#i swear if they mess this up i will riot

[chenziee]

I don't think the world is ready to see Brachio-snakeus animated

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[ladykakata]

My List of Demands for Hades II

ZAGREUS

I'm just going to list Zagreus until I run out of breath. I just need to see my baby boy again okay please tell me he's still as sweet and handsomes as ever

WHERE IS THANATOS we need our resident irritable goth to partner with the Prince of the Underworld

CERBERUS a lot of people noticed he was missing from the family portrait with baby Mel, he cannot have come to total harm otherwise there would be a massive riot and there'd be no game because Hades himself would go NUCLEAR if anything happened to his pupper

The Furies will be interesting. Meg can be salty somewhere far away from me, but Alecto getting her ass kicked by someone who isn't Zagreus would be novel. I'm betting at least two people (Meg and Zag) would make sure DUSA is safe and she's small enough/can float where she can disappear somewhere if need be

Hermes BETTER be married to Charon I swear to Gods you CANNOT put him in THAT outfit and not have them married come on. I doubt the game would let me have Zag and Than be underworld husbands but at least give THOSE TWO as a gift to the fandom

ACHILLIES AND PATROCLES. I did not watch the entire storyline playthrough multiple times and just adore how married they are only for something to mess that up. Even if it's just Patrocles holding Achilles back from attacking Odysseus I'm here for it let me see my uncles again

I'm not too worried about Persephone because a) Hades would move dimensions in order to keep her safe without hesitation and b) Grandma Demeter has her war gear on so Chronos is fucked either way

Zagreus ... mi son ... plz ... where mi son ...

[fr4nkoce4n]

JUST FRIENDS! | matt rempe

in which charlotte hughes works for the ny rangers and goes matching with her brothers enemy.

warnings: fluff, mean brothers a little, allusions to be naked.

note: should i made this a series??

song- just friends, hayden james

nyrangers

liked by, jackhughes, quinnhughes, lukehughes, and 127,00 more.

caption: @/mattrempe & @/charliehughes 🤠🤠🤠

load comments….

user777: oh I just know the Hughes brothers are gonna be rioting tonight…

ellenhughes: so cute ❤️

mattrempeismyhubby: I’m crying wtf

useriiyo: there is no way they are dating, they have to be just friends.

userjdhydy: they just broke the internet and they don’t even realised it😀😀

—

hughes family group chat ❤️❤️

jacky

CHARLOTTE GRACE HUGHES

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?????

mamma

jack stop swearing

lukey

what is going on

quinny

have you not seen her and matt rempe matching costumes??

lukey

WHAT?!??! CHARLIE????

jacky

THE SWEARING IS NEEDED MA, THIS IS A SERUOUS SITUATION!!!

mamma

I think they are cute❤️

papa

are they dating? char?

charlie

you guys are ridiculous, me and matt are not dating. we are JUST FRIENDS. trust me, now goodnight Im going to get drunk with my friends.

mamma

have fun sweet girl be safe xx

jacky

she’s lying

lukey

Defo

quinn

stfu and leave her be

—

“you okay?” matt asked as he saw charlotte slump into her chair.

“yeah just my brothers being ridiculous.” she sighed putting her phone into her back pocket.

matt took the seat next to her and handed her a vodka infused drink, she took it immediately and downed almost half of it.

“woah slow down there cowgirl, we have work tomorrow.” he took the glass from her hands and placed it on the bench in front of them.

“it’s just my brothers are so up in my business it’s so fucking annoying.” charlie groaned rubbing her face with her hands.

“sorry that’s my fault, it was my idea to go matching..” matt shrugged shyly.

she let out a chuckle and grabbed his hand and placed in her lap, lacing their fingers together. “trust me im so happy we went matching, we look so cute!”

that bought a slight blush to matt’s cheeks and it honestly made the butterflies in his stomach stir.

from the moment charlie started working at the rangers, matt had a crush on her. but she always knew that she was off limits considering her brothers played for the enemy team.

charlie was the most flirtatious person ever, so that didn’t really help matt’s problem. but he couldn’t tell if she was really flirting with him or that’s just how she was.

their hands still intertwined she pulled him into the dance floor where quick and his wife danced in their matching costumes.

matt hesitantly put his hands up above her waist but she grabbed his hands dragging them down to he waist. a blush broke out on charlies face, she was so glad it was dark on the dance floor so he couldn’t see her.

charlie would never admit she did have a crush on matt, because it would never work. she couldn’t date someone who played on the team she worked for.

work was for strictly work, not messing around with a 6’9 giant who was gorgeous.

charlie leaned into his figure her hands now wrapped his waist too.

many people were definitely staring, but they couldn’t care.

by the end of the night charlie was a little bit more then tipsy but not drunk. it was 1am and matt was talking with jacob, all char wanted right now was for matt to take her home, in a non sexual way.

she sat in a seat scrolling through her phone and pulled up her moms contact.

-

mamma ❤️❤️

hi mummy are u awake

yes char

you okay baby girl?

yes, i just think I like matt

aww Im happy, you two look good together

no mom this is bad! we work together and I think the boys would all kill me, especially jack he would honestly hate me

they could never hate you charlie

at the end of the day it comes down to you and what your heart wants sweetie, no one else has a say in what you feel. and if your brothers are the ones that have something to say, I will knock some sense into them.

thank you mummy, im going to go home now, love you goodnight💝

goodnight charlie bear be safe, i love you too ❤️❤️

-

“hey you ready to go?” matt asked as charlie quickly hid her phone. he let out a chuckle, “what was that?”

“what was what? nothing…. nothing. come on let’s go!” she grabbed his hand and they walked outside.

he started walking and she stood their confused, turning around her spoke, “what?”

“did you order an Uber?” she questioned pulling her brows together.

“no silly, i didn’t drink. my car is down the road.” he laughed and signalled for her to follow.

charlie quickly followed him and caught up.

once the two made it to the car, charlie immediately leaned back into the seat and let her eyes close.

alcohol always made her tired, no matter what.

matt stared at the girl who was now dead asleep as he pulled up to a red light.

he drove to charlies apartment without even thinking about, he pulled up out the front and she woke up instantly as they stopped.

“oh yay home.” she slurred, obviously the nap did not help sober her up.

he laughed and got out the car to help her upstairs. once they made it into her apartment he poured her a glass of water and grabbed her some pain killers while she got changed.

matt walked into her room to see charlie in a oversized devils shirt and she definitely just had underwear on underneath.

he placed the two things on the side table and tucked her into bed. “night charlie.”

“matt…” she whispered, with her eyes closed.

“yes?”

“can you stay please?” she pouted now opening her eyes.

a smile broke out on his face. “i don’t know if i can if your wearing that top…” he laughed.

“i’ll take it off!” she almost screamed and begin to pull up her top but he pulled it down before it could go any further.

“im just joking char of course i’ll stay.” he laughed. he looked down at his clothing, “is it okay if i sleep in my boxers?” he asked cautiously.

“im in a g string matt, yes.” she laughed.

he pulled off his clothes and jumped into bed next to her, she immediately pulled him close to her and laid her head upon his chest.

charlotte hughes was going to be the death of matthew rempe.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Orange Blossoms

Pairing: Buck x reader

Word count: 5.4k

Notes: Editing is the biggest pain in the entire world why do I do this to myself anyway I'm on my laptop now, gee I NEVER use this thing

Episode 5: Secret Plans and Clever Tricks

"I can't believe you talked me into this" May huffs as Buck awkwardly climbs through the window. He lands in a little heap on the floor and she rolls her eyes. 

"I'm sorry alright! Bobby would kill me if he found out I was dating his niece"

"When are you telling him by the way?" She asks, offering him her lint roller from her desk. He picks himself up off the floor and takes it, rolling himself off

"Never!" He smiles widely and she snickers at him 

"You guys can't keep hiding forever" 

The bedroom door opens and he dives behind her bed, crawling under it. You walk in, tossing your coat onto your bed 

"Is he here yet? I got home as fast as I could"

"Were you speeding?? I told you to take your time" Bucks head pops out from under the bed and you shriek, nearly launching yourself into space 

"What are you doing under there?!" 

"Why didn't you knock!"

"It's my room???" You gesture around to your shared room with May as he crawls out from under the bed 

"Yeah. Sure" he scoffs "Your room" he makes little air quotes around "room" and you roll your eyes at him 

"Just shut up and kiss me" 

"With pleasure" he puts his hands on your hips, pulling you against him, and kisses you, growling while you squeal and giggle 

"Ohhh I missed you" He groans softly as he peppers little kisses all over your face "I missed my pretty, pretty, little doll"

"You know for two people who aren't dating yet, you sure are heavy on the PDA" May scoffs and grabs her hoodie to go out 

"You're dead wrong if you think I'm gonna pass up absolutely any chance I get to kiss her. Besides four more dates and she's mine" 

He picks you up and you squeak, wrapping your arms and legs around his neck and clinging to him 

"Lock the door on your way out?" He bats his eyelashes at May and she rolls her eyes, shaking her head. 

"I swear to god y'all better keep it to your side of the room or I'm rioting"

"I promise!" You giggle as Buck flops in your bed 

"I don't!" He rolls you guys over, smothering you into the covers and you laugh, trying to push him off but he just hums happily, squishing you more

"Buck don't get caught" May warns him before she leaves, locking the door behind her 

"How did you even arrange this?" You ask as he rolls off of you but pulls you into his arms, against his chest

"I stole May's number from Eddie's phone and texted her and begged her to help me out. I'm not above begging okay" 

You laugh into your pillows and turn on your back so you can look at him, he smiles down at you, propping himself up on his elbow 

"What did she say," you ask, looking up at him and he bends down, kissing your nose 

"She told me I owed her five uses of my Jeep whenever she wanted unless it's like a no-choice circumstance and I couldn't lend it to her. It's a sweet car, I get it" 

"You love that jeep" you gasp and he blushes, looking up at the ceiling 

"Eh, not as much as I love you" 

Your mouth drops open and he looks back down at you, his heart stopping in his chest. 

"I- I mean like- shit I mean like hanging out with you! I don't. I don't love you! That would be weird!" 

You nod along with his rambling, watching his cheeks flush as he tries to backtrack 

"Psh yeah, yeah no love from me" 

"You want me to believe you?" 

"It would be nice if you did," He says sheepishly, smoothing his hand over your hair 

"Yeah okay sure" 

"Okay good, Eddie would kill me if he knew I said that" 

"Why would he kill you?" You ask curiously, enjoying the way his fingers rub smooth circles on your head 

"He says I'm not a Disney Princess" 

"Well that's just not true" you joke and he throws his hand in the air

"That's exactly what I told him!!! If anyone here is a Disney Princess it's me" He sighs, slightly irritated at Eddie as he goes back to messing with your hair, you snort and curl up into his chest more 

"Whatever you say, Princess Buck" 

There's not much you can do together right now, he really just wanted to come over to hang out. He can't exactly just invite you over by yourself, he'd have to lie and say Eddie was there too, and then he'd have to deal with Bobby saying you couldn't be alone with two boys and then you'd have to talk about how you're an adult and-

"Hello? Buck?" You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks 

"Huh?"

"I said do you want a snack or something? I have some stuff. What were you thinking about?" 

"Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow?" He reaches over you, grabs the plastic bag from the floor and starts going through it. He doesn't care actually, he'll really just invite Eddie too. Eddie doesn't mind being a third-wheel 

"Just me and you?" You ask grabbing an Arizona fruit punch from the bag 

"Do you want it to just be me and you?" Or maybe he won't invite Eddie. 

"Kinda" you blush and he smiles a little, opening the bag of hot Cheetos 

"Okay…" 

Buck is doing a horrible job of keeping quiet in your bedroom, Athena can hear his giggles as she walks by the room and you shushing him. She's not sure when he got in the house; she just knows he's there.

She'll allow it, for now. It's kind of cute if anything… but you're definitely getting a safe sex talk when she gets the chance. 

"So…. Do they make it to Shell City?" Buck asks as you take his other hand and start filing his nails 

"You just have to watch!!!" You scold him for the fourth time. Neither of you knew what to watch and so you just turned on the old SpongeBob Movie from 2004, Buck had never seen it and you were flabbergasted. He was totally poking through your stuff when he found your box of nail polish, he looked at you coyly and you smirked at him, reaching out for the box 

"Any specific color?" You asked as you set things up 

"Anything you want, I want to match my boo" he teases you as he sits criss cross on your bed. 

"We should go out for lunch" You mumble as you paint little flowers on his nails, he watches you, enjoying the way your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. You squint as you add a little dot of yellow in the middle, your hands are so steady and he's impressed 

"I have to fall out of the window, but sure! Sounds good to me, where do you want to go?" 

You giggle as you blow on his nails "Anywhere you want…. Maybe we could pick something up and go drive somewhere to eat it?….kinda like a date"

You try to be as nonchalant as possible with it but he's already practically bouncing off the bed 

"As in one of the four dates?!" He's almost shouting. You slap your hands over his mouth and nod quickly 

"Shut up! Athena is home!" You climb into his lap, still holding your hands over his mouth 

"Yes. As in one of the four dates… I would really really like that" 

His hands settle on your hips, and he splays his fingers carefully to not smudge his nails. You put your hands on his shoulders and he leans in immediately, capturing your lips and kissing your breathless 

"I'm ready whenever you are… But uh- I kinda forgot" 

"Forgot what?" You say, your eyes partially lidded, still reeling from his kiss 

"May took my Jeep" 

"I can drive us!" You're excited now as you pull away from him and get out of bed. He watches you grab a pair of shorts and pull them up your thighs, jumping a little to get them over your ass. He whimpers at the sight and you turn to him, narrowing your eyes 

"Simp" you tease and he gets up from the bed, rolling his eyes 

"Wholeheartedly. I am in no way shape or form ever going to deny that when it comes to you. Do I get to wear the white kitty helmet?" He's getting his stuff ready to climb out of the window 

"You sure do" You walk over to the window with him, and he puts one leg out and turns back to you 

"C'mere" He trails his finger down your cheek and hooks it under your chin, pulling you to him and kissing you. It leaves you a little breathless and he smiles haughtily 

"See you outside Princess"

You connect the two helmets and hand one to Buck as he climbs on the back of your motorcycle. He puts it over his head and knocks gently against yours 

"All set" 

He has no problem being on the back of your bike. In fact, he's overjoyed to be behind you, you can feel his hands slide over your sides, feeling you up before he wraps his arms securely around your waist 

"Happy?" Your voice surrounds him in the helmet and he practically purrs as he settles against you more, hanging on like a little koala 

"Oh you're driving us everywhere from now on" he sighs happily and you giggle, purposely sending your hips back a bit more than necessary, you hear him groan as you kick off the stand and take off. 

He's enjoying himself immensely on the back of your bike, the playlist he made you plays through the speakers of your helmets as you weave in and out of traffic on the highway. Bobby would kill him and he thinks you're gonna kill him too when he leans back slightly letting the air flow over his body, he holds out his arms like he's flying and you giggle, speeding up for him.

"You're gonna get yourself killed," You say and he chuckles, putting his hands back on your hips and squeezing them 

"What's the point of living if you're not gonna do something stupid every once in a while?" 

"Stupid huh? Get ready Jack" 

You put your arms out like he had and he laughs, holding your waist as you drive straight down the highway 

"This is really dangerous!" He yells out and you giggle wildly

"I thought you liked dangerous!" You taunt him and he wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you down so you don't go flying off the bike. You look pretty like that, he thinks he likes this best. When you seem carefree and wild, you make him feel infinite. 

Pulling into the McDonald's parking lot you just decide to eat there since you've only got the bike, and you promise that it still counts as one of your dates as long as you go to Target afterward 

 "Um… Can I drive to Target?" Buck asks sheepishly as he sets the tray down on the table. You slide it towards you set his stuff down for him and go to open your nuggets

"Course you can, you can even drive us home if you want" 

"Seriously? You're not kidding" Buck watches you stuff a fry in your mouth and you smile a little before swallowing 

"Why would I be lying? I know you can drive one! Athena mentioned it when I first got here… she said we might have some stuff in common" You dip your nugget into the barbecue sauce and bring it to your face, inspecting before you eat it

"I was pretty eager to meet you" 

"Really? You were?" He opens his cheeseburger and takes a bite, his eyes rolling back for a second before he goes to sip his Coke

"Uh huh" Your cheeks flush a little as you admit it to him 

"What are you two doing here?" 

Buck chokes on his drink and Bobby pats his back, your eyes are as wide as saucers as you pull out your phone frantically sending an SOS to Eddie. You silently pray he's not busy 

"Uh we are-" He coughs a little, clearing his throat "We're just eating lunch" 

"Together?" Bobby asks, and you can already feel him entering dad mode 

"No! No of course not" You scoff, taking another nugget and gesturing with it 

"We're waiting for Eddie. You know us, a...trio"

"We're the dynamic duo but not!" Buck beams up at him and Bobby narrows his eyes skeptically 

"Why isn't Eddie here now?" 

"I've only got room on my bike for two?" You shrug awkwardly, it sounds more like a question than an explanation. 

"Guess that makes sense…" He shrugs back and you and Buck look at each other for a moment, you check your phone again, pretending to just look at the time, but there's a text from Eddie 

Cakes: Be there in 5

You lift your phone, gesturing with it "He's uh- he's almost here. Why don't you go order his food now Buck? You know since we wanted it to stay hot and all?"

Buck has the dumbest look on his face for a second and you blink rapidly at him 

"Oh! Oh duh! Oh yeah!" He trips over his feet getting up and stumbles into Bobby 

"Sorry" he pats his shoulder awkwardly before going back up to the counter and you cringe a little 

"You've been hanging out with them a lot lately" Bobby sits down and shifts Buck's food over a bit, folding his hands in front of him on the table 

"I mean yeah… they're like my only friends here" 

"What about Hen? Or May? Are you two getting along?"

You sigh and push your food away "Yes, we're getting along just fine… and Hen has a wife Bobby I'm sure she wants to be with her on her days off"

"It wouldn't hurt to have a girl's night, maybe I can have Athena set something up"

"I don't even know them like that" You roll your eyes and he raises an eyebrow 

"Well, this will be the perfect way for you to get to know them like that. I just want you to have more friends Y/N… honestly. I want you to have a support network"

"You mean more friends and a support network that aren't two attractive, single, grown men"

"That too! Wait, you think they're attractive?" 

You look up to see Eddie rushing in and Buck pointing over to your table, his mouth drops wide open and you cover your eyes with your hands 

"I'm gonna be so real with you Uncle Bobby, you're totally embarrassing me right now" You let your head fall on the table and groan loudly as the guys walk over with Eddie's food. Buck slides in next to you and Bobby scoots over for Eddie 

"Sorry, I'm late guys! I left the house later than I wanted" 

Bobby passes Buck his food and the four of you eat together, the three of them are having a great time, talking and laughing while you're sitting quietly in the corner, just poking your fry in ketchup

Bobby is scolding Eddie saying something inappropriate when you feel Buck's hand on your thigh, you look over at him and he looks down at you, taking your hand in his, he nudges you with his arm a little and you smile, nudging him back 

It's cute and Buck's heart skips a beat, with the way you look up at him, he leans in a little wanting to kiss your nose when suddenly he yelps and pulls away from you 

"Are you okay?" Bobby looks up at Buck and he smiles innocently, his eyes wide and crazy as he stares at Eddie 

"Yup! I'm great! Just wonderful and peachy" he reaches down and rubs his shin, and you snicker

"So what are you guys doing next?" Bobby asks, crushing up his wrapping and throwing it on the tray 

"Target!!" You say excitedly while Eddie stares back at Buck, they're clearly talking 

"Alright, you kids have fun, and get there safely alright? I'll see you at home later" Bobby gets up from the table and ruffles your hair and you push his hand away. You all say goodbye as he finally leaves. Buck leans over you, watching him leave, as soon as he's out of sight, Buck pulls you towards him and kisses you. He pushes you back against the wall and you gasp, surprised by his forwardness before melting into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Buck gestures to Eddie to keep watch in case he comes back 

"You guys owe me. I had plans!" He groans as he looks out the window  

"You mean sitting on the couch in your underwear all day eating snacks and watching TV?" 

Buck asks as peppers little kisses all over your face like he likes to do and you giggle 

"Exactly. Now I have to trail behind you two in Target and watch you be gross"

"I promise we won't be gross! I'm sorry… I didn't expect him to show up like that…" 

Buck hugs you to him and Eddie sighs, looking at you both, his head in his hands and you kind of feel bad now. You push Buck away a little and he whines 

"Oh come on, we can't let Eddie feel left out! He's our boyfriend!" 

Buck looks at Eddie and frowns, He gets up from the table and goes to Eddie's side, hugging him as tight as he can. Eddie wheezes and slaps at his arms 

"Quit it!"

"No! I forgot the most important rule Bros before hoes!!" 

You flick some of the condensation on your cup at Buck and Eddie chuckles 

"Gee, thanks Buck" 

"Can we please go now? Or does the ho not get to make decisions" you ask sarcastically as you get up from the table and Buck giggles, taking your hand in his 

"The ho can make decisions" 

Buck drives your motorcycle to Target… alone. While you and Eddie trail behind him purposely honking at him and driving way too close to him on the way over. He flips you both off multiple times and you blare the horn when he drives with no hands, it's obnoxious but hilarious to the three of you. 

"You didn't have to include me. I was just kidding around" Eddie says as he turns down the radio on the playlist Buck made.

"You're my friend Eddie, and Buck's best friend. We can chill when we're with you, it's messed up not to. Besides! I like hanging out with you!"

"Don't let Buck hear you say that" He chuckles as he pulls into a parking space and parks the car. You lean over and kiss his cheek, and he smiles and kisses yours back. Suddenly the door opens and you squeak 

"See! This is why I don't leave you two alone together!! You make out without me!!" 

"We're not making out" Eddie snorts as he gets out of the car, locking the doors. You and Buck come around the car and you're on his back, holding onto his neck

"When did you do that," Eddie asks as he stares and Buck shrugs walking next to him and bouncing you along 

"Oh you know when you weren't paying attention" 

Buck dumps you into a cart as soon as you get inside and takes Eddie's shoulders, putting him in front of the cart to push it. He rolls his eyes but pushes you around anyway. You both drag Eddie to the toy aisle where you guys go wild and he's suddenly very glad you're in the cart. You grab a hockey stick and start to roll yourself away from him and he takes the stick from you putting it on a shelf 

"Yeah no absolutely not," He says as he pushes you to the next aisle. He's looking at a Captain America's Shield Lego set when Buck slips the hockey stick back into your cart. He winks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, whistling as he walks away 

"You think I should just go for it?… Y/N? Buck??" 

Eddie whirls around as you're using the stick to push you along as fast as you can 

"Oh my god are you five?!" 

Eddie finally reigns you both in, Making Buck keep one hand on the cart at all times and your hands in your lap, holding his Lego set and one for you and Buck each. You're both snickering and making jokes about him being such a dad 

"If you two are gonna act like kids I'm gonna treat you like kids. And if you keep messing around I'll spank you"

"Is that a promise?" You look back at him, making sweet doe eyes 

"Ayooooo" Buck yells, high-fiving you and Eddie pushes you away, letting you crash into one of the aisles. 

You all end up at Eddie's house, sitting at his kitchen table with a bunch of mismatched bowls, holding your Lego pieces 

"This is the coolest date I've ever been on," Buck says as he gnaws on a brick to pull it apart 

"You know you could just use this?" You say, holding up the little orange tool 

"That's for losers" 

"At least us losers still have all our teeth…" Eddie mumbles as he squints, focusing on putting two tiny little pieces together "Is this really still a date? I mean… I'm here with you" 

"I mean I didn't necessarily say who the date was with…" Buck wriggles his eyebrows and winks at Eddie

"Yup, just two boyfriends and their side piece," You say, grabbing a pink piece from your little bowl 

"Exactly! You see why I lo- Like her" He corrects himself quickly, making a little commotion with his pieces. Eddie glares at him for a second but goes back to work anyway, ignoring his little slip-up. The three of you work almost silently for a couple hours before Buck starts to get antsy 

"Hey uh…Y/N?" Buck breaks you from your concentration and you look up 

"What's up?" 

"This- this isn't like lame is it? I know it wasn't exactly our plans but like I just… are you having a good time? Because I'm having a good time… and like I just- I kinda wanna make sure we're on the same page" He looks so nervous when he asks you, stopping what he's doing to study your face 

"I'm gonna go order Chipotle, text me your orders," Eddie says, pushing away from the table and getting up to stretch. He wanders into the living room and flops on the couch lying down so he can't see you two 

You get up now, making Buck scoot his chair back so you can stand between his legs 

"I'm having a really good time" you reassure him, putting your arms around his neck, his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer to him 

"You mean it?" He asks, looking up at you as you run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little 

"Of course I mean it! I like hanging out with you and being around you Buck, even if things aren't exactly as planned it's really nice to just be with the person you… want to be with" 

He hums softly, leaning into your hands as you massage his head messing up his hair. 

"Are you okay with this being one of our dates?" You ask him and he nods enthusiastically 

"Of course I am! You're right, even if Eddie is totally crashing it-"

"Hey!!"

"It's nice to just be around you" 

He pulls you closer, parting your legs so you sit in his lap. He stands up, holding your ass and kissing you passionately. You feel his tongue swipe over your lips and you gasp, letting him slip it right into your mouth. He carries you into the living room, snapping at Eddie 

"I'm gone" He puts his hands up as he scoots out of the living room and down to his bedroom. Buck gets on the couch, laying back so you're on top of him 

"We shoulda taken the bedroom" He chuckles as you straddle him and smirk 

"Yeah because Eddie would let that happen" You sass him and he holds your hips, rubbing soft circles on them before you lean down, your lips connecting with his.

The doorbell rings and you squeak, nearly falling off his lap. He whines when you pull away and you swat at his chest 

"Oh quit it" You pant softly, as he reaches up and brushes your hair out of your face 

"But I need you" 

And he knows exactly what he's doing when he says it like that, all pathetic and pouty… his eyes wide and watery like he just can't go on unless you go back to kissing him 

"I-I" You're speechless as he slides his hands up your sides and under your shirt 

"Wanna know what it feels like for your nails to dig into me babydoll" 

"Is he doing his lil bitch voice again?" Eddie asks as he walks past the couch, and you nearly fall off of Buck laughing. His mouth drops wide open and he sits up, holding your hips so you don't fall off 

"You did not just call it that!" He yells at Eddie who's grabbing the Chipotle from the ground 

"Are you gonna tell me I'm wrong?!" He yells back 

"Okay, but she loves it!" Buck launches a throw pillow at him and Eddie yelps, dodging it

"I didn't say she didn't!! Did I say you didn't?!"

"No??" You say, as Buck sets you on the couch and stumbles over his feet, before chasing after Eddie. Eddie tosses the bag at you and you catch it while he goes running off, both men yelling at each other. 

As you're setting the bowls out on the kitchen counter you hear a loud crash and Buck and Eddie screaming 

"Uhhh??? What was that!?" You yell down the hallway 

"Nothing!!" They shout back in unison 

You give Buck a ride back to your place where his Jeep is waiting, he gets in and you duck inside, pulling him to you, and kiss him

"Can I…" He starts, holding your hand in his "You think I could go park down the street somewhere and sneak back up here?"

"You want to stay for a bit?" You ask curiously, your cheeks flushed "I think I can sneak you in through the back…" 

"Please? That sounds nice…" He kisses your forehead "I just… I want to be with you just a little longer.. please..?" His voice is soft and hesitant like he's a little worried about even suggesting it 

You smile at him, nodding and stepping back "Hurry up and go find somewhere to park, I'll be waiting for you"

"Yeah okay, anything for you Doll" 

Buck looks ridiculous as he sneaks back to the house, if he was walking like a normal freaking person he would look 10 times less suspicious. But it's Buck, he can't do anything the simple way. 

You're leaning against the doors, watching him sneak through the yard like a complete idiot and it's hilarious. You open the glass door and he has to fight everything in him not to pull you in and kiss you. He slips off his shoes and picks them up so he doesn't make any noise 

"Come on you weirdo" You roll your eyes as he grabs your hips and walks you back to your bedroom. You sneak in, sliding into your bed, and watch him kick off his pants and crawl into bed with you 

"Why would you do that!" You scold him "I'm already barely wearing anything"

"That's exactly why I did that" He purrs in your ear as he rolls over onto you.

Honestly, Athena let the first time slide. It was daytime, and that was fine. She sits at the kitchen table, slowly stirring her tea. Because Buck is going to leave the exact same way you snuck him in, through the large glass patio doors. She listens to his soft footsteps as he pads down the stairs without his shoes on. She hears the whispers and your giggles as he kisses you goodbye and she hears him avoid the creaky floorboard. 

He's sneaking right past the table when Athena clinks her spoon against her cup once. He cringes slowly as he turns on his heel towards the table 

"Hi Mom" 

She nods towards the seat next to her and he stomps over, huffing and pouting 

"Pick your feet up"

He straightens up, dropping into the chair next to her. She pushes a cup to him and the sugar and he smiles a little, making himself a cup 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Oh you know… just uh… hangin out" He sheepishly stirs his tea, avoiding looking up. She stares at him, bringing her cup to her mouth 

"At two in the morning?" 

He holds his cup in both hands, staring down at the swirling sugar, and sighs 

"Y/N let me in… it wasn't her fault! I begged her to. I just- I just wanted to spend a little more time with her…" 

"At two in the morning?" She repeats herself

"I know I shouldn't have… I'm sorry. Just- please don't tell Bobby. He's gonna kill me, he's so protective of her and he has every right to be!! I am too" 

"I'm not gonna tell him, it's not my place. But you will not be sneaking into my house at two in the morning anymore, do you understand me?" 

"Yes ma'am" He blushes, sipping his tea 

"And you two will be practicing safe sex" 

"Oh my god" Buck chokes on his tea, his face turning a lovely shade of crimson. 

"We- no- no, no we're not- No we're not even having sex right now" he's stumbling over his words, trying so hard to not die of embarrassment because he knows she can easily get rid of his body 

"Evan Buckley, I was not born yesterday. You sneak into her bedroom and you think I don't know what's happening?" 

"No, I swear, I swear we haven't done anything. And we- okay we're not even technically together yet! She said three more dates and then she'll be my girlfriend and I absolutely do not plan on having sex with her before then. Not to mention May is in there too!! She's literally right across the room!" 

"And you haven't been back to your place?" She asks calmly, watching him practically burn up in his seat 

"No!! Not once!… a-actually uh…actually we're going to my place tomorrow. Just to hang out, I promise. Eddie might come over too. I'm not sure yet, he might be busy."

"Look, things happen, Buck, you're a very attractive young man-"

"Oh my god" 

"And she's a very attractive young lady-"

"Are you wearing your gun by any chance?" 

"And things could get steamy-"

"Please- Mom please"

"I'm just saying!! I'd like to know if you have protection. And if you don't you need to go get it before she comes over. If you need money for it I'll give it to you"

Buck is laid out on the table, smacking his head against it. Athena puts her hand on his head, chuckling as she ruffles his hair 

"You take care of my baby. Don't let me hear you went back to being a womanizer"

"I really like her, like… I really like her. I'll be good to her, I just hope I can be good enough for her"

"You just keep being you, Buck. Don't get in your head, just keep being that sweet man we all know you are and it'll be okay. You deserve to be happy baby" 

Buck smiles, turning his head to look at Athena, he sits up, taking her hand in his and squeezing it 

"I promise to do my best" 

They finish their tea together, he gushes about you and all of the dates he has planned and she smiles, listening to him talk. She even gives input on a few details for some of his dates, it's 3:30 when he finally gets to leave. He washes up his cup and kisses her cheek before ducking out the back door.

[sunderingstars]

hello~ I really like reading your theories on Sampo because I also have been deep diving the strangeness of his (and Aha's) existence. I'm not done reading all your theories but here are some random thoughs I wanted to drop

As a little note - I find it interesting that he has themes of love while Aha is one of the only aeons to have an explicit romantic interest (Xipe/Ena).

i also have a hard time believing the interpretations about Aha. Much of what we know about the Aeon's is second-hand. Simulations in themself are from recorded pieces of information. The records of the XL are very biased imo just due to the nature of interpretting divinity as well as the bias shown towards some dieties and against others. From what it seems like, Aha likes jokes, but almost all of his actions and the actions of his followers in the down-stream have prevent atrocities -

Rubert -

For example, during Emperor Rubert's campaign, Aha's believers kicked off another riot after the Philosopher Union was reduced to the domain of inorganic life, infecting the conqueror's computer systems with another troll virus called the "Philosopher's Poison" and overthrowing the local robot army.

Aha laughing at his death. Literally a riot, which may not have had huge impact but overthrew a whole army at a point in time when it was most important.

Soul Glad & Penacony

-Masked fools at one point released soul glad to wake up members of penacony. was said to be a joke but we all know how penacony ended. Sparkle was also in penacony with aventurine to help uncover what was going on with the family.

The Worm

-People claim aha is nonsensical because of the worm but this was in response to a spider being in the genius society.

there is also an SU occurrence that comes up every so often and when SU!Aha helps against polka where you adopt a sentient worm and try to take care of it.

I swear I saw something else about this darned worm and the genius society member #29 i believe.

-The Unshackled ( i don't remeber this event but dlkfjsd)

Another person on the XL who was a masked fool was messing with individuals who released creatures of abundance into the wild.

even the masked fools have a lot of strange details about them from outside sources, but their actions have been helpful it seems? Not to mention Sampo's eerie premonition about something horrible about to happen with Jarilo-IV.

idk to me Aha doesn't seem as nonsensical as the records make him out to be. it's like his "pranks" are taken at surface level but it's even acknowledge that he works in a butterfly-effect type of way.

hi !! 🪐 thank you for taking interest in my theories — i always love when i can encourage sampo / aha brainrot!

i definitely agree with the weird quality of how aha is perceived by others; back when i had more aha!sampo theories, one of the things i thought about the most was how… different aha!sampo seemed to be than how aha is usually depicted by groups like the masked fools!

even though my theories have shifted a bit, i still think the way “mortals” in hsr view “immortals” (aeons) may not be entirely accurate unless you’re talking to an emanator or an aeon themself. (for example, i’m not super inclined to assume the parable of aha’s rise to aeonhood is based on fact since it was created and spread by the masked fools, and seems to confirm their pre-existing beliefs!)

while it’s entirely possible that aha acts exactly like others expect them to, i think it’s also just as likely that they don’t. like you said at the end, aha very much seems to operate in a “butterfly effect” way, meaning their plans may seem incomprehensible or “surface-level” to others, when in reality they are operating with the higher machinations of a god! i feel like the only way to know for sure is to actually meet them — or at least speak to an emanator, which i’m hoping sampo is / was.

i also agree that the masked fools (and especially sampo) have helped us out quite a bit, despite their proclivity for fanaticism. as with aha, i think it can be easy to assume they are only invested in surface-level chaos, but with penacony shaking out the way it did, i think they aren’t quite as bad as a lot of people in-universe make them out to be. they’re chaotic, sure, and i absolutely believe they are capable of doing messed up things in the name of their cause, but they’re also just as likely to end up helping someone in the process.

basically, wild cards are wild cards — they can be good and bad, and just as capable of planning things out meticulously as not!

also, i haven’t run across that worm occurrence but man i really want to now !! it sounds super interesting — especially the adoption part! honestly, i think the worm is a great example of how complex aha as a character and aeon is. it’s difficult to wade through the different perspectives of aha (as mentioned earlier) to reach an objective course of events, but it seems that aha had both intent and knowledge when creating the worm.

for a while, i too considered the worm to be completely random and surface-level, probably because of how absurd the idea is. however, me being me and analyzing literally everything into pieces, i eventually realized that it was different than i’d originally thought.

i feel like there’s a layer of plausible deniability when thinking of the worm as a random, chaotic joke; aha isn’t really seen as an aeon so much as a glorified cosmic child, unaware of the consequences of their actions. but again, as we’ve been talking about, that’s not really how they operate. it’s a lot more unsettling to think about the fact that the worm was premeditated — aha created a sentient being knowing it couldn’t survive without them, and once that being failed to accomplish what they wanted, they tossed it aside to die. they knew, and they did it anyways.

to me, aha seems to have a striking amount of thought put into some of the “jokes” they do. i have no doubt they do things on impulse as well, but especially considering doll!sampo and how the elation seems to be “guiding” the trailblazer in a way, it also seems like aha has a complex understanding of how events will play out. very interesting stuff !!

anyways, thanks for theorizing with me & thanks for letting me ramble LOL, i have a lot of thoughts about mr. sampo and aha !!

[mimiii-3]

Twst boys react to an insecure reader

Note/warning: gn reader, slight angst, self deprecating language, comfort, fluff

. . .

Ace

You: I’m hoping this scar oil can help fade my stretch marks.

• protests immediately

• probably starts screaming hysterically

• ‘no no no this can’t be!’

• this man love LOVES you

• that includes all of your stretch marks

• he’s always loved your many stretch marks no matter where they are on your body

• your hip, thigh, and butt stretch marks drive him bonkers

• he kept it a secret because he didn’t want you getting creeped out by him

• but now he wishes he had told you every loving thought that crossed his mind about your stretch marks

• he would rather die than ever let you get rid of them

“Babe, I love your tiger stripes. I swear I will tie myself to you if you even THINK about trying to fade them.”

Leona

You: Maybe I should try and find a way to get rid of these love handles…

• this lazy boy is about to start a riot

• he WILL overblot if you even try to get rid of them

• that’s like him saying he wants to try and get rid of his gorgeous mane - it doesn’t make any sense

• he finds your love handles incredibly useful

• whenever y’all cuddle, his hands are glued to your love handles

• gripping and massaging them is his favorite past time

• he is convinced that holding your love handles improves his mental health

• he grabs you and pulls you into bed with him

• he slinks down and starts to kiss your love handles (and occasionally nips them with his teeth)

• he looks up at you and let’s out a light growl

“Nope. I don’t give you permission to get rid of MY love handles. Yes, mine. Every single part of you belongs to me.”

Deuce

You: I’m going to have to toss this shirt. It’s super cute but I hate the way it accentuates my tummy rolls.

• this poor bby is deeply disturbed

• his soulmate hates themself??? (Yes, he knows you’re his soulmate. Y’all are meant to be together forever)

• you legitimately made his heart hurt

• one of his favorite physical features of yours is your tummy rolls

• he shuffles over to you standing in front of the mirror

• he wraps his arm around your torso and rests his hand on your tummy

• kisses the back of your neck while he rubs your tummy rolls

• you’ve grown completely flustered, surprised by Deuce’s sudden onslaught of affection

• you ask him what’s wrong but he just stays quiet

• after a few minutes of begging him to say something, he looks up at you through the reflection in the mirror

• his eyes are watery and his lip trembles as he begins to talk

“Please don’t say stuff like that. I like this shirt and I like your tummy rolls. I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are, no matter how long it takes.”

Ruggie

You: Your teeth are so perfect Ruggie. It’s hard not to compare them to mine. I wish my teeth looked more like yours with no gap whatsoever.

• he’s completely thrown off

• you think his teeth are perfect? Wait. You don’t like your teeth???

• but he loves your cute gap

• starts putting the pieces together and realizes that recently you’ve been covering your mouth when you smile

• how could he not have noticed this sooner?

• mentally hitting himself for letting your negative feelings go unnoticed

• wracks his brain for a temporary solution

• let’s out a disgruntled sigh before pulling you to him by your collar

• maybe a steamy make out sesh will do the trick

• leaves you an out-of-breath mess

• leans back and gives you a mischievous smirk

“You think my teeth are perfect? Well you’re perfect. Which means that your teeth, including my favorite gap, are perfect. If your brain starts producing those negative thoughts again then I guess I’ll have to kiss em out of you.”

Malleus

You: God I hate my cellulite. It makes me look so ugly.

• he has gone completely silent

• the way he’s staring at you is haunting

• he probably doesn’t even know what/where cellulite is

• all he can think about is the fact you said it makes you look ugly

• to find out that the love of his life hates an aspect of themself is numbing

• ‘what do you mean you hate your cellulite? Show me.’

• you show him the cellulite on your legs

• now he’s really confused as to why you don’t like it

• he thinks it makes your legs look like they have dimples

• Malleus proceeds to get down on one knee

• his slender hand grabs you right leg and holds it in place

• he litters kisses all over your cellulite

“I do not appreciate the way you talk about my heart and soul. You look stunning. Always. That includes this cellulite you seem to hate so much.”

. . .

Note: how malleus was staring at you after you said you hate your cellulite:

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 12 - The boys who went through hell.

Summary: Eijirou is a good friend but even he has his limits. Izuku finally wakes up, but he’s not really himself.

Warnings: Swear words, arguments, a lot of crying and mentions of injuries. Mentions of mental issues.

For those who are waiting: In this chapter, we get to know what’s up with Izuku. The next chapter is still angsty but he’s alive and relatively well and that’s not gonna change, so I’ll leave it to you if you wanna start reading now or wait until Chapter 14 which is the official end of the angst. Chapter 14 is almost angst free and Chapter 13 ends on a positive note.

First Chapter Master List

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“Is he alive?” Is all you say after your phone lights up with Eijirou’s name.

It has been a whole hour since the accident but Katsuki’s and Eijirou’s phone just went into voicemail after a few rings, both of them probably busy giving statements to the police and making sure Izuku is (hopefully) taken care of.

After a few seconds of silence, there is a quiet “yes” coming from the other side. You can’t help but start crying again, even though you’ve literally just stopped 2 minutes ago.

You called Izuku’s mom right away. You tried your best to stay strong for her and it drained all your energy, even if it was only a 5 minutes long conversation because thankfully, All Might was with her so your phone call ended up with him trying to soothe your troubled soul instead of the other way around.

Your mind is a mess. There are no thoughts, just… emptiness. This is how being in shock might feel like, there isn’t any other explanation for it.

“He’s… alive… but… Y/N, you must stay strong. He’s… fuck.” Eijirou’s voice wavers. “We can’t see him until tomorrow. They need to do a lot of surgeries… his arms… they are broken. Shattered. The explosion… isn’t at fault. The building. When he was young he… broke his arms too many times….” Eijirou mutters, not even able to make full sentences, just little bits and bobs, trying to give you as much information as he can but failing with the interpretation so much you can barely understand a single word. “They don’t… know if he’ll be able to do hero work. They said this might be the end of his career. If the surgery succeeds, he might have a chance but he’ll need to stop completely for… months.”

“Ei, that’s not important right now.” You try your best to sound confident, but your voice can’t stop shaking. “What about his chest? His heart?”

“All good.” A new voice takes over. You have no idea who this is. “He lost a lot of blood but otherwise, he’s fine. It will leave a scar and it will take a while to completely heal as we used up all his stamina to save his right hand. Oh, I’m Kenji, the doctor assigned for his case. I asked Red Riot and Dynamight to try and relax but they aren’t listening.”

“Fuck you and your stupid fluffy blanket, Kenji.” Katsuki’s voice comes from the background and you can’t help but laugh in between two sobs.

“So as I said, we used up all his stamina to heal his right hand but both of his arms were injured quite a few times when he was young due to his quirk being too strong for his body hence why he was advised to keep them out of harm’s way to avoid any complications. Needless to say, this was the last straw for those poor, severely battered bones. Even though we healed it he won’t be able to lift anything for a while. He should be fine with everyday things but nothing else. He will need to start from the beginning and go to rehabilitation, but I do believe if someone can make it out of this, it’s him. I’ll send a note over with all the information you might need to support him. I’m sorry I can’t let you see him as we had to start with the surgeries as soon as we can, we also need to do some magic on his chest to make the pain more bearable, so… yeah. It’s going to be a long journey, but he’ll live.”

“That’s amazing, thank you.” You cry, finally able to breathe properly.

“I’m keeping these two for another 30 minutes then they’ll go straight to you. You have amazing friends, by the way, they couldn’t stop talking about you since they came in.”

“She ain’t my friend.” Katsuki grumbles in the background. “She’s… fucking family.”

“Oh, Katsuki…” You burst into tears again. “Can I talk to him? Please?”

“One minute. That’s it.” Kenji mutters and gives the phone to the grumpy blond.

“Oi, the fuck do you want?” He grumbles into the device, his voice shaking with every syllable.

“I love you too.”

“Fuck you, you asshole!” There is a sob on the other end and the phone goes silent.

~•🥦•~

It takes the two another hour to make it back to Izuku’s flat. Katsuki’s eyes are red and swollen and he does his best to avoid any kind of eye contact as he plops down right next to you on the sofa, leaning into you like a grumpy kid in need of attention. Eijirou only sighs, eyes just as red as his partner’s but somehow, more put-together in general; he makes a beeline for All Meowth’s little castle in the corner and starts petting the usually grumpy animal like his life depends on it.

“The list is not the problem, Deku is. He will… not be the same when he comes back.”

“Can we not have this conversation right now? We just came back. I want to chill.” Katsuki retorts angrily. You can’t help but gawk at him for using such a rude tone but this is not your fight so you let them talk this out.

Eijirou ignores his rudeness and concentrates on you instead. Nevermind then.

“We should make some food for tomorrow. I think they’ll let him come home in the morning. Kenji said he’ll be in a wheelchair for the first two or three days because of his chest injury. It will sting like hell every time he moves. Let’s make sure there is enough space in the flat for him to move around, maybe we should move some things… can we sleep in your room, Y/N?” Eijirou does not sit down; he’s walking around aimlessly, his mind clearly in a frenzy.

“Eijirou, sit down…” you are just about to retort but Katsuki jumps into your words.

“I ain’t gonna cook. We can fucking order. I saw my best friend almost die on the…”

Katsuki can’t finish the sentence. Something snaps in Eijirou and it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. His face is hardened on the edges, his skin is red from anger, he looks downright manic as he starts to yell.

“Your best friend?! Really?! Oh, I’m so fucking sorry, princess, would you like a fucking cup of tea, you selfish little prick?! I was there too, you know! I was the one getting his broken body out of the rumble while you sat on the fucking floor doing nothing, yet you didn’t even ask how I’m feeling! He’s not just your best friend! He’s mine, too! I felt just as miserable as you, yet I tried to be there for you and you can’t even move your fucking ass to make Katsudon for him! I can’t even close my eyes without seeing his dead fucking eyes and his head lolling in my arms lifelessly, thank you fucking much for asking!” Eijirou takes a deep breath, his legs shaking so much he can’t help but fall down to the floor. “Doesn’t fucking matter. Let’s just sit around and be sorry for ourselves. That will fucking help.” He mumbles between two sobs.

“I’ll… make Katsudon.” You mutter, trying your best to leave the two alone as soon as you can because whatever this was about, you have nothing to do with this.

“Let’s make it together. I… I’ll get the original recipe from Auntie.” For your surprise, Katsuki looks… extremely embarrassed, like a kid caught in the middle of mischief. There are fresh tears in his eyes, his cheeks dusted red, but his voice is weirdly even, like he’s been slapped out of his stupor and now he’s back to his usual self but more relaxed, more pliant. He touches the top of Eijirou’s head in a silent apology as he sneaks past him, but doesn’t do anything else and he also ushers you into the kitchen, forcing you to leave the redhead alone. After a few minutes of silence you can hear him standing up from the floor. He starts rearranging the living room, his actions followed by quiet sniffles and murmurs.

“Is he…?”

“He’ll come around. He gets scary as hell when he’s angry. If I would have tried to talk to him he would’ve beaten me to a pulp. He rarely gets mad but when he does, you better run.” Katsuki mutters, still looking at his phone, probably memorizing the recipe written in the reply. “Let’s get this shit done then I’ll talk to him when we go to sleep.”

“Are you not mad at him for talking to you like that?” You look at the blond, completely stunned.

“Why would I? He was right. I was being extremely self-centered and ungrateful. He deserved better.”

“I’m glad you know that.” Suddenly, Eijirou appears in the door, leaning on the wall lazily that he didn’t just have a complete meltdown mere minutes ago.

“I’m not fifteen anymore, I know when I fuck up.” Katsuki grumbles back and instead of an answer, Eijirou just bumps his fist into the blond’s arm in a friendly gesture and goes back to rearranging the flat, leaving you two alone to finish the food preparations.

These two are certainly something else.

~•🥦•~

“You can come in now. I need to finish some of his paperwork but he’ll be able to leave in a few minutes.” Kenji smiles at the five of you sitting in the waiting room. Inko and All Might are also here. “I must warn you, he’s… not in the best mood. Please take everything he says with a pinch of salt.”

You pale completely from his words. You’ve seen Izuku in a lot of different moods but this one doesn’t sound like him at all. He can’t serious… right?

~•🥦•~

“Why is she here?”

Your stomach churns from the sight in front of you. Izuku’s almost completely covered from his neck to his hips with bandages, one arm in a sling while the other just lays motionless on the bed, his fists clenched weakly as he stares at Katsuki and ignores everyone else. His eyebrows are scrunched together, his gaze angry, almost maniacally so, mouth tightened into a thin line. It feels like Katsuki is the biggest traitor in the world even though he literally did nothing to deserve such a treatment.

There is real terror in your eyes when you realize you don’t know this man laying on the bed. His face and his behavior is the exact opposite of your beloved’s, brash and rude, almost insensitive.

“The fuck do you mean, why? She’s your girlfriend!”

“Yeah, and she’s quirkless and you just danced around the whole city with her when we have a villain group literally after our biggest weaknesses!” Izuku yells back, flabbergasted, completely ignoring you sniffling in the background. Eijirou puts his arm around you and pulls you closer and you can’t stop yourself from burying your face into his chest, completely heartbroken.

“Midoriya-shounen. Y/N is safe. These boys didn’t leave her side since the accident.” All Might speaks up in a calm tone. “Don’t talk to them like that. Would you be able to sit at home in this situation? I don’t think so.”

“I’m really done with everyone yelling at me. Fucking sorry I exist, honestly.”

“Katsuki…” Kirishima tries to warn him but Katsuki doesn’t back down.

“You can be an asshole and tell me off for bringing her here but here’s the fucking truth: the villains have no fucking reason to fuck around with any of us anymore as I’m quite sure they proved their point by making the number one hero incapacitated.” Katsuki sneers while Eijirou pulls you even closer, knowing how hard this situation must be for you.

“I’ll bring Y/N home. Right now.” The redhead gives Izuku a side eye. “Actually, I’ll just ask Auntie Inko to take her away for a while.”

“I’m more than happy to take her in.” Inko speaks up between two sobs, clearly disappointed in his son’s behavior, even though she can’t hide how worried she is for her boy.

“No!” Izuku finally snaps back to his old self, his eyes the size of saucers as he sees you moving towards Inko, completely heartbroken. “Please…”

“Let’s give these two a moment then.” Eijirou sighs. This is the second time in the last 24 hours when you are utterly shocked by Red Riot’s forever changing personality. It’s like he knows what works with who, like a chameleon changing his colors to blend into their surroundings. You can’t help but respect that about him. Clearly, Eijirou is the one that keeps their friend group together, who helps everyone out in need, who’s always by everyone’s side even if his efforts are not appreciated. He’s amazing, honestly.

When the group leaves the room, Izuku moves one of his fingers in a silent plead for you to come closer and needles to say, you shuffle closer without a single retort.

“Sweets, I… I’m not okay.” Izuku bursts out crying just as you put your hand over his broken one. Izuku tries to bury his face into your chest but seeing the pain in his eyes makes you realize he can’t even move towards you without being in utter agony, so with tears streaming down your face you sit closer and move towards him, even if the position is extremely uncomfortable for you.

“I know, love. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” You mumble, your fingers raking through his messy hair gently, in case there is an injury you don’t know about around the back of his head.

You feel miserable but also… weirdly happy. Izuku is clearly not okay, he’s hurt in more ways than it’s visible for the naked eye but he still wants you around, he doesn’t want you to leave and that means a world to you.

“I… want to be alone. But I also want you to be around. I know it’s selfish, but…”

“It’s okay.” You mumble before Izuku can finish his sentence. “Whatever you need, baby. We will get through this. I promise.”

“I love you so much, you don’t understand.” Izuku whispers. “I’m sorry - I know you hate to hear that but I need to say it anyway.”

“Say that to Katsuki, honeybun.” You sigh, your lips leaving tiny kisses on the top of Izuku’s head. “He got told off by Eijirou yesterday. It was downright cruel. Then you yelled at him today, again. He feels really bad about freezing completely while you got hurt. He feels like it’s his fault.”

“He froze?” Izuku tries to look up at you but he winces from the pain right away. You really want to help him and it’s extremely frustrating that there is nothing you can do.

“Yeah, he just collapsed on the floor, unable to move. Eijirou pulled you out of the rumbles alone and brought you both back to the safe zone. You don’t need to talk to him right now, but in the future… don’t forget to apologize, okay?”

“Okay.” Izuku sighs. “Go home with them, okay? I’ll ask mom to bring me home. I just… want to talk to All Might. He…”

You can’t help but smile.

“He told me in the waiting room. I know everything. Just rest, okay? See you at home.” You jump off the bed but Izuku pulls you back for a proper, deep kiss that tastes kind of stale but it’s still sweet nonetheless.

Life might not be easy for you two right now but there isn’t a single obstacle you two can’t overcome together. Love is silly like that. It makes you to be able to do things you wouldn’t be able to do alone. And if the amount of love you two feel towards each other is any indication, even this mess will eventually clear out and one day, maybe a bit later in the future, you’ll be able to see pro hero Deku again, confident and victorious as he looks down at the handcuffed villains by his foot. It’s going to be a long journey, but…

“Until you are by my side I know I can do anything.” Izuku mutters into your mouth before he finally lets you go.

… yeah, exactly that.

… Next Chapter!

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Potato Ramble:

- Okay, so the next chapter will also have some angst in it but it will be nothing compared to the main angst so it’s only up from here. Also, I don’t think there’s gonna be any more angst after Chapter 13 except one scene later in the future, but that will be a short one and much milder so I’m sorry guys for all the angst but I had this planned since the beginning and it’s important for the story. One more chapter and the fluff is back! I swear!

- Kenji means “to be in good health”. I wanted to give the guy a name that works for his quirk, in the good old Horikoshi way.

- I’ll probably write the Kenji’s list down for you guys but this chapter is already too long so it will be in the next chapter!

- Izuku’s wheelchair will be a high tech one; instead of spinning the wheels he can just use a little joystick to move around because he’s hands are obviously fucked. It can also go up and down to make it easier for him to go to bed for instance. One of its arms is also retractable so he can literally just flop out of it. Random info.

- I can’t wait to be done with these chapters. Honestly, they break my heart but I’m actually quite proud of them.

- Send me your thoughts, please! I also need the support! 😂💜

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Salt & Storybook

This fic is also available on Wattpad or AO3, if you would prefer to read it elsewhere.

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@heya-there-friends and @wisteriaum Yes, the whump fic is out! And here it is!

Hopefully, if I meet your expectations, I’d be like a magician announcing an act:

Step up, one and all, Evers and Nevers, young and old—step right up to witness the death-defying struggles of one Rafal Mistral! The great Rafal, horrifically maltreated by his own Pen, tortured within an enclosure of his own “design!” After all, there is no rest for the wicked…

Anyway, have fun. I sure did. Ngl, whilst I wrote this one, it kind of became a laugh riot at Rafal’s expense. So, don’t kill me. I’ve done a lot of damage.

CONTENT WARNING:

If you do not like dark humor, graphic depictions of violence and injury, and/or do not like the thought of Rafal being physically tortured, please, do not read this fic, or read it at your own discretion. I do not want to upset anyone. So, that is why I’m telling you this now: that probably, by most standards, I’ve been really cruel to him.

The fic contains the following:

Alcohol, vandalism, book burning, physical assault and punishment (by the Pen), disproportionate retribution as revenge, some swearing on the milder side, depiction of injuries.

Thus, potential for violence in my TOTSMOV41 WIP aside, this is literally the absolute meanest I’ve ever been to Rafal.

And, Rafal is a bit of a silly goose (not in a good way) due to his impaired judgment. Though, I tried to keep him in character. Rhian should’ve grounded him in the absence of their parents. But it was too late.

Summary:

Rafal does some much needed “spring cleaning” to remove every trace of Vulcan from his tower and gets far more pain than he bargained for in return.

Or

Rafal has an idiotic episode after the resolution to the Vulcan fiasco while Rhian is oblivious.

Context:

This fic takes place during Rise, shortly after Vulcan’s murder and slightly before Rafal’s renovations to Evil and his torture of the Never students.

It is also somewhat plotless, so I could call it a character study. The exposition part towards the beginning was essentially my premise for writing the whump in the first place, which is why there is some lead-up prior to the action.

⸻

With an impish gleam in his eyes, Rafal blasted the glass display cases Vulcan had left behind to smithereens, spraying the stone walls and floors of his tower with razor-edged shards and splinters of glass.

Then, from Vulcan’s black desk, he dashed a cluster of black crystals to the floor for good measure.

The floor crunched underfoot with every step he took, a mosaic of inedible salt and pepper, as he whistled the shanty he’d composed, mentally gliding through the lyrics:

I asked the queen. . .

What is more pathetic than a Vulcan?

She said: Nothing I’ve seen!

He ground the shards into the grooves between the stone tiles, pulverizing most of what remained. The coarser flecks of glass dust caught in the traction of his boots, and it struck Rafal that he’d have to sweep up his mess before Rhian accused it of being a hazard to their eyes or lungs. Ah well. One more task to add to his steadily growing list. But it was all worthwhile.

No longer would his chambers be a stultifying “museum,” dedicated to the past exploits and conquests of that vile man. It was first and foremost his study.

Rafal sunk into one of the leftover black leather chairs, the one by the desk, and picked up the wineglass he hadn’t been attending to, swilling the garnet liquid around before taking another sip.

Just yesterday, when the brothers had supped together for the first time in six months, Rafal had gotten into an argument with Rhian about the restorations to be made to the silver tower and all the changes he’d already enacted in his School and its curriculum.

He would rather have lived in a bare cell than spend a minute longer in the company of Vulcan’s things, but Rhian had objected, saying the enemy’s furnishings were better than none at all.

And Rhian had further countered Rafal’s calls for immediate action, claiming they had all the time in the world, and to not be childish and impatient. With time, Rhian had said, he could devise a tasteful, new decorating scheme and between the two of them, they could even enjoy all the odds and ends Vulcan had left lying about in his wake.

Yet Rafal was having none of that. Their first order of business was not mindlessly pleasuring themselves but removal—no, it was the complete erasure and sterilization of the premises. That’s what would be done with the remains. Not the human ones though.

Rafal had eventually relented on that matter as Rhian had staunchly drawn the line at Rafal mounting Vulcan’s severed head on a wall as he’d once said. Thus, the head was discarded before it ever had the chance to rot.

Aside from Rafal’s efforts to claim a mortal trophy to no avail, everything else was proceeding smoothly—contrary to Rhian’s wishes. Rafal was still adamant that everything which so much as stunk of Vulcan’s musky cologne vanished from their sight as soon as possible. After all he’d endured to retake their School, he deserved to have his way, that much Rhian owed him.

Glancing out the window, he observed phase one of his plan already coming to a close as his chest swole with heady, vinous pride.

That very moment, thick, churning smoke laden with ash clogged the skies overhead, curling around Evil’s spires—physical proof he had retaken his School.

He stood up and inhaled the noxious fumes and drained the rest of his glass before setting it down again. He was recommitted all right. Here, he’d remain, ’til the end of time.

The spectacle far below was truly a sight to behold. Rafal had burnt the entirety of Vulcan’s life’s work in a great, purging pyre.

Gone now were the steaming, taxidermied bats, the mirror of molten, incandescent glass, the barechested portrait, warped and discolored, and more grotesque than ever, the deformed periscope Rafal had knocked the lenses out of, and the desiccated roses with their petals flaking off into the ether—it was all worthless memorabilia, everything, transformed into a charred, lifeless, amorphous mass that still smoldered this very hour, the objects caving in on themselves, the dying embers retreating into the disordered miscellany.

Rafal set his glass down, hesitated, and poured another up to the brim in celebration. The rising heat was hellish.

All that was left to do was buff away the gilded bats carved into the stairs and he would be rid of that loathsome viper forever. Then, his chosen renovations and agenda would commence, carried out by Humburg, his Stymphs, and the Man-Wolves.

But, he couldn’t get ahead of himself. He sipped from his glass, savoring the bitterness of the red wine, and set it down firmly.

Then he set to work, freeing the storybooks.

The benighted Vulcan had stowed the tales away in massive, black leather chests that had been ignorantly shoved aside, stacked slantedly like a slag heap in half-shadowed corners.

Coarse, drunken pirate. The imbecile was wholly unfit to direct the course of Evil’s future. Only Rafal could be capable of manning such an operation, charting such a course for the students once again under his eminent tutelage.

Hand aglow with black, he whisked his glass off the desk again, floating it over to himself, and took another swig before setting it on the floor beside him. He’d cleared away a small oasis for himself to sit in, until he swept up the shards decking the floors all around him.

The alcohol burned his throat, matching his surfacing rage as his head clouded.

No one would replace the storybooks on the tower’s shelves if he didn’t, he thought resentfully.

His brother had done enough damage already. Enough was enough. He wasn’t Rhian’s personal manservant. What a degrading role that would be.

But Rhian never remembered to clean up after himself, and the books had to get onto the shelves in some way or another.

Rafal exhaled. His brother was in dire need of a lecture, but first, Rafal carped to himself, the task of cleaning up lay before him.

He and he alone would restore the storybooks to their former, casual glory in their places of honor, just as the brothers themselves had been restored by the Pen.

Naturally, Rafal stacked all of Evil’s tales at the top of the tower’s shelves, for his own reference. Rhian surely wouldn’t quarrel with him after all the work was done.

Besides, it was true. Rafal was the only one willing to do it all. To forge order out of inscrutable chaos, mogrify the failed students at every class’ graduation, attend to the Stymphs, clean up the rubble, execute invaders, burn up the corpses—he took on all sins, all so his Ever brother wouldn’t have to lift a finger and stain his hands.

All for naught, was it?

No, Rafal consoled himself. Definitely not. Rhian couldn’t be trusted to do a thing.

Rhian was too cowardly and weak to handle the more gruesome chores on Rafal’s roster. He’d invited a numbskull substitute in, to replace his own brother with.

That batty substitute had no place in his School. Vulcan hadn’t even been a true Never. Not in name or in memory.

Rafal lifted his glass to his lips and tossed back more of his jewel-toned drink, blood and heat and vigor rushing to the surface of his alabaster skin.

If he had missed anything, every piece of evidence, every last little shred of a reminder would be burnt to the ground, even if it took both castles down with it, he decided right then and there. He would will it to happen.

He set his glass down on a stone tile.

No matter if the taxidermied bats could’ve raked in a tidy profit. He didn’t need material wealth when he had sorcery. The usurper’s mere presence had overstayed its welcome and Rafal intended to do something about it.

He picked up his drink again and downed half of it, swallowing the wine quickly as the rest sloshed onto the floor, glinting a deep ruby in the dim, afternoon light.

He scowled. More mess to clean up.

Rafal squeezed the fine, crystal stem of his wineglass with a vise-like grip. It snapped in two—just like how he would snap Vulcan’s spine in two, if the man ever dared return from the dead.

The glass had splintered under the pressure he’d applied, needly slivers sticking into his fingers, pricking his palm, until his pale hand was dotted with pinpricks of blood.

As always, the blood suctioned itself right in, drawn back by an invisible force, and the pinpricks sealed themselves up.

Rafal tended to cast off pain with ease, like it was just another one of his overcoats. By now, he was numb to little cuts like these, unlike his foolhardy yet absurdly delicate brother.

He scraped himself off the floor, up to his feet again, and staggered over to the last chest.

Then, he thrust the chest’s weighty lid back, and lifted out the first stack of storybooks.

His fingers grazed the gold-foiled title of the first book in the stack.

In a glaring, grandiose script, the tale’s cover read: THE UGLY DUCKLING.

Duckling.

Rafal grimaced as his temper flared, revulsion climbing up his throat. Then, his resolve hardened. He’d vowed to strip this place of Vulcan, and he would.

The other storybooks fell out of his grasp and clattered to the floor, face up at the one still locked in his grasp.

Duckling indeed.

Rafal flipped the front cover of the storybook open and tore out a single page.

The page sailed down and landed at his feet, settling lightly atop the broken display glass and fragments of wineglass.

Then, he grasped a stiff handful of pages, the heavy paper twisting, warping only slightly, and finally bending in on itself as he wrenched it apart from the book’s spine.

The paper’s edges sliced into his hand, drawing blood from cuts that vanished as soon as they appeared.

He let the handful he’d ripped out scatter to the wind.

Some pages flew out the window. Others dropped into the greedy, licking flames of the fireplace, curling in on themselves, blackening, joining the soot.

The rest of the pages, he extracted one by one, methodical in his process, tearing each painstakingly lettered sheet from its seams, which had been sewn together with care, as if he were plucking feathers from a wild fowl to be cooked—now, just a hollow, pageless shell of binding left in his hands.

Without a second thought, Rafal slung the storybook’s empty binding into the bright, steadily burning fire.

It caught on the fireplace’s grate, angled like a broken bird.

Rafal heaved a great sigh of relief. Gone. At last.

Then, fully satisfied with himself, he surveyed his efforts at cleaning up, even if the room looked worse than how it had begun this morning. Still, he cast his gaze over the terrain of reshelved tales, spilt wine, scattered glass and black crystal, and the few, loose pages pinned to the floor, wedged underneath the broken glass, fluttering in the breeze.

Despite everything, he felt accomplished.

It was only when he caught sight of the Pen, suspended and still, that he remembered he wasn’t alone. He was being watched.

Not long before, the Pen had stood, vertically suspended in the air over its lectern, its gleaming metal cool, but now, it scalded hotter and hotter, angrily searing hot as a branding iron. Then, it tilted, tip glowing red like a reproachful eye.

Rafal simply stared back, waiting for the Pen’s response. Yet, it did not move, a fact which puzzled him.

The Pen’s tip brightened to a blinding, radiant, white pinprick, as if it were readying itself to defend its tales from the scourge of Evil it had allowed to take up residence in its tower.

Rafal squinted at the light. What was it up to?

That was when he glimpsed something launching out of the fireplace in his peripheral vision.

The storybook’s binding rocketed out from its resting place, where it had nested in the grate, flying at him like a missile, sizzling through the air, like a shot bird with its flaming wingspan spread, its front and back covers open, its spine cracked.

A corner of the binding struck Rafal square in the eye. Hard.

Only one foggish, halfway lucid thought flashed through Rafal’s mind as he squinched his eyes shut: It was taunting him. Mocking his flight.

His face gnarled in pain as he doubled over before crumpling to the floor like an ungainly egret.

Splayed on the floor, Rafal hissed, clawing at his eye, knocking the smoldering mass away from his face. Then, he drew himself up into a crouch, his torso supported by shaking forearms, his hands pressed against the glass-strewn floor, jagged edges cutting through the fabric of his slacks at the knees and into his palms as he tried to sweep some of the fragments away.

Hell. Just Hell. He should’ve cleaned up sooner.

He supposed he was done with cleaning today, come what may, and that he should get started on the glass.

Yet first, Rafal strained his neck and examined his distorted, many-eyed reflections in the shards beneath him, prodding the skin near his wounded eye. His fingertips came away with bright blood.

A few areas of his face still bled slightly, gradually mending themselves, thin rivulets of blood trickling down his neck, criss-crossing in a fine, thorny latticework, ultimately staining his starched, white shirt collar.

He rose to his feet slowly and latched onto a shelf as he faltered for a moment, attempting to regain his balance. Then, he drew himself fully upright again, as if nothing had happened. And, with one hand still gripping the shelf’s edges, he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, the one, restrictive one that always pressed against the base of his throat, so he could breathe properly and catch his breath.

Rafal sighed in relief. He’d served the absurd, seemingly arbitrary punishment the Pen had dealt him and it was now well over with.

Then, the Storian moved.

His every muscle tensing, Rafal clutched the shelf harder as it creaked under his death grip, his knuckles white as bone. About to bolt for the open window, he realized his legs were stiff and cold, a cramp shooting through his side from his last fall.

Straight as an arrow, the Storian tore through the air toward Rafal, dead set on harming him.

By some miracle, Rafal caught the Pen, letting go of the shelf as he dropped to the floor, not without taking the entire floor-to-ceiling bookcase down with him.

Rafal willed himself not to scream as his eyes widened in horror at a great shadow looming over him, deepening seconds before the crash as vertigo overtook his senses.

Were the pages whirling around him? It couldn’t be bats amid those ink-hatched illustrations. It couldn’t! Not when Vulcan was gone. Not when Vulcan was dead.

As it neared, the bookcase grew larger and larger in Rafal’s sightline, rushing forward rapidly, encroaching on him, almost eclipsing him. Blood roared in his ears and rushed to his head tossed back at a perilous angle, right before he shunted himself back, turning, his back towards the storybooks’ spines, as books fell out at random, several hardcovers hitting his flailing extremities as they poured out and passed him by en route to the floor, one solid thud after another.

The bookcase had narrowly missed his core, but it had trapped his legs, pinning him to the floor, slowly leaching away his vitality as his head swum and his vision dimmed, turning to a feathery blur.

All the bones in Rafal’s legs had shattered upon impact, when he made contact with the stone, bone spearing through his split skin, drenching his pant legs in hot, rapidly clotting blood as he choked aridly on what little spittle he had, too parched to scream, blinking away the blackness at the edges of his vision.

His bones immediately started to knit themselves back together, but refused to heal completely, for, the soul-crushing force of the bookcase still bore down on him, mincing all the unrepaired fragments in his legs.

Leaning on his elbows, Pen still clasped tight his grip, Rafal set his jaw, soldiered through his faintness, and tried to drag himself forward, out from underneath the suffocating weight of history, scraping slowly over the flagstones still littered with glass.

Suppose his bones joined the shards. Then what?

He freed his hips and one of his legs, struggling further, but found he was effectively immobilized for the time being. Only his ankle was caught now, but it would’ve been unwise to dislocate his leg from its socket by yanking it any harder than he was already.

The structure of the shelf collapsed further, the more he struggled beneath it, like a snare closing in on a bird, threatening to cut off its circulation—but if he could just loosen his foot from these damn planks, it…

It was like the Pen wished to teach him a lesson by entombing him, entombing him here, under the weight of every fairy tale he’d ever taught.

Rafal’s face burned.

EVIL SCHOOL MASTER ENCASED AMONG MANUSCRIPTS—he could picture the words emblazoned atop every paper in the Woods, documenting this final humiliation, all the next day’s headlines shouting and blaring in Rhian’s face.

The Evers would pop champagne bottles. His students would dance over his grave��dancing in the chequer’d shade… come forth to play, on a sunshine holiday—how’d that line go? And which tale was it from?

Wrapped in a delirium, he thought of the sprawling tale of Satan’s fall. Demon, chastened and exiled. Hell. What had he gotten himself into? Hell.

At least Rhian would mourn him, he thought grimly, and shook his head, his rage simmering. The boards wouldn’t loosen around his foot!

Rafal swallowed a heaving breath and let it settle in his chest like a stone. There he lay on his bed of glass, still holding the Pen, now hoisting it aloft, over his stone-abraded face, as it glinted in the light, his arms outstretched in a perverse kind of victory, absolutely sloshed and nearly slain, by his own shelf, by his own Pen, by his own hand.

Another thought surfaced suddenly, unbidden: He could lift it all with his sorcery.

But at that thought, the Storian sparked to life.

Hell. That Pen. To Hell with it.

The ancient script running down the side of the Pen glowed and cast shadowy glyphs across the floor, refracted light catching in the glass, piercing Rafal’s eyes, and the strange markings heated, the Pen’s shaft scorching against his palms, causing Rafal to loosen his grip slightly as he tried not to let go.

Yet, the Storian prevailed and wrested itself from Rafal’s grip, slipping out from his fingers with ease, likely readying itself for a second wave.

Gritting his teeth, Rafal steeled himself for action, both hands alit as he at once summoned the last of his magic, drawing from his deepest reserves, from his lifeblood.

Working through his total exhaustion, he managed to lift the bookcase up at a modest tilt, by only a few hairs’ widths—yet that was enough for him to crawl out from underneath it.

He hauled himself up onto his feet again with most of his weight distributed on his better-healed leg, thinking about slaking his thirst, punishment presumed to be over.

Just then, a cool gust of wind blew in, battering the diaphanous, silver curtains Rhian had put up, as if it meant to revive him, and Rafal turned away from the Pen to the window.

That was the moment the Storian chose to attack with a new vengeance, redoubling its efforts against Evil incarnate.

Some unseen force from within the tower flung Rafal across the chamber, casting him onto his side as he skid across the dining table, long limbs catching in the folds of the tablecloth, his obtruding form sending Rhian’s once deftly arranged table settings—now clashing utensils and dishes and glasses—flying before they smashed against the far wall along with Rafal’s skull as he clenched his teeth at the sheer percussive force of the collision.

To wit, it had to be the Pen. What else? Rafal griped. A fairy-tale punishment fit for a fairy-tale villain?

His ears rang with the strident sounds of shattering bone china and clanging metal, ricocheting off the wall as plate shards rained down on him, the whole tumult reverberating like he was trapped in an echo chamber with a cavalcade.

The din resounded as his side throbbed and he kicked blindly at the bonds of tangled tablecloth wound around his legs. Part of the white cloth had settled over his head, draping like a sheet, and he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t see any of the ruins about him, much less sit up.

Finally, he tore the cloth back viciously, reclaiming his sight in a huff. Apparently, a singular knife had skimmed past his heart and had instead lanced through the flaccid fabric of his shirt, burying itself between the stone tiles.

Rafal groaned and turned over rigidly, his shirt tearing around the knife blade as he settled for lying prone, bloodied cheek to the floor, small cuts abound, droplets of blood blooming across his shirt and the tablecloth.

Then, Rafal rolled his eyes back to the ceiling and noticed the Pen hovering above him. He dealt it a withering glare from below, not yet beaten into submission, and reached upwards with tremorous arms to grasp at it.

The Storian appeared to glare back as it flitted out of his reach, darting back and forth archly as if to tease him, rendering all his exertion futile.

That was when the Storian made to invoke a final crescendo to complete Rafal’s torture. It descended on Rafal with an exhilarating swoop as the School Master shielded his eyes, burying his face in his shuddering arms, bracing himself for excruciating pain, fervid blood coursing through him as he tried to propel himself onto his feet and act, but he felt as if he’d sunken into the floor. He couldn’t move!

And the Storian didn’t hold back.

Its nib ripped through the back of his shirt, tip to flesh, sharp as a spindle, glowing with white-hot ire. It then raked over his exposed back, his neck, and the back of his arms.

Eyes watering insanely, Rafal hissed and rasped for breath, abject fury surging through his veins. A strangled gasp left his lips—he wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been choked to death by his own slit throat.

One stroke after another, the Storian lashed across his skin, slashing with a capricious flourish.

He was sure that it intended to flay him alive, and he’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye to Rhian, he thought morosely, head dulling.

These cuts were worse than the time the vampiric, literal blood-sucking, ruby-throated hummingbirds of Akgul had swarmed him. The Never mining kingdom bred them specifically to flit around, slit the throats and tear to shreds the clothes of any passerby who ventured too close to the vaults which were filled to the brim with riches.

Those cuts had been shallow, mere scratches that had closed in a matter of seconds. These lacerations were flesh-deep.

And the Storian didn’t cease moving. Again and again, it slit open his flesh.

Rafal choked out another gasp and pressed himself into the serrated glass and crockery below him as if he could escape the terror above, and shifted onto his side, realizing his mistake immediately as he remembered.

The salt.

The night before, his routine dinner argument with Rhian had culminated in his act of hurling a glass salt shaker at his brother’s swollen head, for being pompous and self-righteous that day.

Naturally, Rhian had become upset last night—not just because he’d been clocked in the head and not just because Rafal had obstinately accused him of being an aesthetic-obsessed egomaniac—but because, of course, this all had happened after Rafal had already swept three dishes onto the floor that selfsame week and broken them.

Smashing the fine china had started to convert itself into a regular dinnertime event, much like an extravagant, exceedingly costly, burlesque sideshow. Predictably, Rhian had insisted that bone china plates were a rank pain to replace. And then, he proclaimed that if this, this breach, this delinquent conduct, continued, he would never dine with Rafal again. In sum, this was his tirade directed towards an unresponsive audience of one, one thick-skulled, unsympathetically glacial brother, all the while dramatically bemoaning Rafal’s dramatic tendencies.

Shortly after, both brothers had refused to clean up, each claiming the mess was the other’s fault, Rafal alleging that Rhian was the source of his provocation, that Rhian drove him up the wall and had thereby caused him to lose the plot—and break his tenuous accord with the Pen since it had last resisted his will over the matter of Aladdin’s placement.

And, the miserable result of these acts was that the salt shaker had cracked open and emptied all its contents—all over the very tract of tower floor Rafal had just rolled over onto. All due to the Pen.

Damn the little devil! Rafal fumed, writhing as his flesh was stuck by glass shards and the spilt salt needled its way into his fresh cuts, aggravating them. And his cuts weren’t healing! Instead they stung. Even the shallower scratches hadn’t closed.

The Storian sliced his front, nearing his throat, as he tried to suppress the feeling in his every nerve, awash with a sense of mounting dread as his own movements repeatedly caused him to be pricked by splinters of glass and the rough, tearing grit of the salt, recurrently entering his open wounds.

Why had he thrown the salt at Rhian when Rhian had simply asked him to pass it?

And now, he was paying for his deed. He’d only compounded this, this agony, and the Storian was making sure he knew it.

How much of an absolute sodding fool he was!

Rafal thrashed further, and spat blood in protest once more at the infernal Pen, choking on nothing but air as his tongue went dry and his voice died in his throat.

His eyes turned bleary and itched. It was as if he could feel his nerves drying out and dying with every passing second as the salt absorbed his blood, the skin around his cuts shriveling, even if the cuts themselves widened, rubbed, and stretched open by the salt and debris, which irritated him like sand would’ve, if not for the chemical burn—the prickling, electric flares of sharp, white-hot pain.

And yet, the corroding burn shocked him awake with a revelation, shearing through his senses that had been suffused with the duller pain’s veil.

What if this torment wasn’t just punishment for desecrating a storybook? It was a petty, Evil act, to be sure. But wasn’t that to be expected from him? Why would the Pen retaliate like this then?

And what if it wasn’t just punishment for vandalizing the Pen’s tower? What if he was expected to apologize to Rhian?

Never. What an indignity that would be, he rejected the idea like a foreign body, then stiffened at his first instinct.

But could apologizing be any worse than where he lay now? Perhaps, he should. If he lived through the Pen’s torment, he probably ought to.

In that instant, his vision whirled, reddening, and his body betrayed him, surrendering to the Pen as he blacked out.

⸻

Rafal’s breath hitched as he returned to consciousness. Had the Pen yielded?

He fought to turn his head as he glanced over at the Pen, watching him from across the chamber at a tilt.

Then, the Storian righted itself, stationed back over its lectern, dormant, as if nothing had befallen its master, once again turning a blind eye to Man’s treachery when doing so suited it, as it always did…

A fairy-tale punishment fit for a fairy-tale villain.

What scraps remained of Rafal’s shredded shirt clung to his lean frame. The fabric was soaked through with blood. He shut his eyes for a moment and inhaled. He’d have to peel it off in the bath, likely.

As he sat up, the muscles in his back twisted, exacerbating the pain of the gashes crossing his back, which still stung, continuing to bleed.

The blood loss wouldn’t be fatal, Rafal knew. But, he wondered whether the Pen would let it go on until he fell unconscious again.

His blood wasn’t clotting regularly and it was all the Pen’s fault, for its magical interference, preventing him from healing any quicker than he usually did.

At this rate, he couldn’t foresee the Pen granting him relief from these wounds—not when it believed he deserved to live so he could suffer. All he could do was staunch the bleeding.

Rafal clambered to his feet for what he hoped would be the last time, stumbling forward before he thrust out his arms to hold onto the edge of Vulcan’s desk and keep himself from falling.

He decided to seek out bandages, or rather, any strip of fabric he could tear, save for the tatters of his grimy, thoroughly bloodstained and oxidized shirt, which looked a rusted brown, far from its former, crisp, white state.

The curtains. The curtains would serve well enough. He hobbled over to them, lit his fingerglow to assist himself, and tore away a strip from the gauzy swaths of fabric, shooting the Pen another glare as he trod, breathless, towards the bathroom.

Once within the bathroom, he planned to run himself an ice-cold bath, but first, he’d run the cuts on his arms under the water for a while, to numb himself, so he could recover a greater range of motion.

No need to undress. His clothes were unsalvageable at this point, and he was certain his brother would agree.

Then, anticipating the reprieve of the biting chill, he bent over to turn on the tap, and did not realize that he’d overcorrected himself, headrush returning, knees buckling, as he pitched forward and slammed face-first into the faucet, passing out.

The bathwater continued to gush and his blood continued to flow forth, mottled bruises already forming across his severe pallor.

Rafal’s body slid partway into the tub, and he awoke minutes later, wracked with a dull ache, half his frame slung over the side of the tub, smeared with blood. His head jolted up, hit by the faucet a second time, as shock permeated his body, which was half-submerged in the frigid, faintly pink water. Not that he could truly sense the cold.

He tried to collect his bearings, but found he didn’t want to move any longer. Nor could he. But he figured he’d wait out the pain, or numb it. Whichever came first.

Albeit, when he sat up, extraneous heat still streamed through his body, radiating outward from his core to his extremities, and he doubted the swelling about his cuts would recede that soon.

Fortunately, he couldn’t catch a fever. He was immune to all illnesses… unless the Pen revoked his immortality. Though, he’d be fine alone. And besides, he had no time to brood.

Rafal stared down at the lacerations lining his forearms. New, youthful skin was already beginning to pave over his cuts, at an imperceptibly slow rate, even if the process hurt like Hell.

To pass the time and staunch the blood, he conjured up strands of gauze bandages that unspooled in midair, allowing them to turn rounds, to twirl and spin before his eyes for an infinitesimal moment before he seized them.

Then, he wound the bandages loosely around his arms, making a poorly-executed, overall hack job of it as his stiff, frozen fingers lacked the dexterity required to tighten them any further.

Well, that would have to suffice for his purposes.

But, no sooner than when he tied the last bandage did he realize the gauze on his other arm had to be replaced since it had leaked through, sopping red once again.

Nevermind.

A copious number of bandages dangled from his outstretched arms as he shuffled back into the main chamber of the tower like one of the undead.

There he sat as the day turned to dusk, stewing silently, tending to the rest of his wounds, awaiting Rhian’s return, applying layer after layer of rapidly reddening gauze.

At last, when he was partly wrapped up, he resembled a dehydrated corpse that would be preserved for the rest of time, forever bound to his duties, like one of the undead, who hadn’t the mind to know when to let go, tugged along by the colorless skein of an immortal life.

He didn’t bother to light a candle.

⸻

As Rhian ambled up the tower staircase, he hummed to himself under his breath and wondered if Rafal had left him any wine. His brother was often a spoilsport and Rhian wouldn’t have been surprised if Rafal had tossed their last bottle.

He took stock of his mental checklist while he continued on his ascent. He’d left Rafal alone for the day, after their tiff last night. Perhaps, Rafal would be ready to apologize. But Rafal was often stubborn, and Rhian suspected he was still sulking.

Brothers. They were such work.

The new furniture he’d ordered from Gillikin would arrive by the School’s shoreside tomorrow, so the place had to be spotless.

Without a doubt, Rafal had finished the spring cleaning by now. And petulantance aside, Rafal never could stand disarray, so surely, he could be trusted with that simple of a task.

Indeed, maybe the Pen really was on his side, and Rhian could check that item off his list now.

He set his foot on the next step, and flinched at a cracking sound.

Rhian peered down at a fragment of glass, cleft in two.

That was odd. Rafal had probably missed a spot when he’d taken out the rubbish, Rhian reasoned, his stomach turning with a twinge of anxiety. Nothing to fret about. Nothing at all.

Rhian knelt down and picked up the shards, stuffing them into one of his jacket pockets. He had to remind Rafal about sweeping up after airing out the place—speaking of which, not one of the windows Rhian had passed had been opened. The air was stale, and it seemed that Rafal had forgotten.

Rhian sighed. He would do it himself later, before his shower. He’d had a long day of curriculum reform as his brother had demanded he add a new section to Surviving Fairy Tales, about distinguishing Good from Evil, because, Rafal had jabbed, even Good’s Master direly needed a refresher when he’d invited the worst kind of Evil into their School.

As he proceeded on his climb, Rhian observed that the stairwell was coated in dust, like it had been beset by a cyclone of some kind.

Now, it wasn’t unlike the Nevers themselves to bathe in dust, but their School Master was definitely above poor sanitary practices, at least regarding himself, if not his renovations. And yet, every surface was saturated with dust, oddly granular dust, that drew blood when Rhian pressed a particle of it between his thumb and forefinger.

Rhian winced at the stinging sensation, knowing his pain would fade soon. Was this glass? He’d told Rafal he didn’t want to compromise their lungs! But Rafal never listened.

Rhian watched as the blood seeped back into his skin, that closed where he’d been pricked. Well… that was a comforting sign. His bond with Rafal was still intact despite last night’s conflict.

He made his way further up the stairs. It was a moonless night and he only had the stars to see by.

Stray storybook pages flapped in the stairwell, and the steps were riddled with more glass dust and drops of blood?

What if they had been besieged by another intruder? Another Vulcan? That would explain the glass. What if Rafal blamed him for allowing an uninvited guest to break in? Had he cast the entry-sealing spell when he’d left their tower that morning? Or had he been preoccupied by, by Storian knows what! He couldn’t remember now.

Heart thrumming, Rhian raced up the remaining stairs in a panic and flattened himself against the wall by the entryway to the tower’s main chamber, to listen.

All he heard was the echo of rustling paper and the cool night wind.

Rhian lit his fingerglow. It burned with warm, pure, golden light, gilding the stones around him. He would vanquish any threat that lay ahead of him. And if Rafal was there, they’d face it together.

Trembling, Rhian swept the presumably monster-clawed, blood-encrusted, silver curtains aside, unsure of what dark horrors he’d be met with in the confines of his own home.

Stepping softly over the threshold, he picked his way into the pitch dark chamber, gold fingerglow illuminating the space, as a scene of total carnage flashed into existence.

Rhian gaped as his eyes flicked across the blood-spattered floor, his light spilling onto it and bouncing back into his eyes. All he saw was pure upheaval. The fire had long since guttered out as it had consumed all of its kindling. An entire bookcase, overturned. Water, pooling out from beneath the bathroom door, circulating along the grooves between the stones. And the tales. They had clearly flown across the room, tossed about erratically, like they’d been subjected to a storm at sea. And—

His gaze landed on a stooped figure with a ragged, irregular breath, shielding its eyes from the sudden flare of harsh light.

Rhian’s breath caught. Was it a Night Crawler? Or some other lethal creature of the night? Some undead thing? He backed up.

Finally, Rhian’s eyes adjusted to the light—was that Rafal?

He squinted down at spikes of snow-white hair, matted with blood, then, eyes widening with recognition, surveyed Rafal’s baffling state of partial undress. Rhian’s distempered brother had propped himself up at the base of the fallen bookcase, and hadn’t risen from where he sat.

Rafal stared up at Rhian in the lit doorway without a word, his eyes hollow and vacant.

“I-I thought you were a monster.”

Rafal’s frown deepened. “Lovely,” he breathed hoarsely. “You’re not the first to think that.” He snuck a brief look at the Pen.

Rhian’s chest flooded with relief. It was only then, after Rafal had spoken, that Rhian’s fears had evaporated. He recognized his brother’s voice and was now certain he was with the living and not one of the undead, some sinister being risen from the grave with the intent of taking over their School.

“Where’s our intruder then? Have you burnt up the corpse?” Rhian wrung his hands, glancing around.

“There is none.”

Rhian paused for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “Then whose blood—” Rhian stopped, unnerved. “Yours? It’s yours?”

Rafal nodded, grim, and began to placidly wrap more bandages around his torso, tightening them with the aid of his sorcery.

With narrowed eyes, Rhian peeked fearfully at his brother’s back and almost passed out in shock. It was all cut up and bleeding, crossed by haphazard strips of overlapping bandages that hung off his arms.

Concerned, Rhian stared at Rafal, haunted by the bloody sight, until he found his voice. “Wh—” He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, trying to quell his nausea. “What happened?”

“The Storian.”

Rhian blinked at his imaginary monster, and gazed warily at the true monster, hard at work, diligently inking in a new tale, once and forever unmasked. It had been the monster all along.

What would they do now? Subdue it somehow? Though, Rafal’s trials were already over…

“Will it heal?” Rhian asked tentatively, wide-eyed.

“What do you think,” Rhian’s monster answered. “I’ll walk it off.”

That was when Rhian registered his brother’s resignation, and knew he should drop the matter altogether. But, he had one final question: “Why did it attack y—”

“Ice. Bring me ice.”

“But—”

“Now,” the Evil School Master cut out caustically. “And not a word about the Pen favoring Good.”

Stunned into dead silence, Rhian scurried away to fetch ice. The most damage always occurred within the shortest window of time.

Yet one fact held true in his mind: Rafal hadn’t learnt his lesson and never would.

⸻

Note:

I’d leap at any feedback you have! Please, if you’re up to it, I’d love to hear your reception of this fic, any thoughts, feelings, reactions, or concrit you have, any at all, especially as this is the most action and the least dialogue I’ve possibly ever written, given the unusual nature of the fic.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m almost always willing to elaborate!

In addition, I’m not of a legal drinking age in my country nor do I have any inclination to drink. So, apologies if there are any inaccuracies regarding the alcohol use. You can certainly let me know what the errors are, if there are any.

Did anyone catch any of the references I made?

In writing this fic, I realized it diverged a lot from my previous ones because it relies more on imagery than dialogue, so I personally had to really push the envelope with it. In fact, this was probably the most difficult fic I’ve written thus far because I think crafting dialogue tends to come to me more easily than action sequences do, and well, this fic is almost all action.

(And I wanted the fic to feel cinematic, as if it were panning over a train wreck or a hazard zone the audience wouldn’t be able to peel their eyes away from. Yeah, I know. It probably sounds strange, that the desired effect I had in mind while writing this was “vehicular collision,” haha.)

Trivia: My use of “Pen” versus “Storian” was very intentional here. For some reason, I just intuitively found that it made some kind of weird sense to call it “the Storian” when it had an active role and “the Pen” when it was an object acted upon or mentioned, with a few exceptions. It just felt right.

⸻

I even wrote a rhyme for the fic:

He gets bruised—he was struck.

He gets burned; he gets cut.

All done by a Pen

While he’d been drained of his luck.

And all befell him while salty and drunk.

⸻

Playlist:

“Fall Away” - twenty one pilots

“21 Guns” - Green Day

“Save You” - Turin Brakes

“Enemy” - Imagine Dragons & JID

[ducky531]

Fun holiday head canons I have of Whitebeard's crew

Yes, I know I said that I wasn't going to worry myself with posting on social media for the rest of the year, buuuuuuuttttttt, I actually have one more thing planned out for here in the way of writing, and I really, REALLY wanted to share the head canons I came up with for the oneshot, so yeah. :3| (Again, these are my head canons/ a mix of massively favored head canons (mostly Marco with shiny things and Thatch with Stefan and giving him scraps (this was actually from the Thatch zine on Itch.io. I'll be crediting the author once I get the chance to), Stefan is the canon dog breed he was stated to be from Oda himself.) Please don't attack me for them. They're just the goofy thoughts that go through my head when I draw/ gush about them, lol.) ___________________

-Stefan is allowed to freely greet guests as he sees fit. In the oneshot I'm writing, he is a Great Pyreness that stands at about waist level with the reader. (He’s classified as a lap dog to Whitebeard, so of course he’s a giant dog to everyone else.) Stefan was also a recent addition, so the reader has never really met him since they parted ways long before. (this also results in Namur having to retrieve multiple guests that fell overboard either running scared from Stefan or being tackled by him-)

-In addition, Thatch is also very strict on not giving scraps to Stefan. Does anyone listen to that?...absolutely not. (And not even he does himself, lol.) Thankfully, the dog has manners enough to wait until he's either given scraps or shooed off, and not jump on the table to get them himself.

-None of the ships actually have a christmas tree- unless one of the crew members have one in their personal rooms. There's too many people aboard to have one without it being in the way. So as a fair trade off, each division is allowed to decorate their vicinity on the ship as they and their division all agree on and see fit. (Kitchen is decorated like gingerbread houses (Thatch), the armory is decorated with nutcrackers and poinsettias (Vista), the main deck is with basic garland and wreath pieces (mostly Whitebeard since he prefers more traditional approaches), Rakuyo’s area is deck out in crystal decorations and tinsel (and the same goes for the infirmary, though Marco swears it was the nurses that came to that decision and not him), etc.)

-In addition, each mast had garland wrapped around it, but have odd mismatched ornaments. (Since having an actual Christmas tree would be too hectic, they settled on using the masts instead. And so far, it’s not been a problem since.) The ornaments are made up of trinkets each crew member found as something that represented them and hung that up. The number of ornaments grows every year with each new member they recruit.

-Blameno was deemed ‘Santa Claus’ for the Moby. Why? Because he can hide things in his pockets. No one would would really dare to rip off a fake beard (especially if there were a few crews that attend the party and had kids. That would be trauma to them ;-;). And truthfully, he doesn’t actually mind it, either. It gives him some leverage to mess with people like Ace (Or Rakuyo and Curiel) who’d most likely try snooping early. He never tells when he hides their gifts in his pockets either, and he certainly gets a riot out of hiding something that would keep prying hands away.

-In addition, Kingdew was also assigned to play an ‘elf’. He doesn’t mind since he basically gets to wander around later with Blamenco after everyone’s gone to bed- or passed out from the party- so no one really sees him unless they wake up. (And he gets to laugh at the fact that Haruta is the one that has to dress up as one during story time for the younger kinds...you already know the sass he gets for the days leading up to the party from Haruta.)

-Involving the story, Blenheim, Jozu, and Haruta manage reading to the younger kids at the party. And yes, every year it switches off between Jozu and Blenheim for who actually reads the story. (Haruta just gets stuck as the elf because- in their words- ‘the shoe fits him perfectly’. )

-Something fun to think about that makes me giggle: Thatch, Jozu, and Ace are the only ones aboard that actually still believe in Santa. This also results in a lot of the reason as to why Jozu is usually one of the few in bed first, Thatch makes sure everything is cleaned up before going to bed himself, and Ace usually tries running around throughout the party to make sure everyone is in high spirits (and usually passes out drinking eggnog or stealing his twelfth sugar cookie for the night, lol-) --------- If you have any others, by all means please comment them or keep them going. I'd love to see what other ideas you guys have, lol.

[tsumusangxl]

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chapter five ʚ [the denial]

pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x f!Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

warnings ʚ Iwa's pov, not checked for mistakes, slight swearing, denial of feelings

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The hum of the city filled Iwa’s ears as he stepped off the train, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. The crisp bite of autumn lingered in the air, sending leaves skittering across the pavement with every gust of wind. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, but there was something comforting about being back in Japan—like slipping on a well-worn hoodie you’d forgotten you owned.

Tonight wasn’t about nostalgia, though. It was about catching up with Mattsun and Makki. Their group chats were always lively, but seeing them in person had become a rare treat over the past few years. Life had pulled them in different directions—work, cities, even countries in Iwa’s case—but somehow, they always found their way back to moments like this.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted the bar, its faint golden glow spilling onto the street. It wasn’t the kind of place they’d have picked in high school—too grown-up, too polished—but it worked. They weren’t kids anymore, after all.

Iwa pushed the door open, the warmth of the room hitting him first, followed by the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. He scanned the booths, searching for familiar faces, until he spotted Mattsun already seated, nursing a beer and scrolling through his phone.

“Early, huh?” Iwa raised an eyebrow as he slid into the booth. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Mattsun?”

Mattsun looked up, his usual lazy grin spreading across his face. “Funny. I could say the same about you. Didn’t expect you to show up on time, Mr. California Dreaming.”

“Guess LA didn’t mess with my sense of punctuality,” Iwa shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

“Makki’s going to have a field day with that one.”

“Speaking of,” Iwa said, glancing toward the door, “where is he?”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and Makki strode in, his usual mischievous energy practically radiating off him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Makki said, plopping down next to Mattsun. “Traffic was terrible. And by traffic, I mean I didn’t feel like leaving my couch until five minutes ago.”

Iwa rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

“And thank God for that,” Makki said with a grin, flagging down a server. “Alright, let’s hear it. Who’s got the most interesting life these days?”

Makki leaned back, stretching his arms out. “Mattsun, let’s start with you. How’s the coffee shop going?”

“Coffee shop?” Iwa raised an eyebrow. “I thought you worked at the funeral home. Did I miss something?”

Mattsun shook his head. “Not anymore.” He took a leisurely sip of his beer. “Miyu and I started talking about opening our own business after college, but we couldn’t make it happen right away.”

“So you worked at the funeral home to save up some money?” Iwa asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Damn, Mattsun. Never saw that coming. Mr. Entrepreneur.”

“Imagine him yelling at the baristas about latte art,” Makki chimed in. “This life already sounds pathetic.”

“Nah,” Mattsun said, waving Makki off. “I’ll leave that to Miyu. I just make sure the money flows and the customers don’t riot when someone screws up their macchiato.”

“Macchiato,” Makki repeated, like the word was foreign to him. “Who even orders that stuff? What happened to plain old coffee?”

“It’s called taste, Makki. Maybe try developing some.”

Iwa laughed, shaking his head. “You two are exactly the same. Anyway, what about you, Makki? Still looking for a job?”

“Hell nah, man,” Makki replied proudly. “I’ve started freelancing. Got some gigs editing videos for mid-tier influencers. It’s not glamorous, but better than being unemployed. Plus, I can work in my pajamas.”

“So… no change from high school, basically,” Mattsun deadpanned.

Makki shrugged. “Hey, I’m happy. Besides, I don’t need to third-wheel you and Miyu anymore.”

Iwa chuckled, leaning forward. “You guys are hopeless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make it as a trainer.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Gym Rat,” Makki teased. “How’s that going? Adjusting to Tokyo life?”

“It’s good. Different, but good,” Iwa said. “I started as a trainer assistant for the Tokyo Great Bears. It’s nothing major, but it’s a foot in the door.”

“Dude, that’s not ‘nothing,’” Mattsun said, looking genuinely impressed. “You’re working for a pro team. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but it’s a grind,” Iwa admitted. “I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m hoping to work my way up in the next few years.”

“You will,” Makki said confidently. “You’ve always been the most determined out of all of us. No doubt you’ll be running the team before long.”

Iwa smirked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll see.”

Makki raised his glass. “Alright, here’s to Mattsun’s coffee empire, my pajama freedom, and Iwa climbing the ranks of pro volleyball.”

They clinked their glasses, a comfortable silence settling over them before Makki’s grin turned mischievous.

“So,” he began, leaning forward, “speaking of volleyball… anyone heard from the old gang?”

Mattsun groaned. “Here we go.”

“What? It’s been ages!” Makki said defensively. “I mean, Kyoutani’s still semi-pro, right? Anyone know if he’s still terrifying his teammates?”

“More like terrifying his opponents,” Iwa said with a smirk. “Last I heard, he’s doing well. Finally found a coach who knows how to handle him.”

“Small miracle,” Mattsun muttered. “What about Kindaichi? Is he still playing?”

“He’s with the Tamaden Elephants,” Iwa said. “Pretty steady career path for him.”

Makki snickered. “Can’t say the same for Watari, though. Did you know he’s working at the Kanagawa Aquarium now?”

“For real?” Mattsun asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he doing there? Dolphin wrangling?”

“Something like that,” Makki said, laughing. “And Yahaba? Last I heard, he’s a sports instructor now.”

“Figures,” Mattsun said with a shrug. “Always had that bossy streak.”

Makki’s grin widened as he leaned forward again. “Alright, last one. Shittykawa. What’s our favorite drama king up to?”

“Still in Argentina, still Oikawa,” Iwa said, shaking his head. “Signed another contract and is as smug as ever.”

“Of course he is,” Mattsun said, laughing. “Bet he sends you highlights of every match he wins.”

“Every. Single. One,” Iwa said with mock exasperation. “And don’t even get me started on the selfies.”

Makki burst out laughing. “Some things never change.”

“Nope,” Iwa said, raising his glass again. “And honestly? I’m okay with that.”

Makki leaned back, swirling his drink with a sly grin. “Alright, enough volleyball talk. Iwa, what’s the deal with you and Y/N?”

Iwa nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mattsun chimed in, smirking. “Makki’s right. You’ve been glued to your phone every time we talk. And don’t think we didn’t notice the notifications lighting up during that chat about Oikawa.”

“Yeah,” Makki added, leaning in dramatically. “Spill. Who is she to you?”

“She’s just a friend,” Iwa said quickly, his tone firm but his ears betraying him with a faint pink hue.

“Oh, it’s definitely not just that,” Mattsun said with a chuckle.

Makki tilted his head, mockingly serious. “A friend, huh? Like the kind of friend you’d drive all the way to Osaka to meet?”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. It had been days since she’d told him about her run-in with Hinata. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that she’d been hurt again, or how badly he wanted to protect her from it all.

“She’s… different, okay? We met through a mutual friend. That’s it,” Iwa said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Different,” Mattsun echoed, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Wow, Makki, did you hear that? She’s different.”

“Totally different,” Makki agreed, nodding solemnly. “Definitely not the kind of girl you’d cross cities for, huh?”

Iwa groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Would you two shut up?”

It wasn’t a lie. She was different. From the first time they talked online, there’d been an ease between them, like they’d known each other for years. When she opened up about her past, about the wreckage Hinata had left behind, something in him had shifted. He wanted to be there for her—not because of romance. Or at least, he told himself it wasn’t about that. It was about trust. Respect.

Mattsun leaned back, crossing his arms. “Alright, fine. We’ll back off. But seriously, man, you’re dodging the question. Is there anything there, or are we imagining things?”

Iwa hesitated, fingers drumming lightly on the table. “She’s been through a lot. I’m just trying to be there for her, that’s all.”

Makki’s teasing grin softened, though the playful edge remained. “That’s sweet, Iwa. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer,” Iwa said, too quickly. “She’s my friend. End of story.”

Because that’s all she could be, right? Anything more would be too messy. Too selfish. She didn’t need complications, not after everything she’d been through. And maybe he didn’t either.

“Right, right,” Mattsun said, exchanging a knowing look with Makki. “Whatever you say.”

Makki grinned, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go—for now. “Alright, but when you need tips on how to confess your undying love, you know where to find us.”

“Or better yet,” Mattsun added, “just let us know when the wedding is so we can book our flights.”

Iwa shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You two are impossible.”

“And you’re terrible at denying things,” Makki said, laughing. “But hey, that’s why we love you.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Iwa found himself distracted. His thoughts circled back to her. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. But whatever feelings he had, they were his to carry alone.

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notes ʚ

ʚ miyu is mattsun's girlfriend since high school

ʚ makki finally found a job but I think it will definitely change in the future

ʚ the career change for mattsun was a random thought

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next ʚ chapter six

previous ʚ chapter four

ʚ masterlist

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taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife

[curlyshepardconfirmed]

You guys know how it says somewhere in the book that hoods typically die young and how pony was aware that the people he surrounded himself with outside of the gang would most likely die before they knew much about the whole world

I keep thinking about the shepards, and while Tim's more likely to die first, he's also smarter than that so it leads me to the conclusion that curlys more than likely going to die first. A botched rumble, gang retaliation, by a soc that goes too far, or a riot in prison once he's not allowed to be sent to the reformatory anymore

Thinking about how Angela would more than likely fall to her grief, drink so much until Tim finds her and can't wake her up.

Thinking about Tim, the oldest of the three, yet the last one left, going to both of their funerals, threatening people for money because by hell if he's not gonna get them gravestones next to each other. Watching both his little Angel and Curly as they're lowered into the ground. The Angel he held in his arms and wrapped in blankets and held her hands when she took her first steps with their mom drunk on the couch talking with a man on the phone who wasn't their father. The little boy he'd sing to sleep and then swear a few years later he never sang anything, that no, Tim can't even sing, who he'd murmur reassurances to as he took care of Curly's wild unruly hair gently and carefully because their father would get too frustrated with it and only hurt him.

No one talks to him for weeks. No rumbles for months. Tim Shepard is not to be messed with, no, not with Curly and Angela in the ground. There are always fresh flowers on their graves. Nobody ever sees when he puts those flowers on their graves, but they all know it's Tim.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

@fadinggalaxysalad

One: Age 7

 Tenya has been best friends forever (agreed upon with a firm handshake after Auntie Himawari read them the riot act when she overheard them wanting to swear on the Styx) with Izuku. Ever since Zizi Hizashi first introduced them when they were babies. Auntie Himawari (Zizi’s older sister who took them in) is Izuku’s Mama’s best friend so Tensei had to introduce his little brother. Everyone says they instantly got along even as toddlers. 

 Tenya loves being friends with Izuku. He does! It’s nice to be able to talk about the monsters they both see, and for someone to understand what it’s like having divinity in their veins. It’s what bound them together and it even is better that they both like heroes and analysis!

 Tenya is just annoyed he’s constantly dragging Izuku out of trouble!

 “Izuku!” Tenya said, grabbing his friend’s hand. It had taken five minutes to find the other boy, even with Grandad’s blessing to always know where he needs to go. “You can’t wander off!” Tenya frowned at his friend who pouted.

 “But Fatgum is fighting Chimera!” Like the actual one!” Izuku whined. 

 “No!” Tenya shook his head. It’s one thing to go look at villain fights, hunting down actual monsters wasn’t safe!

 “But-“

 “Izuku!” Tenya sighed. Izuku pouted more but nodded. 

 “Fine. Where are we?” Izuku looked around. 

 “Three streets from the store we were SUPPOSED to go and pick things up from,” Tenya sighed. At least it wasn’t his first errand. He’d be more upset about messing that up. Auntie Himawari at least understood being later thanks to monsters or Izuku being Izuku. “Come on.”

 “Should I shadow us?” Izuku asked. “Nico taught me a bit last time he visited.”

 “Sure,” Tenya said. Izuku smiled and then the shadows wrapped around them to bring them to the store. 

 At least they wouldn’t take to long this way. 

Two: Age 9

 Tenya wanted to cry as he put his face into his hands. Izuku refused to look at him, face warm as the villain threatened to kill them loudly.

 “This is your fault,” Tenya groaned, interrupting the monologue.

 “I’m sorry,” Izuku said.

 “Every time. Every time Tensei says we should avoid an area because of villains you want to see a fight.” Tenya said. 

 “I’m sorry!” Izuku said. 

 “You have no self preservation! Auntie Himawari is going to lecture you again. And me!”

 “Excuse me?!” The villain holding them hostage said as the hero who was trying to save them looked baffled. “I will kill you two?!” Both children looked at him dead pan.

 “No you won’t.” Izuku said before he stomped his foot. A piece of shadow darkened and a skeleton hand exited, the groaning voice of the undead coming from it. Izuku smiled as the villain stepped back, eyes widening upon seeing the horror exiting the portal. 

 Tenya put his face back into his hands. 

 They were going to be in so much trouble.

Three: Age 11

 “Izuku?” Tenya called out as he entered the alley. His friend didn’t answer, the son of Hades curled up into a little ball by a dumpster. Tenya moved closer and froze. Around Izuku was the destroyed remains of his notebook and homework. The green haired boy looked up with tear filled eyes, the word ‘VILLAIN’ written on his forehead in marker. “Izuku!” 

 “Tenya-“ Izuku’s voice croaked before they were hugging. Izuku buried his face into Tenya’s shoulder, crying. Tenya put his face into his friend’s hair, holding him tightly. 

 “I’m here Izuku. I’m here.” Tenya said softly. “I’m here.”

 (Later, Tenya would punch Bakugou Katsuki in the face. Later the Midoriya family would attempt to file a restraining order on the Bakugou family for not controlling their son when the boy showed up at their door yelling about ‘lying Deku’. They would be denied due to Izuku’s Quirk. Later Tenya would have Izuku join him at his school. Later when Midoriya Hisashi was finally arrested Inko could leave and get a new place to have her son safe. Later Izuku would confess his thoughts while he’d sat in that alley. 

 But right then, they just hugged.)

Four: Age 14

 “Izuku!” Tenya shouted, racing down the streets. Gods damn it, why did his friend need to be so damn imuplsive. Sure, stand to close to the number one hero and get dragged into the air! Real smart. More so when for some reason Tenya’s internal GPS glitched or something because he couldn’t find Izuku!

 The sound of explosions had Tenya changing course. That a hundred percent meant a villain fight. Meaning Izuku would be there. 

 And he was, looking darkly pleased. Tenya glanced to see the fight and had to withhold his own smirk. Seeing Bakugou struggling was a pleasant image. But…

 “Watch your grudge,” Tenya told the boy, nudging him. Izuku sighed.

 “I know. I’m going to offer help to Mt Lady.” Izuku said, jogging over.

 “Grudge?” a thin blonde man asked, obviously overhearing.

 “Izuku, my friend, has a history with that… boy.” Tenya sniffed. “He’s a bully and a ruthless brat, hating Izuku because his Quirk is ‘scary’ apparently.” They both looked to Izuku who was talking to Mt Lady, the woman nodding after a moment. A dark portal opened up near the slime villain and a skeleton warrior stepped out with a groan as Mt Lady reached through a similar portal Izuku opened up in front of them to grab Bakugou. 

 “... the portals or the skeleton?” the man asked.

 “Izuku can animate the dead. The portals are a side effect he can use. I don’t know why he summons them like that,” Tenya lied a little. ‘He’s a son of Hades’ was just a conversation he didn’t want to get into. 

 “Interesting… sadly I can see why someone may be… troubled by this but bullying?” The man shook his head. “It is a good Quirk for a hero. Armies ready to fight and portals to move swiftly.”

 “Thank you. Izuku doesn’t often hear that.” Tenya wished he did, wished his friend could see himself as amazing. But years of bullying did that. Coupled with Kaminari… Izuku’s cousin was a son of Zeus and the two had some epic rows about things. Kaminari wasn’t a bad person, but he certainly was a pain to Izuku. The boy got a bit better when he was confronted with how different people treated Izuku for his connection to death, having assumed for so long that everyone treated the Big Three kids like they treated Kaminari. But the damage was done.

 Tenya smiled at Izuku who was speaking to Mt Lady after they had freed Bakugou, the blonde screaming something that had the heroine scold him. His friend would be a fantastic hero.

Five: Age 15

 Tenya ran through the streets of Hosu, his heart pounding in his chest as his GPS told him where to go. Many would assume he was hunting Stain. He wasn’t, no. He was hunting for Izuku who had gone with Native for his work study. Native was a demigod as well, a death god even though Tenya didn’t know whom. While the Greeks and Romans liked to brag, other Pantheons kept quiet. Yet the death gods got along enough Izuku had been happy to work with the man. 

 Now though, Tenya only felt fear. Izuku was missing, Hosu was on fire and the last time anyone saw Stain he’d been in the city. Stain who someone caught ranting about proper heroes. Stain who had attacked Tensei, who only through the help of nectar could walk. 

 A skeleton was thrown in front of Tenya and he came to a halt, eyes wide seeing Stain follow as Izuku and Native came out of the alley with snarls. The dead were rising around them and oh, seeing this was… well it was…

 Tenya swallowed. Ah, that’s why Tensei was laughing at him yesterday.

+1: Age 15

 “You’re the one dating him,” Uraraka said to Tenya who sighed.

 “I am,” Tenya watched the screen as they replayed, again, the giant skeleton army sent after Overhaul when Izuku finally snapped. “They probably let him wander off alone.” 

 “Who let who?” asked a voice, and Izuku entered the room with Eri in his arms. The daughter of Persephone was cuddling her stepbrother sleepily, the tiny girl burying her face into his neck. “Zizi said she wouldn’t sleep,” Izuku told them, sitting on the couch to press a kiss to Tenya’s cheek. 

 “You wander off and suddenly a criminal organization is destroyed,” Uraraka teased. 

 “He’s been wandering off for years,” Tenya said in jest. Izuku shrugged, not looking apologetic as he leaned against his best friend, now boyfriend. 

 Tenya would always find him.

[kyberrebel]

Things that went through my mind during The Acolyte episode 5

I love how Osha cares about Pip more than any of the Jedi she came with. I honestly don’t blame her, Pip is adorable.

Damn, Darth Teeth really doesn’t mess around. But if he kills Yord or Sol I AM RIOTING.

Ooo, a Jedi-kabob!

I wonder if Osha remembers how to fight with a lightsaber.

This is a stupid nitpick, but Sol having a blue lightsaber just feels wrong. I feel a green saber would fit him way better.

“I sense something familiar.” So did Darth Teeth used to be a Jedi? 

I’m actually enjoying the fight between Jecki and Mae way more than the lightsaber fight. Because honestly, the lightsaber fight was cool, but way too short.

Okay, never mind, Darth Teeth vs Sol and Jecki is even cooler.

WHAT

DID THEY- 

JECKI!?!?!?!?

Okay, I’m pissed.

I’m so pissed.

I was right about Qimir being Darth Teeth but I don’t even care because of how pissed I am.

Oh so he IS a Sith. Interesting. I wonder who trained him then?

I know this is the wrong time but Qimir with the slicked back hair and a sleeveless outfit looks really good. 

I can fix him, I swear.

NEVER MIND NO NO NO NO I CANNOT WILL NOT

NO

NO

HE DID NOT JUST KILL YORD

HE DID NOT!!!!

*Takes a deep breath and continues the episode.*

“I’ve accepted my darkness. What have you done with yours?” Okay, that line goes hard.

Speaking of, I’m surprised that they revealed who Darth Teeth is before they revealed the rest of what happened the night of the fire and when the witches died.

Using Pip to get the creatures to attack Qimir was such a good idea.

But also RIP Pip now???? Why is everyone dying in this episode?

Mae telling Osha the Jedi turned her against her reminds me so much of Anakin telling Obi-Wan he turned Padme against him in ROTS. 

The twins hugging each other is such a sweet moment in an otherwise not sweet episode.

Mae cutting her hair I’m guessing is her trying to look like Osha. I’m guessing she is going to take her place to get close to and kill Sol and/or other Jedi.

And now the real Osha is with Qimir. Great.

Despite the obvious things that pissed me off this episode, I thought it was really good. I think it’s honestly my favorite episode since episode one.

There’s way more tension added to the show when you realize that no one is safe.

And I think that killing all the Jedi except Sol makes sense, if my predictions are accurate. I think that the Jedi or someone else will cover up the fact that Qimir is a Sith, and the rest of the Jedi Order will never know about him. 

I’m guessing the show will end with Qimir dying. I’m guessing Mae will die too, but I’m not as confident. I feel Sol could go either way, but I’m pretty sure Osha will live, but maybe go into some kind of exile (that Sol might go into too if he lives). That way, everyone who knows about the events of the show will either be dead, or far away from everyone to never tell the rest of the Jedi Order what happened.

[tkpuke]

IM ALSO OBSESSED W TIMEBOMB AND THERE ARE BASICALLY NO TICKLE CONTENT SOOO

my personals headcanons or thoughts on them(mostly alternative universe version)😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

> They had soo much tickle fights during the childhood!! (I rewatched “enemy” animation by riot and there was a moment at the start when Ekko scared Powder by grabbing her when she didn’t expect and she was so 😨 and he just started laughing and IT WAS SO CUTE AHHGGG *dies*)

> Vi was ruthless to Ekko, she just headlocked him and that’s it.. he’s dead;; he also wanted to look all cool and in front of Powder, but then she saw him getting totally wrecked by her older sis and it was how she found out. Or I’d say since they grew up together they had these fights all the time.

> Ekko was really embarrassed by his sensitivity but Powder found it adorable since he was so 🥺🥺🥺

> In another universe they spend countless nights burning incense, drinking cider, listening and dancing to music and having tickle fights at Powder’s place while being tipsy

> Powder’s laugh is very contagious and he just can’t stop smiling when he hears it😭 and it doesn’t matter if it was a tickle fight or a dumb joke mid conversation, he’ll recognise it anywhere

> Her worse spots are just her upper body and behing knees which makes her just freeze and take it, his are NECK (imagine petting a cat under the neck but it’s actually Ekko and instead of purring he chuckled) and just some basic spots but also has ticklish calves

> They are so AAAAAAAAAAA

(also)

> I can see Ekko getting wrecked by the kids in their firelights camp. Because he literally like adopted them😭 best big bro I swear

AAA THANK U FOR BLESSING US WITH UR TIMEBOMB TK HEADCANNONS 🤲🏻

first off, YES they definitely had a bunch of tickle fights when they were younger. Mostly Ekko being a little shit and messing with Powder 24/7, but who says she never got her revenge on him? I like to believe Ekko is slightly more ticklish than Powder and he never hears the end of it from his friends.

Vi definitely plays a little rough with all of them when they were all younger. Her finding out Ekko is ticklish in the midst of rough-housing with him made everything even worse for poor Ekko. She never lets him live it down, always tickling him until he surrenders whenever they play fight or just gives him a poke to the side when walking past him. Y’know, cause Vi is a little shit. Powder never teases him for it though, cause she’s often on the receiving end as well 😭

Sigghhh, in another universe they are happy 😔 I would pay to see a season of just solely Ekko and Powder on what could’ve been if things didn’t turn out the way it did. I think we ALL would pay to see that.

Powder has the cutest laugh EVER. It sounds kind of raspy at times and it’ll crack here and there when a really ticklish spot is being targeted or she finds something very funny. Ekko adores her laugh. He adores everything about her, how could he not? He always tries to hear her AT LEAST giggle once a day. He makes it his mission.

Oh goodness HER KNEES don’t be surprised if she accidentally kicks the living shit out of your face when u attack her there. Ekko can confirm that does happen because he’s a victim of it himself 😔 and omg ur so right about Ekko’s neck. Powder sometimes will pretend to give him a neck massage when he looks like he needs it from her, but really it’s just an excuse to get him giggling adorably.

IMISSTHEM I LOVE THEM SO MUCH UGH I CAN TALK ABT THEM FOREVERRRR