karyu was right!” Peryn shouted and then coughed “And now you’re here like we were hoping. Karyu has seen a lot of things about you from their dream walking ,which I know may be awkward and invasive-”

    “You don’t think?” Mason found his voice for a moment.

    “But Karyu has a knack for finding those who are perfect for helping our cause. Mason, is life uncertain to you? Maybe you’ll make a good Emperor Hunter.”

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

[autistic-singer515]

Here’s my fan art sketch of the scene I want in the Animaniacs reboot season 2. That’s right when Julia has a nasty side effect from the obedience chip, she turns into a giant mouse monster out of anger. It causes her to go out of control. As Julia was about to try to kill Brain, Pinky pushed him to safety and takes the hit instead. Julia tries to control herself as she saw Pinky unconscious. She looked at the blood on her big claws. That unpleasant sight frightened her. She shook her big hands in fear and sadness. She frightfully looked at Pinky and her bloody claws back and forth. She felt sick to her stomach upon the realization of her actions. Now she hated the idea of killing, even the Brain.

What has she become?

“Oh no....” Julia thought sadly. “ What have I done to him? I’m a monster! A terrible monster!”

Due to her anger and confusion and the electrical shocks, Julia’s monsterous instincts were taking over her mind. She plans to get revenge on the Brain and everyone else in the world for neglecting her.

“But why would Pinky sacrifice himself to save a tyrant?” Julia thought angrily. “The world likes to play a little cruel game with me! Then nobody loves me or understands me! Everyone in the world is evil! Including me! I might as well destroy everything and myself, starting with you, Brain! You made me like this and you will pay!”

As the Brain witnessed Pinky’s unconscious body, his anger towards Julia rose up. He swore revenge against her. He knew she had to be stopped and to be turned back into a normal unintelligent mouse. But after he tried to stop Julia once and for all, she already grabbed him in an attempt to squeeze him to death. The Brain tried to bite Julia’s hand to try to get her to let go. But Julia’s muscles were too strong and numb to feel pain. But then the Brain saw Julia struggling with her mind and her electrical shocks from the defective obedience chip on her left ear. She was trying to calm down after she saw what she did to Pinky. She’s trying to keep her love and compassion within her. But the obedience chip was making it too difficult for her to do so. Her sanity was slipping away from her. She was downright scared of losing herself and killing everyone uncontrollably.

The Brain’s eyes widened to the realization and felt sick to his stomach with the squeezing making it worse. It felt too familiar to him. He remembered getting abused with the electric cheese platter from those mean scientists. He remembered how much it angered him to no end that he plotted world domination. It conditioned him into not showing affection towards Pinky or other people. Just so he wouldn’t feel weak and helpless if he gets rejected by them after showing them love.

No wonder Julia was plotting revenge against him just so she could make the world a better place for everyone. Just so she could become a hero with good intentions. It was all because the Brain pulled a familiar stunt as the scientists did. Now the Brain knew how it felt for Julia to be abused like this. He made her like this and it was all his fault.

For years the Brain tried and tried to remain calm about not succeeding in taking over the world. But after years of repressing his true feelings for Pinky, his behaviour gradually had gotten worse and worse. The more the Brain looked deep within himself, the more he felt like a different mouse all together. He remembered his other recent actions, including attempted kidnapping of people and attempted child labour. They were the things his former arch enemy Snowball would’ve done.

He knew that deep down inside, he never wanted to do those horrible things, but the world was recently becoming a lot more stupid, violent, crazy, frustrating and difficult for him that he was too angry to hold back. He felt like he had to do his job for world peace and for good reasons even though his actions were a lot harsher than normal. He was hurt before. He didn’t want to be the helpless little mouse anymore. Because of this, the Brain tried his hardest to ignore his love for Pinky. But now that got his funny friend seriously hurt. The Brain ignored Julia’s empathy and then he ruined her mentally. The Brain’s heart stings just thinking about those horrible memories.

The Brain knew he started this whole mess. He wasn’t sure he would survive his own squeezing situation himself. But he hoped that at least Pinky would wake up even if he’s gone. Maybe he could stop Julia from rampaging.

If only the Brain was as kind as Pinky.

Julia’s insults towards the Brain played repeatedly in his throbbing mind that it was almost unbearable for him to handle. He gritted his teeth and sweated with anxiety.

“You monster!”

“All this time I’ve been manipulated by a tyrant!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Tyrant!”

“Monster!”

“Julia was right about everything about me..... What have I become?....” thought the Brain, feeling the guilt and fear overcoming him. “I thought I could make the world a better place.... But I messed it up real bad.... I’ve made too much irrational decisions.... I’m not as intelligent as I thought.... I’m no better than the scientists and Snowball who abused me long ago.... And now Julia is getting worse because of me!....”

How the Brain wished Pinky would wake up right now to help him get out of his bad situation. Just like they always did for each other. But Pinky still didn’t seem to wake up.

What would Pinky do if he was in the Brain’s situation?

Ask Julia stupid questions about eating yourself and then disappearing after that? No! Definitely not! That’s ridiculous! That won’t work for her like it did for his demonic robot son, B.R.A.I.N! She would already know the answer.

Then the Brain remembered the time Pinky constantly apologized to him when he was a green mouse monster. It always reverted him back to his normal mouse size until the serum wore out of his system. As the Brain continued watching Julia struggling with her mind, he thought that if it weren’t for Pinky, he could’ve been like Julia. An out of control monster.

The Brain remembered what Julia once said, “ I think it’s time I stopped speaking from the brain and start speaking from the heart.”

The Brain finally realized that he should’ve listen to Pinky’s advice in the first place, that is helping Julia before she destroys everything, including herself. He finally realized that he was the one who should apologize to Julia, not Pinky. Maybe if the Brain could apologize to Julia, maybe he could try to calm her down. He may not be Pinky, but he knew that the least he could do right now was just try.

“Just be yourself, Brain.” thought the Brain. “But be kinder.”

So the Brain apologizes to Julia.

The Brain: “I don’t know if you can hear me say this.... But.... I’m sorry.... Julia.... I made you a monster and Pinky is badly injured because of me.... What have I done?..... How could I’ve been so cruel to you?.... Deep down inside me, I really feel awful for forcing you into being my First Lady... But I was too proud to admit it.... I know what it feels like to be helpless, Julia....”

But it seems that Julia wasn’t buying the Brain’s apology. She squeezed the Brain too tight that his lungs were about to burst. The Brain groaned and sweated. It was starting to get difficult for him to breathe.

“Liar!!” yelled monster Julia. “You’re lying! You’re heartless! You’ll always be heartless! Just like everyone else in this world!”

The Brain said “believe me, Julia. I was once like you. Lonely, afraid, angry and abused by scientists. I wanted to take control for myself and the world just to show everyone I’m not a dumb weak mouse anymore. Pinky was right.... I was mean and angry because I was afraid of showing love.... I didn’t know about love enough...”

“Pinky’s better at showing compassion than me..... But right now he can’t do that.... So I want to help you now....” the Brain continued. “I promise to let you make your own decisions this time! No more neural implants! No more mind control! You name it! Just please control yourself before it’s too late!....”

Monster Julia’s eyes widened with confusion.

Could the Brain be telling the truth?

Monster Julia tried harder to control herself.

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt Pinky!....” said Julia. “I want to stop hurting people.... But why am I still angry?.... Why are you so nice to me all of a sudden?.....”

The Brain waited with baited breath for Julia to finally calm down.

Could Julia be coming to her senses?

But then her monster instincts took over again and then realized something. The Brain must be lying. He was just pretending to be nice to her, just so he could use her again.

Monster Julia yelled “No! You’re never like me! You’re trying to use me again by lying! Well, no more! I won’t take orders from you anymore!”

The apology wasn’t working. Not liked it worked for him as a green mouse monster. Dread, fear and hopelessness was overcoming the Brain.

The Brain felt just as helpless, sad and scared as ever. His worst fear was about to do him in. And it was all his fault. His body shook fiercely.

“If only I could fix all this”..... said the Brain tearfully. “You have every right to hate me... I deserve this.... Why didn’t I listen to you or Pinky?.... I don’t deserve forgiveness..... Because my recent actions are unforgivable..... I’m the real terrible heartless monster.... Not you....”

Now the Brain hopelessly prepares for his doom as Julia continues to squeeze him.

That was his punishment after all.

But when all hope seems lost, the very guilty Brain sheds a repentant tear and then he let it drop onto Julia’s nose as a way of saying sorry. Julia felt the tear drop on her nose. She stared at the tear running down her nose. She felt the warmth from it. Then suddenly her nose started to glow magically.

The Brain saw Julia’s nose glowing.

What was happening?

Julia gasped. Then she looked at the Brain with tears running down his face profusely. His tear filled eyes were very honest about her safety and everyone else’s safety.

Julia stopped squeezing Brain and put him down as she became confused.

“Why are you crying?” asked Monster Julia. “How can a stoic mouse like you be capable of shedding tears? Could that warmth be from your genuine remorse and concern for me? How can that be so? How can a tyrant feel sorry for me? But I’m just as bad as you.... How can a monster like me still feel joy and sadness?...”

Julia’s eyes filled with tears.

Then Julia thought of something she hadn’t before.

“Could a tyrant and a monster really change? Am I loved after all?” asked Monster Julia.

Julia’s anger melted away like snow and she realized that the Brain really meant everything that he said. She remembered what Pinky once told her. He was right. The Brain can fix what was wrong with her if they give each other a chance. And maybe he did give up world domination a few times just for Pinky.

Then the warm glow grew and spread all over Julia’s body. It felt like a nice warm hug to Julia.

“For some reason I feel safe. This warmth is so comforting.” Julia said. “I think it’s telling me that I’m not alone and everything’s going to be okay. It’s starting to make sense now. Pinky was right about you all along! You do have some good in you! And I still have good in me! Both of us can change!”

The Brain realized that he was wrong about himself, he still has love in his heart within him despite his recently not so great intentions. He also realized that it’s okay to show compassion towards others no matter how tough he is and that sometimes feeling helpless and weak is okay as long as you have friends to help you. Maybe the Brain could slowly but surely heal from his trauma just like Julia is healing from hers. Maybe Julia didn’t have to turn back into a normal mouse after all.

Then Julia reverted back to her normal mouse size and the obedience chip slipped off her left ear and broke as it hit the ground.

Then after Brain made sure Julia was alright, they would check on the unconscious Pinky from my previous fan art.

Maybe in the reboot the obedience chip won’t fly off Julia’s ear. Maybe she’ll get a surgery to get rid of the obedience chip in her ear after Pinky was alright.