#one of these days I’ll read more comics with him in them but until then

[teethbomb]

mob psycho(logical horror) 100

[carlsangel]

an ultimatum (g.i.t.w, ch.4)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings: none

masterlist here!

other chapters here!

“An ultimatum? Are you kidding? Seriously, what do you think this is?” You almost shout at him in a whisper, making sure not to draw the attention of the horde into your direction. You were angry, he stole your gun and was basically holding it hostage. Meanwhile his entire community was at risk, but also he put himself in danger to come get you. Even though your answer would be no. “This is life or death.” He explains, but you knew that already. “Yeah no shit. So go home.” You turn to leave, but he grabs you before you can go. “I’m not leaving unless you come with me.” He says quietly.

Something tells you he won’t let this go. “You don’t have to stay, just until the horde is dealt with.” He’s getting seemingly more convincing and you’re trying your hardest to oppose. It’s not like it’s the worst deal in the world, you’d get real shelter and maybe a real shower…and food and everything else. But there’s a large possibility you’d lose it all.

Right now you have nothing left to lose. You don’t want that risk again.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the groans of the dead, snapping you out of it and you turn to see there’s a large number of walkers coming your way. You had limited time and had to make your decision now. A life of luxury in the world you live in, or putting yourself at risk of another heartbreak. But, he had your rifle. All your thoughts conflicted each other and they began to get closer and closer. “We need to go. Right now.” He turns to leave but you almost freeze. He’s able to snap you out of it. “Cmon.” He says with urgency.

You both start to move to the back wall where there’s a large crate, allowing you to hop the fence easier as long as you’re boosted. He does his best to help boost you and you steady yourself against one of the support beams to pull him up after. So you’d escape the dead again, but this time you were in Alexandria. You saw people walking around, it felt somewhat unreal that you were actually there.

It’s like you’d been walking on a movie set almost. It was morning so people were walking around like everything was completely normal. You watched Rick give his speech the other day, he’d told them to act as normal as possible with just some precautions. You felt so out of place, although you were excited to see the insides of the mansions these people had been living in. Carl mentioned how unreal it felt at first. He leads you over to his house and you step inside, the unfamiliar aroma you’d only smell when around Carl flooded your nose. It almost brought you comfort, the thought scared you a little.

He led you through the house and you look around and how open the space was. “I’ll go get your rifle, it’s in the armory. Just stay here and um…you can go to up my room if you want. You’ll be able to tell it’s mine.” He nods at you and makes his way out the back door which is near the stairs. You take note of that and head up the stairs. You go down the hall and look through the rooms, one with a larger bed and another with a crib. At the way end was his room with posters on the walls that weren’t picked out by him but a small pile of comics on the bed. You sit in there and you think for a while.

Is this what you wanted?

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

You wait on his bed, reading whatever comic it was that was there when he later comes back. He looks around to spot you and he just stares at you for a moment, not quite saying anything. He just likes having you inside the walls, it’s almost like it’s a relief he doesn’t have to worry about you anymore. You’re right in front of him, and nothing bad could happen to you.

Meanwhile in your head all you can think about is your rifle in his hands. You basically shot up to grab it from him. You look at it, inspect it rather and pull back the slide which is no longer jammed. “When did you fix it?” You ask putting the strap over your head to lay the rifle on your back. “The day you gave it to me.” He sort of shifts his weight awkwardly and you stare at him. He knows he’s in for it.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You almost laugh, you’re amused by it shockingly which gives him the impression he’s able to as well. “I needed an excuse to find you again.” He tells you. “I know you don’t like the attachment thing. But that’s not…it’s not living. Yeah you’re alive…but you’re not living.” He looks at you so intently. You almost feel bad for everything. Plus everything you’re going to do in the future.

You nod silently. He smiles as he feels like he’d finally gotten through to you. He then realizes he’d been a terrible host. “Oh, I should have clothes for you. I know you didn’t want to stay here long but I should take care of you while you’re here, right?” He laughs softly and drags you back down the hall to the bathroom. “Oh it’s fine, you really don’t have to-” He cuts you off. “I’ll be back.” So, he leaves downstairs to the laundry room. He’s quite ecstatic, he’d finally convinced you to stay and give him a chance.

He closes the lid of the drying machine and walks back up. Once he returns to the bathroom, you aren’t there. Instead you’re back outside. You find bolts stuck in a fragment of the wall and you climb up the way you entered. You plop down onto the floors to find that the walkers from earlier had cleared. So you make your way to the east wall.

Carl was back at home relatively heart broken. He was happy to take care of you, he wanted to treat you well after you went through years of being put through the worst pain one could imagine.

And you ditched him.

You didn’t want to. If anything you would’ve loved to stay, but it began to hit you and it almost freaked you out. You believed if you loved him too; if you cared about him, he’d die. It’d happened to everyone else. He just didn’t understand that. There was no way for you to explain it without sounding irrational. He wanted to understand you. That’s all he wanted from the beginning.

So he searches the house for you. Then starts his way to walk through Alexandria to see if you’d gone somewhere else.

It wasn’t until you were nearing the edge of Alexandria again when you heard a loud creak, then a crash. You’re more east of Alexandria’s gates, but you climb a tree to see what you expected to happen. What always happens.

The old church near the gates had fallen over the wall, destroying it and allowing hundreds of walkers to flood in. You settled on a branch steadily and pulled your rifle up to your eye, looking through the scope for the person you’d unfortunately cared for the most.

You spot him in a heartbeat.

a/n: hey guys do u like my new user >_<

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

Pt. II

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: language! patching up an open wound, mentions of blood, wound descriptions, fluff OOOO, also angst because he knows you don’t like HIM, kinda proofread but idk..

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until Kick-Ass has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: 3.1K

gif not mine!!!

A/N: Low key insane this is the first fic I write that isn’t smut ☠️ also sorry for posting this a day late mb…

———————

“Dammit,” You spoke as you quickly lifted your water bottle up from your desk. It had spilled all over your research papers and ruined some of the fresh ink.

“Fuck.”

You had already spent a little over an hour trying to get your information together and you needed a break. Grabbing your headphones, you made your way to the little sofa you had sitting by your window and took out a comic.

It was rare, but it didn’t take long for you to get bored, you had read this specific issue many times. The music made it that much more boring and you were getting restless. Cracking your window open just a bit, you heard the soft chirps of the birds and crickets outside, feeling some of the cool breeze enter into your room. The sun was set and there was still some twilight left over the New York skyline. You lived a few blocks from Dave, getting a decent view of the city although it was blocked by a tree near your window.

Soon after you had opened your window, you felt yourself getting drowsy, that breeze and the sounds of the night settling in almost made you doze off.

The state you were in wasn’t fully conscious, but you weren’t quite asleep either. You heard a faint sound outside your window, like some big bird just fell onto your roof. You tried to ignore it and relax, but soon you began hearing faint taps at your window.

How odd.

Your eyes slowly opened, allowing your pupils to adjust to the soft fluorescent light.

“Please,” You heard someone whisper, in that moment your eyes shot open and you jumped out of your chair, turning to your window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You almost yelled, keeping it quiet enough not to alarm your parents. Kick-Ass.

“You said I could—“ he groaned quietly, wincing.

“You said I could stop by if I needed something,” he sighed.

“What?” You questioned, confused at first until you noticed one of his gloves covered in blood, clutching his side.

“Please, you said…” He paused to take a breath, “Your mom’s a nurse, right? I—I can’t go to the cops or the hospital.”

“Well—I mean yeah, she’s a nurse, but… If she helps you she’s gonna end up telling someone.”

He only stood there and waited.

“I can patch you up myself,” You swiftly moved forward to open the window, allowing the boy into your room.

“Agh, fuck—” He groaned, you helped him walk over to your bed.

“Hold on,”

Setting a towel on your bed, you motioned for him to sit down, grabbing his batons from his back and setting them to the side. You ran to your closet to grab a cloth or anything similar.

“Here, put this on there with pressure, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him an old shirt and left your room to find a med kit your mom had somewhere downstairs.

He noticed the shirt you gave him and smiled softly. It was an old shirt you had matched with him, well, Dave, in middle school. It was really oversized when you got it, so it still fit. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown it away. It was a Robin shirt, himself owning the Batman one. He remembered how much you loved Robin.

Kick-Ass sighed as he waited for you, holding the shirt to his wound with as much pressure as he could to stop the bleeding.

“Okay,” you spoke out of breath, closing your door and locking it.

“Um…” You looked at him awkwardly, and he waited for you to continue. Clearly in pain.

“I’m gonna need you to take your suit off.” You informed, it was only necessary.

“Okay…” he hesitated, “I can’t really take the suit off...by myself,” he breathed. You could tell that speaking was quite the chore.

You moved towards him, helping him take his gloves off one at a time as either of his hands held the cloth to his wound. Sitting behind him, you unzipped his suit, pushing it off each one of his shoulders.

Woah.

His back was very well defined and it took everything in you not to graze your fingers along his muscles. He felt this, trying to hold in a smile.

“You’re gonna have to let go for a second, okay?” You warned him. Kick-Ass let go of the cloth on his cut, clenching his teeth as you pulled his suit down to his hips. The blood caused it to stick to the wound, it seemed to burn as you peeled it off.

“Shit,” He sighed in pain, taking a deep breath as you soaked a small towel in a little bowl of soap water. He frowned as you brought it up to the gash on his side.

“This is really gonna sting, so you should use something to bite on.” You handed him the cleaner glove and as soon as he bit down onto it, you began dabbing the cloth onto his injury.

He let out a significantly loud groan through the glove and tears welled up in his eyes, his breathing quickened due to the sharp, stinging pain of the soap seeping into his wound. He was seeing stars.

“Okay, we’re done.” You spoke, turning back to the med kit to take out a gauze pad. “This cut is too big to heal on its own, I’m gonna have to stitch it up…” You looked at him to make sure he was okay with it. He only nodded. You continued to dab at his skin to remove all the blood around the slash to see it clearly. It was a cut right above the chiseled area of his iliac furrow, a few inches to the left of an already healed scar that seemed to appear like another stab wound.

“You okay?” You asked him, just to make sure. He nodded once more, removing the glove from his mouth and smiling weakly as you grabbed a needle and suture. You noticed he had a pretty nasty cut on his lip, and his eye was starting to bruise.

“This one’s gonna hurt even more, right?” He joked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you ready?”

Kick-Ass clenched his jaw, locking eyes with you for a moment, “Yeah,” he grunted, keeping his eyes glued to yours.

You pierced through his skin and his back straightened. Choking out an agony-filled moan, he threw his head back, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Your eyes widened looking up at him.

“If my parents hear you, it’s over.” You whispered and he nodded, chewing on his lip.

Continuing the process of piecing him together, he kept whining about how much it stung even with his fucked up nerve endings.

“Of course it’s gonna hurt, dipshit! How the fuck did this happen to you anyway?” You questioned.

“Oh y’know, some muggers with a knife. Guess they were serious about taking that lady’s bag.” He chuckled.

As you drove the needle through him one last time, he inhaled a sharp breath, gripping into your sheets for his life.

It was quiet for the moment in which you cleaned up, putting everything away and leaving out some bandages to put on him.

You could feel his gaze on you, but goodness, were you scared to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you looked, you’d wanna lean in and kiss him.

“Thank you,” He said, watching you intently as you got up to take the med kit back.

“No problem, Kick-Ass,” you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Your smile was super pretty and holy hell was this mask giving him confidence.

“I’m gonna go put this back, the bathroom’s right outside my door to the left, incase you wanna wash your face or something.” You made your way to your door and left it slightly ajar, so that no one would hear it open while you were downstairs.

Kick-Ass slowly limped into your bathroom, finally taking off his mask after closing the door. His face was covered in blood, so much more happened than some muggers with a knife. Frank D’Amico’s men had tried beating him senseless, but he oh so fortunately got away due to a patrol car nearing the area. Yes, he had made sure no one followed him to your home. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason some fucked up kingpin tried to hurt you.

He washed his face as best he could without getting any blood anywhere, his left eye beginning to grow a soft red color.

You knocked softly on the door, “Hey, just come back to my room when you’re done. My parents are watching TV so you should be good.”

“Thanks.” He answered, staring at the door.

Guilt began to overcome him. He was lying to you, not only in keeping his identity from you, but in making up some bullshit about getting jumped by some "muggers."

He wanted to tell you it was him, but he found the thought embarrassing, maybe you would call him pathetic for this whole Kick-Ass thing, even the thought of coming to you when he had no one else was enough to make him cringe. He would rather get stitched up without anesthesia again than have you react badly and get angry at him for lying to you.

Sitting at your desk waiting for him, you finally heard the bathroom light shut off, the door just then clicking open. He limped into your room and you quickly ran to help him sit on the edge of your bed.

You grabbed the gauze, pausing and taking a look at him for a second. Goodness gracious, he was an Adonis of a man. He had really well toned arms, his abdominal muscles very defined as well. He was quite the specimen. And his eyes. The way he looked up at you, like some lost puppy, it made you melt.

“Um, just lift your arms up a bit,” You cleared your throat, embarrassed of the way you were thinking in such a moment.

He lifted his arms and you put the gauze over his now closed wound, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around his waist.

“Hold this here,” you told him as you knelt in front of him. Pulling the white fabric around his side, you had to move closer to him in order to reach for it with your other hand behind his back.

You tried focusing on what you were doing, but he kept staring holes into your head. His hand twitched, wanting to brush a stray hair from your face to see it clearly but he held back.

After wrapping the bandage around his waist a few times, you used some medical tape to keep it in place.

“Alright, I’m almost done.” you spoke, finishing up.

Kick-Ass spoke your name with a light tone. This startled you and you looked up at him to see what he was going to say. He only looked at you, glancing at your lips before looking away and it caused your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“Thank you...” He finally moved his eyes to meet yours, a look of guilt upon whatever you could see of his face.

“I’m really sorry…” He frowned, looking at the ground next to you.

“It’s not your fault, Kick-Ass,” you reassured him without even knowing what he was talking about.

He shook his head as if he was about to speak but the two of you could only watch each other those following moments, your faces moving closer together like magnets. You didn't know why it felt so right in the moment, but you quickly leaned up and kissed him.

He slightly jumped but immediately kissed back. His lips were so plush and smooth, they felt like clouds. And he kissed you like no other boy had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with emotion, he didn’t just kiss you for the sake of kissing. Even if he wasn't the best at it.

The fabric of his mask brushed against your chin as he tilted his head to the side, moving himself closer to you. You felt like he was going to pull away because you were already starting to feel the need to breathe, but he kept kissing you.

Resting your hand on his chest, you felt his heart beating rapidly under your palm. You stood up, causing him to have to lean upwards in order to keep his lips attached to yours, but the movement caused him pain, making him release a grunt and quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” you apologized, referring to the kiss and the wound. He stared at you in utter surprise.

From now on, Dave knew he would look at you in a different light. Why’d you even kiss him? And what gave him such a desperate urge to keep his own lips connected to yours?

He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's okay..." He replied softly.

“I shouldn't have done that, right...? I—It won't happen again—“ You rambled, suddenly cutting yourself off and picking up the empty packaging of the bandages to throw them away and keep yourself busy.

Kick-Ass watched you pick things up with his jaw hanging, still trying to process the kiss and why he... Enjoyed it?

“You can do it again, if you want.” He mentally screamed at himself, why the fuck would he say that!?

You whipped your head around and stared at him from across the room, your face heating up like the Titanic's boiler room.

"I haven’t kissed anyone since like… sixth grade, so…" He chuckled.

Hiding a smile, "Yeah…that was kind of obvious." you spoke, scrunching your nose.

"Sorry." He looked away while giggling at how pathetic it was.

“It’s okay…” you smiled.

You sat next to him. "Everyone needs practice…” You said suggestively.

Turning to look at him, you saw that he was already gaping at you.

"Yeah..." He kept his eyes on yours this time. The reason he was so afraid to do so before was because he felt vulnerable, like you’d know it was him just by his eyes or something.

“So…” you began, “can I kiss you..?”

“Yes—“ he replied a little too quick for his own comfort. “I mean…Yeah.”

You placed your hand on the side of his neck and moved your head closer to his. You noticed him watching your mouth as it neared his, the palm of his hand coming to press against your lower back as you finally connected your lips.

He kissed you softly, innocently, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away if he kissed you any differently.

Moving one of your hands to rest on the back of his neck, you slipped your fingers under his mask, feeling a bit of his soft curls.

You just wanted to kiss him, missing the feeling of someone's mouth on your own. He felt the same, he didn’t feel judged on the fact he was kind of a shitty kisser.

The two of you sat there for a minute, his calloused hands moving from your waist to the sides of your face, the tips of his fingers playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he breathed, mumbling against your mouth.

“Mm-“ You made a sound of confusion.

You began to realize why he had said it as he brought his hand up to the hem of his mask and began tugging it upward. Quickly pulling away, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t do that…” You watched him, slightly alarmed.

His heart dropped, “Why not…?” he spoke, uneasy.

He couldn’t lie to you. Yeah sometimes he hated your guts and wanted you to just shut the fuck up, but today was a completely different story. He changed in the way he saw you. With everything that had just happened in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t lie to you.

“What if I tell someone? How can you trust me if you barely even know me…?”

But he did know you. He knew you enough to trust you, and that there was no way in hell you would ever tell anyone a secret entrusted to you. But he didn’t want to argue with you. Not as Kick-Ass.

“Fine. Sorry...” He apologized.

"You should probably get home... It's kind of late." You suggested looking at your hands as you fidgeted.

“Yeah,” He stood up, grunting as he pulled his arms through his suit to put it back on. “Could you…” He was nodding at you, referring to the back of his suit where the zipper was.

You pulled the slider along the teeth of the zipper, enclosing him completely in his suit.

He turned around to face you “Thanks…” He watched you for a moment. “For patching me up… And stuff…”

You chuckled, “No problem.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomor—or uhh, whenever I need you again—or whenever you need me,” He stammered, realizing what position he’d almost put himself in. “I’ll just see you.” He chuckled, swallowing hard as he grabbed his gloves and batons and turned to your window.

“Will you be okay to get home?” You watched as he limped by your window. “I could walk with you… Until we get to your neighborhood or whatever.”

“Uh—No, it's like a 10 minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” He smiled softly, beginning to climb through your window as he held his side.

You thought about that. There were no other neighborhoods within ten minutes of walking, so he had to live here. That means he had to go to your school. And that means you have to know him if he said he was your age. Holy shit.

“Kick-Ass?” You rested your palms on your windowsill as he crouched down to look at you from your roof.

“Do you go to Fillmore?”

He paused, staring at you like he’d just been caught.

You felt your hands getting clammy.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again.

“Do I know you…?”

He stayed silent. All you could do was take it as a yes.

“Weren’t you just getting mad at me for wanting to take my mask off?” He shot back.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You looked down. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.” You pursed your lips.

He smiled back softly and made his way off your roof and out of your view.

You sat back down to finish your homework, somehow taking three times as long because the only thing on your mind was those beautiful blue eyes of his. And who else in your school had them.

———————

Thank you for reading!! x

[randomsufff]

HEHAHBFKI More South Park doodles I think I’m going insane.

Actually this is kind of the product of me being liking South Park way back in high school but was too embarrassed to draw them when I was bored in class and now it’s all kinda flooding back 💀

Read below if you want to know more about my New Kid and my thoughts behind some of the doodles cause this turned out longer then I though 💀

Anyways- introducing my New Kid. No name cause I literally have no idea. Whatever the cannon name is ig- though I’d think it’d be funny if she was referred to New Kid by literally everyone like in game. I like the idea that a lot of people have with their New Kids that they liked the makeover section with the girls during the Stick of Truth a little too much. I also like it cause… uh… I didn’t play Stick of Truth. (The combat system is not my cup of tea) So it’s not until the start of TFBW does she know shes really a girl.

To give context to the top right drawing- I couldn’t remember the dialogue Wendy says in the alleyway if you say you’re a trans girl- but I do know what she says if your a cis girl (I always knew you were a girl) cause I did a second play through as a cis girl. And I don’t know if there’s supposed to be a huge time jump between the end of Stick of Truth and TFBW but I think it would be funny if it was just the next day- so combine these two fact to get “Wendy always clocked New Kid as a girl but NK just found out yesterday 💀”

Anyways- she’s such a cutie, I love her and her cool superhero outfit I gave her. Outside of the game- I’d like to think of her basically exactly how she acts in game. Mostly non-verbal, with the occasional zingy one liner, and just kinda goes along with the crazy shit the happens in South Park un phased. Like if she was in a episode- the plot would happen and she would be on screen, but wouldn’t say anything, and anytime another character would address her, they’d respond however as if she spoke lmao. Aroace, just like me, so she’s just friends with everyone (except Cartman) and vibes with everyone.

The mini Style comic I though of cause 1) I wondered if Kyle had the same elf ears as the other elfs did in game (again, never played and it’s been a while since I saw gameplay so whoops if it’s confirmed or whatever) and 2) I thought it would be funny if Stan was caught lacking and tried to /rp his way out of it (I wanted to add an extra bit where Kyle would be like “Oh, are our characters gay for each other??? (ARE YOU /SRS OR /J STAN)” and Stan would have to just “yes, and” his way out.)

The last three images were kinda of a stream of consciousness put on paper and made neat lol. I really like showing that all the costumes the kids wear are homemade and stuff- either stuff taken from their parents or visibly taped together etc- cause I think it’s charming. Anyways- I though Kyle’s little robe could be like one of his parents bath robe- and it would be a little too long for him to run without eating shit so he’d have to hike it up like a skirt/dress. Which lead to me thinking that Cartman would say some shit about that and how Kyle, who has a literal Golf Club, would smack his ass up. Which then lead to me thinking about how since Kyle’s the Elf King and Stan’s basically his right hand how he might lift it up wedding dress style if needed (/RP GUYS, RIGHT?RIGHT???) and how Cartman would react, which lead to that one JoJo meme cause thats literally how they’d retaliate.

Always- I’ll probably have at least one more post about South Park I swear. There was a period of time before I stopped watching (I gotta pick it up again) where I would doodle a bit of whatever was happening in the episode, each episode. Crazy I know, but not only did it improve my drawing skills but it helped me remember what actually happened in episodes cause I have shit memory and definitely don’t remember some of the episodes I watched. So I might redraw some of those- see if anyone can tell what episode they’re from.

[chimimon]

Cab Boy

Modern AU - Touya x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: vulgar language, creepy co-worker, some stalking. Again if I’m missing something pleeaassseeee telllll meeeeee.

& and I have to say is… I started to get lost after the third draft. And then I wrote something for Nanami because I was going to loose my mind looking at manga panels of Touya for any inspiration, but I want to thank E.P.! You’re a real one and I love you for being an English major drop out. I would give you a big fat platonic smooch if HR wouldn’t beat me for it :’)

On velvety old car seats that softly gleamed under the streetlights, you completely melted in the backseat. With your legs to one side, leaning against the window, you watched the city fall behind you and your taxi. It was like dreaming with your eyes open, or like lying down while sitting up. The car smelled of cigarettes and cologne which added to the scene of the night drive.

The release of tension on your hips from standing in place for nearly four hours felt painful, and more so with every bump or hitch in the road. Comically they were just one chair short when you arrived at the main meeting room. But they were sure to save you a spot at an uncomfortably high countertop to type out company dialogue and bullet points. The burn in your wrists couldn’t be soothed as you rolled your balled fists around every couple minutes. The hollow ache only inched further up your arm. In the corner of your eye, you caught your driver’s gaze in the rear-view mirror before he warned you of an upcoming bump, mindful of the back of your head resting against the glass.

“Thank you.” You yawned with outstretched arms and legs, now readjusted and upright. There were still thirty minutes left until you arrived outside your apartment and the driver was staring again with smiling eyes. You thought to ask, “Have I seen you before? Did you pick me up last time?”

“I might have.” A soft tap followed the rhythm of his sentence. “But I drive a lot of people.”

You hummed with a lifted chin. The streetlights blurred the tips of his white hair, and you felt mesmerized by the green and red that paled in it. “Do you like driving all those people, sir?” You crossed a leg sitting tall. Those feathery strands of hair rolled from one shoulder to the other.

“I don’t mind it if most of them are like you.”

“Like me?” You leaned forward and with a lazy raise of your brow. “What about me?”

The red light made him look pink as he looked to you over his shoulder. A black medical mask covered his mouth as he answered. “Quiet, sober, pretty… most things I like in a passenger.” he said thoughtfully.

The word pretty lifted you up again, uncrossing one leg before crossing the other. “Right.” You whispered, and then laughed. Before you could open your mouth to ask for his name you remembered you called the cab online. With the ride information pulled up you looked at his information and smiled.

“Touya Todoroki,” your driver stiffened at your playful tone. “Do you get big tips for calling passengers pretty?”

A deep and airy chuckle was exactly what you wanted to hear. “We’ll see.” He sang after a moment.

Soon the door opened, you exited, and just like that you were home. Before you jogged up the stairs you turned to cordially thank him. You replayed the banter under the yellow light of your doorstep. “Touya,” you read to yourself. I can’t afford it, but I’ll tip you big tonight.

-

Over end of day coffee and toast, a transfer hire was talking your ear off about paperwork for company plans. The never-ending praises for management and how they “ran a functionally tight ship” made your coffee bitter and toast cold. It felt suffocatingly humid as both the heating and conditioning vents aimed at you in the break room. It had been cold outside, so it was a little too warm inside as boring conversation added to the creeping heat. You lifted up and off the wall from leaning against it as the man spoke. It became apparent that he was not going to let you slip past idle conversation. Every step you took away to leave he took equal steps forward to follow. There was also his wandering gaze on your outfit which you felt he could have at least tried not to be so obvious about. He was clearly appraising your waist, blouse, and neck. The thought of him undressing you with his eyes made you button your collar closed before making haste to your cardigan draped over your chair.

This man was not giving up. At some point you had stopped nodding, equipping your knitted armor of acrylic and cotton, as you began to sit down. “If you're hungry after work, we can-”

“I’m sorry,” You quickly cut in. “But I can’t afford any overtime this week. And, oh- damn. I need to get back to my amazing manager.” Every part of your face smiled but your eyes, ignoring his clear attempt to ask with a lie. “Sorry, but if you don’t mind.” Both hands were put up as you shrugged. “It’s a tight ship, sir.”

Finally, he was leaving. It was like watching a big kid drag their feet away from a playground, but he was finally leaving. With the whole encounter in mind, it was decided that there was no hurt in securing another ride tonight. Sure, going home by taxi added thirty minutes to what was normally a 10-minute rapid train ride, but there was no point in having that man insist on lunch again while you walked to the station; or worse, having to find out that he’s got a car to drive you home in.

Touya saw you had requested another ride and at once claimed your ticket. As the confirmation screen loaded, he noticed your request was made ten-minute’s ago and that he may have just missed you. He crossed his fingers before he dropped his head in relief, grinning as the location details appeared on the screen. This afternoon you had some instructions.

Please pretend to be annoyed that I’m “late”, and speed off once I get in.

Interesting, he thought to himself while he sped over, arriving a little earlier than your pick-up time. Touya tapped on his steering wheel again in anticipation before he exited the car. Without shame he hoped you were wearing another skirt that hugged your waist and hips or that this time that your hair might be down.

As you approached the car Touya was leaning on the passenger side, smoking a cigarette with another black mask resting below his bottom lip as he waited for you. The clicking of your heels in their quick stride drew his empty stare up. You were wearing opaque black tights, an A-line heather skirt, and a baggy cream-colored cardigan, looking especially stuffy with the white-collar button down. As soon as your eyes met, you smirked, and he pulled up the mask before you could take his features to memory. You bowed in pretend apologies, and he clicked his teeth. With some dramatic flair he flung open your door, side eyeing as you got in before smacking it shut. Touya dropped his cigarette onto the street, pressing it into the concrete before he climbed into the driver's seat. As he dropped in, he caught sight of a stalky man staring bullets into your temple.

“Running away from your boss?” He said through rear-view mirror. Touya noted how your face softened in relief as soon as he hit the gas.

“He’s kinda higher up, so...” the window fogged as you spoke to your reflection. “I guess you could say that.”

“He looks like a skinny, uptight asshole.” Touya muttered.

You smirked. “More like a skinny, uptight creep.” a chuckle escaped your lips as you turned to his light blue eyes, smiling at you again. Under gray skies in the late afternoon, they seemed cold. “But I'm happy to see you again, Touya.” You turned to look out the other window.

He slowly blinked and felt something bubble in his chest. “How sweet,” He said too honestly, “Well... I’m sure my acting skills are deserving of another nice tip.” He lifted a brow to the road.

“Oh?” You rolled your eyes. “You think I have that kind of money because I walked out a fancy glass building?”

“Are you saying you only have money for boys that call you pretty, ma’am?”

Ma’am brought an embarrassed blush to your face as the word dripped into your ears. “Do you drive in search of a sugar mama?” You kept up.

“Are you judging me?”

“Just a little.”

Touya clicked his teeth again three times before his voice polished itself into something flirty. “You’re quick, aren’t you?”

Your attention snapped to his reflection as the heat traveled down your neck. Touya ate up the suppressed smile that was cupped in your hands. You leaned toward him again as he entered a freeway.

“Ah, so you aren’t.”

“I think I’m beginning to question my happiness in seeing you again, cab boy.”

“Oh, she bites too.”

“And you don’t, Touya?”

“Just a little.” He purred.

You fell back into your seat and did some people watching at a red light. “Cab boy,” you quietly let out in a quick laugh.

It was the kind of laugh that tightened his jaw and causing him to grip the steering wheel for self-control. Touya was on the clock after all, and you were a paying passenger.

-

It’d been a week since he saw you, and he was worried you actually couldn’t afford anymore cab rides. If it weren’t completely illegal for him to ask for your account information, just to gather a lucky set of numbers, he would have offered to drive you around for free.

The first time he picked you up was after receiving a request from an older man, so when you and another young woman entered his car, he was pleasantly surprised. You were clearly annoyed, giving him the cold shoulder before talking with a voice that warmed him right up. But you weren’t speaking to him, you were shutting down some poor sucker on the phone with a smile on your face, a taunt in your tone and rolled eyes. You were meanly turning down the man that ordered the cab and he liked it. This vague idea of you lived in his head for a couple of days until he realized he was headed back to that same cooperate office. With all the luck he used driving you around the first time, it was like hitting the jackpot when you hoped in again alone.

It was written all over your body that you were just so tired, taking up all the room in his back seat, wondering if you would stop him from joining in to take up more. Innocently- he thought. But if Touya liked you rude, he liked you better embarrassed. The word pretty did so much to you for just a moment, he could see you falter as he tested the water; watching for go signs as if he could act on them while behind the wheel.

Three rides just days apart was where he felt his luck run dry. Just enough to miss his favorite ride for the week and when Friday arrived, he was starting to think you were using another service for drives. That bugged the hell out of him all afternoon.

-

Persistence can overcome any obstacle for as long as you harassed the right woman and tonight, in a cold restaurant sitting across from a man that couldn’t take any hints, that woman was you. As drinks were dropped off at your table, he talked about how endearing he found your game of hard-to-get.

“You're just this snippy thing in a frumpy cardigan. But I thought like, like God! If she just looked a little harder, she might appreciate what I’m doing, cause you like roses, right? Women like roses?”

A finger traced circles on the rim of your glass, “They’re pretty, sure.” You knew you were blinking too much, sighing too much, drinking too much water. There was little to no eye contact from your end and honestly, the whole “I’ll at least get a free meal,” thing was not worth this.

“Why don’t you order something to drink? How about a omething as sweet as you, little missy?”

Like hell you were gonna get drunk near this guy. But for just a moment you began to wonder... what would Touya have called you? Would he have asked if wanted something stronger? Would he have even taken you here? Would you have been better off calling for another ride to sit in casual conversation? Without realizing it, you had started to smile at the thought of a taxi driver and your date took it as a sign to reach across the table for your hand. The sudden contact made you jump as he continued to pride himself in the choice of venue, and how he detests men who like something fruity.

Not a single man in your office interested you, but your manager was going on and on about how this temporary transfer was going to take the department places if the team was on their best behavior. What he meant to say was that he’d get a good raise if he babysat a stockholder's son. But once he caught scent that this guy liked you, your manager visited your desk often. Asking you to show this guy how to use certain things in the office, how to label faxes and emails, things that your date knew because they were a transfer, not a new hire. And more time together meant digging deeper to find more excuses to turn him down. All of them were fairly honest and nice, but when he placed his hand on your arm during lunch, pushing your resolve aside with brute force, something sick possessed you to finally say yes to make it stop. It was just luck you would cave in on his last week there. Of course he’d snatch you up the night he leaves the department.

And here he was. Still moving his god forsaken mouth. “Are you gonna look at the menu?” He rested his chin on his fist, making himself taller. “Or are you trying to keep that figure nice n’ light for tonight?” He giggled.

With wide eyes, you thinly smiled, slowly reaching for your stomach. “I actually, I think I’m catching something.” You giggled in nervously.

“Oh, excited I see.” His teeth were too white, and it felt like your eye was twitching.

“I, no I actually...” Your scooted out of the booth, holding your stomach tighter. “I just- can you just excuse me for a second?”

In cold silence, the man's face dropped as you walked past. Nearly running to the restroom, you hid yourself in a stall and pulled out your phone to request another cab. If you could help it, you were going to walk straight past him in hopes he wouldn’t follow if he caught your stride. The cab was confirmed, and you gave it five minutes before you could dart out of the restaurant and down the street. But he started to text you at the two-minute mark, followed by a call.

As soon as it went to voicemail, you blocked his number and walked as fast as you could. The cold night air snuck up your back and shoulders as you began to run a block down and around the corner. There was a set of stairs on the side of a closed café, you pulled out your phone to see the status of your ride. There wasn’t a car to be seen slowing down, and you were getting antsy to leave the area. The site said your ride should have been there, but instead of an engine you could hear footsteps echo from the direction you came. Without looking you went further into the neighborhood to weave through an alleyway. There had to be a convenience store somewhere, and you were going to find it. And a convenience store there was.

As soon as you made your entrance, you saw the man you were running from turn your way. You ducked as the echo of your low pump heels felt like a target was placed on your head. You weaved through a medicine aisle, jogging on your tippy toes to mute your steps. Damn it, you gently kicked off your heels, speeding barefoot on the cold plastic flooring, completely abandoning your shoes. The goal was to be in another stall while you calmly found a new ride. You pushed the door open with your back just to be sure your date hadn’t already spotted you. But as you rushed in, you slammed into another man before the door could close.

“Oh shit.” Your stomach hit the floor as you turned to see the back of another tall man. “Shit! Sorry!” The sound of costumers nearby stopped your outstretched hand from pulling the door open to leave. “I- ah.” You said to the floor, with your heart in your throat.

The stranger was wiping his hands off with a paper towel and did not care to look at you. “Yeah, yeah.” He said about to push his way out. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me-” Touya stared at the back to your head, and your hand on the handle before allowing his gaze to drop.

Oh, he thought. It’s you. How lucky.

Before you could completely turn around to face him, someone tried to push open the door. Touya quickly pushed the door closed with hand planted beside your head. You looked back and up at him with wide eyes and lifted shoulders. To him you looked self-conscious and noted just how different it felt when you weren’t blushing. You looked wild, taking heavy breathes in and out, wearing a short dress that was falling off your shoulder. He watched your eyes focus on his, then he watched your brows furrow, and finally this dog like charm brought on a nervous smile. “No way.” you whispered. “You’re late.”

“I’m never late for you, princess. I’m anything but late.” His smiling eyes taunted. “Besides, someone beat me to it.”

“It? To what-?”

The sound of urgent stomping grew as a man got closer. “How does a door without a lock get stuck?” You heard a familiar voice whine.

“Damn it,” you could just smell the alcohol past their paper white teeth. “Touya stay with me.”

“What-?”

Before the door could be completely swung open you dragged Touya into a stall. He quietly laughed and watched as you climbed onto the tank of the toilet before he locked the stall behind him. “You’re fucking ballsy.”

The thought to say something smart was chased away as your pursuer entered a stall across from you two. He had started to mutter insults about you before turning his attention to an incoming call. You shushed Touya with a finger to his mask, completely unaware of the shit eating grin that hid underneath as you wildly eyed the slit in the stall door.

He turned to door as well, squinting while trying to listen in on this mysterious man you were hiding from. “Well. Go on.” He tilted his head and waited.

“That stupid girl from the analytics department. Yeah. Yes, yes. Her.” You eyed the ceiling in which his voice echoed from. “Yeah, well I’m over here blowing money on drinks for us, and she runs away before she’s gotta put out.”

Touya’s felt his mouth open. He was staring at you before you stared at him, pointing to the inside of your mouth and pretending to gag.

“Yeah well, whatever. I’m over it. Yeah. No, like. No exactly. Seriously. You wanna spoil some chick and- no literally. I know she’s here. No, I’m not- No I wasn’t trying to follow her- I… I have her shoes in my fucking hands.”

With a click and open of his stall, the man had left without washing up. You started rubbing your fingers together as you thought about the impromptu physical contact he made at the resultant.

“I see.” Touya leaned against the stall staring at your bare feet. “So... bad date?”

“Bad is underplaying it.” You whispered still, relaxing a bit in Touya’s presence. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I’m off tonight.”

“Oh.” You looked to the side in deep thought. “Oh, okay. It...” finally clicked.

“You said I was late?” He tilted head. “What was I late for, hmm?” He taunted, enjoying how you squinted your eyes at him.

“Nothing apparently.” You crossed your legs on the tank and leaned forward in relief, rubbing your temples. “Nothing I’m fine now.” You stepped down on the lid before stepping onto the floor. The scent of some soapy cologne held you in place as you thought about the man still being outside. “Can I ask you to-” you paused again, taking a deep breathe with some clear anxiety. “Can you leave with me?”

“You know how that’s gonna look, right?”

On cue a blazing heat settled into your face, feeling the embarrassment overwrite anxiety as you seriously contemplated bolting straight to the station barefoot. With a nod and a deep breath in, you dropped your head. “Touya, please?”

That pushed a button. “Please what?” The precious look through your lashes pulled him in. “Go on?”

“Please walk me down the block? You jerk?” You batted your lashes cutting through bashfulness with a grin.

“You got it, baby.”

Touya took you under an arm to hide you in loose hold. The soapy cologne did not hide the sewn in stench of tabaco. It stung on inhale and made you lightheaded as you kept walking. You could feel his grip tighten as you two stepped out the store. When his arm didn’t loosen after going a block down, you slowed down. “Touya, you’re good.” You lifted your hand to peel off his arm, which he did as soon as you touched him.

“Are you sure?” He dug into his pockets to dangle a set of keys. “I can drive you home.”

“I can’t afford that tonight.”

“I don’t want gas money.”

“It’s okay, I-” you stopped yourself as the thought that you were shoeless, a little sweaty, and in a dress occurred.

Touya scratched his neck from in the collar of his hoodie, waiting for you to finish. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you’re face, pal. So, I can’t ask you for a free ride.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He sounded a little annoyed. “But you can ask to sit pretty under my arm while check-out eyes us down?” Touya dropped his head, deepening his eye contact with you. He had these doll-like lower lashes that held your attention.

“Apparently…” that stung so you backed away. “So, thank you for that I guess.”

Touya was taken aback, kicking himself for being blunt as you sucked in half of your lower lip. “I’m kidding.” He started to play with a string looped around his ear before flicking it off, suddenly exposing his face. “It’s no big deal.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “How convincing.” you sighed, wistful of the whole night. Touya put his arm out again, waiting for you to walk into him before walking you to his car in a lot another block away.

The silence was thick as he opened the passenger door for you, watching you drop in and shyly get comfortable. His car was clean, empty, and smelled just like his taxi. A sudden Dejavú hit as he hoped into driver's seat. It was foreign to be front passenger of any car, let alone one Touya drove. The car hiccupped as the engine turned, you watched his hands on the wheel when your trail stopped mid-way. It was a stick shift and once Touya got onto the main road, his attention alternated between his hands, feet and the street. He was the heart of the car and it was fun to watch it beat up close.

Touya could feel your gaze as he shifted gears. He smiled a when the down shift caught you off guard and wondered if you had ever been in a manual before.

“Here.” He opened his palm on the top of the shifter. You reached over and gripped the knob, feeling the car shudder at the red light. As soon as the light turned green his hand landed on yours to take off. The car took deep breathes before it trilled at the gas pedal. Touya’s hand was soft, his fingers rested in between yours, and with each shift up you could feel the nighttime moths flood your stomach.

He bit his lower lip pensively and squared his gaze forward as he drove. As soon as he got to sixth gear of the freeway, he smoothed over his thumb on yours. Normally he would have taken his hand off the stick, but he was dragging out the physical intimacy of whatever this was. He wanted more, and selfishly placed you hand in your lap with his lingering on top. When Touya began to lift his hand, you lifted yours as well to re-lace your fingers with his.

That same burn in your hips returned but it was accompanied by cold feet and arms. The adrenaline was leaving your body and you shuddered at its exit. The chatter of your teeth began to rival whatever was playing on his stereo. Touya unceremoniously tore his hand from yours and laughed when you softly pouted. The car slowly leaned into another lane as Touya took off his hoodie. With his knee he brough the car back into the lane as he slipped off the last sleeve. Your look of bewilderment made him flush as he placed his hoodie on your lap. “Put it on,” he nodded self-consciously. “Come on...” He sighed.

You faced him with a cheeky smile and he rolled his eyes. Thinking back on it, his hoodie looked big on him but seemed to grow on you as soon as you slipped it over your head. With your knees to your chest, tucking them in for warmth, you breathed in all the lingering cologne and cigarette smoke in the neck.

“Thank you.” You tilted your head toward him and hummed.

“No problem, princess.”

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

BNHA 430: This wasn’t very “My Hero Academia” of you I’ll be honest—

Okay, where do I begin? Uh. So the story reached its conclusion. Congratulations, and all the best to Horikoshi-san for telling the story he wanted to tell for ten years, loved the characters, the little world he created after the cancellation of his previous works, I will cherish it for the rest of my life.

... but in my opinion: the last seven chapters were so bad- I don't think I can see this ending as anything other than a contradiction of what we were shown. Like, I thought we'd get a twist, everyone would be fine, something would change. I'm wearing the clown shoes already.

So, I'm just gonna treat this as a normal chapter, and not a final one, because I'll be here for days if I open this can of worms, which, I will not lie, is very bad (I'll open it at some point, not now.) I'm posting this on the.. 6th? Because apparently there's an announcement in the 5th and I don't wanna spoil the fun.

So, uh, under the read more are my thoughts on the ending, be warned I'm very, very negative about it.

*sigh* Oh boi, how killing the League made this go from an "underwhelming" to a "tone-deaf" chapter- I mean. Jesus fuck, leaving things open-ended don't erase the fact they can't make a single appearence to prove me wrong. And if they were alive, the last five chapters (and eight years!) were a waste of emotions and keeping them hidden was a stupidly cruel move.

Funny, the narration is "people aren't equal but it's because of these differences that people find common ground to get along"- THE VILLAINS WERE KILLED OFF FOR BEING DIFFERENT BRO WHAT DO YOU MEAN- "if lending a hand and caring is being a hero then we all became the greatest heroes". Izuku, whatever you're drinking, I'm taking it and drinking it all by myself. You may have cared (which I can't even say for certain anymore). But Tenko died. On accident. Because you gave him OFA.

I liked the "Midoriya-Sensei" part. For 5 seconds. It's fitting, he loves learning stuff, he's good with kids... until you say "it's only because his embers are gone". Then why use it as a tease for seven chapters only to just get rid of them at the end? Is running to Ochako really the last we get to see him use it? Not even as a part-time hero? (not that it matters at the end-)

Ragdoll works with the WWP, Tsukuachi was head strategist in the final battle, Hawks is the (H)PSC president, Aizawa is Aizawa. Why wasn't Izuku hired at an agency? Intelligence was a huge part of his character, yet the moment he was fully Quirkless again, he had to leave? Men truly aren't created equal...

"Cursed power", "blessing", "special" — the only thing special about OFA was being haunted by a guy whose brother was insane enough to hunt it down for generations. A Quirk's a Quirk; having multiple people/powers in one body isn’t special, Tokoyami and Shoto exist. Izuku was supposed to make it special using it on his terms. But I guess "meant to save, not kill" was a lie, as eight out of ten people who had it died. Nine out of eleven, counting BNHA: HR. Tenko died because his body couldn't handle the Quirk, but I guess Izuku isn't gonna think about any of it? Katsuki was right, I guess. OFA is a curse.

Spinner wrote a book (not a comic, guess he took offense to Izuku. Fair, actually). Mr. Compress got a panel, but no real mention of the LoV? They broke the status quo for months (in-universe), and after all of that, nothing changes? Did Spinner know about Tenko, how he became Tomura? And the people who will read it and pull an MLA? TomurAFO had followers, now he's martyr a lá Re-Destro. I’m hoping Spinner didn’t commit suicide like Destro did.

Ochako’s expanding Quirk Counseling. Reform’s implied (it only said expansion), but Himiko still became what Curious wanted her to be: A cautionary tale. And I’m still asking how Ochako knows Himiko what went through, she only told Ochako she was hated because of her Quirk and how she loves. I wanna think she’s reforming it, but nothing else changed, why should I think she’s the exception? She might literally just think Himiko didn't get help, that's a cruel irony.

(At least she's seen as a hero on her rights… even if it took 429 chapters, messy writing, her face looking like rubber, and still being a girl recognized as a "caretaker", not a kickass hero).

Shoji's travelling through Japan to solve discrimination and got a prize for it. No foundations or mentions of Spinner being the main reason he did it, just "standing atop those who rose up eight years ago", just solving it peacefully, you sure are, buddy. Like, I'm sure you are being successful but how exactly are you solving this? I mean, you "solved" the hospital fight by fighting Spinner with Koda- Oh wait, time constraints, we can't elaborate how. I'm rolling my eyes

Shirakumo showed the noumu state could've been reversed, yet Katsuki, who never killed someone aside from AFO (and that guy was gonna die anyway), fatally exploded him. I hoped it was a misunderstood panel but no. He died because he wanted to save Tenko. Even fucking Gran Torino was alive by the end of this. Why.

I think Shoto is the only main character I’m not really having a problem with (Ochako's ending required Himiko for it to feel somewhat complete. Sorry, Ochako). I’m weirded out that they mentioned the billboard using the guy whose life was ruined by it as an example, but other than that, he’s doing fine. Wish we saw him talking to his siblings though. But alas. No mention of Fuyumi and Natsuo. And Rei's with Endeavor. Fuck I take it back Todofam still deserved better.

Inko got so sidelined when Mitsuki and Masaru were in 424 for half a chapter, by the way. Just one panel for her, the protagonist's mother.

Schedules not aligning is one thing (I get it, my friends and I can't align ours anymore), but Class A not opening an agency together? They survived the same two wars. And you're telling me they wouldn't say "WE'RE WORKING TOGETHER AND TAKING MIDORIYA WITH US"? Also, where’s the "world where heroes have time to spare" when they look so busy? Were they understaffed or working as celebrities? (if someone says it was for the suit I will point out to the three nepo babies of Class A + Momo's Quirk, Katsuki’s a dumbass if he forgot that detail).

We wasted pages on a kid that can throw plates from his hair. To tell him he can be a hero. Coming from the guy who had to stop working as a hero when he lost OFA. I'm not taking this parallel seriously.

I wish Izuku wasn't in "everything’s fine" mode until the end. We're really gonna leave him at "implied" mode, not confirm if his mental state's fine? Being open and emotional was an appealing part of him and now we just get “Yeah that’s just how it is”.

This one's petty and irrational, I know, but since I'm letting some of the steam out: I hate Izuku's new design; face scars (the constant "HE FAILED" reminder makes my eye twitch and I wish that was a joke, but also so many characters in BNHA got face scars, it doesn't even stand out), "perfect tie", normal formal attire- where's the character highlights? The things that make Izuku stand out?

But hey: He gets to be a hero again! Not with skills, heart, intelligence, strength, in spite of Quirklessness. No, he has an Iron Man suit! That Class A paid billions for. The government should be paying the child soldiers- sorry, Class A and B (and Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu) instead, but all they get is a pat on the back. If the suit breaks down, hurts or kills him while in it? I'll laugh (Hatsume and Melissa worked on it? Oh it's gonna happen, I'm hoping). And Toshinori, what happened to him, did he hit his head when he landed on that building!?

Went from: Smiles cover his fear and reassure people, believed saving is about saving body and soul, wanted to help Tenko, only didn't because Gran Torino said it wasn't a good idea. Disliked people were being heroes for fame and not because it's the right thing to do, only used support items as reinforcement and a precaution, never as a full solution, even Iron Might was so he’d have a chance to fight, not a solution.

To: If Tenko died smiling, it wasn't resignation, he was saved, even though he died. Didn't care AFO killed the Shimura - his mentor's - bloodline. Is fine with the billboards existing, even though it caused things like the Todoroki plotline. Now he's giving Izuku a suit, when the last time he did it himself, it didn't save him and his spine was almost snapped? Dude, what?

Also full disclosure, I thought he was paralyzed, but I guess he just had a bad back. Let's not discuss the trauma of almost being snapped in half and feeling your bones break so bad you set a record of how many screws were used, I guess.

... I hated BKDK's conclusion. It's actually so laughable how much I hate it. If it had another outcome, I'd probably be overjoyed as a shipper. But look at this mess:

Thematically, Tenko wasn't rescued, it wasn't a perfect victory because AFO still got away with what he did to him. Save to win, win to save were just nice words. "The End of an Era and The Beginning"? Nothing changed in the world they live in, and they don't stand out among other heroes (these are AM’s successors. And they aren't even important. How.) What new era is this, really?

Their resolutions, relationship rebuild? Offscreen, but Katsuki was the one with the Iron Man suit idea for Izuku and apparently that compensates for it. Because he’s the one who can solve all of Izuku’s problems now, not motivate him to be better anymore. It wasn’t even Izuku’s idea, it was Class A, and sure it’s a nice (condescending) gesture. We’ve seen Toshinori barely come out alive even with one. That's a support item for a reckless little shit who will get himself killed.

Izuku barely batted an eye to any of the things he went through - losing his arms and/or OFA? Seeing Spinner's breakdown? Lady Nagant!? Katsuki or Tenko dying because of Izuku and OFA!? SOME INTROSPECTION?! IT’S BEEN OVER 100 CHAPTERS SINCE YOU’VE BEEN THE EMOTIONAL MC—

Katsuki's insecurities were pointless by the way! Izuku's empathy and heart never mattered, a Quirk was more important to be a hero in the end. BULLIED HIM FOR NOTHING BUDDY- like. Shouldn't have done it at all, but now his character development means nothing because his previous beliefs were the right ones. Changing for the better was pointless. Like Twice's death. Or Katsuki’s own death, since “Control Your Heart” meant nothing as well.

Izuku still remembers Tenko, but has he done anything about it? No one wants to remember him, Himiko or Touya. Spinner's book won't be taken seriously except for Tenko's followers, Mr. Compress was sidelined, Twice's death was pointless. They didn't change society, they've returned to the status quo. Pointless as Izuku losing his arms.

That fucking suit- Wow, he really couldn't be a Quirkless hero, the casual rivalry was just erased for an easy way out of their consequences, there's no catching up because Katsuki paid for Izuku a way to be a hero. Izuku doesn't get there because he still believes Quirks make a hero. This isn't heartwarming or romantic or whatever, Katsuki just proved he also didn't believe Izuku in the end.

And it ends with Izuku seeing Tenko's... Ghost? Hallucination? Vestige? I guess we’ll never know, because Izuku’s following his dreams again! Let's ignore he's doing this during class hours and he definitely should be in UA but who cares, he probably quit, we'll never know. Aside for the BKDK/DKBK fics, being a teacher was clearly a inferior choice for him and he can't do both ignore Aizawa and Present Mic look at him being the world's greatest hero!

It just took 1 year of trauma, scars, following on his mentor's mistakes, losing the thing that "actually" made him be a hero, having the first (Katsuki) and the last (Tenko) people he tried to save dying because of his existence (one literally by his hands), proving anyone can be one! By ignoring the guilt of those you failed, give hands and sparing your thoughts, having superpowers and/or connections who'll give you a suit! And if they still "act out"? Then they deserved death no matter the valid points they've had and you gotta play jury judge executioner. Unless they decide to be quiet like a good entitled citizen.

Fuck this shit I swear- You could’ve had a BKDK proposal with a double spread handhold, and I'd still think Izuku's ending isn't earned. His "happy ending"— actually. BKDK crumbs are the fandom's consolation prize for this ending. I feel cheated out my OTP (like. I'm shipping the version of them in my head, not the canon one 412-onwards because it got worse from there-)

A story about hope bent itself over to give the protagonist an unearned happy ending, when it said it was for every character who wants to connect to that hope, who wants to give that hope. Izuku went from "wanting to be a beacon of hope and save people" to "talk about beacons of hope, but in the end, others are doing this better than you. You had none of the willpower to be one." He's not hope or unity. Act 3!Izuku is just a plot device, I feel nothing for his ending other than irritation, and I hate it because he was my favourite character. Lol, a very useless one in the end.

So. Yeah, those are my thoughts about the ending. I think. I don't know if these are all of them. I feel horrible about hating it, but I've sat on this chapter for days and right now, not a lot can make me like it, especially with the timeskip, which made this "open ending" a rushed and incomplete mess. If you disagree with me, honestly, that is very fair. I'm glad for you if you liked the ending. I'm just disappointed, and wanted to share my opinions. (and I do have more stuff to say about it but I think I've been negative enough)

But for the weeks I spent hoping this wouldn't slap a classic shonen ending in this catasthrophic mess and for making me feel like a dumbass after what we got in the end: Everything after 410 that isn't 421 and 422 is non-existent to me, this epilogue was a freaking waste.

Thank you for reading.

(EDIT.: Fixed some spelling mistakes and added a few more things because I can keep going on how bad this ending is. Also to clear stuff up: I am still a BKDK shipper. But only until 412, anything after that? Yeah, no, keep that shit away from me lol.)

[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 4

WC: 2,1k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Food Repulsion, Fluff, Tickling, Panic Attack, Pregnancy Announcement, More Fluff

“Say what?” Mountain asks, confused. “That you are going to be an amazing father.” “I am going to be an amazing father.”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 4 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss and Mountain leave for their cabin in the woods the next morning. 

The earth ghoul insists on carrying all of their stuff himself, only letting Swiss drag a lightweight cart with food. He may be barely two months pregnant, but Mountain is not willing to risk putting him in any kind of physical distress.

The cabin is quite deep in the forest, but it’s not a terribly long walk. They’re both still tired so it takes them a little longer than usual, but soon enough they make it.

Mountain makes Swiss lay down and do…well, absolutely nothing for most of the day, claiming that the walk itself was enough physical activity for the day. Swiss giggles at his overprotectiveness, but obliges. In the meantime the earth ghoul cleans up a little and then moves on to making dinner for them when it’s starting to get late.

It smells and looks absolutely delicious, but when Mountain sets the plate before his mate, Swiss’ stomach turns unpleasantly.

“Sorry, my love,” Swiss mumbles, “it looks great, but I just…I can’t eat, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Mountain smiles softly and comes up to cup his mate’s cheek with his hand. “It’s probably all the stress, it’s okay.”

Swiss leans into his touch and closes his eyes. The earth ghoul crouches down to embrace him fully, but gets a better idea after a second. He worms one of his arms under Swiss’ ass and picks him up; he yelps as Mountain stands up and turns to the bed.

“What about your food?” Swiss whines dramatically, stretching the last word out. Mountain gently puts him on the bed on his back and fluffs up the pile of pillows around him.

“I’ll heat it up later,” he shrugs. For a moment the multi ghoul thinks his mate is trying to eat something else—which he would decline this time, not being in the mood—but Mountain moves further and further down until he’s off the bed entirely, kneeling at the foot of it. He takes the fluffy socks Swiss’ is sporting off,  wraps his long fingers around his feet and digs his thumbs in.

“What are you doing?” he giggles as Mountain leans down to kiss the arch of his left foot while massaging it.

“Giving you a foot rub,” he explains bluntly. 

“I can see that, but why? I’m not that pregnant yet.”

“Are you telling me I can’t dote on my mate whenever I feel like it?” The earth ghoul looks up at him with one eyebrow raised comically high, making Swiss snort.

“You look ridiculous!” he laughs. “Like that–that one emoji!”

Mountain can’t hold out for longer and bursts out laughing too. He drops his head and the sight of Swiss’ feet right in front of his face gives him an idea. He changes the heavy rubbing of his thumbs to lighter touches that immediately make the multi ghoul start squirming and squealing.

“No, oh my–no, Mountain, don’t–don’t tickle me!” he yells in between breathy giggles, but Mountain knows he isn’t actually asking him to stop. He knows when to do so; it’s when Swiss’ breathing starts to get a little wheezy and his toes curl.

The earth ghoul crawls up the bed, then, to hover over Swiss and only leans down to kiss him on the tip of his nose. He pulls him down and Mountain falls into the plush bedding right next to him.

They’re quiet for a moment, before Swiss speaks again, “My brain just provided me with an image of you playing with our kits like this.”

Mountain’s chest warms.

“I can’t wait,” he sighs.

“Me neither,” Swiss adds.

After five days in the woods, Mountain and Swiss decide they have rested enough and are ready to go back to the Abbey. They make their way back around midday, spend some time in their room, and then move to the kitchen.

Mountain texted the band’s new group chat earlier, saying that he and Swiss are making dinner this evening and that everyone—including Copia—is invited because there is also going to be an important announcement made.

Cooking side by side effectively took the expecting parents’ minds off of the conversation they are going to have soon, and now as they’re eating with their family they both think—unknowingly—about the same thing.

How these kits couldn’t have been sent into a better pack.

Swiss still doesn’t eat much (they have been told by Omega that food repulsion is common at this stage, so they’re not worried), but enjoys the light conversation with Rain on his left. Meanwhile Mountain, sitting on his right, is talking with Dewdrop over something they both seem quite passionate about.

But soon enough the table is cleared and it’s time for the announcement to be made.

“Okay, uh–so…” Swiss starts, clearing his throat, as he stands up. Mountain does, too, and he puts a hand on the multi ghoul’s waist in a protective and supportive gesture. “There’s something important—but not bad—that we need to tell you because, uhm…well, because you all are our family—you too, Papa—and we want you to know first.”

Some mutters of ‘we appreciate it’ and ‘we’re honored’ can be heard around the table, as well as some content chirps and trills. Swiss opens his mouth again to finally let the words tumble out, but they…don’t.

He looks up at Mountain with pleading eyes and his mate nods, understanding. He takes a deep breath before turning back to his pack and speaking for them both, “Swiss is pregnant, we are going to have kits.”

Jaws drop and it’s dead silent for a moment.

But then it explodes.

Everyone is asking questions, someone is already congratulating them, someone is squealing and then there’s a hand on Swiss’ shoulder and he–he can’t.

Suddenly painfully overwhelmed, he turns with a whine and hides against Mountain’s chest, hands over his ears. His mate wraps his arms around him and growls loud enough to make the whole room shut up.

“Sorry,” Aurora is the one to speak up and apologize for them all.

“One at a time, please,” Mountain asks them before sitting back down with Swiss in his lap. He’s already calming down from the initial panic and he just realizes how…skittish he’s been lately. Probably another pregnant ghoul instinct thing.

Nobody speaks, though, until Papa raises his hand. It’s a little silly, but both Mountain and Swiss appreciate it.

“How far along are you?” Copia asks.

“Around eleven, maybe twelve, weeks,” Swiss answers and the human nods with a light smile.

Rain goes next, “You said kits, as in…multiple?”

“Yeah, there’s three cooking in there,” the multi ghoul chuckles, poking his stomach.

“Woah,” Dewdrop and Sunshine whisper in unison, making a few others laugh.

“When are they gonna come out?” Aeon asks with a curious tilt of his head.

“Omega thinks sometime in February,” Mountain is the one to answer this time.

Cirrus perks up next. “Do you know their elements already?”

“No,” Swiss says, “with a mixture like us two we’re not going to know until they’re born.”

“Will you let me make some cute clothes for them?” Cumulus all but pleads, already so excited at the prospect of making teeny tiny kit clothes.

“Duh,” the multi ghoul laughs. There’s more questions and congratulations and promises of support. A specific one makes the room fall silent again.

“Omega said it’s, uhm…that it’s possible they won’t live,” Swiss admits despite wishing he wouldn’t have to say such a thing.

“That’s why we are only telling you for now,” Mountain adds, “and we don’t want anyone else to know yet.”

The pack nods and promises to keep it between them.

The atmosphere is nice, but a little overwhelming, so Swiss and Mountain decide to say their goodbyes and go to bed early—both exhausted. They skip the shower and jump straight into their nest to curl around each other and fall asleep while purring loudly.

Some time after he’s fallen asleep, Mountain’s eyes snap open.

He sees nothing but darkness.

He looks around frantically and blindly slaps around his bedside table, hoping to light his phone up. It does; it’s three in the morning.

The earth ghoul uses its gentle light to look over at his mate sleeping beside him—curled up a little with his arms around his stomach; a protective position a pregnant ghoul would usually take in the Pit. It’s actually amazing how their hellish instincts surface in moments like these.

Mountain wants to smile, but instead something unpleasant makes his stomach turn and suddenly he remembers why he woke up. It was some strange dream, he doesn’t remember any details, but it left him shaking with anxiety.

He feels a panic attack incoming and crawls out of bed not to disturb Swiss. The earth ghoul leaves their bedroom and makes his way to the common room to get some cold water. 

Mountain doesn’t even bother to turn on the light, operating on autopilot until he’s leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand. He sips it slowly and breathes deeply in between, trying to push away the panic that’s beginning to swallow him whole. The earth ghoul slides down to sit on the ground and puts his head in between his knees, still breathing in and out.

“Mount?”

The earth ghoul jumps, dropping his glass on the floor. Thankfully it’s empty already and the distance from his hand to the ground isn’t especially big. “Lucifer, you scared me!” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Aether chuckles. He must be coming back or leaving for his infirmary shift—Mountain isn’t sure which. “What are you even doing here at this hour, are you okay?”

“Woke up and needed to get some water,” the earth ghoul shrugs, but his thoughts do not stop spiraling. Aether will sense that soon enough. “Had a…uh, a dream.”

“Not a good one, I assume?”

Mountain shakes his head. “I–this is so scary, I’m–I’m not cut out to be a–a father. A father, Aether!”

“But you always wanted to have kits,” the quintessence ghoul reminds him, “and I’ve known you for long enough—and have seen you interact with the Siblings’ children—to be absolutely sure you will be a great dad.”

Mountain grimaces and drops his head between his knees again. “But what if I won’t? What about Swiss, then? What about the kits? There’s going to be three.”

Aether doesn’t reply—he only sighs and comes over to sit next to the other.

“If they even survive…” the earth ghoul adds in a quiet voice.

“Hey, no,” Aether stops him right away, “don’t go there. They’ll be fine. You will be fine. I can only imagine how scary that is, but I know that this is a dream come true for you, Mount.”

“Well…yeah,” he admits, “it is.”

“Exactly! Stress is valid, but you can’t doubt yourself or your mate right now. I’ve already told you, you are going to be amazing parents.”

Mountain lets out a shaky breath and nods, acknowledging Aether’s words. He’s right and it’s not only a dream come true, but also a quite literal miracle. A miracle granted just to Swiss and Mountain.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “Okay, I’m–I’m good. Thank you, Aether.”

The other pats him on the back before standing up and extending a hand to hoist him up, too. “Anytime. And I mean it. We’re a pack and you are definitely going to need all the help you can get once these three little demons pop out of Swiss.”

Mountain chuckles despite the…slightly worrying implication, “Yeah, we will.”

“Alright, now, go back to your mate,” Aether tells him. “Don’t let him doubt your decision.”

“I won’t.” The earth ghoul puts away his glass and turns to the door.

“Now say it for me.”

“Say what?” he asks, confused.

“That you are going to be an amazing father.” Aether grins.

Mountain shakes his head with a light laugh, “I am going to be an amazing father.”

“Atta boy,” Aether praises and leaves. The other switches off the light, that he hasn’t even noticed was on now, and follows, albeit in a different direction.

As he gets back to their room and snuggles against Swiss again, he mutters the words to himself one more time “I am going to be an amazing father.”

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

[starryeyedjanai]

All things end and all things change.

Steddie | 23k | Explicit | Read on ao3

written for @patchworkgargoyle for the server gift exchange! 🥰 this is also a fill for @thefreakandthehair's winter challenge

Summary: 

When Eddie took over Robin's room, Steve made a promise to himself that he wouldn't scare Eddie off, that he wouldn't do anything to let him know that he’s still carrying a torch for him this many years later—because Steve feels like Eddie had to have known in college.

He had to have seen it every time Steve looked at him for a beat too long, every time he looked to Eddie first when told a joke, every time he wore his feelings so loudly because he’s never had to reign them in before.

And now he’s doomed to spend more than a week letting Eddie show him glimpses of his life that he’s never seen before, parts of him that he’s kept to himself up until now.

Steve feels like the more he gets to know Eddie, the more ingrained these feelings for him become.

But, you know, other than all of that, what could possibly go wrong?

Or, Steve was planning to spend the holidays alone, but there's no way Eddie's going to let that happen.

-

excerpt under the cut!

“Hey, are you going to be in town for New Year’s Eve?” Eddie asks as Steve walks out of his room, bleary eyed and barely awake. “I told you I’m visiting my uncle Wayne for Christmas, but I can be back in time for New Year’s Eve if you’ll be here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be here,” Steve says, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

“What are your plans for Christmas now that Birdie’s gone home with Chrissy?” Eddie asks, dropping the curious act and getting to what he really wants to know.

It’s too early for this.

Eddie knows he has less of a filter when he’s just woken up, so this is a targeted attack.

He’s been avoiding answering the question when Eddie’s asked what his plans were before, but Christmas is in a few days and it looks like his hemming and hawing around an answer—‘I might go with Robin and Chrissy,’ and ‘I’m not sure yet’—won't suffice anymore.

Robin left yesterday with Chrissy to spend Christmas and New Year’s Eve with her family, her first time taking Chrissy home to her parents, and Steve obviously didn't go with them.

He hums and takes the cup of coffee Eddie pushes into his hands when he takes a seat at their kitchen table. He takes a sip, trying to formulate a way to not say outright that he’s staying here alone.

He shrugs his shoulders and says, "I’m not doing much. I’ll be in town for New Year’s Eve though,” because his brain is still mostly offline and he’s hoping Eddie will leave it alone. (He knows that he won't, but it’s a nice thought.)

Eddie asks, “How are you getting to your parents’ place? Or are they coming to town?”

Eddie knows Steve isn’t super close with his parents just like he knows that he hasn't spent Christmas with them since he graduated college—he and Robin have spent it together since she and her parents aren't big on Christmas as a whole.

They did visit Robin’s parents the first year after college and spent the holidays there, but since then, they’ve just had Christmases at their apartment, getting each other a couple gag gifts and a couple real ones and opening them in front of their comically small Christmas tree. The only reason they aren't spending it together this year is because Robin’s parents want to finally meet Chrissy.

He gulps down more coffee before saying, “I’m not going to Hawkins.”

“Steve, work with me here. Are you or are you not spending Christmas with your parents?” Eddie asks, leaving no room for ambiguity or ‘misinterpretations’ of his question.

So he just sighs and comes clean.

“My parents are in France for Christmas, so I’m just hanging out here for the holidays,” he says, not looking Eddie in the eyes. His parents did invite him to come along, but his passport is expired and he didn't want to stress about getting it renewed in time for the trip.

“Hanging out here alone?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods, still not looking at him, fiddling with the handle of his coffee mug.

“And how’d you get Robin to leave without you?” Eddie asks, suspicion in his voice.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, playing dumb.

“I mean there’s no fucking way she’d let you spend the holidays alone, first Christmas taking her girlfriend home or not. So what did you tell her you were doing for the holidays?”

Steve sighs, so worn out all of a sudden. He wishes they weren't having this conversation at 8 in the morning—well, he wishes they weren't having it at all, wishes Eddie’s ADHD would have let him forget to ask what his plans were before he left for his uncle’s place.

“I may have said I was spending the holidays with you,” he says sheepishly, finally looking up at Eddie.

Eddie levels him an unimpressed look and then, in an even voice, he says, “Okay. So you’re coming home with me.”

“No,” Steve says. “No. I swear I’ll be fine. It’ll be nice even. Relaxing, having some time to myself.” It sounds weak even to his own ears, so he’s not surprised when Eddie doesn't let up.

“Uh huh, sure. You come sit by me when I’m doing my virtual D&D sessions even though you don’t play because you hate being alone for that many hours, but you want me to believe you’ll be alright being alone for more than a week over the holidays?”

God, it's so not fair bringing up how needy Steve is right now. Steve only pretty recently realized how codependent he and Robin were. They spent almost all of their free time together before she started dating Chrissy and when she moved in with Chrissy and Eddie took her bedroom in their apartment, he had to actively stop himself from monopolizing all of Eddie's time because he doesn't deal well with being alone.

He keeps finding himself almost meandering into Eddie’s room first thing in the morning because spending any amount of time without someone’s voice filling his ears is unbearable to him. Even just having someone in his presence, even if they weren't talking, is better than being alone.

He tries to save face by saying, “I swear I’m fine being alone—“

“Nope, you’re coming home with me,” Eddie says, cutting Steve off, his voice final. “It’ll be a tight squeeze since my uncle’s place is pretty small, but he’ll be glad to have someone to talk sports with, so—you’re coming.”

And this is why Steve has been trying to avoid this conversation so hard for weeks now, skirting around the truth with half-answers and changing the subject because he knew Eddie wasn't going to drop it once he knew.

He really has no choice but to accept or else Eddie won't shut up about it. Or worse, he’ll tell Robin and she’s definitely not going to drop it. And she’ll be disappointed that he lied and she’ll make him drive to her parents’ house and threaten to come get him if he refuses and it’ll spoil her Christmas with Chrissy and her parents. And he doesn't want that, obviously.

This is the first time Robin’s been serious about someone and all he wants is for her to spend her Christmas in love and happy and not worrying about him.

So he says, “Fine. Fine, I’ll go home with you.”

As much as he doesn't want to insert himself into someone else’s holiday plans, he doubly doesn't want to ruin Robin’s Christmas.

“Great. We leave tomorrow afternoon.”

The triumphant smile on Eddie’s face doesn't lessen the growing guilt and unease in stomach.

He really was going to be fine, spending the holidays alone. It would have been quiet and he would have hated every second of the silence, but he could have handled it.

His parents were never super into the Christmas spirit part of Christmas anyway. They never had traditions or decorated the house or anything. Growing up, Christmas was mostly about the gifts—not that he was complaining. He always had the newest toys or video game consoles, so for the most part, he was happy enough to skip the rest of it.

It was only when he was dating Nancy and saw how her family gathered for the holidays and spent time together that he realized that his Christmases were always kind of lonely even when his parents were around.

So after college, when he and Robin moved in together, they started to make their own traditions for the holidays, decorating their apartment and wearing matching pajamas and FaceTiming Robin’s parents on Christmas morning.

This would have been the first Christmas since he started having actual Christmas traditions that he’d be spending it alone. So yeah, it would have sucked, but it would have been worth it if it meant Robin got to have her Hallmark Christmas movie moment.

And now he’s apparently going to the Munson’s for Christmas.

At least now Robin won't actually kill him when she gets back and finds out what he did for the holidays.

read the rest on ao3

[theemporium]

Ooh, what about you catch the eye of one of the marauders in a shop in hogsmeade? I don’t know, I’m new at this requesting stuff

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

James took back every single complaint he made when Remus dragged him into Hogsmeade’s bookstore the second he saw you.

After making his friend help him out with some extra quidditch practice, it was only fair that James returned the favour and helped his friend to run some errands in Hogsmeade on a Saturday morning—at an an hour that felt illegal to even be up and running around, not that James said as much…more than once, at least.

Remus had dragged him between shops and for the most part, James was just happy to follow him about and entertain himself in stupid ways that would make his friend smile. But the second Remus mentioned the bookstore, he couldn’t help but let out a groan. Merlin knew how long Remus could spend in that shop, they could be there all day. 

But then he followed his friend in, the little bell above the door dinging to make their presence known and he saw you. 

You were sitting behind the counter, a book in hand and a cup of coffee sat beside you as you idly read your book. You lifted your head at the bell, giving both boys a warm smile before returning your book. 

One look and James was absolutely smitten. 

“So, uh,” James cleared his throat, trying to act as casually as he could as he followed Remus down one of the aisles. “Who’s the girl at the front?”

Remus froze, book in hand, as he turned with an incredulous look on his face. “Really?”

“What?” James asked.

“We have first period herbology with her,” Remus told him with a small smirk on his face. “You’re just too busy napping at the back to notice her, clearly.”

“What? Moony, don’t play with me right now,” James grumbled as he quickly followed the other wizard further into the shop. “I would have noticed her in the corridors at least.”

“Clearly not observant as you think, Prongs,” Remus mused. 

James spent the rest of the trip bothering Remus out of any little fact he could get out of the boy about you. Even the smallest of details, he wanted to know. And when Remus said he didn’t know any more, he had all but yanked the books out of his hand under the kind guise that he was going to pay for them. 

Remus knew better than that but he let James do so.

He approached the counter with a charming smile on his face as he placed the pile of books down. “Hey there.”

You lifted your head, giving the boy a smile as you marked your place before setting your book aside. You turned your attention back to James and the pile of books as you began to check them out.

“Hey, find everything you were looking for?” you asked politely.

“Almost everything,” James told you.

“Oh?” you questioned, raising your brows in interest. “If there’s a specific book or something I could—”

“I was wondering when your shift ended here,” he spoke suddenly, watching as a flash of confusion washed over you.

“Uh, not until three,” you murmured, noting the way the boy eagerly nodded.

“Any chance I could convince a pretty girl like you to grab a drink after work?” he asked with a hopeful look. James Potter was nothing but a charming man, even when he seemed a little nervous.

You bit back your smile. “Pretty girl, huh?”

“The prettiest,” James confirmed with a nod.

“I’ll meet you outside the shop at three then,” you said as you told him the amount he needed to pay before handing him the bag of books. “Enjoy your erotica in the meantime.”

James’ eyes widened comically as he glanced down at the book, his cheeks flushing furiously as he took the bag. “Uh, thanks.”

“See you later, Potter.”

James cleared his throat, muttering a ‘see you later’ back at you before grabbing the bag and quickly making his way towards Remus who looked as though he was holding back his own laughter. 

“Erotica?” James deadpanned. “Really?” 

But Remus only shrugged in response. “Just wanted to see if you were paying attention or not.”

.

[cupcakeslushie]

Alrighty, you’ve all been asking for it and here it is. I hope this timeline of what’s basically the first two seasons, makes following the comic easier. Which speaking of—obviously there will be spoilers for the future of the comic, so if you want to continue on reading that with blinders I would just ignore this completely or you could only read up to the prologue end where what’s been released catches up. And obviously the “filler episodes” might not make it into the comic—I’ll probably just get by on those being simple one shots or something, but I wanted to include all my thoughts.

This is really mostly for the ppl who want all that lore now. Or the ones who don’t want to go through a thousand pages of unorganized text posts 😜

Big Freaking Timeline for Empyrean Weeping Separated AU

Pre-Prologue

Many Generations ago…

The Leader of the Foot Clan [name lost to time] made a deal with an oni for power and was sealed inside his own armor. He turned his clan to the ways of murdering innocents and pillaging villages to spread their control. He quickly gained the name the Shredder. Hamato Karai, daughter to the Shredder, created her own clan to fight them. After many years of the two clans warring, Karai was able to banish the oni, killing her father. The power behind the armor was destroyed, leaving it as basically nothing more than ornamentation for each new leader of the Foot to inherit.

Karai sealed the demon in the twilight realm, but was killed by the demon’s final blow.

Many years later….

Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki are born into the still warring clans. Hamato Sho, grandfather to Yoshi, struck down Saki’s parents in revenge for them killing his daughter, Atsuko. He then took their infant son Saki and raised him alongside Yoshi, telling the two they were brothers, hoping that one day this would lead to a path of uniting the two clans.

Yoshi and Saki grew up together, trained in the art of ninjutsu, but Yoshi left to become an actor. Saki found out the truth of his parentage, and he embraced the Foot clan’s bloody path. He swore revenge on Yoshi and the entire Hamato clan.

Yoshi meets Big Mama on the set of Crouching Shrimp Hidden Tiger Prawn and the two date for a few years but break up.

Yoshi ran into his old childhood friend Tang Shen and the two began a romance, got married, and had a baby girl—they named her Karai after Yoshi’s great ancestor.

Big Mama kidnapped Yoshi from his wife and daughter, and kept him trapped in the Battle Nexus as her champion. Saki, not realizing Yoshi was gone, attacked Teng Shen, but found Karai in the fire and took her.

For five years (I know the creators said ten but idk that’s just way too long imo) Yoshi fought in Big Mama’s Nexus, until taken by Draxum.

Yoshi broke out during Draxum’s experiment and grabbed the four turtles he saw. As he’s escaping he dropped the soft-shell, but thanks to the fire and debris, was blocked from doubling back to rescue it, forced to leave it behind.

Draxum was left with a destroyed lab and only two of his five test subjects; Three—the male soft shell turtle, and Five—the female box shell turtle. Five was much too weak to live on her own, so Draxum was forced to keep her in a coma, confined to a healing vat. He worked on rebuilding his destroyed lab, and raised Three with the intention of training him to be a great warrior in the fight to save the yokai. As Three grew, Draxum was already impressed by the intelligence he saw from Three, but was not too pleased with the lack of interest Three showed for combat training. Still Draxum would work with what he had, and if nothing else, having access to Three’s blood meant at least he wasn’t starting from scratch. The boy was smart, and helpful in the lab. For eight years Draxum trained Three and helped nurture his mind. Draxum even found a way to get wider access to Empyrean, and was really able to continue his work, but the effects of working with the Empyrean….

Prologue beginning

Under the Cut

Five years after Splinter saved the turtles he could (Raph:7, Leo:6, Mikey:5). He brings them topside, having no choice but to do a food run with them all—unfortunately the Foot finds them, and Leo and Mikey get captured.

On the way, Leo is able to injure the nin holding him and Mikey enough that he drops Mikey. Leo ordered Mikey to run, while he struggled to keep the Foot Soldier from recapturing him.

Mikey left Leo behind and ran to hide in the alleyway behind Big Mama’s hotel, where he’s later found and taken in by the spider yokai, who finds Michael adorable and interesting enough to hold her attention for now.

Leo is taken before the Shredder, and Saki decides to raise Leo instead of killing him. He trained Leo to be Karai’s(10) bodyguard and demanded Kitsune use her mystic spells to bend Leo’s memories and mind so he became the perfect soldier.

One Year After Separation

Raph(8) meet April(9) and the two became best friends. Splinter begins training them both in ninjutsu so they can protect themselves from any surprise Foot Clan attacks.

Two Years After Separation

Three(8) developed an idea for a drill that Draxum took and employed to begin a secret way of mining empyrean without drawing the attention of the Hidden City Police. As the years passed, his experiments on Three became more and more depraved. The stress and torture caused a lot of strain on Three’s mind.

Three continued his work on Five’s body, convinced he can create something that will allow her to live outside her tank.

Overseas Saki ran the Japanese branch of the Foot, and ordered the destruction of a hidden yokai village. Usagi Miyamoto(9) is taken hostage and begins lessons with Leo(8) and Karai(12).

Four Years Post Separation

Saki returned (with his odd gaggle of child soldiers) to lead the US branch of the Foot Clan.

Five Years Post Separation—(ONE YEAR BEFORE SEASON ONE)

Usagi(14) finally escaped the Foot Clan

Big Mama grew bored of raising Michael(12) and threw him into her Battle Nexus. (First Actual page of the comic)

Big Mama and Draxum cut a secret deal, once he learned she has his Fourth subject. He offered Five to Big Mama as a go-between on the grounds that she will report Four’s status in the Nexus back to Draxum, but in the interim Big Mama may use her however she desires.

Three(13) began making shock collars for Big Mama with the demand that they will never be used on his brother, and that he got to see the weekly footage of Four’s Nexus fights.

Draxum met with the Foot clan and began providing Saki with empyrean in exchange for weapons. He saw Two(13) there, under the Shredder’s command. Draxum brings Three with him from then on, to gauge just how deep Two’s loyalty to the Foot Clan ran.

In that year of dealing with Saki, Three talked excessively to Leo any chance he got in the maybe four or five times they met, but was not provided with much of a response.

Usagi, with nowhere else to go, signed up for a few fights in Big Mama’s Nexus. He meets Mikey. Out of all the jerk contenders, the two actually like each other well enough. They’re as friendly as two people that may someday fight to the death would be.

After frequently running into each other, April(15) and Raph(14) got Casey(15) to give up her role as a Foot recruit and join their side. She gets the idea to become a double agent, and is now always sneaking out to meet them and be, in her own words, “a badass vigilant”.

After a few months fighting in the Nexus Usagi left and spent a few weeks on the streets before sneaking into Run of the Mill Pizza and getting caught by Hueso. The skeleton offered a safe place for Usagi to stay.

One night while patrolling, just the two of them, April(16) and Raph(15) see Mayhem get taken and April chased after just before the portal closed. Raph went to Splinter for help and the two headed off to the Hidden City. Before they can make it to Draxum’s lab, they spot Mikey(13), fighting in the Nexus, on one of the massive view screens.

After recovering April who’s basically saved herself and Mayhem without Draxum being any the wiser. Raph and Splinter brought her back home and then quickly returned to the HC and requested an audience with Big Mama.

Splinter dropped to his knees and begged to make a deal. He would fight Big Mama’s current champion if he could have his son back. Raph cut in that he would be the one to fight, and Big Mama accepted.

Raph fought a host of contenders before Big Mama revealed that he would face off against Mikey, who didn’t seem to recognize his big brother or father. Raph managed to grab Mikey in a bear-hold and got him to listen long enough for Mikey to remember the night they were separated. He and Raph and Splinter cried and hugged and Mikey confronted Big Mama to announce that he would be leaving with his family and that he would not fight for her any more.

Big Mama remained stoic and cold, taking the news rather well, until alone in her office. In a fit of rage she screamed and even threw a few glasses at the wall before she called for Five, who she had named Venus(13).

Big Mama gave Venus the footage for the previous week of Mikey’s fights. Along with the news that it would be the end of her and Three’s deal since Mikey was now gone.

Venus returned to Draxum’s lab and ran immediately into Three(14). Three, upset by the news that he would not be getting the most recent footage Big Mama had, and that their deal was ending, became upset and his yelling drew the attention of Draxum.

Draxum locked him up for a week before he allowed Venus to release her brother. Finally Venus sat Three down and began to tell him that Mikey is now with One and Lou Jitsu.

Quick Cut—Shredder has noticed that Kitsune’s magic on Leo’s(14) mind seems weaker, and demands more exposure to the empyrean. With a demon under his control, and Karai as the perfect successor, the Foot Clan will be unstoppable, and he will finally have the ultimate revenge on Hamato Yoshi.

Mikey returns to the lair with Raph and Splinter where he meets April. He’s shy, but content. Later, when in bed Mikey’s thoughts do wander to worries that his family may one day grow bored of him, just like Big Mama did. Mikey falls into an uneasy sleep.

SEASON ONE

Leo day after day as Second in Command of the Foot Clan finds his mind harder to focus lately. Something about the two turtles he keeps running into on missions plus the odd, manic one that always accompanies Draxum during his deals with Master Shredder. They seem to scratch an itch in Leo’s brain that just won’t go away.

Leo runs into Raph and Mikey and April long enough for them to finally try to talk, but . But Tigerclaw interrupts and takes Leo away when he refuses to fight his brothers.

Later when Leo is kneeling before Saki, Leo finds his Master isn’t pleased that he failed to kill their enemies when he had the perfect opportunity. Saki punishes Leo far more severely than he has in years. Casey, who knows Leo is in danger, fetches Usagi from his job at Run of the Mill, and Mikey meets them in the alley with the idea to go to Big Mama for the fastest route to Saki’s private compound and save Leo just in time.

Leo spends the next few months recovering and reluctantly staying in the lair, smart enough to know that returning to his Master would be a death sentence. Eventually his memories that were tampered with start to slowly return and he feels deeply the need to protect Mikey. Unfortunately his hatred for Splinter doesn’t seem to be dissipating and he spends a lot of time butting heads with Raph. He sees April’s skill and is impressed. He ignores Casey and refuses to see her as anything but a traitor.

Eventually his family grows comfortable enough to let him have more freedom, and Leo begins to join them on patrol.

While out one night, Leo cuts down a whole squad of Foot ninja when Mikey gets badly hurt. Raph is pretty shaken up and Splinter bans Leo from patrolling with the team, until he can learn to use less lethal methods.

One day, Splinter brings Leo into the dojo and shows his son the old shrine that was made for him and Mikey.

Splinter then shows Leo the weapons hung next to the shrine.

(Excerpt from notes app lol)

Splinter looked at the wall as he spoke. “Raphael and Michelangelo have already chosen their own. I always planned to gift these to you boys. Seeing how effortlessly you used to copy me when I practiced myself. I’d be honored for you to carry a piece of the Hamato clan with you.”

Leo mirrored Splinter’s gaze and stared straight ahead, not knowing how to feel about that bit of information. Regardless he found it easy to keep his tone detached.

“Shredder had me master a number of weapons. But I’ve always been best with my katana.”

Splinter chuckles with a fondly, sad smile. “Hm, yes. You were always most eager to swing around anything you could when you boys played. And would pretend to stab Raphael in the gut whenever he offered to play the role of the big scary dragon.”

Stoicism was now perhaps a bit harder. Still Leo would not allow himself to show any weakness over something so trivial as a tale he didn’t even remember.

“It would be foolish to trust your enemy with such a deadly weapon.”

Finally Splinter took his eyes off the wall and faced Leo. The terrapin refused to return the courtesy, but Splinter wasn’t deterred by the cold shoulder.

“You are not an enemy. You are my son.” Leo was slightly shocked at how easily Splinter claimed him. The rat spoke as surely as if he was simply reading facts from one of those dusty old scrolls he had tried to get Leo to read. A (poor) early attempt to reintroduce Leo to the great and honorable Hamato Clan. Perhaps his father had hoped it would be one possible way to cut through all the lies that Saki had spent years filling his son’s head with. Leo had not gotten very far into the literature before tossing it aside in frustration.

The rat continued on, still not once wavering. “The katana has always been a weapon of honor. I trust you to use them well, in the service of protecting this city and your brothers.”

Leo grew pensive—it was like viewing a weapon he’s cast his eyes on a million times in a new light. It had been a few years since Leo had heard something rather similar.

Only one other person in Leo’s entire life had spoken to him of honor in regards to the blade.

The slider tried not to think of the boy he hadn’t even seen in years. Now that he’s not so far under Saki spell, Leo could recognize the lump of coal that sat heavy in his stomach as guilt. Just the small reminder of the rabbit set it immediately ablaze.

Leo’s not sure why only now the idea of honor moved something in him, but since first waking up in the lair, and the months he’s spent with his actual, true family. The slider had found his thoughts more open to wandering and engaging with ideas that he would’ve never entertained while under Master Shredder.

Splinter continued quickly, seeing some kind of headway in the more and more open look that grew on Leo’s face. “These have been in our family for generations. And even though you boys were apart, It seems fate of some kind has paired you to each of these.”

He paused just a moment to chuckle sadly as if a stray thought suddenly occurred, “I do wonder, with you choosing the Katana. That just leaves the Bō. I’m curious how your brother Donatello would have wielded it. A simple weapon but in the right hands it can be most versatile.”

“Donatello?” Leo searched the bits of stray memories that had returned to him these last few months, but in none of them, he recalled seeing a third brother. Splinter’s words had him beyond confused, and a little worried that he had even more lost memories to regain.

Splinter looked embarrassed over the clear confusion his rambling had caused to suddenly shatter the previous air.

“Ah….yes. Forgive me. I did not wish to overwhelm you when you first arrived, but I suppose now you are ready to hear about how you were created. How Draxum—“

“Draxum?!”

Season One Midpoint

Draxum decides to finally hold another meeting with Shredder after a few months. Three now finds out that Two has ran away after failing in a mission. When he returns to his lab, Three activates the tracker he secretly placed on Two and is beyond shocked to see him in the company of One and Four.

Three suffers a serious break when he sees them with April, and thinks he’s been replaced by a human. As the final straw shatters his control, Three attacks them all in an attempt to get answers and find out why they all seemed so happy together while he was left alone. After an intense fight, Raph manages to grab Three and Leo knocks him out, so they can take him back to the lair.

Donnie spends the next few months getting used to living with his family.

Raph and Leo continue to get into frequent arguments. Leo’s anger only seems to be getting worse. Mikey tries to keep the peace and does his best to keep the lair running smoothly. Leo takes his anger out on Mikey and immediately feels bad.

Tide Pod bros themed episode. Leo apologizes to Mikey for yelling at him. They bond while doing something silly.

April and Casey start dating. Hypno and Warren episode (plot tbd but they keep interrupting the girls’ first date)

Donnie starts constructing his lab and finally seems like he’s developing a stronger relationship with Leo. The two come up with the whole ‘twin’ idea and agree to share a birthday.

Mikey and Raph have a fun bonding episode (Maybe either Meat Sweats or Stockboy)

Venus runs into the family while out on a mission for Big Mama. Donnie tries to talk with her but she remains silent and shows no mercy in attacking him. Later Donnie explains who she is to the fam and the brothers promise him they’ll find a way to bring her home.

April, Raph, Donnie run into the Purple Dragons while incognito at a tech store that Donnie really wanted to go to. Donnie is beyond impressed by them, but Raph is wary. April warns the boys the Purple Dragons are trouble. But Donnie doesn’t listen, and fights with April then to spite her, asks to join their group. They let him in after he shows off his tech and eventually Donnie discovers that April was right. She helps Donnie take back his tech that was stolen, but the Dragons get away. Donnie apologizes for the way he’s treated April since joining the family and the two gain a better understanding.

Leo and Raph argue one night and it’s so bad that Leo takes off. While out he gets recaptured by the Foot and Saki holds him for weeks at his secret compound. Leo sees visions of his long dead ancestor Karai who tries to help him through the constant torture, but thanks to Saki merging Kitsune’s magic with the empyrean, Leo’s mind is falling further than ever under the Shredder’s control.

Season One Finale

When the family finds Leo, he is trapped in a new type of mystic armor and doesn’t even seem to recognize them, viciously attacking them. He takes out everyone but Raph, and when he goes after his oldest brother, he almost manages to take him out as well, but Karai comes to Raph in a vision and helps walk Raph through the ancient ritual she created to banish the empyrean from Leo’s mind. Now free the two then take on Shredder, before grabbing their family and retreating. Family also learns about Karai being Splinter’s daughter.

Season Two

Twins’ Birthday episode for season premiere! Home once again, Leo finds he’s much calmer, only growing angry for shorter and less frequent bouts. And now that the family knows what’s causing it, they can work on controlling it. Donatello informs Leo that he and Draxum were the ones responsible for providing the Shredder with the empyrean, but Leo doesn’t care and tells Donnie not to worry about it. They enjoy their first real birthday with the whole family.

Another run in with Venus while Donnie is out with Mikey. This time Donnie tries his best to explain that he never wanted to leave her behind, and wants her to come back to the lair with him. Venus looks unsure, but refuses and retreats. Mikey&Venus twin reveal.

Leo and Raph gain a new understanding and grow closer. They settle into co-leading the team.

Leo, April, and Donnie have a fun episode together. Raph and Casey vigilante B plot. Splinter and Mikey want to watch their shows but the Wi-Fi is not working, with Donnie gone, they accidentally destroy the lair attempting to fix it.

April and Casey try again for a second date that once again keeps getting interrupted by goofy stuff. This time by the boys.

Rat Flu episode

The gang run into a salamander mutant named Mona and have to stop her from stealing a big jewel from a museum. Raph is pretty smitten when she manages to surprise him by taking him down easily and escaping.

Purple Dragons episode (plot tbd) but something akin to the Fourfold Trap from tmnt!2012

Donnie manages to convince the family to try and repeat the very same ritual Raph did on Leo, on Draxum. They reluctantly agree, as long as Donnie goes through it as well. He agrees and they come up with a plan to capture Draxum.

Season Two Midpoint

Venus agrees to join them temporarily, and helps them take down Draxum long enough to get him back to the lair. In the middle of the ritual, Mikey’s mystic powers activate and somehow manage to link Donnie and Draxum’s minds, pulling the boys in and letting them see all the horrible things Three went through. They run into the darker hallucination versions of themselves that Donnie always sees and have to make a run for it when they’re attacked. Then they meet an adorable, little Three who guides them deeper into the mental link where they finally see Draxum, who looks worse for wear and cries upon seeing the small, child version of Three.

The ritual works and Draxum is purged of most of the empyrean, when the boys are pulled out however, they realize it didn’t work on Donnie for some reason. Donnie doesn’t seem bothered and is just excited about what the ritual working on Draxum means, but Draxum is too ashamed to face anyone and makes a run for it while the boys are distracted.

The boys and April have a fun day enjoying the snow, but get into it when they can’t agree on whether Lou Jitsu or Jupiter Jim is better. Raph and Mikey are on team Lou and Leo and April on team JJ, Donnie who can’t decide, keeps switching back and forth.

The gang spends a day in the Hidden City and ends it by attending a show where the lead singer is a shockingly loud, spunky female turtle. The boys are confused to see another mutant turtle, but Donnie promises Draxum only had files on the Five of them, and is convinced she must be a yokai. The band gets attacked by some of Big Mama’s goons and the gang rush in to help. After everything is settled the female turtle introduces herself to the gang as Jennika and vows to repay the boys for saving her.

Karai episode (plot tbd)

Leo, Raph and Splinter all have trouble accepting the new Draxum so Mikey as Dr Feelings has the bright idea to spend a fun day touring New York. April comes up with a scavenger hunt but it quickly goes off the rails thanks to Big Mama (not exactly Battle Nexus: New York, more like a mix between the Hidden City episodes and then the start of the BN:NY ep)

(Now closer to the actual BN:NY ep) The whole family gets taken prisoner by Big Mama, who reveals her grand plan to have Raph and Mikey battle it out to see who will be her new champion. They win by outsmarting her and the last shot is her looking very disheveled and angry. As a last resort she calls a contact from deep in the underbelly of the Hidden City. A man covered with bandages, who looks practically like a corpse, emerges from the shadows and asks how he can help.

Leo asks Usagi to join him on a vision quest and the two leave for Japan via portal, where Usagi knows of a place that is said to provide those worthy with great inner peace. Usagi-centered episode. We get to see his village which Leo and Usagi are shocked to find out has been rebuilt in the years he’s been gone.

Season Two Finale

Donnie’s side effects from the empyrean are growing worse and he begins to research in secret the origins of the mystic substance. In his desperation for answers Donnie ignores an alert for a 317-39.4 that comes up right as he’s made a huge discovery. Not wanting to stop just as he’s found something big Donnie takes off without telling his brothers. His findings bring him to the Crying Titan where he discovers the source of the empyrean, the skeleton, inside. But before he can attempt to investigate further he’s stopped by the appearance of a young boy calling himself Casey Jones Junior, and his hooded companion. The companion warns Donnie that unless he wants to lose an eye, he shouldn’t get any closer to the creature. Donnie is skeptical, but heeds the warning, especially when the boy tells him they’ve come back from the future to help and uses a special code Donnie developed during a late night bout of insomnia driven boredom.

Donnie takes the new strangers back to the lair where Raph and Mikey are both upset over Donnie’s disappearance. Raph says they could’ve used his help fighting Warren Stone and Hypno, who managed to make off with robbing some old artifact. Donnie admits to ignoring that alert in favor of his research and Raph grows even more upset.

The hoodie figure declares to the boy that they’ve arrived too late and the two future strangers tell the family that they’ve come to stop the Kraang and that they need to call Leo back home. They will need everyone if they’re going to stop the end of the world.

MOVIE TIME

Haha jk no major spoilers quite yet.

[wolff-cub]

Last Laugh

a Landoscar stand-up comedy AU

“Okay, so, let me get this straight. You think I’m unfunny. You think I don’t deserve a spot on that stage. You hate me.” “Yes. Exactly. Glad it’s finally gotten through that thick skull of yours.” Oscar just fixes his big, impassive brown eyes on Lando. “You hate me, and yet you’re always in that same little corner seat in the back of the pub when I’m onstage... watching a set you hate.”

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As the most successful comedian on the Fringe Rising showcase lineup, Lando believes he should have been given the show's prestigious final billing slot. Over the course of the festival, his resentment for the amateur Australian comedian who's stolen his spot grows... into something else altogether.

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Special thanks to @jadesaturn for beta-reading and @afriques for the lovely banner!!

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

“Papaya!”

Onstage, the spotlights shine almost directly into his eyes as Lando springs upwards like a demented jack-in-the-box, popping forth on one leg, arms swinging around wildly. A split second later, he stops abruptly in the middle of the stage, directing an unimpressed look into the inky blackness beyond the stage.

“Okay, but really. Have any of you even had a papaya? That’s right. It’s a shit fruit. It has none of the zest, the fun, that its name implies. Who even named it? What the fuck were they thinking?!”

As his tone borders on hysterics, laughter washes over him like a warm blanket, sent his way from the shadowed masses before him. Keeping his energy up like this, even as his set draws to a close, is never easy — but so worth the laughs. The spotlights shining into his eyes are so bright that the crowd is nothing more than a series of imposing, faceless silhouettes. 

But Lando doesn’t need to see his audience to connect with them. If performing a comedy set is like screaming into the void, well… Lando has always been capable of drawing laughter from within the void.

“Yet here I was, sipping from a glass of papaya juice so good that I thought I’d tasted heaven. One sip was all it took… to move me to tears.” Here, his voice grows theatrical, and he begins feigning an almost clownish kind of sadness. His fingers tremble as he mimes a comically small sip from the world’s tiniest teacup. Somewhere in the audience, someone cackles so loudly that their voice cracks.

“Thank you.” Lando can’t help but grin back in the face of such open adulation, which only garners him even more cheers. “Anyway, I’ve changed a lot since then. I discovered therapy, for one. And antidepressants. The lows? No longer as low. The highs? No longer juice-related.”

Cheers. Whistles. Laughter. Oh, how he loves the sound of it.

“That’s right, folks! It’s only going uphill from here! I’m taking my life and making it papaya!”

“Papaya!” someone in the crowd shouts back.

Lando doesn’t miss a beat, turning that tiny bit of reciprocity into a full-on chant, clapping his hands over his head in time with the beat. The crowd roars back at him without needing much encouragement at all. Their silhouettes sway back and forth in time. “Papaya, papaya!”, and the abyss laughs, and laughs, and laughs right back at him.

“Thank you so much, everybody! I have been Lando Norris, and you… oh, you have been such a great crowd!” Lando crows, even as the crowd keeps up its chant for him. Not even his clumsy attempts to affix the mic back to its stand — the customary sign that his comedy set is about to end — discourages them from continuing to bid him farewell. “I’ll be here doing Fringe Rising every Tuesday and Thursday, along with a solo show during the festival, every other day of the week! Hopefully, I’ll see some of you there, but until then, that’s my time! And—you’vebeensuchagreataudiencethankyoubye!”

The grin that spreads across Lando’s face as he rushes offstage is so wide, it makes his cheeks hurt. The crowd’s sustained clapping is so buoyant for his spirits that he might as well be floating down the stage steps, a cartoon character drifting through the air on a cloud of his own high. He’d had no doubts about the success of his set tonight — he is, after all, the biggest name on the lineup. But god, does it feel good to bask in an audience’s adoration. 

Lando almost wishes he could run back onstage again, arms outstretched, and drink it all in. He is, after all, none other than Bristol’s boy king of comedy, whose career went stratospheric after two years of pain, self-doubt, and tireless honing of his craft through it all. He’s worked hard for everything he has to his name — the slot on this prestigious, curated showcase at the Edinburgh Fringe, the sold-out solo shows running all month long, the appearances on primetime comedy television, and even the Netflix comedy special in the works. Every clap, every cheer, has been earned. After so long, Lando is finally — finally! — reaping what he’s sown.

It isn’t exactly going uphill from here. As far as Lando is concerned, he’s already at the top.

Lando’s eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the venue in time to give the MC a customary high-five and backslap, as tradition calls for. Every comedian gets a high-five no matter how their set goes — a congratulations if the set goes well, or a commiseration if it’s bombed. Of course, Lando hasn’t had any of the latter in a while. Failure is something he no longer remembers the taste of. And with how hard he’s been working… surely, that’s just what he deserves.

“Whoa! Wow, wow, wow! You guys!”

Onstage, Alex Albon — part-time comedian, full-time zookeeper, all-around good guy, and tonight’s MC — has to shout into the mic over the rapturous applause, still going after Lando’s set. “Oh my goodness! I would tell you to give it up one more time for Lando Norris, but you guys clearly got the memo already!”

Lando’s smug grin remains even as he weaves past the front-of-stage seating, beelining towards a swarthy, dark-haired man nursing a beer alone at the back of the venue. He parks himself smoothly on an adjacent bar stool and gratefully fist-bumps his old friend, his grin not fading as Alex continues to sing his praises onstage.

“Oy, cabrón! You fucking killed it up there!”

“Aw, thanks, Carlos. It was nothing.”

“Oh no, Lanno. You cannot be doing this false modesty thing all the time. You know you did well, so… take the compliment, eh? Most of these people are probably here because it’s the only way they’ll get to see you. Your solo show sold out so fast!”

Lando smirks at the sound of his longtime comedy compatriot’s signature mispronunciation of his name, courtesy of the strong Spanish accent that makes him so popular with crowds. “No way, mate. You got plenty of cheers before your set even started, and you’ve been doing this comedy thing for much longer than I have. All the Fringe veterans are probably here to see you, all the way over from España.”

“Ah, but I am not the one who has been on Taskmaster in two countries. I don’t even want to do this full-time. If a genie came to me and asked me, ‘Carlos, would you rather have your own Netflix special, or improve your golf handicap by two?’ I would take the handicap.”

“But I still think you should reconsider that way of thinking. If I’ve made it to where I am today, you’d make it farther in half the time. Your comedy is genius, Carlos. You deserve a sold-out solo run and a Netflix special as much as I do!”

Carlos just shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s not about what we deserve, cabrón. It’s about what we want, and what we do to get it.”

Lando is about to argue, but Carlos shushes him so dismissively that he sits back in his seat like a told-off child. Onstage, Alex’s speech is approaching a crescendo, and Carlos has always been the type to show fellow performers as much decorum as possible.

“Anyway, thank you all so much for being here tonight at Fringe Rising! You’ve made it such a great opening night for me and our amazing line-up here, and we all appreciate you taking the time to come out and see our little showcase. Please, put your hands together one more time for our wonderful comedians from far and wide — Charles Leclerc from Monaco! Carlos Sainz from Spain! And Britain’s very own, Lando Norris!”

Lando’s grin reappears as the cheers wash over him, while Carlos puts on a demure smile, ducking his head down behind his beer bottle jokingly.

“Where is Charles, anyway?” asks Lando, suddenly realising that the showcase’s usual opener is absent. “Doesn’t he know you aren’t really supposed to leave before everyone’s done with their sets?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Don’t be so harsh on him, Lanno. He’s new, but he’s not stupid. He had to leave early to do that showcase that George Russell hosts every year.”

Lando has to stifle a snicker. “Charles is doing the comedy Powerpoint showcase?!”

“Ay, don’t look so surprised. He’s actually very funny if you give him a chance.”

Lando would beg to differ, but doesn’t want to argue with Carlos over the sound of Alex’s speech. At the risk of sounding petty and mean, Charles is still a rookie comedian, and all his sets that Lando has seen have been unpolished at best and amateurish at worst. Lando can tell that Charles cruises through his sets; that he doesn’t workshop his material and probably doesn’t even know how to. And Lando would definitely never say this out loud, but deep down he suspects that Charles had only landed this Fringe Rising spot (and plenty of other comedy club slots) only because he might be the hottest man to ever attempt a career in stand-up comedy.

But, that also explains why Charles is a rookie, and why Lando is within grasp of the top rung of the stand-up comedy ladder. Nobody works for this quite as hard as him. Nobody deserves this like he does.

The crowd soon falls into hushed whispers as the cheers for past performers gradually dies down. Onstage, Alex quickly segues into the next bit of his speech before any more stray cheers add even more time onto their already overtime showcase.

“We’ve got one more set for you tonight,” says Alex, “and boy, am I excited to introduce him. Now, this next act is like the ghost of international stand-up comedy. Almost nobody’s seen him perform… and yet everyone’s talking about him! This man is so very difficult to pin down, mark my words — but we’ve managed to wrangle him to the Fringe Rising stage, all the way from Australia, for what might be one of the rarest and most hype-worthy performances at this fest. Let’s get the energy back up in here, guys! Please give it up for… Oscar Piastri!”

Carlos leans in towards Lando. “Oh, I’m interested to see this guy. Some people are saying he’s only done five shows total, and nobody can stop talking about him.”

Five shows total? Is he fucking serious?!

Lando’s fist clenches involuntarily. Just like at concerts and festivals, the last set in a showcase is always awarded to the most prestigious performer on the lineup. When he’d gotten the email that he would be performing second-last in the night, Lando had presumed that Alex had somehow managed to land a real big hitter — one of the rare few comedians who sold out arena tours and ran their own TV shows. 

But this is who they’d given the final billing to instead of him? A complete fucking amateur?!

“You’d think the show closer should be someone more… accomplished,” Lando starts, only to get shushed by Carlos again as Alex ducks offstage and the lights dim once more.

The filler music fades, and a lone figure clad in a hoodie, cargo shorts, and Birkenstocks — no mean feat for Edinburgh weather — walks slowly onstage, lifting a hand in front of his eyes to fend off the harsh spotlights. His short brown hair is accentuated by a long, floppy wave of a fringe that falls into his eyes carelessly, making his boyish face look even younger than he already is.

“Whoa,” says the newcomer, his voice slow and languid with a stereotypical Australian drawl. “Pretty bright up here, hey?”

A few people in the crowd start chuckling. Lando’s brow furrows. What the hell is going on? The man hasn’t even said anything actually funny?!

“Anyway, how’re ya doing tonight, Edinburgh? My name’s Oscar, and… well, apparently I’m here to do some comedy. But I’m not quite sure how this whole comedy thing works in these parts — I’ve come all the way from Australia, and, well, you know. We do everything upside down there. So, uh, you’re gonna have to be pretty patient with me, alright? Cause I’m, uh… not actually supposed to be here.”

He shoots the audience a conspiratorial look, and a rustle of both anticipation and uncertainty travels through the crowds. No laughs yet, though — and Lando secretly hopes that it remains that way for the rest of his set.

“So, I just moved up here from Melbourne,” continues Oscar, “and I don’t really know anyone here — no friends or family. But the other day, I had to go to the hospital, and the nurse… she took down my details, and what I was at the hospital for… and then she asked me for an emergency contact. And I told her, ‘Barbara, I don’t have an emergency contact in this country. I don’t know anyone here except… well, you. So maybe you could be my emergency contact.’ And Barbara just shakes her head and keeps saying, ‘No, I can’t be your emergency contact. You need to give me the name and phone number of someone in the United Kingdom that you trust.’”

Lando slumps over onto his crossed arms and lets out a yawn. Overly long buildup, lacklustre delivery… where is this even going?

“Now, I’m a little offended by this.” Oscar puts his hand over his heart, feigning shock. “I said, ‘Barbara! How could you imply that I don’t trust you?! You’re the only person in this country who knows my deepest, darkest secret, Barbara. You’re the only person in this country who knows I have haemorrhoids!

“I put my trust in you, Barbara, and this is how you treat me? By not wanting to be the emergency contact for someone who has been so vulnerable with you by telling you that he has haemorrhoids?!”

A few isolated laughs rise from the crowd. Oscar raises an eyebrow at the crowd, seemingly dissatisfied by the reception to this joke.

“Uh, hello?” A small smirk flashes across his face. “Did you guys get that? No? Ah, fuck.”

To Lando’s horror, this blatant request for more laughs gets Oscar exactly that. Full-bodied guffaws and a lone whoop rise from the crowd, as Oscar pulls a comically mortified expression. Lando scans the audience, tries to read into their body language from all he can see of their backs. Are they even watching the same set as he is?! Is this really what counts as comedy at the Fringe these days?

“Long story short, guys, Barbara didn’t want to be my emergency contact.” A chorus of ‘aww-s’ prompts Oscar to nod along, gratefully accepting the crowd’s pity. “Thank you, thank you. Anyway, now that I’ve also entrusted all of you with knowledge of my haemorrhoids… would anyone here like to be my emergency contact?”

Something in the room snaps as soon as Oscar’s joke comes full circle. Even though he’d forcibly torn open the floodgates himself, the crowd suddenly seems more than happy to grant him their approval. No sooner than he delivers his first punchline with a self-deprecating smirk, the audience starts shrieking, howling, with pure delight. 

Next to Lando, even Carlos is crowing with laughter; his wheezy chuckles reminiscent of a dying pterodactyl’s cries. Lando regards his friend with utter disbelief — but Carlos is too busy laughing; too enraptured by Oscar’s joke to even notice Lando’s disdain for the set.

“Wow,” Oscar remarks dryly, once the audience’s hysterics have calmed to a volume low enough for him to be heard once more. “You guys really liked that one, huh? Okay, noting that down.” 

He flashes a comically embarrassed look at the crowd, and a new wave of cackles escapes the audience. 

“Like I said, I’m not really supposed to be here. After leaving the hospital, I just Googled ‘things to do in Edinburgh that don’t involve sitting down.’ Aaaand… now I’m here. Doing stand-up.”

Lando rolls his eyes at the pun, feeling embattled as the crowd rewards this lowest form of humour with roars of laughter. He’s almost grateful that there isn’t a real scale for measuring how much a crowd is enjoying any given set. If that existed, he’d certainly want to compare his own metrics to Oscar… and he’s no longer confident that his results would knock the other comedian’s out of the park. 

For some unfathomable reason, the Australian doesn’t need to work for the house’s approval at all. He merely needs to ask them to laugh, and the crowd will acquiesce like clockwork.

Oscar leaves the stage to thunderous applause and cheers so deafening that it feels as if the walls might crumble any second. Carlos turns to Lando as the venue lights come up, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat. Even as Lando is slumped over onto folded arms beside him, Carlos remains completely oblivious to his new pensive mood.

“Oi, Lanno, come on.” Carlos hoists himself off his bar stool, boisterously gesturing for Lando to do the same. “Let’s go to the green room and congratulate him. What a set for an almost-newcomer, huh?”

Lando shakes his head slowly. “You know, I actually don’t really feel so good. Might go back to the hotel and get an early night…don’t wanna risk having to cancel my show tomorrow.”

Distracted by his intent to head backstage, Carlos doesn’t see through his lame little lie. “Ah, okay. You push yourself too hard, Lanno! Five shows a week is crazy, even Charles isn’t doing that many. Get some rest, okay, cabrón? I’ll tell the new guy you said hi.”

“Yeah, sure,” replies Lando, even though the last thing he wants is for the new guy to think that he holds him in any kind of esteem.

Part of him wants Carlos — one of the only comedians in this room that he actually respects — to notice his frustration. To ask what’s wrong, and maybe abandon going backstage in favour of buying him a drink. But, just like all the flaws in his set; all the failures of comedy theory that Lando could so easily list if asked, his contempt for Oscar is both as imperceptible and irrelevant as his growing chagrin. 

Nobody notices… and nobody feels the same.

///

Over the next few days, Lando’s disdain for Oscar grows and festers like an untreated wound. His excitement for Fringe Rising before the start of the festival had been virtually unquenchable. Now, he thanks his lucky stars that he only has to do this showcase twice a week. Having to see Oscar any more than that would make him inclined to blow his brains out on stage. 

Every time he sees the floppy-haired Australian and his shit-eating smirk, he is reminded of just how unfair everything has become. Lando is only where he is today after shedding plenty of blood, sweat, and tears. He owes his success to the countless nights spent perfecting his sets, even when it meant pushing through sheer exhaustion accumulated over too many shifts at too many thankless part-time jobs. 

All that, and for what? To be ousted for final billing at a Fringe showcase by a no-name from the world’s most godforsaken continent, with a mere five shows under his belt? 

That just doesn’t seem right. Something’s gotta give.

But night after night, Oscar never bombs — never even comes close to bombing, because the audience always inexplicably becomes putty in his hands the moment he asks them to laugh at him. 

Lando never bombs either, but nobody seems to care that he doesn’t.

So Alex never offers Lando final billing, and Lando’s own opinion that this is a grave oversight never changes either. The Fringe soon becomes a kind of mental purgatory for him, with nights spent stewing in a cocktail of his own envy and rage. Day after day, the festival ticks by… but nothing ever changes. And Lando grows ever more resentful.

In an ideal world, his path would never cross Oscar’s, apart from the times they are forced to watch each other’s sets from the back of the venue in the name of artistic courtesy. But, as this entire experience has already shown him, the world he lives in is very far from ideal. 

In reality, their paths cross more times than he would like. In the dressing room backstage, where Oscar always sends a meek hello his way, and where Lando — without fail — doesn’t even acknowledge him before storming back out. At the venue bar — same thing. Lando even runs into Oscar at the grocery store, once. That pre-show snack run ends with him leaving Tesco empty-handed, after lying that he’s leaving and  in a big hurry, just to avoid any further conversation with him. 

Lando does his show hungry that night. His stomach starts hurting twenty minutes into his fifty-five-minute set — but at least the loud growl of his gastric pangs earns him an unexpected extra round of laughter from the audience.

Wednesday may be hump day, but Tuesday and Thursday are the real bookends to Lando’s shit sandwich of a week. Unlike Charles, Lando has nowhere to be — or even to pretend to be — during Oscar’s sets. So he always has to stay, to watch a set that never gets funnier than the last, delivered by a comedian who never grows more appealing, no matter how many times he’s forced to look at him.

And look at Oscar he does. Because what the fuck else is he supposed to when he’s a captive audience member for a set he can’t walk out of for fear of being cancelled by comedy Twitter? 

Soon enough, the Australian’s visage becomes one he can recall on command, every detail instantaneously available. The short, shiny, yet floppy brown hair. The long, rabbit-like front teeth hiding behind lips almost permanently curled into a lazy smile. The smattering of freckles and tiny moles all across his cheeks and neck. The deep brown eyes.

Sometimes, when he is alone at night, Lando summons all these details in his mind’s eye, painstakingly assembling as detailed a picture of Oscar as he can. Then he tacks it to a dartboard in his mind and fucking obliterates it.

The most infuriating part of all this? Despite how open Lando’s hostility is, Oscar doesn’t seem to notice… or care. Before every show, a hello. After every show, a wave goodbye, even though Lando scrambles out of his seat to leave the moment Oscar descends from the stage. 

Lando soon convinces himself of a secret third possibility — that Oscar has noticed, and does care, and is using their forced proximity as a reason to rub his omnipresence in Lando’s face. To terrorise Lando with his constant hellos and heys and painfully Australian okays. To ensure, simply speaking, that Lando will never know peace as long as the Fringe is running.

What’s worse is that, after barely any time at all, Oscar’s nefarious form of psychological warfare actually works. As Lando’s animosity towards the Australian grows, he begins to search for him wherever he goes, obsessed with fantasies of telling him exactly what he thinks of him. 

He searches for Oscar in the crowds at his solo shows, his eyes straining under the spotlight, desperate to catch sight of that floppy brown fringe somewhere in the seats. He even begins frequenting the Tesco Metro on snack runs more often than not, hoping that Oscar will be there for him to unleash the full power of the contempt in his heart, even if the Australian opens with his naive little hello.

But, as always, this is not an ideal world. Oscar never returns to the Tesco Metro. Lando never goes to the green room. Their paths remain as distant as they can, for two comedians working the same show.

And then, one night, Lando is offered redemption.

He spots Oscar in the crowd for his solo set immediately after he bounces onstage. The Australian’s placid brown eyes are fixed on him in the split second that Lando notices his presence — and, judging by the slow, relaxed smile that crawls onto his face, he knows he’s seen him. Lando’s smile freezes for a beat as he spots his nemesis. He fumbles to remove the mic from its stand, spending extra seconds clambering about as the audience waits for him to begin. 

So, Oscar has really done it. He really had the balls to show his face at the superior comedian’s set. Well, if he wants so desperately to get schooled in the art of real stand-up, who is Lando to deny him?

That night, the show is unequivocally the best solo set he’s ever put on in his entire life. Lando’s brand of comedy has always been fairly slapstick and energetic, but tonight he is something else altogether onstage. He’s a whirling dervish — jumping higher, acting harder — all to get the crowd laughing louder and louder to feed the hungry void of ambition within him. 

Not even halfway through the set, a few people in the front row are actually wheezing with exertion. The air positively sparkles with mirth, along with the glint of teary-eyed audience members, who are doubled over and crying with laughter. 

But Lando barely notices any of this. He’s performing for one audience member alone, eyes fixed on the dead centre of the room, tracking Oscar’s every reaction like a hawk. He sees when Oscar smiles, sees when he laughs, sees when he throws his head back and lets out a full-bellied guffaw right when Lando’s repertoire is meant to take the audience by surprise.

Do you see it now, Oscar? he wants to say. This is how comedy is meant to be done.

The crowd is electric when the lights come up. The buzz and rustle of their post-show discussion remains at a constant volume as his audience relives their favourite moments from the set amongst themselves. Only a few figures make their way to the exit almost immediately. The rest remain milling around the bar, or even in their seats — waiting for Lando to come around and mingle with the audience, all wanting a piece of him.

Lando spends the rest of the night working the crowd. Making small talk with new fans. Hugging old fans he recognises from back in the day. Taking pictures with Fringe grannies who have dedicated their twilight years to exploring the arts — and don’t they love a dashing young man who can make them laugh. 

He almost forgets about the unwelcome interloper in the audience altogether. But then the crowd thins out, the bar staff get ready to close the venue for the night, and Oscar appears in front of him once more — a fluffy-haired nightmare emerging from the pub’s gloomy atmosphere.

“Lando!” His name sounds foreign on the other man’s tongue; so unrecognisable that he wishes he would say it again, just so he can better get used to the sound of it. “Congrats, man. That was an amazing set. I’d heard a lot about you, but tonight completely blew me away. I never really knew comedy could be like this before.”

It takes all of Lando’s willpower not to let out an exultant scream directly into the Australian’s smug little face. He barely hears Oscar’s continued babbling over the imaginary crescendo of a million variations of his triumphal speech, all meticulously laid out in his vengeful fantasies. Now is his chance to put Oscarin his place. Now is the time to live out his dreams.

Oscar has stopped talking now, and just looks at him expectantly, as if Lando would care about anything he has to say. He reaches within himself; searches for the words that he’s rehearsed for so long.

And all he can say is a lame, muted, “Thanks.”

Lando can’t tell if it is disappointment or satisfaction that makes Oscar turn away. “Okay,” he says, in that same semi-ironic deadpan cadence he uses incessantly onstage — or is that just his voice? “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to take you away from your other fans. See you on Tuesday, mate.”

And then he turns away, waving over his shoulder as he disappears out the pub doors and into the night. Lando immediately turns to the next fan waiting to speak with him, but something about the night has inexplicably changed for the worse. His smile feels plastic, his enthusiasm more strained than genuine.

After leaving the bar, he finds himself looking around the doors, half-expecting Oscar to emerge from the darkness again and shoot him that infuriating smile of his. But of course, the other man is long gone. 

And Lando walks home alone, burning with shame.

///

The third and final week of the Fringe dawns, and Lando senses that a reckoning is near.

Festival fatigue has set in for most Fringe performers now, taking root so deeply in their bones that most of them barely have the energy to go out for drinks after their sets. 

Lando himself is no exception. He has been curling up beneath the covers of his hotel duvet earlier and earlier each night, unable to keep up with Carlos and Charles’s constant, fervoured partying. Lando’s especially unable to face the possibility of running into Oscar; to see that smile directed at him under the warm fairy lights of some outdoor beer garden. 

All he wants is for the festival to be over, so he can go back home to London, sleep for a week, and forget that he’d ever been upstaged by an amateur comedian from fucking Australia. Who he still can’t stop thinking about.

Performing the same material for two weeks straight grows stale for even the most seasoned comedians. So, in this third and final Fringe week, Lando decides to try something different. 

Ensemble showcases at comedy clubs are more often than not used to test new material on unsuspecting audiences — so what better time to switch up his set than in front of one of the most distinguished festival audiences in the world? 

At worst, he doesn’t get a laugh after one punchline and immediately switches back to his tried and tested material. And at best? He proves himself to be the best improviser in the comedy arena and gives the usurper of his rightfully-deserved final billing slot a run for his money. 

“So, what is it with so many people these days thinking I’m Australian?” he starts one night, in place of his old set closer about papayas. “I was actually down under for a short tour recently, and no matter what I did, all the MCs just kept introducing me as a local comedian. But I’d never been to Australia before that. Don’t have the accent. Have never even tried imitating the accent — I know, right? Aren’t I a saint?

“So, after a couple of nights of letting it slide, I decided to bring it up. I was like, ‘Hey, man, you’ve got to stop telling the crowds I’m Australian. Why do you even think I’m from here, anyway? Is it my hot surfer bod? Is it the fact that I’m kinda sun-kissed and incredibly fuckable? Cause, uh… thank you, but you’re still wrong. About me being Australian, I mean. All the rest of it, you’re toootally right about.”

This gets a fair few laughs from the crowd — Lando’s anecdote is building nicely. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Oscar watching his set from the bar, an inexplicable smile forming on his lips. He forces himself to pivot to the opposite end of the crowd, to ignore his urge to storm offstage and grab the other man by the throat, and scream, This is not about you! This is my set!

This is about me!

Every comedian always envisions their jokes being met with at least a modicum of enthusiasm when they’re delivered for the first time. But never in his wildest dreams had Lando expected this strong of a reaction from the audience tonight — certainly not for a joke fresh out of the oven with no feedback in sight. It is a twisty, turny anecdote, one about scandal and mistaken identity with a second punchline that leaves a few audience members braying hysterically. 

By the time he walks off that stage, Lando is convinced that tonight has confirmed which one of them is better, once and for all. He’s done it, now. He’s out-written, out-performed, even out-Australian-ed Oscar. 

The reckoning has come, and Lando has come out on top.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks until Oscar saunters onstage a few minutes later. He stops. Squints at the crowd. Pulls a sheepish expression and says, “Well, uh… g’day, everyone. It’s me again. Lando Norris.”

And of course, the crowd absolutely. Fucking. Loses it.

So this is what all of Lando’s efforts have come to. Hours spent crafting new jokes, weighing up the risks of debuting untested material in front of a discerning crowd… all for Oscar to ride in on his high horse and deliver his first joke of the night, entirely at Lando’s expense. 

The rest of his set passes in a blur, as Lando seethes and fumes and curses Oscar for taking a comedic opportunity that he knows, deep down, is perfectly fair game. But that taste of victory, the way it felt in his hands before slipping out of his grasp again — Lando’s ego won’t allow him to let go of it just yet.

And so, he launches himself out of his chair before Oscar has even fully left the stage, leaving a bewildered Carlos calling out questions in vain. His footsteps thud angrily on the bare concrete backstage as he makes his way to the green room, shoving its flimsy wooden door open so hard that it bangs against the opposite wall.

Oscar is in there, gratefully chugging down an entire bottle of water only to choke with surprise at Lando’s frenzied entry. When he turns to see who it is, that shit-eating little smile returns — and Lando can’t wait to wipe it off his face once and for all.

“Oh, hey, man!” Oscar caps his bottle, feigning nonchalance — or maybe he really does respect Lando that little; maybe he really just doesn’t give a fuck. “I don’t usually see you back here. What’s up—”

“You little shit!” yells Lando, not caring who can hear him even as he slams the door behind them. “You fucking amateur. You think you can come here with your unfunny little set, and your shitty jokes that say please, please, please laugh at me, and take my fucking top spot on the billing? You think you can do all that and then piggyback off the joke I spent half of this festival writing?!”

Oscar’s eyes widen with genuine shock. Whatever sort of blowback he’d been expecting from Lando had certainly not been this loud or intense in his mind.

The Australian holds up his hands as if to placate him, and Lando can’t tell if the mocking edge to his movements is actually there, or if it’s entirely his imagination. “Dude, hey, no need for that. I would never have built off your joke if I knew you’d object to it. I’m really sorry, okay? If you’re gonna run that bit at the end of your set again, I promise I won’t repeat what I did tonight.”

“It’s not about whether I’m objecting to it now,” Lando replies through gritted teeth. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to make jokes of your fellow comedians like that! What, did you want to fucking rub it in a little harder? An amateur, taking last billing over the guy with the real solo hour and the real Netflix special? Well, fuck you too, dude!”

Oscar flinches slightly at Lando’s grotesque imitation of him. “Lando, I genuinely have no clue what you’re talking about, okay? I respect you a lot; I think you’re one of the coolest comedians at the fest. But… isn’t that what we’re all here for? To make jokes out of ourselves?”

Lando chuckles bitterly. “Of course you would say that. You haven’t worked for this for a day in your life, have you?”

He pivots to leave, but is overcome by a fresh wave of self-hatred as Oscar’s voice stops him in his tracks. “Hey, come on. Can’t we talk this out?”

“Oscar! Oscar.” Lando lets out a hysterical laugh. “You don’t need to pretend you want to be my friend any more, alright? There is nothing to talk out! In fact, I would rather not be talking to you at all, because everything you do gets on my last fucking nerve. So let’s just do our last show on Thursday, and not step on each other’s toes, and then we can both go back to never seeing each other again. Okay?”

Oscar blinks. And then, to Lando’s continued frustration, he smiles. Again.

“Nah, hold up. There’s definitely stuff to talk about here. Just… let me get this straight. You think I’m unfunny. You think I don’t deserve a spot on that stage. You hate me.”

“Yes. Exactly. Glad it’s finally gotten through that thick skull of yours.”

Oscar just fixes his big, impassive brown eyes on Lando; brought to life for once by a wry spark that flickers into being for just a split second. 

“You hate me… and yet you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

Lando lets out the most patronising scoff he can muster. “Untalented and delusional. Just when I thought you couldn’t—”

“You hate me, and yet you’re always in that same little corner seat in the back of the pub when I’m onstage.” Oscar’s eyes remain locked directly onto his, his tone mirroring the half-dead neutrality of someone reading boring facts off a piece of paper. “You could just go home and call it a night, but you’re always there anyway. Watching a set you hate.”

Lando opens his mouth to speak, and nothing but a shaky, slow exhale hisses out of him. He is spent; a deflated balloon. When he inhales, the air feels stale and used — Oscar is so close now; breaths mingling in the shared air.

“You hate me, so you keep looking for me every night in the audience of your solo hour… and when you do find me, you don’t even look away again, so it’s like you’re delivering your entire set to me alone.”

“You’re insane.” Lando means to spit the line in his face, heroically aggrieved, but it comes out as a plaintive, airy whine instead. He swears he sees the corner of Oscar’s permanently impassive mouth twitch — the ghost of a smug, triumphant smile passing over and through him. 

“You hate me,” Oscar continues, as if Lando hasn’t even said anything. “Which is why you think about me all the time, right? You hate me.”

Lando feels his expression spasm involuntarily. Control over his facial muscles appears to be rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “Yes,” he manages to growl; his voice a ferocious whisper rising from the back of his throat. “I hate you.”

“Okay,” says Oscar — that fucking stupid, guileless, deadpan okay again. Something about the way Oscar says it — the detached sheen that descends over his eyes, the nasal twang of his Australian accent — makes Lando want to punch something. 

But he can’t even feel his fingers; couldn’t clench a fist if he tried. Oscar’s shoulder knocks against his provocatively, daring him to say something. To do something. 

Surely Oscar knows, then, that the proximity of his body to Lando’s is the thing that has neutralised his opponent. He is a cat, toying with the prey he holds immobilised beneath one paw.

He’s enjoying this.

“You hate me,” says Oscar, his face now unfathomably close to Lando’s, “and you definitely don’t want me to kiss you.”

“No.” Lando’s voice is barely louder than a breath on the wind. “I don’t want you to kiss me.”

Oscar blinks ever so slowly, those impassive brown eyes like a vortex threatening to swallow Lando whole. His lips part, revealing a flash of teeth — a snarl, a smile; an indecipherable, predatory, in-between thing.

“Then stop me,” he says.

Lando hates the way his voice shakes when he speaks next. “What?”

“Stop me,” Oscar repeats. “You don’t want me to kiss you. So stop me.”

There it is — a real smile now. Tentative. Shy, almost. Oscar may have the upper hand, but he doesn’t know that he’s won.

So Lando does the only thing he knows will catch him off guard. He pushes out with the flats of both palms, shoving Oscar so that he stumbles slightly, balance transferring to his back foot. 

And then, while the surprise is still fresh on his face, Lando grabs the collar of Oscar’s hoodie in both his fists, pulls him back in, and kisses him first.

Time freezes, turning a single moment into eternity. Lando can taste the surprise on Oscar’s lips — and oh, does his little reward taste sweet. 

But neither does it last long. Oscar returns the kiss slowly, tantalisingly… only to shove Lando away just as he eases into the tempo of their shared movements.

“Look at you,” teases Oscar, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever. “All red in the face for the world’s most boring comedian.”

One of Oscar’s hands pushes him back up against the green room wall. The other begins tugging at Lando’s belt buckle slowly, drawing his attention to the fact that he is undeniably, achingly hard. All he can think about still is Oscar’s lips; the burning need he has to shut him up again; to kiss him so long and deep that they both forget how to breathe. 

Yet he can’t move; can’t brandish another witty retort against Oscar’s verbal onslaught. His open palms brace himself against the cool brick walls of the dressing room. The only sound that escapes him, right as Oscar’s hand roughly curls around his cock, is a small, plaintive moan.

“Stop me,” says Oscar, looking him right in the eye; a request for consent disguised as more vicious banter.

Lando sees his opportunity, takes it. “Don’t tell me what to do. Shut the fuck up and finish what you started.”

Oscar’s eyes brighten with a new, mischievous twinkle. His smile grows even more insidious. Contrary to Lando’s expectations, he seems positively delighted that Lando has finally found some bite. 

“Ah.” His brown eyes grow coy. “So you do want this. Maybe I should just go, then. Or maybe I should make you beg for it.”

“Like you beg your audience for laughs?”

Oscar draws closer to Lando once more, his lips hovering just out of reach from where he has Lando pressed against the green room’s walls. Down below, his spit-slicked hand begins working Lando’s dick slowly, to a rhythm that is as delicious as it is infuriating.

“Sure, I may beg,” he says, as Lando’s breath begins to hitch in his throat. “But I also get what I want. Every. Single. Time. And now, you’re going to give me what I want too.”

Lando’s palms, still braced against cold, hard brick, clench inconsequentially into fists as he fights back another moan. “Fat fucking chance.” He barely manages to get the words out from between gritted teeth as Oscar’s thumb tantalisingly circles the head of his cock, right as he begins to speak.

Oscar’s eyes widen with mock surprise. His hand all but stops moving, his grip loosens… and to Lando’s embarrassment, the shock of it is so jarring that he lets out a pathetically loud whimper.

“Okay.” There it is, that hatefully deadpan delivery sending a fresh rush of blood to his erection even as Oscar withdraws. “That’s cool. Let’s call it a night, then.”

For a moment, Lando actually falls for Oscar’s feint. The sudden void left by Oscar’s hands, no longer on Lando’s chest or cock, is wholly unbearable. A wave of embarrassment courses through him, as he struggles to pull his briefs back up with trembling fingers. “Fucking arsehole.”

Oscar lashes out almost faster than Lando can process, both hands snatching up his own and pinning them to the wall. “I’ll ask again,” he says teasingly. “Are you going to give me what I want?”

“What the fuck do you want?!” Lando’s growl is equal parts anger and desperation.

“Tell me I’m not boring.”

“No way.”

Oscar’s right hand loosens on Lando’s left, returning to caress Lando’s cock slowly — too slowly.

“Tell me. I’m not. Boring.”

“No fucking way.”

In response to this, Oscar tightens his grip, moving slightly faster again… and Lando understands the rules of the game now. He has to grudgingly respect Oscar’s ruthlessness when it comes to flipping the rules whenever he wants — especially if this is the effect it’s having on him offstage.

“Say it, Lando. Give me what I want.”

“You’re a hack,” he retorts, as forcefully as he can in between shaking breaths, while Oscar’s hand moves faster with every vitriolic syllable that falls from his lips. “You being in this show was a total fluke. You are painfully. Fucking. Unentertaining.”

“Am I, now?”

Lando presumes the question is rhetorical, but his lack of a response earns him another sudden stop that makes him choke with surprise.

“Am I?” Oscar repeats.

“Yes,” whines Lando, even as he senses a new trap being set. The return of Oscar’s smug grin confirms his instincts barely a second later.

“Aw,” he coos, voice dripping with toxic endearment. “You’re a good comedian… but a veeeery bad liar.”

Lando can barely speak through the pressure building in his chest. Through the frustration of his imminent orgasm being withheld yet again, Oscar diabolically slows his pace. “I’m… not… lying.”

“Are you sure?”

Faster once more, to Lando’s relief.

“Cause if I’m so unentertaining…”

Faster, and faster, and faster—

“…then why was it so easy to make you come?”

And Oscar steps away deftly, just in time, as Lando makes an absolute mess of himself.

A strange, potent cocktail of shame, embarrassment, and elation bubbles through the haze of Lando’s post-orgasm brain fog. A hand on his shoulder brings him out of his reverie — Oscar has brought over a towel from the green room rack.

The Australian’s brown eyes search his again. No trace of mischief or malice remains in them. Now, they are just curious… and, dare he say it, kind.

“You okay?” he asks.

Lando just nods as he wipes himself off, still too buzzed to speak.

“Okay. Good. Phew!” Oscar smiles, and it is a real one this time; a cheek-to-cheek beam with a hundred megawatts of charm. “I don’t usually do that without dinner and drinks first, by the way. But you can buy me a beer tomorrow before the show to make up for it. Sounds good?”

Lando’s head jerks back up to look at Oscar. The earnest expression on his face catches him completely off guard. There are clearly no more games left to play now — all that’s left is to decide where they go from here. And Oscar has clearly already decided for the both of them.

But the change in tone is still as absurd as it is welcome, bringing with it relief… and amusement.

Lando cracks a smile — small, at first, but it grows and grows.

“Sounds great,” he says.

And then for the first time, as Oscar looks on, he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

[siblingshuffle]

Day 26

I had to stretch the prompt to include “sleep” in order for me to have literally anything for today.

Tw: Kidnapping/being held hostage

“Would you stop dozing off?! I’m monologuing!” Wily, exasperated, demanded. Blues yawned, looking up at him through his bangs.

“Gee, Dad Number Two, if only there were some kind of mechanism to reduce tiredness,” Blues responded with a hefty dose of sarcasm.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that,” seethed the old man.

“Clearly not enough,” he quipped in reply, leaning against the wall. “Hey, can you dim the light or something? I lost my glasses when Oil got me.” (His scarf as well, but he didn’t need it imminently…)

“What, would you like a warm blankie, too?” Droned Wily, rolling his eyes.

“That sounds great,” Blues replied, forcing as much pep into his voice as he could. “Thanks, Dad Two!”

Dr. Wily just glared at him for a few minutes, his face red. “…take him to the cell,” he eventually sighed defeatedly, muttering something about teenagers and disrespect as Time and Oil Man led him away.

Blues would later laugh about that reaction. Currently, though, he was much too exhausted.

12% Battery Remaining.

————————————-——————

Lore:

Ok so. Blues was co-created by Light & Wily (though Light gets more of a claim over being his creator because he created the code & stuff). I had this funny thought in my head about Blues, early on, equating “creator” with “Dad” and at one point calling Wily “Dad #2”.

Which is canon to the AU now.

Wily was absolutely flabbergasted by the nickname. Blues, finding this hilarious, continued calling him that as a joke until Wily’s first attack.

This is irrelevant but idk if I’ll get the chance to say this any other time: Oil Man calls Blues “Scarf Buddy” like he does in Powered Up.

Have a janky little animation and some more stuff about Blues’s symptoms as this as a prize for reading all this 👍

It’s a little hard to see, but this is him starting to get the “weird/painful” sensations he gets sometimes when at low power. It’s kinda a more minimal version of the sparking he does in the comics (minimized because of the extra maintenance but still)

Examples of what I mean:

To me it seemed like every time he got exceptionally low on power after the demonstration, he got those sparks all over him. So yeah uh that’s part of his core symptoms. Here, at 12% power & dropping, he’s starting to get them.

all this to say WILY LET THE DARN BOY SLEEP

[munson-blurbs]

i am alrREADY SENDING IN MY REQUEST SO I DONT FORGET AND I NEED THIS

Peanut Butter Cup - Nerds

IM SO EXCITED.

Fake dating/Bookworm!Reader/Steve Harrington

Warnings: fake dating, Harrington familial dysfunction, drunk family members

WC: 1.1k

Divider credit to @saradika

Steve had heard it all from his parents:

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”

“Just go out on a date, Steven.”

“You spend all damn day at that video store; you’re never gonna meet anyone that way.”

He normally shrugs it off, until his parents give him an ultimatum: get a girlfriend before the annual Harrington Family Reunion in two weeks, or don’t bother showing up at all. 

“Twenty years old, and you barely passed high school, work a dead-end job, and don’t even have a girlfriend,” his father mutters, disgust marring his features. “You’re a disappointment.”

The insult reverberates around his skull all day: disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. It’s not the first time his father has hurled the term his way, and it likely won’t be the last, but the impact continues to sting.

It’s still gnawing at him when you walk in the door, sliding a VHS copy of The Shining across the counter with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I know it’s a day late,” you apologize, already digging into your bag for change. “How much is the fee?”

Steve dismisses the notion with a wave. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, already checking the movie back into the system. “You, uh, went to Hawkins High, right?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, zipping up your purse and hitching it back up your shoulder, “class of ‘86.”

“‘85,” he chirps, clearing his throat to temper his enthusiasm. “Anyway, hope the movie was good.”

You nod and smile again; the gentle upturn of your lips has Steve melting. “It was. The book was better, though.”

And that’s when Steve finally places you: back in high school, you volunteered at the school library and, on more than one occasion, had helped him find a book for research projects. You were pretty then, and you’re even prettier now.

“I haven’t read the book,” he admits, embarrassed that he hasn’t read much of anything besides a comic book or two since graduation. 

Your jaw drops. “Well, now you have to!” You grab your car keys from your back pocket. “I’ll swing by tomorrow with my copy, if that’s cool?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘s cool,” he stutters, giving his head a soft shake to shift the hair from his hazel eyes. He watches as you walk out of the store, the sway of your hips drawing him in. 

He probably would have stared forever if Robin hadn’t cut in. “Hey, Dingus, you’re drooling.”

You stop by Family Video the next day to drop off the book. And then a few days after that, you go there again to grab another movie. Soon enough, you’re a regular customer.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Steve blurts out from where he’s standing next to you as you peruse the horror section. “Feel free to say no, to tell me to fuck off, and I will. I will just…fuck right off.”

“Shoot.”

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend at my family reunion next weekend? Nothing weird,” he rushes to add, not wanting to imply any unwanted contact. “Just hand holding, arm around your shoulder…no feels will be copped, I swear.”

You pinch your eyebrows, perplexed. “Is this the trade-off for having my late fee waived?” you tease, thumbing The Exorcist and tugging it from its spot on the shelf. “Because I’ll pay it.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, just tired of hearing my folks complain about me not having my life together. Figured if I showed up with a smart, pretty girl on my arm, they’d shut up for a little while.”

Your face burns at the compliments, both at the words and that King Steve is the one saying them. “What’s the dress code?”

You and Steve arrive in his Beemer, his hand already pressed to the small of your back as you walk into the restaurant. A room filled with Harringtons greet you as you enter the room, and your stomach flips as you wonder if you can pull this off.

“Showtime,” Steve murmurs in your ear, taking you around the room to meet his family. You’re suddenly self-conscious of where your black dress lands on your thighs and the cut of the neckline. Sure, Steve had approved it, but what did he know?

You note that he’s been gazing at you since he’d picked you up earlier, eyes drawn to you like a magnetic force. It’s part of the whole bit, you try and convince yourself, but something nags at you that Steve isn’t that good of an actor.

The conversations go as easily as they can; you spend the evening peppering in “facts” about your relationship that you and Steve had rehearsed over and over. Some of the details were truthful, like meeting at Family Video and bonding over horror movies. Other parts were much more embellished: relationship duration, your first date, the way Steve bragged that you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

It’s smooth sailing until Steve’s inebriated father stands up, clumsily clinking his knife to his wine glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he slurs, swaying as he speaks, “to my son, Steve, and his girl! Never thought I’d see the day he’d land someone like her.”

Your eyes remain glued to the floor, waiting for the moment to be over, but if the impromptu speech wasn’t awkward enough, one of Steve’s equally drunk uncles calls out, “Give her a kiss, Stevie!”

Steve shakes his head with an uncomfortable chuckle. “Nah, we’re not really into the public–”

“Aw, c’mon!” His boisterous voice echoes throughout the restaurant. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” he chants, and soon enough, most of the family joins in.

“Shall we shut them up?” Steve mumbles, turning to you. “Y’don’t have to…”

“N-No, we can.” It’s not the most conventional first kiss, but then again, nothing about this arrangement is normal. “We can just…”

Steve’s hand is on your cheek, nose nudging against yours as your lips press together. This isn’t a simple peck; no, it’s far more involved, more intimate, than you had anticipated.

You melt into him a bit more, resting your own hand on his bicep until the kiss comes to an end. The men hoot and holler; the women exchange awws.

“Now that,” Steve’s dad guffaws, clapping a hand on his son’s back, “is the kiss of true love!”

You manage a small smile, wondering exactly what just happened. The kiss was the best of your life, and it was supposedly just for show.

Steve’s breath tickles your earlobe as he whispers, “he may be drunk, but he’s not wrong.” His cheeks are pink at the admission.

It’s certainly a conversation you’ll need to have later, but you can’t say you disagree. For now, your fingers intertwine with his, and you give them a quick squeeze. 

Maybe it’s the wine, but you swear you love him back.

--

[presidenthades]

Day 2 of HOTD adventures at New York Comic Con

As I mentioned in my Day 1 post, I did end up attending the HOTD panel today! It was live-streamed, so I won’t bother with a full recap because a lot of people have probably watched the recording. I’ll just list a few things I thought were highlights.

First of all, I just want to brag about my very excellent seat. I had a great view of the stage.

My personal highlights:

Before the panel began, an event host went around the room to get some sound bites from the audience. The most notable was a pair of women who cosplayed Rhaenys and Meleys. That’s right, someone cosplayed MELEYS. I wish I’d gotten photos, but believe me when I say the cosplays were amazing.

When Matt talked about how he’s attended many fan events, it made me think about how during his brief interactions for photos and autographs, he still made every fan feel seen and appreciated. I read online that Matt, who was scheduled to do Saturday autographs only until 7pm, stayed after 10pm to make sure everyone in line got their autographs. He probably is aware that his lines are generally really long, and he did his best to make the experience worth it even though he had limited time.

It was a CROWDED room, I think 4000 people? If Fabien seemed a little startled/awestruck at first, that’s why. He also seemed surprised (at the panel and during other fan interactions later) that people were genuinely happy to see him. I suspect this is due to some people letting their feelings about Criston seep into their real-life interactions with Fabien.

Cock jokes. 😂😂😂

The host asked Tom and Fabien if they became more comfortable going from Season 1 to Season 2. Not sure if the livestream caught it, but Tom let out an awkward giggle after that question. 👀

When the host asked Fabien how he would rate his job as Hand and then the question was tossed to the audience, the reception was indeed lackluster. Lots of people held up hands with just one or two fingers raised. Fabien seemed really sheepish about it, though Tom defended Criston’s character. It reminded me of a conversation I overheard while queuing before the panel. There was a group of friends in the queue, and one of them said she’d never seen HOTD and knew nothing about it. Her friends told her that if the panel asked any questions about Cole, “don’t cheer because we hate him.”

Matt and Fabien discussing Daemon and Criston’s homoerotic trysts/tension. 🔥

Tom’s spiel about how he can’t turn his back on Aegon as a character or else everyone else will turn their backs was interesting. Also about how digging into the reasons Aegon behaves the way he does is “an explanation not an excuse.” I think that’s a nuance which unfortunately some people disregard, and that leads to toxic interactions in the fandom.

Matt’s description of Viserys’s death instilling in Daemon “an odd level of psychosis and grief” was VERY interesting.

I can’t believe Matt forgot Milly’s name. 😂 And when Fabien recounted that he told her to join them at NYCC, Milly said “no fucking way.” 😂😂😂

I happened to get a photo when Tom announced he spilled water on his trousers and, in his own words, it looked like he pissed himself.

The way the actors talked AROUND their feelings about the script/writers was intriguing. 👀 I wonder if Matt will actually make requests of the writers…

When the host asked what other character the actors would like to play, Fabien had trouble thinking of an answer, so the host said, “You love your character so much!” Fabien IMMEDIATELY said, “Don’t put that out into the aether.” It seems like he doesn’t allow himself to publicly declare that he likes anything about his own character, because he knows how much vitriol that would generate. 🥺

Tom has never watched Lord of the Rings??? CANCEL HIM. (JK please don’t.)

When the host asked the actors what was the worst note a director had ever given them, Fabien said it would have to wait a few years after HOTD. So I am pretty sure his “worst note” was something during HOTD. 👀

Matt thinks chipmunks and mice are the same thing. 😭

When the panel ended, Matt and Tom left pretty quickly because their handlers were ushering them to their next event. Fabien lingered onstage to take a picture of the giant audience. People SWARMED to the stage, and Fabien was nice enough to sign one or two things that people were shoving up at him before he also had to leave.

I ended up having time to go to Fabien’s autograph session later that day. On the way, I saw that Matt’s line was ridiculously long again. Tom’s line was also huge, I think because he left early the day before, so people were all trying to get his autograph today.

When I arrived, Fabien was going on a break, so several of us early birds waited for him to come back. Fabien and Tom’s booths were next to each other, and we were able to see what Tom was doing. Tom seemed tired again but was still nice and friendly to all the fans. I’m 99% sure his girlfriend was sitting nearby. He definitely perked up when he paused to chat with her.

When Fabien came back from his break, fans in the lines for both actors started cheering for him. Tom also started cheering and clapping and going “whooooo!” It’s good to see that the HOTD cast really do like and have fun with each other. ❤️

Once it was my turn to get an autograph and selfie, I told Fabien that I enjoyed his performance at Rook’s Rest, and I named a few specific Cole moments (pre-battle speech, stumbling around afterwards looking traumatized). He seemed to really appreciate hearing that; I feel like he might get a lot of “I hate Criston but…” kind of comments.

My HOTD adventures today were more Fabien-centered, and I enjoyed it! From my brief interaction, I would say Fabien is friendly, sweet, and genuinely interested in fan interactions—although maybe a little nervous/scared about what people will say to his face.

TBH I’m tempted to write a Criston POV for my fic series. I got Fabien to autograph a print that his team provided, but it would’ve been nice to be able to have him autograph something more personal. I love it anyway!

Now I’m going to show off my GOT/HOTD merch!

Postcards:

Stained glass window cling print that looks gorgeous when it’s backlit:

Not GOT/HOTD-related, but I found out last minute that Naomi Novik, AKA Astolat, AKA one of the founders of AO3, was attending NYCC on Sunday to sign books. So I hightailed to that event. She signed my copy of her new book (including my AO3 username) and my Fanbinding pouch. 🥰 I told her how much I adore her writing and appreciate her contribution to fandom. She was lovely!!

That little squiggle she draws in the middle is a dragon doodle! For those who don’t know, Naomi’s first published book series was Temeraire, which is about the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons.

Later that day, I was shopping at a booth selling gorgeous headbands. Then I turned around, and there was Naomi again, shopping at the same booth!! She was off-duty doing her own thing, so I tried very hard to pretend I didn’t know who she was, even though I was fangirling inside. She really is a nerdy fan like the rest of us, enjoying her con experience. ❤️❤️❤️

Here’s one of the headbands I got:

All in all, a very successful and fun con! But now I desperately need to catch up on sleep and get back to my normal routine, so maybe I can resume writing. 🥲😴

[atearyamallari]

I made fanfiction for the rottmnt 40th anniversary comic! You can read the full first chapter by clicking here, but I will be posting a little preview below, so SPOILERS AHEAD!

Time Forever Lost

Chapter 1 - Family Movie Day

Leo placed some breakfast on a wooden tray – toast with strawberry jam and a warm cup of tea – and walked it out of the kitchen and down the hall. When he finally made it to the dilapidated subway car that was Splinter’s bedroom, he stopped short of the door. Taking a deep breath, he put on a brave face and tapped the door with his toes.

“Hey, Dad, I’m coming in. You better be halfway decent in there,” Leo called. He gently kicked open the door and let the light from the hallway illuminate a path to Splinter’s bedside. The sickeningly sweet smell of flowers bombarded his nostrils, and he had to tread carefully to avoid knocking over the vases that lined the floor. At some point, he would have to water some of those roses and discard the wilting bouquets, he reminded himself. And at the rate that his family was receiving flowers from friends, he was going to have to find some more vases, too.

The bed was a mess of pillows and blankets – but no Splinter. Leo nearly dropped the tray. No matter how many times he and his brothers had told their dad not to get up and wander around the lair without their supervision, he did so anyway. It was as if he didn’t care that it gave them a heart attack. Or maybe it just was payback for all the times they snuck out of the lair and got into trouble when they were kids. Leo set the tray down on the bedside nightstand and rushed out of the room, sending a flurry of petals flying in his wake.

Thankfully, Splinter was right where Leo thought he would be: curled up in his favorite armchair in front of the TV. “Blue! There you are,” he said. His voice was raspy, and it was obviously painful for him to talk, but he spoke with enthusiasm nonetheless. “I think we should watch Enter the Tiger today, hm? How ‘bout it?”

Leo planted his hands on his hips. “I think you should stop with the vanishing act and just stay in bed until I get you.”

Splinter crossed his arms. “But it’s stuffy in there. It’s like living inside the perfume kiosks in the mall. I mean, the flowers were nice at first, but now it’s kind of overkill.”

“We can move them out if you want, but – hey, where are your socks?!” Leo asked, suddenly noticing his dad’s bare feet.

“The grippy socks? Eh, they were making my feet sweaty.”

“Dad!” Leo cried.

“What?”

As much as Leo wanted to be mad, he couldn’t blame him. If he were bedridden for months on end, he would probably go stir-crazy, too. But man, he’d be lying if he said his dad wasn’t driving him insane already. “Nothing. I’ll get your breakfast, and then we can watch that movie, ‘kay?”

He returned to Splinter’s bedroom and retrieved his breakfast tray. On his way back, he found Raph stumbling towards the bathroom, bleary-eyed and yawning. “Mornin’, Leo,” he said. “You taking care of Pop’s breakfast today?”

“Nope!” Leo said. “I’m taking care of Pops though.”

The scowl that crossed his brother’s face was almost as funny as his own joke. “Wow,” Raph said. “That was horrible, even for you.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty good.”

“Well, it wasn’t. Raph gives you a C minus for that one.” His tone grew somber. “Seriously though, do you need any help?”

“I got it covered,” Leo said. “Wait, actually, could you do me a favor and try to find Dad’s grippy socks for me? They should be around here somewhere.”

“He took them off again?”

“Apparently.”

Raph groaned. “Fine, I’ll look for them.”

By the time Leo returned to the TV room, the familiar sounds and images of Enter the Tiger was playing on the screen. Splinter was snuggled in his armchair and fiddling with the volume controls on the remote, as if he hadn’t obviously gotten up to put the movie into the VHS player in the first place. But Leo didn’t feel like reprimanding his dad for the umpteenth time, so he pretended not to notice. “One carb-heavy breakfast, on the house!” Leo said as he rested the tray on his dad’s lap.

“Yay, my favorite: flavorless toast,” Splinter said, rolling his eyes. He took a slice from the plate and nibbled one of the corners.

Over a year ago, when Splinter first cracked a joke about his food tasting funny, Leo had chalked it up to Draxum’s cooking. Although he wasn’t as bad of a chef as Donnie or Raph were, there was no telling what he put in their lasagna that night. In Leo’s opinion, it hadn’t tasted any stranger than it normally did, and his brothers all thought the same; Splinter was the only one who insisted that it tasted different. Everyone assumed that he was taking a jab at Draxum, but it should have been the first clue that something was wrong.

For the next couple of weeks, he complained that everything tasted bland, from his favorite froyo to Mikey’s homemade pizza. It wasn’t until he mentioned that he also felt pain in his throat and ears that Leo and his brothers realized that things were more serious than they seemed. It took days to figure out what was making him so sick; meanwhile, Splinter’s health worsened. His pain became unbearable, he lost his appetite, and he became even more lethargic than normal. Eventually, Donnie narrowed down the diagnosis: oropharyngeal carcinoma. Tonsil cancer.

None of the turtles slept much in the following weeks. Donnie often pulled all-nighters trying to develop a chemotherapy drug that would get rid of the cancer without being too aggressive on Splinter’s already frail body. Mikey started having nightmares, ones that usually made him wake up screaming. Raph and Leo threw themselves into vigilantism. If he were honest, Leo only went on nightly patrols to make sure Raph was okay. But if he had to guess, Raph went on patrols looking for an excuse to take out all his anger and frustration on whatever hapless crook crossed their path.

Then, slowly but surely, things started looking up. Donnie completed the chemotherapy drug and started treating Splinter with Leo’s help. The drug took its toll on his body, and his fur fell out, but when it grew back months later, it was a hopeful sign that he was improving. Mikey started getting more sleep and having less nightmares. Leo and his brothers started going on regularly scheduled missions again. Of course, Splinter’s health was still much worse than it was before, and they weren’t out of the tunnel yet, but at last they could see the light at the end.

To be continued...

[imagineanime2022]

League Of Villains W/ A Rouge S/O

Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: What if Rogue From the X-Men joins the League of Villains it doesn’t matter which ever LOV character you choose, or all of them just have fun with it😁

Although Shigaraki would be intrigued to know that there is somebody who has a similar quirk like he does? But then again, reader has a quirk like rogue from the X-Men and we don’t know that if she touches someone she can shape shift into them, and also take their powers and some of their memories.

(for those of us who grew up reading the X-Men comics we don’t know what rogue is capable of.)

A/N: Only did two for this one but if you wanted the others let me know and I can get those out too.

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 Shigaraki has never met anyone who has the same drawbacks to their quirk as him, people seemed to misunderstand his fear for touch as a dislike for it. 🤚 He doesn’t see that there is anything to hide when he first meets you and so he doesn’t fear your touch or shy away from it. He is still careful with his touch but he’s more relaxed around you because you don’t fear him. 🤚 Honestly believes that you are very useful, with your quirk you were able to slide seamlessly into undercover situations and go undetected. 🤚 As someone who is in a relationship with him, you would have different ways of showing affection which take centre stage. Words, Acts and such become commonplace especially when you can't touch each other.

It was early morning, you had woken up ready for the day but it seemed that Shigaraki hadn’t actually been to sleep yet. “Have you been up all night?” You asked. Shigaraki looked at you for a second before shrugging. “What’s the time?” He asked. “7:00am.” You answered shuffling down the bed crossing your legs as your hands reached out to his hair gently playing with it. “Yes.” Came a late answer to an earlier question and you rolled your eyes. “You were supposed to be getting some sleep, we’ve got a lot to get done today, you can’t fall asleep in the middle of the day.” You warned him and he rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to fall asleep.” He grumbled, you lifted your hands in surrender even if he couldn’t see you and shuffled around him standing to head to the bathroom and start getting ready before you got too far Shigaraki a small tap to your thigh, a short touch that called your attention to him without risking the activation of either of your quirks. “I’ll sleep once we’re done.” You smiled as you walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll find some time for you to get some rest.” You promised “now get dressed we have to get down there before they come looking for us.” “Mmm.” He hummed. “Don’t worry we’ll be sending most of the off somewhere else today.” You winked. “Then it’ll just be us.”

Dabi

🔥 Dabi had things to hide, your quirk made him uncomfortable at first, he was lad for your tendency to wear gloves and watch where you touched. 🔥 Most of the other members had no problem with you touching them and possibly seeing a part of them that they hadn’t shared yet, but his plan hinged on the fact that his identity and everything that he hid stayed hidden. 🔥 You respected that but it made it harder for you to get to know each other very well. That being said you worked well together considering no one really knew who Dabi was and you could be anyone you wanted, you were perfect for information gathering and became close quickly. 🔥 Once you were in a relationship, he trusted you more and eventually told you what he had been hiding. You promised to keep it a secret and even help him get what he wanted.

You stumbled back as Kai’s memories merged with your own, caught so off guard that if Dabi hadn’t been watching to protect you with his own blast of fire, he caught you around the waist and pulled you back away from the man as Shigaraki took up the fight. It wasn’t until Kai had left that Dabi turned to you gently moving your hair from your face as he looked you over to make sure that you were okay. “What did you see?” Shigaraki asked. “I…” You tried to make sense of it, you had only seen flashes. “You what?” Shigaraki asked impatiently. “Give her a minute, back off.” Dabi warned as he turned back to you. “Are you okay?” “I’m okay.” You answered. “His head and memories, the way that he sees the world makes him dangerous, I’ve never seen someone who thinks that way… He’s dangerous and he’s playing 6 moves ahead.” “So he’s smart?” Shigaraki asked. “More than that, he shows a total disregard for those around him, he’s clinical in his actions, he has a weapon, something he holds at the key to his plan, I don’t know what it is, given how important it is it’s hidden behind barriers.” You explained. “Thank you.” Shigaraki said before standing “wait here, I will meet him as he wants and we will act from there.” “You shouldn’t go alone maybe-” “You are in no state to go anywhere, I will be fine, he has no intention of killing me, if he did, he would have tried already.” Shigaraki reminded him. “Let him go, you need rest, I’ve never seen anyone hit you that hard.” Dabi said as Shigaraki left. “He didn’t want me in his head, he’s not well, OCD affects the way that the brain works and so being in it even if only for a few seconds was disorientating.” You explained. “Then rest.” He prompted. “Yeah okay.” You nodded.

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