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hollowed-theory-hall · 2 days ago

Note

It's true we don't know a lot about her, but what we do know implies she is very magically talented and has a bit of a cruel streak to her. She isn't as perfect as some portray her, nor as awful as I've seen some claim her to be. but oh boy do I disagree about her being mediocre.

Let's talk about the magical power first, becouse I feel a lot of people underestimate Lily's magical talent.

“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

(HBP)

I know some people like to claim Lily was only good at potions because of Snape, but I don't think that's the case. I'm sure he helped her out at first, but they stopped being friends at 5th year and she continued to seemingly have good grades at Potions since Slughorn really loves her.

As a child, Lily has incredible control over her accidental magic and accomplishes difficult magic naturally and intuitively:

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

(DH)

Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

(DH)

This is way more advanced than magic usually shown by kids, especially because of how controlled it is. The only other character we see on level with Lily's control at such a young age (and who mastered unaided flight on their own) is Voldemort.

Harry also shows insanely powerful accidental magic (including Apparation) and let's just say, I don't think Harry's magical talent came from James.

Lily was both Prefect and head girl (like Tom) again showing she had a great academic track record and was likely a top student in many of her classes. We know she was good at Potions, but she was likely very adapt at Charms as well:

You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work

(PS)

Now, I talked in the past on here about how Harry is insanely magically powerful, specifically when it came to intuitive magic that just reacted to his emotions/desires or him being able to feel magic (this is that post). If we take Dumbledore at his word on how Lily cast her sacrificial love on Harry (which I tend to do) her sacrificial magic was insanely intuitive magic like we see Harry repeatedly do throughout the books.

I think the reason no one else ever did is because of the specific circumstances and Lily's specific words, yes, but I also think, that like her son, she had a knack for her magic responding intuitively to her desires no spell needed. This is a mark of a very powerful wizard/witch and not something a mediocre wizard would be likely to accomplish.

We see Harry cast this same sacrificial love in DH. And he, too, doesn't really cast anything, it's intuitive, his magic is powerful and incredibly reactive to his emotions — and I believe Lily was the same.

JKR has mentioned Voldemort tried to convince James and Lily to become Death Eaters, more than once ("Thrice defied him"). He wouldn't have given them more than one chance if either of them was mediocre. I also don't think he would've tried to get Lily to step aside so he wouldn't have to kill her as many times as he did if he thought she was average at best.

As for her personality, you're right, she isn't exactly Harry, but they do share some very important traits, and as I said, I think she and Tom would clash less than Harry and Tom (as in Lily doesn't get angry the way Harry does, so their reactions would be different).

Lily acted charming and prideful:

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

(DH)

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”

(HBP)

Slughorn talks about Lily's personality more than any other character, and what he says does paint her as similar to Harry.

She was talented and bright. Slughorn, who thought Tom Riddle, considers Lily Potter one of the brightest students he ever thought. She was in no way mediocre.

She was charming and had a firey personality to her. She was enthusiastic and charismatic and was easily likable.

I especially like what Slughorn says about Lily being good for Slytherin. Like Harry, she was likely considered by the hat for both Slytherin and Gryffindor due to her cleverness and bravery being both part of her.

And these cheeky answers Slghorn refers to, are like Harry's. Harry is the cheeky student Slughorn is referring to in the same breath as Lily's. Harry got his sass from Lily, not from James. Harry's tendency to back-talk Dark Lords came from his mom.

She's more scared when she's younger, crying more, but she clearly grows up to be fiercer, as Slughorn mentions and as we see in some of the memories:

“Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to — I won’t let you — ” “Let me? Let me?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

(DH)

As for the cruel streak I mentioned:

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

(OotP)

Lily, even as Snape's best friend, can't help but find the bullying funny for just a moment. It means her sense of humor can be on the crueler side at times. The fact that it's implied, even during SWM that Lily didn't really hate James, just disliked his behavior is quite telling. Like, I don't think he needed to change much for her to go out with him. Sirius even says he mostly just stopped hexing people in the halls. I think he wasn't as arrogant, but he was probably still very egocentric. And Lily liked that (contrary to Harry who'd find it more annoying).

Additionally, when Lily wants to, she knows to hit where it hurts (the Slytherin streak Slughorn talks about?):

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.” Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce. “You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet.

(DH)

She knows Petunia and she knows what would hurt/embarrass her the most and she goes for the throat. Even if later she tries to smooth things over with her.

I also wanted to note her wand. Ollivanders said she had a Willow wand, and willow wands have some interesting facts about them:

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

(From Pottermore)

(Ron has a Willow wand too, btw, like the second wand he gets that is really his)

This implies Lily was insecure, and you kinda see it in her behavior as a child. Her deference to Petunia and how many questions she asks Snape:

“Normally,” said Snape. “But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.” “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

(DH)

She is scared, walking up to the sorting hat:

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “ Gryffindor”

(DH)

But the hat placed her in Gryffindor becouse of the bravery was there. The insecurity isn't warranted (according to the wand's description). She had the fire and fierceness there all along. she may thought herself average but it was never true.

The description of the wand also suggests Lily would've been quite good with advanced non-verbal magic, which fits everything I mentioned about her magic being very intuitive like Harry's in the first section here.

Sorry I went off on Lily so much, but I don't think a character who Harry shares some of his core traits and magical talent with, could be mediocre. I mean, you can think whatever you want, and I didn't mean to attack you or anything I just really disagree with your statement.

hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #lily potter #lily evans

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dayabelle · 2 days ago

Text

Close Enough to Stay

Pairings: Shota Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Lmk if I made any mistakes I didn't proofread at all

---

Y/n had never been one for grand entrances or dramatic encounters. She preferred the quiet moments—the kind where you could sit in the corner of a bustling coffee shop, headphones on, and let the world blur around you. But life had a way of throwing her into unexpected situations, and that’s how she met Shota.

Shota had the kind of presence that could fill a room without saying a word. He was stoic and reserved, the type of man who rarely showed what he was feeling but somehow made you feel it anyway. To most people, he seemed distant, almost indifferent. But beneath his quiet exterior was a man who noticed everything and cared more deeply than he’d ever admit.

They met in the most unremarkable way: in a library. Y/n had been browsing the shelves for something—anything—to take her mind off the noise in her head. She’d been struggling to choose between two books when a deep, even voice spoke behind her.

“That one’s better.”

She turned, startled, to find Shota standing there. His dark eyes scanned the book in her left hand.

“The author has a way with words,” he added, his tone as neutral as if he were commenting on the weather.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “And what if I prefer this one?” she countered, lifting the book in her right hand.

“Then you’d be wrong.”

She blinked, unsure whether to laugh or take offense. But there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth—the barest hint of amusement—that made her set the book back on the shelf and take his recommendation instead.

That was the beginning.

Their encounters in the library became routine. Y/n would always arrive with her bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up when she spotted him. Shota, ever punctual, was already there—usually seated at the same table near the back, where the sunlight filtered through the high windows. They’d share the space in comfortable silence, Y/n engrossed in her books, and Shota pretended to focus on his paperwork he always had, though he often found himself glancing at her instead.

Their conversations began gradually. At first, it was book recommendations or brief observations about the weather. But over time, their words grew longer, deeper. Y/n would tell him about her day as a nurse, the patients she cared for, and the challenges of being quirkless in a world that often underestimated her. Shota listened intently, his gaze steady and unwavering, offering the occasional thoughtful comment. He rarely spoke about himself, but Y/n learned to read between the lines, piecing together the puzzle of his life as a pro hero.

There were small touches, almost accidental at first—a brush of fingers when they reached for the same book, the fleeting warmth of his hand on her back as he guided her through a crowded aisle. Each touch sent a quiet thrill through her, though she tried not to let it show. Shota, for his part, seemed unaffected, but there were moments when his gaze lingered just a little too long, or his voice softened in a way that betrayed his carefully guarded demeanor. The curve of her lower back, her hair and the way she kept it, her eyes and how she looked at certain things, how warm his hand felt against her skin.

One rainy afternoon, their library routine changed. Y/n had been late, rushing in with windblown hair and an apology tumbling from her lips. She’d forgotten an umbrella, and the rain had left her soaked. Without a word, Shota shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the dampness. Y/n looked up, startled by the gesture.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said simply, his tone as even as ever. But there was a softness in his eyes that made her heart stutter.

From that day, their connection began to extend beyond the library. Shota learned more about her world—how she worked tirelessly as a nurse, caring for others despite the challenges of being quirkless. He admired her resilience, though he struggled to express it. Y/n, in turn, discovered the weight Shota carried as a pro hero. She noticed the faint scars on his hands, the shadows under his eyes after long nights, and the quiet way he carried the burden of protecting others.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, Y/n found herself sitting on the steps outside the hospital. She was exhausted, her scrubs wrinkled and her hair a mess. Shota appeared out of nowhere, his presence as grounding as ever. He didn’t say much—just handed her a cup of coffee and sat beside her. They didn’t need words; the quiet companionship was enough.

Over time, their bond deepened. Shota started showing up at her apartment unannounced, usually with takeout in hand. Y/n began leaving him notes in the books she returned to him, little snippets of encouragement or observations she thought he’d appreciate. Despite his initial attempts to deny it, Shota found himself looking forward to their moments together. She became the exception to his self-imposed rules, the person who slipped past his defenses without even trying.

For Y/n, Shota was a quiet strength, a steady presence in her unpredictable life. And for Shota, Y/n was a light he hadn’t realized he needed, someone who reminded him that even the most guarded hearts could find solace in another. Together, they built a connection that was quiet but unshakable, a bond that transcended words and grew stronger with each passing day.

---

The Christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner of Y/n’s apartment, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. Snow gently fell outside the window, muffling the sounds of the city and wrapping the world in a quiet blanket of white. The faint scent of pine mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies cooling on the counter.

Shota sat on the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, wearing a pair of navy pajamas Y/n had bought but misjudged the size of. They were just a little snug on him, and she’d teased him about it earlier, laughing at the rare sight of him in anything remotely silly. She, meanwhile, wore her favorite penguin pajamas—bright and cheerful, with little birds in scarves and hats printed all over.

“I don’t know how you can take yourself seriously in those,” Shota said, his voice laced with dry humor, though his expression softened as he watched her.

She grinned, holding up a cookie she’d decorated earlier. “Says the man in too-tight pajamas. And besides, they’re festive.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. It was rare for him to relax like this, but somehow, in her presence, it felt natural. Easy.

The night had been filled with a string of small, intimate moments. They’d debated over which book was better—one of her favorites versus one of his. That had led to a spirited conversation about the merits of storytelling, Shota’s quiet baritone weaving effortlessly with her animated retorts. Then, a detour into movie discussions while a Christmas classic played in the background, neither of them paying much attention to the screen.

There had been laughter, soft and unguarded, over their attempts at decorating cookies—his looked like a chaotic mess compared to her meticulously crafted designs. “I don’t think frosting symmetry is a transferable skill for a hero,” he’d deadpanned, and she’d nearly choked on her laughter.

The snow fell softly outside Y/n's apartment window, muffling the world beyond and wrapping the night in a serene quiet. Inside, the glow of string lights reflected off the silver and red ornaments they’d just hung on the small but charming Christmas tree. The room smelled of fresh-baked cookies, mingling with the subtle scent of pine from the tree.

Y/n laughed, holding up a penguin-shaped ornament. "This one’s my favorite."

Shota tilted his head slightly. "Why penguins?"

"Because they’re clumsy on land but elegant in the water," she said, hanging it carefully on a branch. "They remind me that everyone has their own kind of grace, even if it’s not obvious."

He glanced at her, a faint warmth flickering in his usually unreadable eyes. "That’s... surprisingly insightful."

She smirked. "Surprisingly? Thanks a lot."

Shota’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers as he adjusted a crooked ornament. The casual touch made her heart skip, though she tried not to show it.

After a while, they settled on the couch, the soft glow of the tree illuminating the almost pitch black room. Y/n curled up with a steaming mug of cocoa, the silly penguin pajamas she wore making her look both cozy and endearing. Shota sat beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the borrowed pajama pants making him look slightly out of place but entirely comfortable.

"This is nice," she said softly, glancing at him. "I’m glad you’re here."

Shota turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a depth of emotion he rarely let anyone see. "I’m glad, too," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. Y/n felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she quickly turned her attention back to her cocoa. "You’re surprisingly good at this Christmas thing," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I thought you’d be more of a Grinch."

"I don’t usually do this," he replied, his voice steady. "Decorating, baking, any of it."

"Then why now?" she asked, her tone gentle.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. "Because it’s you."

Her breath caught, the simplicity of his words hitting her harder than any grand declaration could. She set her mug down on the coffee table, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her pajama top. "You know... I don’t really know how to say this without sounding cheesy, but—"

Before she could finish, Shota reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, the calloused warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin. "You don’t have to say anything," he murmured. "I already know."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and for once, she didn’t try to fill the silence with words. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his face for any sign that this moment wasn’t real. Shota’s expression remained calm, but there was a softness in his eyes that spoke volumes.

He leaned back slightly, giving her space, but the closeness between them remained. "You’re special to me, Y/n," he said quietly. "I can’t always show it the way I want to, but... you are."

Her lips parted, but the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. Instead, she reached out and took his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "You’re special to me too," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, the quiet crackle of the heater filling the room. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and safe—as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

"Do you think," Y/n began hesitantly, breaking the silence, "we’ll ever get tired of this?"

Shota’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "No," he said simply. "Not with you."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she couldn’t help the small, tearful laugh that escaped her. "You’re really bad at being a Grinch, you know that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it."

She laughed again, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Your secret’s safe with me."

And as they sat together, the world outside blanketed in snow, Y/n realized that this—the warmth, the laughter, the quiet moments shared with him—was everything she’d ever wanted. And for Shota, who had spent so much of his life keeping people at arm’s length, it was a reminder that sometimes, letting someone in was worth the risk. Now he finally realized what Yamada was trying to tell him.

Now, as they sat on the couch, a comfortable silence fell between them. Y/n tucked her legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged as she absentmindedly toyed with the hem of her pajama pants. Her gaze flickered to Shota, her heart beating just a little faster as she studied him. The light from the tree played across his face, casting shadows that softened his usually sharp features. He looked so at peace—so different from the weary hero she’d come to know.

But something weighed on her. The warmth of the evening, the intimacy of their moments together—it felt like a fragile bubble, one she was terrified of bursting. She didn’t want to let this night end with regret for something she was too scared to do.

Shota turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and steady, as if he could sense the conflict brewing within her.

Y/n hesitated, her hands tightening around her ankles. She bit her lip, unsure how to voice what she was feeling. Finally, she shifted slightly closer, her movements tentative, her breath catching as the distance between them lessened. Her gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest moment before darting back to his eyes.

She didn’t move further, frozen by her own nerves. But Shota did.

Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. His touch was warm, calloused yet gentle, and it sent a shiver down her spine. He studied her for a moment, as if searching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

His lips met hers softly, tentatively, as if testing the waters. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed, her hands instinctively reaching for him, one settling lightly on his chest while the other rested on his arm. His hand remained on her cheek, steady and grounding, his thumb brushing against her skin.

The kiss was unhurried but then deepened as the seconds stretched, each heartbeat louder than the snowfall outside. Shota's hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, anchoring her in the moment, while Y/n's fingers curled into the fabric of his borrowed pajamas. The warmth between them was in stark contrast to the cold world outside, and the glow of the Christmas tree made the whole scene feel surreal.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other, both catching their breath. Shota’s dark eyes searched hers, a mix of vulnerability and something stronger lingering in his gaze.

“Y/n…” His voice was quieter than she had ever heard it, a near-whisper, but it carried weight.

Her lips curved into a small smile as she ran her fingers over the edge of his sleeve. “I didn’t want to end tonight with regrets,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushed, both from the kiss and the courage it took to say it.

“You won’t,” he replied, his tone firm, as if making a promise.

The tension in the air softened, and Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Shota’s hand lingered on her neck a moment longer before falling away, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. She nestled against him, her head resting just below his chin as the two sat quietly, letting the peace of the moment envelop them.

She was layed on top of him, his kegs stretched across the long couch fully. He squeezed her close to him, afraid to let go and lose her. Somebody that became so special in his dull life.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the city in quiet. Inside, Y/n and Shota stayed wrapped in their own little world, a sanctuary they had built together without even realizing it.

But she wanted more. The kiss had only stirred a longing within her that had been growing for months, ever since the first time he’d let his guard slip around her. The soft glow of the Christmas tree, the faint scent of pine, the gentle hum of the heater—it all felt too perfect, too fleeting. Y/n wasn’t ready for this moment to end.

She lifted her head from his chest, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Shota's dark eyes, half-lidded from the quiet peace that had settled between them, opened fully to her. For a moment, she simply stared, memorizing every line and shadow of his features. The faint stubble along his jaw, the sharp angles softened by the warm light, the way his messy hair fell over his forehead—it was all uniquely him. She thought he’d never looked more handsome than he did right now, relaxed and unguarded in her presence.

Her heart raced as he caught her staring, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled nervously, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Shota’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression curious yet unreadable. “What?” he asked softly, his deep voice a quiet rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/n shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing… it’s just… you look different like this. Comfortable.”

He smirked faintly, though his eyes softened. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“It is,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze dropped to his lips for a fleeting moment before darting back to his eyes. “It is,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Shota’s hand moved again, brushing against her arm in a subtle yet deliberate gesture. He was quiet for a moment, studying her as if trying to read the unspoken words in her expression. He traced his fingers lightly up and down her arm, and he pulled the blanket over them when he felt her shiver. Though she was only shivering because of him, at his touch.

“You’re different too,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Not many people make me feel… like this.”

Y/n’s breath caught. The tension between them thickened, the air heavy with unspoken feelings. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as she leaned closer, her nerves trembling with the weight of her actions. She wasn’t sure if she was being too bold, but her patience was wearing thin.

Still, she stopped just short of closing the distance between them, her lips hovering a breath away from his. Her eyes searched his face, silently asking him to meet her halfway.

And he did.

Shota’s hand came up to cradle her cheek once more, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. His movements were deliberate yet tender, as if reassuring her that this was exactly what he wanted, too. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was deeper, more certain than the first.

The world around them faded—the twinkling lights of the tree, the faint crackle of the heater, even the soft snow falling outside the window. All that mattered was this moment, this connection that felt as natural as breathing.

Y/n melted into him, her hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Shota’s free hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer as the kiss lingered, filled with everything they hadn’t said aloud but had always felt.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the stillness. Y/n opened her eyes to find Shota watching her intently, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “So have I.”

The honesty in his words made her heart swell, and she couldn’t help but smile back, her earlier nervousness dissolving into a quiet, shared joy.

The night stretched on, filled with soft laughter, whispered conversations, and quiet touches that spoke louder than words. For the first time in years, Shota allowed himself to feel something he’d always been afraid of. Love.

Y/n felt herself drifting off, her body sinking into Shota’s warmth as the exhaustion of the evening began to take over. Her head went limp against his chest, and her breathing grew steady and soft. Shota glanced down at her, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

For someone who kept his walls so high, Y/n had slipped past them with ease. He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but now that she was here, he couldn’t imagine letting her go.

Carefully, he shifted her weight and stood, cradling her in his arms as though she were fragile. She clung to him loosely, her fingers brushing against his shoulder in her half-asleep state, resembling a baby sloth clinging to a branch. Shota couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the rare sound barely audible.

He carried her to her bedroom, the soft glow of the Christmas lights following them as he navigated her cozy apartment. He knew some people might consider this an intrusion, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving her tonight—not when she’d become so much more than just a companion to him. Not when the thought of leaving her alone made something in his chest tighten.

Gently, he laid her down on the bed, his hands careful as he adjusted the blankets around her. But as he pulled back, Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Shota?” she murmured, her voice groggy but soft.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just didn’t want you sleeping on the couch.”

Y/n blinked at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Don’t apologize,” she said, her hand reaching out to grab his wrist before he could pull away.

Before he could say anything else, she tugged him down, her movements quick and decisive despite her sleepiness. She kissed him again, her lips pressing firmly against his in a way that left no room for doubt about what she wanted.

This time, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, the kiss deepened, her fingers tangling in his hair as she shifted, pulling him down onto the bed with her. Shota’s surprise was fleeting, his body responding before his mind could catch up. He leaned into her, one arm sliding around her waist to steady her as she moved to lie on top of him again, mirroring their earlier position on the couch.

Her weight against him felt comforting, grounding, as if she were meant to be there. Their lips moved together with an urgency that hadn’t been there before, the kiss growing more heated, more intense. Shota’s hands moved instinctively, one settling on the curve of her back while the other cupped her cheek, anchoring her to him.

Y/n pressed closer, her body molding to his as her kisses became bolder. The soft sound of her breath against his lips sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn’t help but respond in kind, his usual stoicism melting away in the warmth of her embrace.

The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them tangled together in the quiet intimacy of her bedroom. The twinkle of the Christmas lights spilled faintly through the doorway, casting their figures in a dim, golden and red glow.

For Shota, the moment felt surreal—like something he’d only allowed himself to imagine in his loneliest moments. But now, with Y/n in his arms, her lips against his, it felt real in a way that nothing else ever had.

And for Y/n, every touch, every kiss, was a culmination of all the moments she’d spent longing for him. The quiet tension that had always simmered between them had finally reached its breaking point, and now there was no holding back.

Neither of them spoke after they parted, breathing heavily, they didn’t need to. Every movement, every touch, said what words couldn’t—that they’d found something rare, something worth holding onto, even in a world as chaotic and unpredictable as theirs.

After her lips left his, she began trailing a slow, deliberate path down his jawline, her breath warm against his skin. Shota’s chest rose and fell beneath her as she shifted slightly, pressing herself closer as her kisses wandered lower. She paused at his neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there.

Shota froze.

It wasn’t a visible flinch—anyone else might have missed the tension that suddenly gripped his body—but Y/n could feel it. His hands, which had been resting on her waist and back, stilled, his fingers curling slightly as if unsure of what to do.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her brows knitting together in concern. “Shota?” she murmured softly, her voice laced with uncertainty.

His dark eyes met hers, and for a moment, he seemed caught between wanting to pull her closer and needing to put distance between them. His usual stoic expression faltered, vulnerability flickering across his features.

“I—” He hesitated, his voice low and rough. “I’ve never…”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Shota Aizawa, the reserved and unflappable pro hero, had never been in this position before. He wasn’t used to letting people get this close, wasn’t used to giving in to the kind of intimacy that left him exposed.

Y/n’s eyes softened as understanding dawned. She cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice steady and soothing. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Her reassurance was met with silence, but she could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted this—wanted her—but the unfamiliarity of it all left him uncertain.

“I’m not…” He sighed, his gaze shifting as he searched for the right words. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she assured him, leaning down to rest her forehead against his. “We’re figuring this out together, Shota. There’s no right or wrong here.”

His arms tightened around her slightly, grounding himself in the feel of her against him. The tension in his body slowly began to ease, though there was still a cautious edge to his movements.

“Just tell me if I’m going too fast,” Y/n said, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile.

He nodded, his grip on her waist steadying as he let out a slow breath. “You’re not,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly in what could almost be called a smile.

Encouraged, Y/n leaned in again, her lips brushing against his neck once more. This time, his reaction was different—his hands relaxed, and his head tilted slightly to give her better access. She continued her gentle kisses, her movements slow and careful, giving him time to adjust.

As her lips lingered on his skin, Shota closed his eyes, letting himself feel the moment fully. It was new, unfamiliar, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Y/n’s warmth, her tenderness, made it easier for him to let go of the doubts and fears that had always kept him at a distance.

He wasn’t used to being cared for like this, wasn’t used to being vulnerable. But with her, it felt… safe.

For the first time in a long time, Shota allowed himself to trust—to be fully present with someone who saw all of him and didn’t shy away.

Y/n could feel Shota start to melt beneath her, his initial hesitation giving way to quiet acceptance. She continued leaving gentle kisses along the column of his neck, pausing every so often to let her lips linger, savoring the way his pulse quickened under her touch. Each kiss seemed to pull him further from the walls he’d so carefully built around himself.

His hands moved from her waist, one sliding up her back to rest between her shoulder blades, the other threading cautiously into her hair. It wasn’t rushed or forceful—just a quiet acknowledgment of the connection they were forging in this moment.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something raw and unguarded in the way he said her name, like she’d broken through to a part of him that no one else had ever reached.

She lifted her head, her lips brushing against his jawline one last time before meeting his gaze. The soft glow of the Christmas tree illuminated the vulnerability in his eyes, a rare glimpse of the man behind the stoic exterior.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want to push too far, too fast—not with him.

Instead of answering with words, Shota pulled her closer, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was deeper, more assured than before. It wasn’t hurried or frantic—it was steady and deliberate, a reflection of the quiet strength that defined him. Y/n responded in kind, her hands sliding from his shoulders to frame his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw.

The world outside the apartment seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them cocooned in the warmth of each other’s presence. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast shifting patterns on the walls, the only witnesses to the intimacy they were sharing.

When they finally broke apart, both of them slightly breathless, Shota rested his forehead against hers, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“You’re different,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent.

Y/n tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Different how?”

Shota’s fingers trailed lightly through her hair, his touch both tender and grounding. “You make me feel… less like a hero. And more like a man.”

Her smile softened, her heart swelling at the quiet confession. “You are a man, Shota. A good one. And you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders when you’re with me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if letting her words sink in, before pulling her into a tight embrace. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Do you want to continue.. or no. I'm not saying we have to I just, if you want to-'" he groaned, unable to find the words and afraid of messing anything up. She just laughed and played with his hair.

"Shota, do you want to go any further? You don't have to be afraid to ask. I just don't want you to feel pressured" she spoke quietly, looking at him with the purest intentions. She thought fir a moment. He knew this moment would come eventually, and with someone as special as her. He wanted to, he's wanted her so badly.

"Yes" He said, unsure of how to proceed. She sat up from on top of him and giggled at his nervousness that he tried to hide.

As Y/N sat up slightly, the soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a warm ambiance around them, illuminating the desire in her eyes. She took a moment to meet his gaze, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling between them. With a gentle motion, she lifted her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the side, revealing her bare skin beneath.

He couldn’t help but admire her bravery, his heart racing as he reached out, his fingertips grazing her waist, feeling the warmth radiating from her. The connection between them intensified, their breathing deepening as he navigated this new territory together with her. Y/n leaned in closer, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, while he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as they explored the depths of their emotions, savoring this newfound intimacy amidst the twinkling lights.

As Y/N settled atop him, the closeness ignited a rush of feelings that they had both been holding back. She leaned forward, capturing his lips in a deeper kiss, her heart racing with each passing second. He responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to her back, gently tracing the curve of her spine as she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the only sounds being the soft rustle of fabric and their synchronized breaths. With each kiss, they explored not just each other’s lips, but the connection that had blossomed between them over time. Y/N’s hands wandered to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips—a rhythm that matched her own growing excitement.

Feeling bold, she shifted her weight, moving her hips against him, seeking that electric connection. He gasped softly, placing his hands on her hips, guiding her movements as they found a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and new. The combination of cool air and their rising heat made the moment feel surreal.

She caught his eye, her expression a sweet mix of eagerness and a bit of trepidation. “How about this far for tonight, sound okay?” she whispered, searching for affirmation. He hummed.

Encouraged, she leaned back in for another kiss, one that spoke of unspoken promises and the thrilling unknowns that lay ahead. As they continued exploring, kisses turning softer and more passionate, they both knew they were crossing into a beautifully shared moment that would deepen their bond in ways they had yet to fully grasp.

After the quiet intimacy of the moment, Shota and Y/n lay side by side, the weight of everything between them settling into a comfortable silence. The Christmas tree lights flickered softly in the corner, casting a gentle glow over them both, but it was the warmth of their closeness that truly filled the room.

Shota, still processing the emotions rushing through him, turned to face her. His heart was steady, but there was something tender in the way he looked at Y/n—something that spoke volumes of the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. He reached over, pulling her close, his arm wrapping gently around her. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if the very act of being in each other's presence was enough to say everything.

Y/n, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him—the faint trace of cologne, the comforting warmth of his skin. She felt safe, more than she ever had before. In his arms, everything felt right, as if the pieces of her world had finally fallen into place.

She could feel the weight of the day—the events, the shared laughter, the quiet connection that had deepened into something neither of them had fully expected. But now, in this moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the connection between them. She could sense the steadiness in Shota, his emotions not easily given away but there in the subtle tension of his muscles, the quiet way he held her close.

Shota, for his part, was just as quiet, content in the calm that had settled over them both. He knew this moment would stay with him forever. He had never allowed himself to get this close to someone—had never let someone in this far—but with Y/n, it felt natural. She wasn’t like anyone else. She didn’t ask for anything more than his presence, and in return, she gave him a peace he hadn’t known he was missing.

He had always been cautious, protective of his heart, of the life he led as a pro hero. But here, with Y/n, he felt like he could finally exhale. He could finally be himself, not the hero or the stoic man everyone saw, but simply Shota. And that meant more to him than he could express.

As they lay there, the room growing quiet as the night deepened, both of them felt the pull of sleep. The day’s emotions had worn them out, but neither of them wanted to break this moment. So they stayed where they were, comfortable and close, the silence between them a peaceful one.

Y/n shifted slightly, her hand resting gently on his chest, the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a sense of calm. She felt the tension in her own body ease, her thoughts drifting. This was a moment she would carry with her, and she knew that in the days, months, and years to come, it would be a memory etched in her mind.

Shota, too, felt the pull of sleep, his eyelids growing heavier. He knew it would come to this eventually—the closeness, the bond that was formed between them. He was glad it was with someone like Y/n. Someone who was patient, understanding, and who made him feel something he had been afraid to feel for a long time: at peace.

As they both drifted off to sleep, the world outside faded away. The snow continued to fall softly, blanketing the world in quiet, and in the warmth of each other’s arms, Shota and Y/n knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.

#bnha #mha #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader #mha x reader #eraserhead x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa #aizawa #x reader #aizawa x you

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the-sprog · 23 hours ago

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thinking about Naruto MHA crossover where post Shippuden but pre Boruto Team 7 end up in the world of MHA and have to choose a hero name for themselves for whatever reason and this conversation happens

N: "... You know what would be funny?"

Sasu: "You're not going around calling yourself "The Jinchuriki", Naruto."

N: "oh cmon why"

Saku: "We're not letting you call yourself a human sacrifice."

N: "but think of how funny it would be!!"

K: "I'm with him on this one. It would be hilarious."

Saku: "Why not... something related to the Ninetailed fox? Kyuubi or something?"

N: "do you want Kurama to eat you? Because if you suggest that again he's going to eat you"

Saku: "Ok ok. tell him to chill out"

Sasu: "I think he can hear you. Also don't tell the demon that lives in Naruto's stomach to chill."

K: "Yeah sakura. That's rude."

Saku: "I hate you all."

N: "... so I'm gonna go ahead and use jinchuriki-"

S&S: "NO"

N ":C"

Sakura decides on Medic-nin, very basic, she's the first that chose and didn't think everyone else was going to go take it THAT seriously.

Kakashi decides to repurpose his ANBU name and goes by Hound.

Naruto wants to use Jinchuriki because he thinks it would be HILARIOUS and is not letting anyone tell him otherwise.

Sasuke didn't want to do this, wanted to use Uchiha but got outvoted. He gets bullied into choosing Amaterasu. Him and Tokoyami would get along here.

I thought about how they'd go about the quirk thing. They can't attract too much attention using all their abilities, so they plan out what to use.

Sakura thought calling herself the Medic of the group would get her underestimated as the sideliner, but she uses her strength to shatter people's bones while naming them.

Naruto mostly stays within Shadow clones and Henge techniques, as well as speed. He allows himself the occasional Rasengan if things get real touch and go.

Kakashi goes all copy nin on them. I'm going to say he can use chakra to copy emitter quirks, so he goes with that and predicting people's moves and general taijutsu.

Sasuke goes all genjutsu on people. Allows himself the occasional chidori too though. Once they get a reliable way to care for them, he also starts sword fighting people.

In my head the first chapter of the fic would be a pov alternation between Aizawa telling a task force of heroes about the new vigilantes on the rise, all serious and gloomy, and team 7 having the above conversation

I was thinking of why this could've happened and I can very well blame the aliens still. I mean, they make a comeback in Boruto. But I want to ignore that show and make up my own ideas post Shippuden. But I mean. If the aliens have a time traveling device what's stopping me from saying they also have a universe traveling one?

So my idea is that team 7 accidentally activated it and it's got this ENORMOUSLY long cool down because it uses a ridiculous amount of chakra. This was only possible because Naruto was there essentially. So they're mostly chill. It's long enough after the war that the biggest issue is Kakashi isn't there to be Hokage, but I mean. Yamato can fill in for a few. So they're only biding their time and making sure the aliens don't come cause problems. Hence the double identities. They wanna make sure they can both spy around and hang out in public places without being constantly Henged.

Meanwhile the hero commission is in shambles because Naruto is physically incapable of minding his own beeswax, especially when children are being mistreated. He's honestly one fist fight away from befriending the LoV let's be honest.

#me me post #plot bunny #naruto #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #naruto x mha crossover #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #aizawa shouta

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sopaprimordialy · 3 days ago

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Boppers, hear me out.

Victor is Luther's father.

Ok, now, you might be thinking: "what the actual fuck are you talking about?" Well, in this essay I'll expose favorable arguments to my theory/theses/head canon that, in the album, the police officer Victor is Luther's father. Keep your radio tuned tight, boppers, bcs I might be crazy OR I might be onto something.

(There will be spoilers)

1. First of all...

For context, Victor is the cop that kills Fox. He's played by David Patrick Kelly, the actor who plays Luther in the original movie, The Warriors (1979). This alone is a huge reason for me to believe that they are somehow connected, BUT THERE'S MORE!

I think we already established that what a character claims to be their reason for doing something is not always their real reasoning, or, at least, not the entirety of it. I do believe Luther kills Cyrus because he enjoys the chaos and has a lot of hate in his heart, as Swan wisely says, but I don't think that's all.

We have hints among his lines that he's also misogynistic and racist. "Well, duh?" You might say, because there were few white men who weren't those things by the time this story takes place, but sometimes we may underestimate how heavy this stuff weighs in the narrative. If he really likes chaos that much, why not kill, Idk, a police captain? That would certainly create generalized chaos just as he likes, but instead, he deliberately targets marginalized groups' leadership — he kills a black woman, a powerful black woman who was trying to unite her community.

She was obviously an obstacle for the cops to keep up with their oppression towards these groups because unity is strength, and all they don't want is strong communities that knows their rights and won't accept to be chased down like animals when they've done nothing but trying to survive.

In the very first track of the album, the question "but is Cyrus atractin' police action?" Is asked. The answer we find further on, especially when the police invades Van Cortlandt Park right after she's killed, is: *yes*, of course she is.

* Also, the timing here is too convenient, don't you think? Just like the police knew exactly when to attack, when the desperate crowd would be disorganized, when they would be easy prey... anyways 😛

2. That weird af phone call

Now that we have established that there would be a lot of interest on the police's part to have Cyrus killed, let's move on to the next topic.

Suddenly, without any further context or this being ever mentioned again, Luther talks to *someone* on the telephone. This happens in the album, and in the movie as well, it is not confirmed who the hell Luther was talking to on that phone call. I've already seen some people theorizing that he has contacts inside the force and that he's talking to them, and I agree, but I think he's not talking with some random cop, I believe he's talking to Victor.

Come think with me: how did Luther instantly knew Ajax had been taken by the cops ("Holy shit, Warrior down [...] Picked the wrong fight / now she's in for a long night", I'll talk about this later btw), and most importantly, what exactly was Victor doing at Union Square's station?

Let's compare this approach with Barnes' one at the park.

Barnes was alone in the bench, and only when Ajax approached him (and started beating the shit out of him), he called for police reinforcements. It didn't feel planned, even tho he was trying to bait them to come closer to him, I think it was much more about sexual harassment than him actually intending to arrest them. With Victor, however, it doesn't feel like a random encounter.

"Officers are on the scene". This line repeats a lot during Reunion Square, that alone indicates that there are a group of cops there, like they've been called. They knew the Warriors, specifically the Warriors, would be there, and why was it so important for them to get the Warriors if they're just a "likkle Coney Island crew"? Because Luther would be FUCKED if the Riffs reached them alive.

Of course, the Riffs could just not believe the girls, but he was not willing to risk it — after the phone call, Luther tells Cropsy the Riffs wanted the Warriors alive, but they don't. And he was right, wasn't him? Cleon being alive and telling the Riffs the truth was the only reason for him to be caught and... well, we don't know for sure what they did to him, but we can imagine they weren't gentle.

That being said, we have strong evidence that Luther was in touch with the cops, else he would have no way of knowing Ajax was grounded. And Victor needed a reason to be there as well; not only an informant, but also a motive, and if we consider the theory that he was talking to Luther, we have both things.

3. Trust in the impunity of a daddy's boy

During the entire musical, Luther thinks he can get away with about everything. I atribute that not only to the fact that he's a white man targeting women of color, but he must also have other reasons to believe he's immune to justice of any kind, and there's where I start to try to convince you that he's Victor's son.

I mean, when Cropsy shows that he's worried the Riffs would go after them, Luther, rather ignorantly, responds with "they're looking for the Warriors, remember?" As if the fact that the Riffs are going after the Warriors is enough for him to believe they would never even think about interrogating them, trying to find the murder weapon, etc.

This behavior suits someone that has never been held accountable for any misdeeds at all, and who would fit this description better than a cop's son?

Let alone that Victor is a captain. He holds even MORE power within the police. Being the son of a cop, even if you're a fucking gang member, you'd feel safe enough to do just whatever the fuck you want without even thinking about the consequences.

Like, how many times he could have been caught doing something illegal, just tell the cops "do you know who my father is?" AND IT ACTUALLY WORKING? I firmly believe he was the one to inform the cops about all of this — the gathering, the Warriors' location, and the fact that he needed daddy to arrest the women who could potentially cause something to happen to him, because the Riffs are not the police, they'd not give af abt who his father is, even someone like him would have to be a little worried about being taken by them.

4. Fox & Luther — Parallels

I bet you did not see that one coming. "What do you mean there's something in common between Fox and Luther specifically that makes Victor killing her an interesting parallel with his (supposed) son?"

Well, games. That's kinda it. Old games.

So, there are only two characters that canonically like games in the musical, because they actually mention them: Fox ("A-yo I'll take you on an Odyssey like Magnavox") and Luther (with his multiple references to Pacman during the entire thing and other game expressions, like "I was at the top of the screen when I took that shot")

The Magnavox Odyssey is actually mentioned on the movie (according to my own father. I confess I don't remember this part, but I trust my nerdy father who actually have a connection with old consoles to notice that) by the Lizzies (fem version of the Bizzies), and Fox was not even there at the moment. Actually, movie Fox does not have a lot of... personality, if you ask me, he was kinda irrelevant. Anyways, even if Lin and Eisa wanted to reference this specific part in which the Lizzies offer to play Odyssey with the Warriors to lure them, why not have the Bizzies saying that? Why Fox?

Because that would be a bitter irony in the future. I might be crazy, BUT HEAR ME OUT, Victor killing a young woman that shared his son's interest for games was a foreshadowing for him being responsible for Luther's death as well — because he failed.

This is other thing they share: they failed. Victor failed to stop the Warriors from going home, Luther failed to kill Cyrus and blame the Warriors with no consequences, they failed together at silencing them, and this CAUSED Luther's (probable) death.

5. A gang member who endorses the police?

Ok, this last section is based in my belief that, even tho the crews fight and have their diferences, they all share a common enemy: the cops. That was the reason for them to accept the truce after all, the cops are their common enemy.

But somehow that doesn't feel true for the Rouges.

First of all, they killed Cyrus, which obviously means they were not in favor of the truce. But why? They sure would suffer from police brutality too if they were a normal gang. And we can all agree that they are even more violent than the average gang (I mean... have you listened to their leader?).

Also, this line intrigues me.

I mean, "picked the wrong fight"? It is clear that Luther's view is biased to take the cops' side. In this case, one could argue that his misogyny would play a big part on him diminishing Ajax's will to fight against an abuser. Anyhow, I think that this evidences that, even tho he's a gang member, he has a strong connection with the police.

CONCLUSION

I think we can all agree that Luther has something going on with the police, and I hope I have convinced you that he has something going on with Victor specifically.

It is possible to argue that their connection is only "tactical", or even go as far as to say that they are friends or something (tho, I don't think that's possible. One thing about brats like the Rouges: they don't go well with old people, with all due respect. I don't personally see this working as a friendship), but I'll stand with the father-son relationship till the day I die!!

Thank you for reading this madness and please lmk what you think! If there's something that doesn't make sense, if you have your own theories... I mean, I'm far more invested in this than I ever thought I would be, please give me more content 🙏🙌

#sopa talks #warriors musical #warriors album #warriors fandom #boppers #theory #luther warriors #fox warriors #analysis #I don't even know what to tag just please tumblr god let this reach the right audience #lin manuel miranda #eisa davis

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theno1joelhater · 21 hours ago

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oh, sweet religion. the potential of a cgcu heaven and a cgcu hell. like 90% of the characters are being sent to the realm of fire and brimstone, including wayne.

i have little to no thoughts on the afterlife itself. i don’t know what happens after you die. but heaven and hell? i can work with that. wayne isn’t making past the pearly gates.

so in those brief moments between his death and rebirths (plural is crazy) (like was jesus even resurrected that many times? idk i’ve never read the bible) he’d experience hell. the worst torture known to mankind. not dissimilar to what he put cam through, for “i like torturing my favs” crowd (it’s us we’re the crowd).

for the first time ever, wayne was scared. even though his visit was brief, it still terrified him. he experienced real torture for the first time, raw fear and pain and nothing else. when he was brought back, he was relieved. so fucking relieved. he took a brief break, bc yk. just got back from being resurrected. needs time. but maybe, cam wants him to keep pranking. and he does, just less on cam and more on the other characters. he can’t risk going back to hell.

but when he goes off and pranks justin (top ten biggest mistakes in history and it isn’t 2-10!), he’s scared again. he doesn’t want to go to hell. even though he’ll probably get resurrected again he still doesn’t want to risk it. he can’t go through it all again. he can’t.

riffing off your ideas, i don’t truly believe wayne thought his situation was that serious. maybe, deep down, he understood. but he tried to make light of his situation. he didn’t treat it seriously, as he does with most things. so he tried to escape. sure, justin was prepared for everything, but wayne didn’t think so. he underestimated justin. he knew that there was a chance he could get caught and he was a bit scared of what could happen if justin found him, but his confidence took over. he tried to get out, but he was too reckless. justin found him and forced him to watch a cloning process. safe to say that was a huge wake up call for wayne. again, wayne felt true fear. what would happen after he’s taken over by the microchip? would he be sent back to hell? that thought terrified him.

the showing of the cloning process, i think justin would be selective on that. if they tried to escape, and if justin thought it would ruin their morale, he would. otherwise he’d just do some other method of making them stay. what that method is idk go ask justin.

and the gap between his second death and second revival had to have been longer, right? jctm1 takes like 1 day but we don’t know how long it takes for robin and max to figure out richard has god on speed dial. they probably took a small break or something to digest the justin stuff too. either way, it’s the longest wayne had been dead. and he’s more fearful then ever. you think at some point he might become desensitized to all the pain, and maybe that’s true. maybe he gets used to it, but physical isn’t the only form of torture out there. his mind keeps him occupied. he thinks of everything he’s done. he thinks of how he’s hurt everyone he knows and that this is all deserved. all these feelings he hid deep down, for the first time, surface. they all bubble to the top, and it’s all wayne can think about. his mind is torturing him.

i think i’ve said this before but cameron doesn’t like wayne at all, he only keeps him around for views n stuff. he doesn’t kill him because he doesn’t have a valid reason to other than “he’s annoying”. he came up with the perfect excuse to do so, but he brought wayne back. and wayne died again. and he was brought back again. it’s a cycle of wayne going tufar, getting killed, and being brought back. if that isn’t suffering i don’t know what is.

AAAAAAAAA JUSTIN CASE UPDATE??? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE JUST POST RHE SPOILERS TO THE NEXT INSTALLEMENT OF THE STROY RIGHT THERE INSREA DOF BEING LIKE YEAH IM DOING IT IM KILLING CAM RN FUCK ME (ron intended)

anywayssssss

nathaniel is dead, not very skibidi sigma of him at all but i’m not too surprised, cam’s been trying to get rid of ol’ nathan for a WHILE (besides, look at his last name. it was inevitable)

cam added a mary sue self insert oc that’s basically a god into the cgcu who’s summoned by racism and sexual jokes. damn.

i get the ending and it’s alright, but also seems anticlimactic. like cam shows up and tells justin “dude you’re a fictional made up character on the internet you’re already immortal 💀” and justin’s like “oh fr then ig i’ll stop” which isn’t that satisfying at all. i don’t like that ending the discord’s ending (ask me for an invite link if ur interested in the server, we’re all very cool) is much better since yk. it has actual character development.

personally? i don’t like this ending much and i am unsatisfied. it might be better if he actually posts it but i still don’t like it much. if only…….i finished the goddamn animation……..ughhh

also……….max? whipping it out? right there? cam you better film this part or else /hj

#wayne has committed like every sin ever (except sloth and probably lust)#oh wayne…they’re going to have to build another circle of hell just for you #cameron gender #me when i’m just a toy to you my love just a thing to play and then throw away /lyr #ok but now that i do think abt it this feels very “a human’s touch” by twrp #not very it’s actually a little #max is a little freak i wouldn’t be surprised if he just carried it everywhere he went like his keys #also #Immortal Wayne in the sense that he keeps getting resurrected #Wayne isn’t scared of death until it actually happens #<<<THIS?????#OH WOWOWOWOWOOW #my thoughts exactly #he’s immortal #cam essentially made him immortal #he still fears death #sure cameron will come back in and save him and patch him up but he’s still traumatized #wonder how far cams god powers go. if he can erase memories maybe he can untrauma wayne #schrödinger’s shithead. don’t ask me what this means i don’t know myself

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staghunters · 1 year ago

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It's the last time running through snow

'Cause the fire can't last and the winter's cold

Yellowjackets Appreciation Week Day 2: favorite character

#yellowjackets #jackie taylor #yjweek2023 #best girlfail #text from don't lie by vampire weekend #doodl #digital art #clip studio paint #VERY belated for yjweek day 2 btw #but i underestimated how long this would take

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thebayclans · 9 months ago

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Prologue pages 12-14

Blue-orange torbie: Thrushflame, she/her

Black and white cat: Loonshadow, she/her

Horizonpaw: our protagonist, she/they

previous | next

#another late upload woops #i underestimated how long these would take. i’m so ready to move on from the grass backgrounds #event horizon comic #event horizon #page #warrior cats

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paperultra · 1 year ago

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mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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cloudinal · 4 months ago

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Day 1 - Fated Meeting

#aikotoweek2024 #aikoto #minaigis #makoto yuki #minato arisato #aigis #aigis p3 #my art #happy (very) belated day one of aikoto week!#i underestimated how long each of the drawings would take #so i've fallen a bit behind #but it's cool! i'm having fun anyway #i find minato and aigis' first meeting pretty interesting #because of how it's portrayed differently depending on adaptation #like in the movies and stageplay aigis is introduced #during a shadow attack after takeba's recording is shown #i like that interpretation since it shows aigis' abilities as an anti-shadow weapon very well #however i prefer the original game's version #in the game when minato first meets/sees aigis he sees her as a human #and when he is dying and she is the last thing he sees. he again sees her as fully human (as shown in FES cutscenes)#and there's something so beautiful about that to me. so i prefer the game's version for that parallel alone #anyway! aikoto rocks #p3 #persona 3 #persona 3 fanart

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fruitsyrups · 1 year ago

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May I request a vampire world Marcy?

you may. (I threw in a little vamp world Bonnie for you as well 🦇)

#adventure time #bubbline #fionna and cake #<- i guess #princess bubblegum #bonnibel bubblegum #marceline abadeer #marceline the vampire queen #the star #my art #uhhh is that all of the tags. probably.#ok i m like very happy with this but WOW? this took me so long. i don't know when i started but im sure its been at least 5 hours haha #i thinks its just because i don't draw fullbody or multiple characters that often so I SEVERELY underestimated how long this would take

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da-janela-lateral · 6 months ago

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Unstoppable force meets immovable object, more known as "absurdly long and complex music liker" meets "won't listen to any music".

#I don't really think Teru would be a progressive rock guy but let the artist project. for the punchline #Ritsu probably accepted to listen for a dare and severely underestimated how huge an 5 songs-long album can be #also I'll seize the opportunity to talk about my favorite rock fan Teru headcanon #you know when kids/young teens discover about rock and get REALLY into an old but mainstream band while thinking its super obscure?#I imagine 9 year old Teru being a huge fan of Guns N' Roses or something because it was one of the only bands he knew #and getting a too big band shirt because he was an excited child who just became “independent” and could take his own decisions #the shirt is now worn and holey. the print is fading. it has been two years since it was oficially declared unfit to wear in public #but for some reason Teru can't bring himself to throw it away yet. It'll be a “alone in home” outfit until it proves to be unwearable #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #teruki hanazawa #ritsu kageyama #lalarts

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hollowed-theory-hall · 2 days ago

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Lily Potter is not Mediocre

I wrote this initially as a response to a reblog on this post, but I wanted to give Lily a post of her own that isn't tied in with my rambling about shipping Voldemort. So here it is:

We don't know a lot about Lily, but what we do know implies she is very magically talented and has a bit of a cruel streak to her. She isn't as perfect as some portray her, nor as awful as I've seen some claim her to be. but oh boy do I disagree about her being mediocre.

Let's talk about the magical power first, becouse I feel a lot of people underestimate Lily's magical talent.

(HBP)

As a child, Lily has incredible control over her accidental magic and accomplishes difficult magic naturally and intuitively:

(DH)

Harry also shows insanely powerful accidental magic (including Apparation) and let's just say, I don't think Harry's magical talent came from James.

You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work

(PS)

Lily acted charming and prideful:

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

(DH)

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”

(HBP)

Slughorn talks about Lily's personality more than any other character, and what he says does paint her as similar to Harry.

She was talented and bright. Slughorn, who thought Tom Riddle, considers Lily Potter one of the brightest students he ever thought. She was in no way mediocre.

She was charming and had a firey personality to her. She was enthusiastic and charismatic and was easily likable.

She's more scared when she's younger, crying more, but she clearly grows up to be fiercer, as Slughorn mentions and as we see in some of the memories:

“Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to — I won’t let you — ” “Letme? Letme?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

(DH)

As for the cruel streak I mentioned:

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

(OotP)

Additionally, when Lily wants to, she knows to hit where it hurts (the Slytherin streak Slughorn talks about?):

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.” Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet.

(DH)

She knows Petunia and she knows what would hurt/embarrass her the most and she goes for the throat. Even if later she tries to smooth things over with her.

I also wanted to note her wand. Ollivanders said she had a Willow wand, and willow wands have some interesting facts about them:

(From Pottermore)

(Ron has a Willow wand too, btw, like the second wand he gets that is really his)

This implies Lily was insecure, and you kinda see it in her behavior as a child. Her deference to Petunia and how many questions she asks Snape:

“Normally,” said Snape. “But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.” “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

(DH)

She is scared, walking up to the sorting hat:

(DH)

So Lily is in no way mediocre and Harry is his mother's son.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #lily potter #lily evans #lily potter meta

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