#scrub raves

[iri-scrublord]

Weapon Nerd Goes Off About the New Shit (The New New Shit, Not the Old New Shit)

Okay so a lot of the stuff we got was new kits for old weapons. They're alright, I guess, I like having a Tenta with a hyper-aggressive special like the zook, but I'm not here to talk about those.

First off, the Painbrush.

I'm no stranger to brushes. Hell, they were basically all I could use for a good while before they loosened some regulations about weapon sizes. Brushes are, by and large, pretty easy to mod if you don't really care about the official shit or getting banned, so I was really surprised that not only did we only ever get two SquidForce Regulated:tm: brushes since 2013 (!?!?) but even Mr. Grizz (my hero in terms of weapon modding, god bless that capitalist pig) never touched the things. They're sticks with bristles on the end guys, they aren't that hard to make variations of.

So what do I think of the new kid on the block? Eh, could be worse. Its bristles, like the Octobrush, are thick as hell. But unlike Octo, they put a swivel on the end of the head, so those gobs of ink that collect in them get flung WAY further. We have a brush with RANGE now. People are calling this the Dynamo Brush and I'm not sure I'd go that far, but it does feel pretty damn good to use. Time'll tell if it'll be revolutionary, though, unlike-

The S-Blast '92.

This thing looks a lot like the N-ZAPs, huh? Well, there's a good reason for it. The humans used to have this thing called a NESS, and they had these things called 'light guns' you could use with them. They're kind of like the games you can play in the Shoal, but like...at home, and infinitely worse quality. The N-ZAPs are designed after these light guns for the NESS, and the S-Blast is another one of those. I'm pretty sure it was called the Super Scope made for the NESS's sequel, the Super NESS (though I just call it the SNESS.)

This thing is god damn revolutionary to me. It demands perfection, for sure, but after a bit of tinkering around with this thing, I found it one shots at range like the Range Blaster, sure, but at the drop of a hat, you can turn it into a functional Luna. There's definitely flaws to the production - there's a LOT of complicated systems that go into this plastic thing to make it a Range Luna. And with so many guts in it there's not really a lot of room for the projectiles to be particularly large. The long range blasts are absolutely tiny. We're talking very possibly less than Rapid tiny. Like I said, this thing demands perfection.

Also its kit is hot garbage.

But I'm pretty sure that under the right hands, this thing could define top matches for the next, what, six months? I'm terrified of this thing and I am one billion percent here for it.

[moonchild-in-blue]

chocolate peelable orange 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 immediately thought of you i wish we could share this so bad

OMG YES I LOVE THESE THEY ARE SO DELICIOUS!!! WE ARE SHARING THE BIG CHOCOLATE ORANGE, ABSOLUTELY 🍊🍫

Orange-Choco is my favourite type of chocolate EVER right after Hazelnut-Choco. If you haven't tried the dark chocolate version, I suuuper reccomend (if you're into dark choco, that is). It's a nice balance between sweet/ tangy.

Also! If you heat up some milk and stir a few of these slices into it, it's the perfect hot choccy milk 👀

[speakingofdoorknobs]

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[kunaigirl]

Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!

Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!

First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.

The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)

Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.

If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.

At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.

As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.

And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.

My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.

Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.

If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.

[a-ikuoliver]

tw: sfw, childhood best friends, mutual pining, w/c: 0.6k notes: uh I was slapped in the face with this scene so here u go; I wuv domestic bakugou, idc how bad this is it was haunting me

the tips of bakugou's hair droop ever so slightly at the moisture in the air, the blond growing darker in the steam. he adjusts himself in the bathtub, getting as comfortable as he can in the empty porcelain tub in front of your shower, the discomfort of the hardness against him the last thing on his mind as he listened to you talk, unconcerned by discomfort, or the steam settling on him, the feeling of his clothes sticking in the humidity. you're animated, he can see even that through the steam, the way your hands wave about wildly, one at your face as you scrubbed it, the other gesturing passionately behind the glass.

you swipe the condensation from the frosted glass in front of your eyes, "you know?!"

you’re incredulous, your brows down in a scowl as you gossip about someone he probably doesn’t even know the name of. he hums his agreement, content listening to you rant and rave all about the most recent news in your life, and watching your blurred silhouette.

“okay, close your eyes, im gonna get my towel.” your voice is light, not a trace of apprehension, this habit like second nature to you now. bakugou obeys, grunting when you’re safe to climb out of the shower.

he can feel you near him, the heat and steam radiating off of your skin, the clean scent of your soap entering his nostrils, clouding his head more than the steam. you're close enough to brush your wet skin against his, the softness of your towel fluttering against his forearm when you wrap it around yourself.

“hey, are you home this weekend? the old lady keeps asking about you.” he doesn’t care he interrupts your story of the latest episode you watched. hearing your lips part and close, his ears prick, waiting for your gentle hum to reach his ears.

“depends, what are you going to make me for dinner?” you sit down at the edge of the bathtub, reaching to poke his face, one cherry red eye cracking open, then the other. he’s met with your smiling face, a strike of adoration hitting him in the heart at your pretty features, as damp as his from the steam, a droplet running down the side of your throat to the top of your towel tucked into itself at your chest.

“whatever you want me to make.” his voice is softer than he wants it to be, his adam’s apple nervously bobbing in his throat, his mouth dryer than it had ever been with you this close, he’s had you closer; pulled into tight hugs when you were 5, closer again at 9 when you wrestled with him in the mud, his heart starting to race at 15 when his parents made him shuffle ‘closer, katsuki, you guys are friends,’ when you graduated lower secondary school together. every moment since then turning out like this, his eyes darting back and forth between yours, the air shifting the longer you stared at each other, his chest about to touch yours when you respond, your breath fanning over his cheeks at your proximity, “yeah, i’ll be there.”

he deludes himself for a moment, thinking you sound as nervous as he does, thinking your pupils dilate ever-so-slightly the longer you stare at each other, thinking maybe your lips pucker when your gaze falls, when you lean a touch closer, years of tension about to break between you both.

"i'll get out of your way." you clear your throat and stand back up, water still dripping from your body, katsuki jumping back like he was electrocuted by your sudden movement, muttering an agreement, a foreign anxiety settling in his stomach even as he sheds his shirt; sparing one last glance before you latch the door, katsuki catches your wide eyes once more and wonders if they mirror the adoration in his.

[grapeautumn]

update the eyeliner. isn't coming off im gonna look like the joker forever

worst diy accessory I've ever made and it's a black lanyard and some jaunty looking tape NOOOO

[kryptidkhaos]

Cleaning Supplies That Actually Make My Life Easier: Disabled Edition

O-Cedar EasyWring Spin Mop & Bucket System

All the housekeeping influencers have been raving about this thing for ages and I really thought it was going to be a complete gimmicky rip-off. I was wrong.

I've tried a ton of other mop and bucket styles out there, I had one ages ago that was similar in style to this one, but instead of the foot pedal for spinning like the EasyRing, you were meant to push the mop down into this colander type thing that would squeeze the water out. It would usually work for maybe 2-3 sessions of mopping before the plastic would just completely shatter from the pressure you needed to put on it to squeeze the mop. We even had a full on industrial janitor style one on wheels for awhile, but that took up a whole lot of space and was a huge pain to fill up. All them have been more trouble than they're worth. I've been relying on a simple spray mop with washable pads for a long time now, and while they can be great for small messes, it wasn't enough to really mop the whole floor with. (Not that it hasn't stopped me from trying, and going through about a dozen mop pads in the process)

We've had ours since February and I love it so much. Mopping is a task that I have a massive love-hate relationship with. I enjoy doing it, it's a highly satisfying process, but it's hell on my body, so I need to reduce the amount of back and forth for buckets, pads, cleaners, etc. as much as possible and have it be a simple enough process that I can give the floors a quick once over nearly every day instead of having to do big scrubs that keep me bent over and on my feet for long periods of time.

With this system, the bucket is small enough for me to fit in my kitchen sink and carry around the house without too much strain on my arms and shoulders. I don't ever have to bend over or put my hands in the water. The pedal/spinning action is really smooth a good 85% of the time. If you try to push the pedal down too hard or fast sometimes the teeth on the plastic gears inside will skip/grind and make a horrible sound (I though I'd broken it the first time it happened to me), but I've yet to have it actually cause a problem.

Third party replacement mop heads are in abundance and I've found massive bulk packs of them for super cheap, no difference in quality from the name brand. I toss them in my washing machine when I'm done with them and I think I've only thrown away two out of the 12 pack I bought back in February. (Sometimes you mop up something so Gross that you never want it touch anything again, no matter how many times it's been washed)

I really want the RinseClean version with double tanks, but haven't been able to justify it yet. The mop handle on ours is starting to give out after heavy daily use for almost a year, but I know it'll be way cheaper and less wasteful to just replace that when the rest is still trucking along just fine, but I'll definitely be upgrading once it...

...kicks the bucket.

[delirious-donna]

Museum Mishaps [Part Six]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: It's been two days since that night at the bar, and Kento is the one to suggest a trip to the museum. Leaving you to wonder... is it a date?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW except for one small mention of masturbation, humour, forced proximity, two oblivious idiots, misunderstandings, a little bickering, Kento is a museum nerd

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

The weekend came and went without further incident between yourself and Kento. That wasn’t to say that things were perfect, but it no longer felt awkward when the two of you occupied the same room. It was much like living with a roommate, which you supposed it was, and you had dealt with that in your first year of college without maiming or killing anyone. Although, you couldn’t recall wanting to fuck your roommate either, so perhaps the comparison wasn’t accurate after all.

Whilst the memory of almost blurting out your late-night wandering hands still burnt freshly in your mind, the rest of the evening had been saved by it. The heat of Kento’s rejection didn’t sting too badly once he turned those hazel eyes on you, suspicion pinning you in place. Anything was better than the look he had given you in the bar.

Thankfully, the banter and easy conversation returned. It was easier to tease him about the incident than dwell on it. Heaven knows you weren’t going to make another move like that. You’d play it off as some silly joke rather than see your feelings hurt. Kento wasn’t interested, and that was okay. You weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, you understood that. Knowing where you stood now, it was a lot easier to build those bonds with your best friend’s brother—for that was all he could ever be.

Kento, on the other hand, felt like an opportunity had slipped through his fingers. It was gone before he could react or try to claw it back. Whilst he was glad that your good humour returned, he couldn’t help but fixate on those unspoken words. It was hard to look past the idea that something was staring him right in the face, and he simply couldn’t bring the image into focus to understand it.

So many times, his mouth had opened, words on the tip of his tongue, only to shut it again. His lack of courage irritated him. Handfuls of his neatly parted hair pushed back to hide how badly he wanted to scrub a palm down his face.

He was no coward.

Except he was.

The dreams were worse than ever. There were never full scenes but enough lingering fragments that tormented him each morning upon waking. Bright sunshine smiles, the warmth of a touch he wasn’t accustomed to and the sound of his name. Such torture, and perhaps, if he weren’t wearing his obliviousness as armour to protect his heart, he would realise that his brain was trying to tell him something.

He was ashamed to admit that he had masturbated more in these three days than he had in almost an entire year. He was more ashamed that he felt more relaxed than he had in an even longer time than that. Whilst he still followed a lot of his daily routine, being able to deviate or change things around was rather freeing, and of course, he wouldn’t put any of it down to the relief he was giving to his body. Preposterous.

Kento missed your presence when you skipped out the door on an adventure he wasn’t invited to. Raising a hand half-heartedly when you waved your goodbyes and clock-watching until you returned. Your stories were fast becoming the best part of his day. Listening raptly to you rave about this quaint little second-hand bookstore you discovered and expressing so emphatically how much you were sure he would love the place, he looked forward to it. It felt like he was rediscovering the city he had lived in for years through fresh eyes and he enjoyed your unique take on the world.

His smile was genuine, if not tinged bittersweet. It was warming that you thought of him when he wasn’t around, but it would be so much better if he could be there with you, and that was quite the realisation to swallow.

In the end, it was that sense of missing out that caused him to blurt out an invitation this morning. The two of you sat side by side at the kitchen island savouring the coffee he had brewed for you both, whilst you thought out loud about where today might take you.

“There’s a wildlife photography exhibition at the National Museum. Kento paused, pretending not to be eyeing you over the corner of his newspaper. “I was thinking of going… would you like to join me?”

He waited with bated breath, silently cursing how nervous he felt and already working on how he would cover his disappointment when you inevitably declined his offer.

“Yes, please! That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to the National Museum before, could we look around as well?”

Kento blinked. In his head, he was ready to say not to worry and that he’d go by himself, but your enthusiasm bowled him over. Shutting his paper, he turned to you and bowed his head in a nod. “Of course. We could leave in around an hour and have most of the day to explore. I’ll just go change out of these sweatpants.”

You watched as he practically scuttled out of the kitchen and down the hallway. It was very unlike him to move so swiftly, and you stifled a laugh before preparing for the outing yourself, dancing along to the soft music playing over the apartment speakers in your excitement for the day ahead.

~

It was hard to look in every direction as you traversed the wide-open atrium that served as the central hub of the museum, but you gave it a damn good go. More than once you bumped into Kento when a new curiosity stole your attention, apologising almost half-heartedly, and not because you weren’t sorry for nudging him so often, it was more that your brain was too busy processing everything it could see.

A large bronze statue of Buddha caught your eye, and you skittered across the polished floor to stand in front of the information plate, eagerly absorbing all it had to tell.

Kento couldn’t help but smile. Your enthusiasm was proving infectious, and he strolled with newfound intrigue towards you tapping photo after photo of the statue on your phone. “I didn’t take you for a museum connoisseur. Every time I’ve come here with Karin, she has whined and pleaded to leave almost as soon as we got here.”

“Oh, tell me about it. I tried to get her to go to this really cool space exhibition that our college was hosting and she flat-out refused.” You harrumphed at the memory of her expression filled with disgust. “I’m not your sister, Kento.”

You moved away to grab up one of the folded paper guides with a map of the place, and Kento was glad of the second’s reprieve after that last comment. No, you weren’t his sister. He swallowed and raised a hand to loosen the knot of his tie only to remember, at the last moment, he wasn’t in a shirt and tie. Another stark reminder of how little downtime he ever afforded himself. Perhaps, it was time for a change.

“If you enjoy space, follow me,” he said with a subtle wiggle of his eyebrows when he walked towards you for the second time. Waving towards the open entranceway to the left, you turned and glanced up into the skeletal remains of what you guessed to be a T-Rex. It made you giggle, and Nanami followed you closely, shaking his head in good humour at the renewed spring in your step.

He led you through a gallery filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, from the long-extinct to the endangered to the thriving. Creatures of the sea, land and air hung suspended from invisible supports, and even a baby blue whale graced the visitors with the enormity of its skeletal shadow. You would have stopped at every sign and interactive spot if not for wishing to keep pace with your guide. Whilst he wasn’t storming ahead, his pace wasn’t meant for the careful reading of every fact you could digest.

It was worth it when you reached an area darker than the previous section, with minerals and twinkling geodes shown behind glass cases. The remnants of a lunar capsule marked one corner with children standing around an employee giving an enthusiastic talk about the moon landings. Models of the solar system in varying sizes caught your attention, but what really stood out was the black dome in the centre.

Stopping short of the hidden entrance you spied when a woman and little boy slipped inside, you tapped Kento’s shoulder. “What’s inside there?”

“Now, why would I spoil the surprise, hm?”

Without another word, he marched inside to leave you standing there, blinking in amused confusion. This playful side was interesting, fun even, and you hoped it would last throughout the visit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself lying on your back staring up at the celestial bodies that made up the Universe with Nanami Kento by your side. He was seated on the floor along the wall when you found him, grateful for the small pillow he’d managed to secure for the both of you given how crowded it was inside. The noise of families, friends in little groups and the odd couple or two died down when the low lighting completely extinguished to bathe you in darkness. You found that you had to lie closer to Kento than you would have chosen, but he didn’t seem perturbed by your nearness, in fact, he turned his head to give you a smile that made your stomach flutter with rambunctuous butterflies.

Denying your attraction to him was growing harder once more, and you did your best to focus on the story above you rather than trying to identify the notes of his cologne that wafted into your nose. The heat of his body licked at your own, warming you thoroughly though you were far from cold. This felt… intimate, or it would, if it were a date.

Was this a date? No.

A mighty boom echoed through the sound system to symbolise the moment of the big bang, and you audibly shrieked in surprise. There were titters of laughter from every side, heat filled your face instantly, and you lifted your hands to cover your eyes in embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Kento’s concerned voice whispered in hushed tones only loud enough so you would hear. His breath fanned your ear from the action of shuffling closer, and you had to fight the urge to shudder in appreciation.

“Fine, I’m… fine.”

He wasn’t buying it, and honestly, he didn’t feel too hot himself. If he spread out his fingers he would brush your hand, that’s how close you were. The near blackness illuminated by the twinkle of projected stars overhead intensified the already far too intimate setting, and despite how crowded it was, everyone faded from his mind as he thought of only you. Kento imagined the two of you spread out like this on a warm picnic blanket, the real heavenly bodies above you and how nice it might be to kiss you beneath their ethereal watch.

The lights came back to life without warning, although had he been paying attention to the experience, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise. Blinking and slightly dazed, Kento sat up and quickly got to his feet, dusting down his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles. He reached out to help you stand before thinking twice, your hand slid into his with perfect ease, and for a moment, he simply stared at you in longing.

His hand was warm, the texture rougher than expected, and when he finally pulled it back, you wanted to tighten your fingers and refuse to let go. The hustle surrounding you both wasn’t enough to sway your attention nor was it enough to calm your racing heart. Your gaze caught the attention of a young couple, hand in hand and laughing about something unknowable, and you coveted what they had, and you didn’t—couldn’t. He didn’t want you like that, and no matter how much you wished this could be a date, it wasn’t.

“Come on, let’s get moving or we’ll never see everything else.”

Kento heard your words. He saw your smile and the wave of your hand to beckon him onwards, but he didn’t believe them. For that brief moment, when your hand was in his, he felt your fingers twitch almost imperceptibly. More wishful thinking on his part? He wasn’t sure, but he was determined not to spoil the day by moping in his uncertainty.

The hours melted away much like the sun rising and dipping in the sky outside. An air of fragility lingered despite both your efforts to dispel the effects of earlier. The exhibitions and various collections were intriguing, but none more so than the man trailing a few paces behind you. An enigma that you were sure you’d started to unravel, but now… you weren’t so sure anymore.

He offered tidbits of information that only a history buff would be able to, the tips of his ears blushing beet red whenever you pointed that fact out. So many times you wanted to sneak up real close when he was engrossed in reading something, the desire to run your fingertips over his ribs and find out if he was ticklish or not, but you knew that wasn’t a good idea.

The wildlife photography exhibition was far quieter than you suspected it would be, and you were grateful to be wrong. After a good few hours of trailing around the massive building, fatigue was setting in and finding a soft seat to rest your tired feet was a pleasant result. Leaning back on your elbows on the overstuffed leather rectangle that sat in the middle of the gallery, you could watch the comings and goings from every angle.

Kento stalked between the various shots that lined the walls, pausing and tilting his head in keen fascination. He was your sole focus, the unexpecting prey with a jaw cut from pure marble. Your lips quirked involuntarily each time he rocked on the balls of his feet—a habit you had not long noticed. If you weren’t much mistaken, Kento seemed to favour long shots where the subject was captured in action; a tiger swimming through a moss topped lake, hyenas circling the kill of a lioness and a vibrant green frog leaping majestically towards a tree branch.

“Do you dabble?” You asked quietly, having approached after your short rest. “In photography, I mean.”

“Hm? Oh. No, nothing like that.”

Kento shuffled awkwardly towards the next picture, a flock of wild birds taking flight from the long grass of a savannah. “How come? You sure seem interested,” you pressed further, eyebrows knitting at the discomfort you sensed in him.

“It wouldn’t be an effective use of my time. I don’t have the hours to sink into a hobby that would see me gain nothing in return,” he explained to your utter aghast.

“What about happiness? Indulgence? There doesn’t always have to be a measurable outcome for something to be fun and worthwhile.”

He scoffed, and you scowled. “You’re still young…”

“Well, I’d rather stay young than become a jaded corporate slave like someone I could mention.” You stalked away to the other side of the room, perturbed by just how little stock he seemed to put into his own mental and emotional well-being. “And I’m not that young, Kento.”

He couldn’t understand your sudden ire. What did it matter to you what he did with his free time? More like what he didn’t do, he supposed. Sure, there had been a time in his adolescence when he carried a Polaroid camera around with him, the bulky piece of equipment tucked into his backpack and brought out to capture those moments that weren’t posed for, finding a special kind of beauty in the raw exposure of life.

It had been nothing but a phase. One left behind when he entered college and started to work towards the life he wished to live. Only now, he wasn’t so sure he was living the life he dreamed of. He achieved the successes he set out to, but was he happy? That was a hard question to stomach, let alone try to answer honestly.

“Why do you look like you want to yell at me?”

Glancing sideways, you frowned up at his towering frame and felt the heat of his anger wash over you to meld with your own. “Because you make it sound like any interest outside of endlessly working or working out is redundant. Irresponsible. Stupid!” Your voice rose higher, the words punched out with a flap of your hands.

“Do you care so little for what makes you happy? It makes me… mad,” you continued with a slight pause. The familiar tight, itchy feeling invaded your throat whilst the prickle of tears stung your eyes. Goddammit! You hated that you wanted to cry when you were angry, and the last person you wanted to see those tears wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” The amused voice of a woman who appeared in her early sixties caught your attention. Quickly wiping at the stray tears at your lashline, both you and Kento turned to the couple who were staring right at you.

The man chuckled indulgently at his wife, patting her hand that was secured through his arm and whispered something that couldn’t be heard. His wife nudged him playfully, and you could only look on in complete bemusement. They walked closer, the woman offering a kindly smile as she reached out to pat Kento’s arm, then yours.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

“Oh, no! You misunderstand, we’re not…”

She held up a hand to silence your stammered protests, shaking her head with a chuckle. “My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

“That was two, dear. Come on, let’s not bother them any longer.” With wisdom imparted, the older couple bustled away, leaving you to blink in bewilderment.

You could feel Kento by your side, his body rigid and unmoving. So badly you wanted to glance up and find out what his expression was, but honestly, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea or not. What could the couple have seen in you? Was it so obvious that you were interested? Even if that was true, surely his disinterest was just as plain to see?

“Well… that was unexpected. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s your life, after all, you should do whatever you believe is best. Can we go get a bite to eat and head home–I mean, back to your apartment?”

Kento could only nod. He couldn’t help but feel as if everything he had come to believe as true was crumbling around his ears. The ideals and principles he set for himself all those long years ago no longer seemed important. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d taken time off work, albeit enforced this time, and he had never felt so unsure of himself.

It was you. Your presence was the catalyst, and he didn’t know whether to thank or curse you. How could one person cause so much inner turmoil without trying? He watched as you wandered towards the archway that would take you back to the main atrium, the light from the skylight caught across your face and your simple smile blinded him.

Don’t wait to go after what you truly want… would he take the advice that continued to ring in his head?

[cinnbar-bun]

Would you be willing to write what kind of fan would ace, sabo, shanks, and law for the reader!! I loved your last one!!!

You got it dude! Sorry for taking so long.

Ace, Sabo, Law, and Shanks- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious, SFW

Part 1 with Straw Hats here!

Ace

Broke ass guy who can’t afford anything for you minus like, a bootleg or something small. Has buttons of you. 

Highkey think he would be a menace and just wear something so off with you on it (you are free to decide what that looks like). 

If people ask why he’s got you on his phone or like a keychain of you, he just beams and responds that you’re the love of his life and refuses to elaborate. 

Lies, he WILL be elaborating and making it everyone’s problem. 

Marco wants him to shut up about it. 

Thatch jokes around often and makes cakes of you for Ace on his birthday or something. Ace refuses to eat it for like two seconds before he’s quickly trying to fight off the others from taking a slice. 

Whitebeard has not realized you’re fictional and still asks about meeting you soon… he just wants to meet the one his son keeps raving about. 

Ace has to lie and it becomes a whole ‘my partner is in Canada, actually they can’t see you now.’ 

Whitebeard is so impressed with the fact you travel all over the world <3 wow, you must be so worldly! 

Sabo 

Rich boy who I don’t think would directly get merchandise of you, but he would totally buy things that have your signature color or remind him of you. Very subtle things. I could see him buying one expensive figure of you, but otherwise it’s just subtle things he will proudly wear in public. 

Doesn’t have much time for gaming, so I don’t think he would be playing the mobile gacha games but he will admire the artwork and units of you. 

This is actually a partial truth, he had them at one point but was sinking so much money into your units that Koala had to step in and get him to stop this addiction. 

He’s been doing his best okay… but your alt unit is so tempting he wants to GET IT HE NEEDS TO GET IT LET HIM ROLL ONE MORE ONE MORE ONE MORE- 

Sabo’s phone is now under parental controls and he needs Koala or Dragon’s permission to download or buy any in-app purchases. 

But he’s like, so normal about this, okay? He doesn’t have a problem.

Likes to eat your favorite snacks or food on your birthday as a sort of ‘celebration’ of you. Again, pretty subtle things like buying a dessert you like from that one bakery, or ordering a meal that you ate one time on the show. 

On second thought I could see him having special editions of the manga, but that remains in his office never to be borrowed by anyone. 

Law 

“Why the hell would I be into this?” 

Acts like he’s above watching cringe animes when he’s got better taste in his consumption of media like House MD or Scrubs or something. 

But you know, he’s always getting dragged into silly shit with his friends so everyone is forcing him to watch this popular anime with over 1000+ episodes. 

Law feels like performing surgery on himself with no anesthesia at the sheer number of episodes. 

It isn’t until like 400 episodes in when you’re introduced and everyone swears they can see the light in his eyes return and he’s entranced. 

Suddenly this is his favorite show, although he refuses to entertain that. 

He totally has a few figures of you, but when asked, he just yells that they’re Bepo’s and he’s keeping them safe. 

The others know he’s not going to buy merch so they just buy him silly trinkets of you and he tries to keep lowkey and hidden so no one knows about his love for you. 

He’s not the same man he was 400 episodes ago. He still can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one. 

But you’ve invaded and latched yourself into his mind and damn it, he’ll keep you there. 

Shanks 

Cringe but free. 

Buggy got him into this show (Buggy made a slip up once and has tried to deny that he’s liked this series since) and Shanks casually watches a few episodes when he’s free. 

Has a couple of figures that a kid Uta always wants to play with (hell no, put that shit back!!!) 

Lies to Uta whenever she asks who this figure is of and he dramatically will hold the figure of you and tell her this is, in fact, who her other parent is. 

Great job, Shanks, you weirdo. Of course, Uta knows when she’s older that he’s lying out of his ass, but when she was younger she was deadset on meeting you. 

So Shanks was forced to include her in his watches so she can see her ‘other parent’. Shanks makes wild stories when Uta asks why you’re in the TV and says you’re so so cool they just had to make a tv show about you. 

He’s the kind of guy who forgets Uta is a kid and whenever something super violent or adult happens, he goes ‘oops’ after a few seconds and shoddily covers her eyes, to the point she can pretty much still see everything. 

So both of them kinda get in a feedback loop where when he gets something, she wants it, and when she wants to do something, he’ll do it when it comes to you. 

You are a staple in that household. Shanks isn’t the best at maintaining your figures but he does remember to dust you off once in a while (mostly after Uta screams at him to keep it in good condition). 

He’s tried to get into the card game (Uta insisted), but he finds the rules too hard and difficult, so him and Uta made an easier version (which he often lies about to be able to win). 

His luck is crappy too when it comes to the blind packs, so when Uta got the rare card of you he was practically gonna wrestle it out of her. 

He’s also weird and rich enough to get any crazy or out there merchandise of you if he felt like it.

[imfinereallyy]

#38 "i was eavesdropping and i heard something i can’t scrub from my memory" sounds like it could be very funny, especially from a kid's perspective!

you read my mind, it 100% needs be a kid POV, sorry this one is a bit shorter than my usual but it was fun to write. *it actually ended up being longer than I thought cause I have a problem with not knowing when enough is enough lol* ♡

find the request game here

Lucas was going to throw up. He liked to think he had a strong stomach, he really truly did, but this was too much even for him.

“What the hell is your problem?” Max asked him as he came back to Steve’s living room.

“Yea you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Will pipes up, head leaning on his knee.

Lucas swallowed dryly, he had to phrase this carefully. “Well I was eavesdropping…”

Max snorted from her seat on the couch. “You Lucas Sinclair was eavesdropping? Didn’t think I’d ever see the day. What about the whole ‘respect people’s boundaries’ thing you rave about?”

“And I still stand by that! It’s just I didn’t want to interrupt and…” Lucas thought back to a few minutes ago. He had gone into the kitchen to grab Max an ice pack; she was having a bad hip day. When he had reached the door, he had heard Steve and Eddie talking, and it had sounded serious. Lucas felt bad about interrupting, but he also couldn’t go back to Max without the ice pack. They had been good for months now, and he didn’t want to risk it. (He knew this was ridiculous considering they weren’t really that dysfunctional, and she loved him, a reluctant secret smile confession on her end. But there was this deep part of Lucas who was terrified of disappointing her). So he was content with waiting outside the door until they were done.

Lucas really should have turned around and left.

“What if they don’t…want to be around us Stevie?” Eddie whispered.

“Baby they are just kids. They are good kids. They are our friends. They won’t be upset.” Steve murmured back.

This was the point Lucas should have turned around, but he was confused and wanted to understand.

“You aren’t even the slightest bit worried, that maybe they won’t be accepting? I don’t think any of them have been exposed to gay culture, let alone two men dating?”

Oh. Oh no. This was really private. Lucas should have really turned around but at that point, his feet were glued to the ground.

“I mean yea a little bit…they are shitheads. Especially Mike—“ Lucas had to hold back a snort, “—but they are good. It’s why we are friends with them. As much as it pains me to admit we are friends with children.”

Lucas wished he could see their faces.

“What if…what if they are more than shitheads this time?” Lucas had never heard Eddie’s voice sound so small.

“…do you want to wait a little longer?” Steve’s voice asked gently, with no anger.

“If that’s okay. I just…want to live in our bubble a little longer. Well our bubble plus Robin.” Lucas imagined Eddie biting his hair in that moment.

“Yea baby. We take this at the pace you need. And Robin already knows, which is pretty much the only person I can’t keep a secret from. And I like our little bubble too.” Lucas heard shuffling around, like fabric reaching around itself.

“Yea?”

“Yea. I think I can go a little longer without the twerps making gagging noises every time we kiss. We can wait to tell them we’re together.”

“Hmmmm should we do a practice show right now, to prepare for when we need to freak them out?” Eddie’s voice turned suddenly flirty.

“I like the way you think.” This was the last words Lucas heard before the sounds of the two of them clearly heavily making out came through the doorway. It was at the first moan that Lucas ran away.

Lucas was brought back to reality when Max snapped her fingers in his face. “Want to share with the class loser?”

Oh god, Lucas was gonna throw up at the memory.

It wasn’t the fact that they were men and that they were dating. Lucas was, in fact, really happy for them. He had never thought about it, but in a weird way, it made sense. He wanted them to be happy. And if he was really being honest with himself, he was hoping maybe this would get Max to stop staring at Steve when he doesn’t have a shirt on (a few months later, Lucas would be horribly proven wrong of this theory).

It wasn’t this kissing that made him want to vomit either. Sure, the idea of his older brother figure making out with his dungeon master wasn’t a pleasant thought, but he had witness Mike make out with El, so he was pretty immune to grossness.

No, the problem was Lucas realized with great certainty he was going to have to keep a secret.

He gagged at the thought.

Sure, he could keep a whole other dimension and government conspiracy theory a secret from his parents (and, ya know, the world), but he caved relatively quickly when it came to Max. And Max could tell whenever he was lying. But Lucas wasn’t stupid; he knew you couldn’t just tell other people that someone you know is gay. He didn't know the word for it, maybe there wasn’t one, but Lucas knew what it was like to be different. He didn’t want to make Steve and Eddie feel bad, or cause others to be mean to them. He didn’t think the rest of the party would care about the gay? Bisexual? Queer?—wait, that’s a bad word, Lucas thought—it didn’t matter what specifically, but he didn’t think they would care about the gay stuff—more like Lucas knew his friends. El and Max would have a million, invasive questions. Mike would be a dick, but not for serious reasons. More like “I have weird insecurities” reasons. It would probably be good for Will (again, Lucas isn’t stupid). And Dustin, holy shit, he would most definitely either be pissed he didn’t know sooner, or would rub it in everyone’s face that he made it happen. Both of which Lucas knew would be horrible reactions.

God, he was going to throw up. He was going to lie to his friends. His girlfriend. He couldn’t just share this secret. It would go horrible if he told, it’s not his secret! His stupid, stupid friends (not El and Max) would blow up if it came from him first. And then Eddie and Steve would be upset, he told, and they would think that the party hated them for something out of their control, even though they love them no matter what! And oh god, he’s gonna have to lie so much—

He was spiraling, he needed to calm down.

“Lucas?” Max’s face suddenly softened, like she knew he was having a hard time getting the words together. Lucas looked at her face, and took a couple of seconds to count her freckles but lost track quickly. He didn’t mind; he would to start again later. He followed the laugh lines around her eyes that weren’t there last year, and thought about trying to make her laugh.

Max said nothing as he stared, even as the guys pressed him to answer. It was strange, he was terrified of lying to Max, but he knew deep down she would understand. That she would know he was lying but wouldn’t call him out on it.

“I was eavesdropping and I heard something I can’t erase from my memory. I almost walked in on Steve giving sex advice to Eddie, so I walked away before it got gross. I forgot your ice pack; I’m sorry.” Lucas apologized; he did genuinely feel bad he didn’t succeed on his mission.

The guys started chattering behind him, asking questions and yelling out in disgust, but Max stayed quiet for a second, then said, “It’s okay, stalker. Didn’t have high hopes for you anyway. You always get distracted.”

Lucas sent her a grateful smile, and pretended to be offended. “Are you saying I don’t finish what I’ve started? You should know better, Max.”

Max threw her head back, and full body laughed. She scooped Lucas’ hand and wove her pale fingers between his. “That’s me being nice, Lucas. Don’t go around telling people that. Or I’ll have to up the ante.”

Lucas kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “Maybe I like it when you’re a little mean.”

Max blushed and looked to check if the guys were paying attention (they weren’t; they were still arguing over sex they weren’t having), and leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Max didn’t ask any questions even though Lucas knew she knew he was lying.

Lucas didn’t let go of her hand, and quietly hoped that Eddie made Steve feel the way Max made him feel.

He deserved something special like that.

**

I need you guys to know that I had to keep backtracking to correct boys into guys, cause I’m so used to writing from an older persons perspective. But I wanted some steddie and lumax mixed together. And Lucas! Deserves! More! Attention!!!

thank you so much for the ask I had so much fun with this one.

[obitohno]

fantasising about pervert! bakugo who can no longer suppress the urge to make you his.

fem! reader, 18+, yandere! bakugo, pervert! bakugo, stalking, mutual pining, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, handjobs, anal fingering

2.1k (unedited)

reblogs are appreciated ~

stubborn enough to avoid openly voicing it so, bakugo is reluctant to admit—even to himself—that he is enthralled by the mere existence of you. 

you first come across the crimson eyed hero when your unlucky knack for running into trouble has you caught in the middle of an altercation just outside the very train station that you’d planned to use in order to find your way home after a night out drinking. now, usually, you like to think yourself as a person of reasonable intellect, and yet, that night, when you came across what looked to be a particularly nasty fist-fight, all rationality had been thrown out of the window, along with the left shoe of your favourite pair of heels. somehow, that sleek black stiletto hits home, roughly smacking one of the perpetrators right between his eyes, and when he bellows an inhumane roar of pain, sporting a very painful-looking gash that immediately starts pissing blood down the bridge of his nose, that should’ve been your cue to hightail it out of there. only, you hadn’t, and when bakugo swiftly arrives upon the scene after receiving an amber alert about a damsel in distress, to say that he’s surprised by what he’d barged in on would also mean admitting that he’s capable of being caught off-guard. which, he most definitely isn’t. 

the sight that greets him is you, scantily clad in one of those tiny black dresses that he remembers mina insisting that every woman owns at least one of, raving just about every curse word under the sun as you repeatedly whack the underside of your purse across the face of a man who is easily double your size. kirishima immediately busies himself with dealing with the fist-fight that is yet to break up, and bakugo marches, upper lip curled into a sneer as he circles an arm around your middle and easily hoists you into the air, legs kicking, spitting and hissing swear words that bakugo has never heard before. 

it doesn’t taken long for the situation to be resolved, and despite the fact that you drunkenly slur as many insults as you can, he makes a point of holding onto you until he’s sure that you aren’t going to attempt to continue swinging that blasted purse of yours. still, the way that you insistently wriggle against him is proving to be nothing but futile, and yet, somehow, your drunken stupor has rendered you completely oblivious to the rigidity that strains the fabric of his uniform tight over his groin, a low grunt of frustration muffled between clenched teeth. he can’t escort you home quick enough, ensuring that you’re safely locked inside before rushing to the safety of his own apartment, the tight fabric of his trousers roughly shoved down the width of his thighs before he even manages to shut the front door behind him. it takes three attempts to furiously scrub the resulting stain from the carpet. 

he hadn’t expected to see you again, but just a week later, he spots you whilst accompanying midoriya on one of his patrols. technically, his own shift had finished hours before, yet boredom has him agreeing when his green-haired rival invites him to a sparring match after his patrol. you’re making your way down the street—sober, this time, he notes—dressed in an outfit more fitting of the chilly weather. immediately, his gaze lowers to the tight stretch of your denim-clad rear, and blissfully unaware of his stare, you quickly disappear from view when you cut across the street, mingling in with the crowd soon after. again, he’s left distracted, enough so that he fails to block his rival’s well-aimed punch during their spar, jaw reddening upon impact as he stumbles to catch his balance. 

‘kaachan!’ 

bakugo has no choice but to begrudgingly admit his loss, cursing under his breath and pretending to not notice the way that midoriya gawks after him, wide eyed. 

stubbornly, he tells himself that it’s merely physical attraction that has him panting into the shape of his pillow later that night. 

however, he starts to pointedly look out for you whenever he’s out on patrol, something akin to contentment settling into his stomach when his peripheral vision latches onto your form as you make your way toward the cafe that he then learns to be your place of work, and soon, the regularity of his patrols begin to align with the duration of your journey to work. it also becomes a part of his nightly routine, the way that his fingers seek the warmth between his legs, and after he dares to breach the civilian database in order to study your file, it is your name that is chanted around the shapes of gasping breaths and broken moans.

he swears to himself that he just needs to get this fleeting infatuation out of his system, and then he’ll never think of you again.

only, that promise elongates into weeks, months, and now he fears that his obsession is starting become a problem that can’t be fixed. 

the next time that the two of you cross paths, you’re drunk again. it’s late into the evening, and once more, you’re making your way home, stupidly unaware of the vermillion-eyed hero, who had happened upon you by chance, and now, under the pretence of promising himself that he’s tracing your footsteps in order to ensure that you get home safe, is actually using the opportunity to ogle at the stretch of your bare legs as he follows from behind. it’s quiet, yet he’s able to match the scuff of his combat boots in time to the click-clack of your heels scraping across the pavement with each slow drag of your feet. you’re dressed in a skirt today, the hem short enough to hide the round of your behind and little else. 

the sight has the swell of his cock straining, swollen sac pinched between the insides of his thighs, and with each step, his breath is expelled a little harsher than the last. the journey to your apartment doesn’t take longer than ten minutes, and yet, impatience has bakugo’s fingers trembling within the confides of his jean pockets. he watches you fumble to unlock the door, dropping the keys—twice—and listens as you heave an exaggerated sigh as you kick the door open. quickly, you disappear from view, the door slamming shut behind you, and bakugo uses the opportunity to hoist himself over the small iron gate that leads to the back garden. luckily, your apartment resides on the ground floor, and from where he now stands just a metre or so away from the large glass patio doors, hidden by the darkness of night, he has the perfect view into your bedroom. 

it takes mere seconds for the room to be lit aglow by the small lamp on your bedside table, and with the curtains parted, he’s able to clearly see as you waltz across the room, stripping away the layers of your clothes and dumping the pile of discarded fabric by the wardrobe. the sight of you, stark naked, is one that he hadn’t been prepared for, and when his cock jumps to attention, a low, strained chuckle quickly follows. the length of his spine is rigid, and when you lay down, sprawling across the untidy bedsheets, his breath catches on the shape of surprise when your knees bend to flatten your feet to the mattress. he’s greeted by the swollen plush of your bare cunt, proudly displayed for him, and for a brief moment, panic has him wondering if you know that he’s there, leering at you from the other side of the glass. 

however, he isn’t able to dwell on that thought, his attention now fixated onto the way that your thighs have stretched open, your folds parting to reveal the fluttering entrances of both your cunt and your rim, and both holes, empty, dance in time to the tune that beats at your clit, the tiny nub hard beneath your fingertips. 

bakugo can’t believe his luck. 

many a night, he’s wrung his cock dry and brought himself to completion over this very image, and here you are, bringing his fantasy to life with the press of your fingers slipping between your folds to gather the glimmer of your sap on your fingertips before brushing them over your clit once more. it must feel good, bakugo surmises, mouth filling with saliva as he watches the strain of your calves as they mould to the backs of your thighs, your toes curling. his stare flickers toward your face, and upon realising that your eyes are screwed shut, he dares to inch closer, quietly dropping to his knees, his own thighs spread wide as he prick twitches heatedly. an inferno of arousal has the muscles of his abdomen coiling tight, and when he manages to rip the zipper down, relief has him gasping, steadying his balance by pressing his spare hand to the glass. groaning, his hips roll, and his girth stretches the curl of his fingers around the width of himself. between his thighs, his balls hang loose, swinging heavily with each upward cant that has the pads of his fingertips clumsily slipping over the dribbling wet that continues to leak from his slit. it’s a struggle to muffle each grunt and moan into the shape of his bottom lip that now bares the blunt indents of his teeth, and when he watches as the knuckles of your index and middle fingers disappear into the depths of your rim, hunger has his sclera glistening as his lash-line starts to water. 

desperation has him furiously drilling the ridges of his cock along the bumps of his fingers, and a long, drawn out hiss of your name is expelled a little louder than he intends. 

his spare hand slaps itself over his mouth, but it’s too late. 

your eyes are open, the muscles of your neck straining as your head tilts enough so that you can stare back at him. stricken, his blood roars in his eardrums so ferociously that he almost misses the sound of your pitched mewl, heavily lidded gaze dropping to where his prick jumps beneath his palm. your voice is muffled, and he’s torn between watching the way that your brows pinch as your lips shape the syllables of his name and leering at where your fingers twist, curling inside the cavern of your rim, your empty cunt desperately clenching on nothing but air. the rise and fall of your heaving chest starts to increase in tempo, and yet it is bakugo who peaks first. 

electric liquid bursts through the length of his girth with a tantalising fire that has him whimpering, and if not for the fact that it feels so fucking good, he’d probably be appalled by the way that his slit is splattering a steaming mess all over the windiw. wheezing, his spine curls, and there’s a tingling warmth that spreads from the base of his cock until his muscles are weakened, and he can do nothing but slump forward until his forehead bumps to the glass. a fog builds where the heat of his breath spreads a cloud over the glass, and a mournful groan escapes him when he sees that you’ve slumped back against the sheets, having reached your own climax just seconds after him. he’s missed the opportunity to watch you come undone, and the realisation is one that tastes bitter. 

it takes a long time for him to recover, and even longer for you, still. eventually, your head rises from the mattress, and anxiety has his cock softening at an alarmingly rapid pace, the flaccid length now hanging limp between the expanse of his thighs. but, to both his relief and surprise, the corners of your mouth are curling upward, stretching into the shape of a smirk that is as equally alluring as it is wicked. there’s a coil forming deep in his gut once more, one that is only accentuated when his gaze catches on the ring of muscles that cling to the circumference of your fingers, even as you tug them free from the heat of your gummy walls. 

and when you dare to invite him inside, it isn’t until long after he’s left the next morning that you wake. where he’d warmed the mattress the previous night is now cold, and if not for the ache that strains at your muscles, you’d’ve thought that you’d imagined the entire encounter. inhaling the masculine scent that lingers within the cotton threads of your pillowcase, you roll over to face the patio doors that lead out to the garden, and upon doing so, you’re unable to stop the upward pull of the corners of your mouth. 

for, in the early sunrise, glistens the pearlescent mess that has congealed upon the glass, promising his return.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[vodika-vibes]

Tomorrow Will Be Better

Summary: When his cyare has a bad day, Fives does everything in his power to make her evening better.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wrote this in about 30 minutes, so I'm sorry if it's really bad. But I needed to write, so ta-dah.

Fives knows his cyare. He knows her moods and her quirks and her habits. She has a routine, and she follows it without thinking about it.

Honestly, his presence throws off her routine more than anything else in the galaxy. Not that he minds. He takes pride in being the one thing that can encourage his cyare to divert from her normal schedule.

But he also knows that he has to give her fair warning in advance.

So, when he sent an excited series of comms to his cyare, telling her about a new restaurant that his brothers told him about and how they were raving about it, and how he was definitely bringing her there tonight, he expected an enthusiastic reply.

Instead, he gets a half-hearted response. Half-hearted even by texting standards.

And he’s immediately concerned.

Fives toys with the idea of texting her again, of asking her what’s wrong and what he can do to help, but he has a feeling that his prodding isn’t going to help at all. 

So, instead, he decides to scrap all of his plans.

Honestly, the restaurant can wait, his cyare can’t.

So instead of relaxing, like he normally does when he’s home for the first time in ages, instead he darts around the apartment. He can’t make it spotless, and he’s sure that his cyare wouldn’t want him to make the house spotless, but he does give the kitchen and bathroom a quick scrub, and he very quickly starts the laundry and vacuums the living room, before he sets about preparing everything she might need for a relaxing evening.

Her favorite pajamas are laid out on the bed. Her favorite dinner from her favorite restaurant is quickly ordered and paid for. He lights her favorite candles, the soft scented ones that don’t trigger her migraines.

Fives considers drawing her a bath, but decides to wait to see what her mood is like before he does that. 

He would hate to make her feel pressured, after all.

And when the door opens, Fives is quick to greet her in the hallway, with a broad smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She looks tired, his poor cyare. Dark circles under her eyes, and her hair pulled in a messy tail rather than the neater tail she usually wore to work. There’s an air of, almost, defeat around her. 

“Oh, cyare,” Fives brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, “You had a bad day.” It’s not a question.

She laughs, and his heart clenches when it comes out as more of a sob, “It’s been a hard week.” She admits, “And…oh, I said we could go to-...just let me change and we can head out.”

Fives lightly cups her face and kisses her cheek and then the other cheek, before ghosting his lips against hers, “Food has already been taken care of. I ordered your favorite.”

“You…you did? But you wanted to go to this new place-”

“The restaurant will still be there the next time you feel like going out. It’s not going to vanish into smoke,” His voice is light and teasing, “But I’m worried that you might vanish into smoke if I don’t help you get some rest.”

She sighs, soft and so very heavy, and then leans against his chest, “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

“Hm…well, you tripped over my brother, and I caught you. So I suppose you could say that you literally fell for me.” Fives replies with a grin.

“...that’s awful.”

“You love me for my bad jokes.” Fives reminds her with a smothered laugh, “Come on, angelfish.” He kisses the top of her head, “I put your pajamas out and I lit your favorite candles.”

“You’re wonderful,” She says through a sigh.

“I am pretty amazing.” Fives agrees, “Now, come on. Let’s get you settled, and you can tell me all about your rotten week while I cuddle you. And then we can watch some trash tv together while you fall asleep.”

“I love you, Fives,” The words seem to slip from her lips without her permission, and Fives can’t help but grin. He already knew, of course, she’s told him that before, but it’s still new enough that it sends thrills through his entire body.

“I love you too, cyare.” He presses one more light kiss to her lips, and then pulls away to guide her to the bedroom.

He’ll take care of her until she’s ready to take care of herself…and even after.

[helpmeimblorboing]

The world passes by, and it’s cold. The gravestone is warm. In the depths of Achilles’ fevered mind, he thinks it still smells like Patroclus, the warmth of his skin, the cypress smell of his clothes

He kneels in the frozen dirt, and twigs dig into his skin like the claws of the Furies his mother used to tell him about, screaming, raving spirits of vengeance, risen from the other world to punish him - how dare you let him die !! How dare you let him hurt !!

He thinks he’s been kneeling here for years, but that can’t be right. The Sunday chill is still in the air, and the wind carries the smell of his corpse, limp and dead

The stone is simple, just a slab of rock, words carved into its face - PATROCLUS MENOITIADES 1995-2024

He thinks there should be an “Achilles” scrawled beside it. He thinks he might be dead, too

He remembers how he looked, in those final days, eyes sunken, face shriveled. Skinny as a twig. So unlike the Patroclus he loved that he was half-convinced it was a prank

They said it was pneumonia. Achilles thinks it was Fate herself, playing a cruel joke on him

The weather was calm, almost irritatingly so. Briseis came by to leave out some coffee and donuts for him, lest he ended up starving himself to death, but that was hours ago. And Achilles’ stomach felt like a black hole. He hungered for only one thing, and that was now forever beyond his reach

By now, the cup contained only black-brown sludge, and critters had devoured whatever remained of the donuts. As he watched, one of them nibbled on a crumb

He derived some vicious satisfaction in squishing it, leaving behind a smear of black blood on the rim of the plate. If he had to suffer, so would everyone around him

Maybe, if he sits out here long enough, he’ll catch pneumonia, too. Maybe then he’ll finally be able to follow Patroclus over to the other world. Maybe then he would finally get to be happy

A hoarse voice cleared its throat right behind him. The man was wearing doctor’s scrubs, having just gotten off work. Achilles flinched. It seemed unfazed, “I’m sorry for your loss”

Achilles didn’t respond

Hector continued, “We did everything we could, but it was too late for him. All we could do was-“

“Shut up”, his voice was sharper then he remembered, hoarse and rusty from screaming, like shattered glass, “Shut up before I gouge out your eyes”

“I understand you’re upset”, Hector’s voice was placating. Achilles wanted to kill him, “but it’s not OUR fault”

“I thought I told you something”, his voice was dead, lifeless as his love, right under him, like all the nights they had spent together, “Let me repeat it - shut up”

“Right…”, Hector paused, before clearing his throat, “Briseis wants to know if you’re okay”

Achilles was silent. After a long moment, the tell-tale sounds of a man shuffling away reached him. He didn’t move

After a long moment, he rose to his feet. At the gates of the cemetery, Automedon, clearly worried, perked up slightly at the sight

“Boss”, he called, “The car’s waiting”

“Is…”, Achilles cleared his throat, “Is Mom…”

“She’s at the house”, he swallowed. Hard, “She wants to see you”

“I…”, the breath he drew in was ragged and torn, as he turned back towards the grave, feeling oddly like he was chopping off a limb by leaving this place, “I…”

His mother had never liked Patroclus. But these last few weeks… she had changed. For some reason, the thought of her son losing his heart seemed to get her to finally show the young - so young, too young - man some compassion.

Who knows ? Maybe she had a change of heart.

“Boss ?”, Automedon sounded a bit nervous. He idly scratched the back of his head, “Lady Thetis said she wants you inside by sundown, lest you…”, he swallowed, “…end up like him”

Achilles resisted the urge to bark out a pained laugh. Isn’t that what she always told him would. come of associating with the likes of his beloved ? A bastard, a disgrace, someone disowned by his own family ?

How odd that, now that he was dead, those words were repeated, and with such a different meaning

“Boss ?”

“Yeah”, Achilles turned towards his friend, and was a bit disappointed to not be faced with a funeral hearse, “M’coming”

It seemed improper, for a corpse to be carried around in his mother’s gleaming black Chevrolet Cameron, but he supposed after it had carried his mother around for years, it was used to carting around wounded souls

[altocat]

Ain't no party like a Shinra party

WOO! PARTY ON THE SOLDIER FLOOR LET'S GOOOOOOOO

Angeal: Is trying to clean up while the entire room explodes around him. He furiously scrubbing dishes, sweeping up confetti, and fretting over expensive office items being tossed around. Poor guy. He's an absolute wreck right now. And would probably continue to be if not for Genesis scooting over to pass him some much-needed alcohol. Angeal then proceeds to take a little snooze on the carpet, completely worn out.

Genesis: Speaking of Gen, he's busy getting shitfaced. The guy is just so happy to be here, so happy to be alive. Cranking up the music, just blasting that shit to the point where it can be heard seven blocks away. He's gone completely out of his mind, yelling and jumping around like it's a rave. All Loveless recitals are now a string of slurred words that have little to no actual meaning. He spins around with Sephiroth, coaxing the other out of his shell until they're both flushed and laughing as they fall onto the couch together.

Sephiroth: At first, he didn't really like the loud music and the pressing cluster of people. He kept trying to scoot away when no one was looking. But Genesis won't have it, yanking him over to dance, guiding him step by step into the heartbeat of the night, letting him experience all the joys that living has to offer. Sephiroth decides that while this still really isn't his thing at all, he's glad to be here with his friends. And gladder still that he met them.

Zack: Was actually REALLY hyped about this party and was planning to get into all sorts of mischief. Unfortunately...he ALSO managed to lock himself in the bathroom and has been yowling and scratching at the door for nearly four hours now. No one can hear him since the music is so loud. Zack misses the entire night and spends it sprawled on the cold tile, staring up at the ceiling while the rest of the world parties on without him. Life isn't fair at all.

Cloud: Meekly showed up bringing a casserole he made following his mom's special recipe. He worked really hard on it. Too bad it's snatched up and utterly decimated within seconds of him placing it on the table. Cloud mostly spends the night being jostled around from corner to corner like a pinball because the crowd is too dense and too crazy. He wanted to go bed nearly six hours ago. And yet here he is still on his feet at three AM, having a crisis because the party DOESN'T STOP.

[zaynes-nieve]

Spoilers for all of Thorns Under the Moon

Back into Aether core lore. Let's go!!!

We got some new hunter models

Bruhhhh, even Carter's model looks slimey 😭

Zayne did not want me to take those flowers lmfao. Not that I would. Who tries to poach people's patients wtf

Yeahh we already know Carter is batshit insane.

This entire scenario is a little too much like Finding Tobias 😭

Greyson showing us the videos of the hospital and this dimensional Wanderer is making so obvious we about to isekaied into DawnBreaker world bruh.

I'm tried of people playing god with these protocores especially cause Astra is an asshole 😭

Yooo Zayne and Greyson in scrubs???? My man is great with his hands lmfaoo. No but fr really good surgeon ten out of ten, no one is better than my boy Zayne.

God damn these metafluxes wtffff. Where tf is this Wanderer.

Not the Wanderer taking out a sandwich. What do you mean he woke up???? Ain't no way he is awake already. Wtf is Xander Sciences doing???

This man is raving mad. Wtf is the dawn breaker world. Is it an alternative universe? A spliting timeline? In the future? In the past? Now yall telling me it's a protocore dream?

Oh shit we finally fighting this Wanderer? Or we getting....yup we got isekaied now the question is...

Dude is that Zayne or Zayne.

Cause he is wearing the Dawnbreaker fit. I think he is straight up lying to my face rn. He is trying to pretend that he is our Zayne. Or is it our Zayne stuck in Dawn Breaker. Or are we not even in Dawn Breaker world just Zaynes dream.

Bruh this dreamception is too big brain for me at 8 am in the morning.

This is definitely Dawn Breakers house. It's got those weird energy drinks. But Our Zayne could have easily seen this just like Dawn Breaker could see our Zaynes life. Idk anymore.

Lying about the chocolate is crazy work. Not carrot flavored 🥕🍫

I'm like 85% certain this is Dawn Breaker. He is just slightly enough different to be not our Zayne at least fully. But the dark ice and light ice is confusing me again. Are they merged in this one? Cause William is our Zayne, but George and his mother is Dawn Breaker

Also this resonance isn't it. To me it doesn't look like it's working very well. Especially when It looks like we got knocked out cause of it. Also he is taking the ice from us. So is it like an Astra thing or when we do that resonance to take the ice from Zayne we end up taking it for ourselves?

Also, I haven't fought with a non-exclusive companion in so long. Seeing the Dawnbreaker fighting set is crazy again XD. Just make him an exclusive set, too, with the myth story I beg 🙏🏾

It's implied that we know that that wasn't our Zayne. So I guess that was Dawn Breaker. It isn't the first time that they've made reference to the fact that we can recognize Dawn Breaker as separate from our Dr.Zayne either. But Zayne was also sucked into the protofield, too.

Zayne needs his rest. I hope he won't have anymore nightmares 😔

Ain't no way that Wanderer was summoned by that fucking tool, are you kidding me??? Bruh when I get my hands on Carter, Xander Scicnes and fuckign Ever. I swear I'm pulling up with a demolition squad.

[reblogs-and-writings]

Inspired by @chaifootsteps

Everyone's sending in their Hazbin character rewrites, and that looked fun so I want to toss my own hat into the ring. Sorry for the long post. What really bothers me most about Hazin Hotel is that it claims to be a show about redemption, but it seems to be a show about lack of consequence. The reasons why the characters are in hell are never really explained. There are things you can infer about certain people: Alastor's murder, Husk's gambling, Angel's drug use, etc. However, the show never explains why those behaviors are wrong and how they can improve. More often than not, those behaviors are used as jokes. It's funny to have a cannibal town. Angel Dust's name is a pun on the drug that killed him. It's just tonally very wierd to purport that anyone can be redeemed, ANYONE, even people in HELL, can be redeemed and then not continue that very messy and difficult ethical conversation.

Nifty is boy-crazy. Taken to its extreme, what can that mean? What causes attraction so vile it sends you to hell? Was she was one of those "Boy Moms" who excuses his son's horrid actions at the expense of women's safety? Did she cover up a rape her child committed, because Mother's special little boy couldn't possible do something so vile! Or maybe she didn't love her children enough. Maybe her obsession with "bad boys" comes from being forced into an extremely suffocating and unhappy marriage. Maybe she ran off with some 50s biker. Maybe she abandoned her children because she was too obsessed with being loved herself that she couldn't love her children if it meant not having a man's attention. Maybe her boy craziness evolved into a raving jealousy if she didn't get her feelings reciprocated. She's a maid, right? She wants things clean and tidy. Did she murder a man? Did she spend hours scrubbing the floor so none of his blood would remain? Then maybe her arc could be about loving herself and not needing a man to define her identity. Maybe it could be unpacking internalized misogyny and coming to terms with the real pain she caused other women.

Mimzy is opportunistic. She only comes around when she needs a favor. She has no loyalty and only uses Alastor to get her out of problems. Why is she like that? Who taught her that relationships were transactional instead of committal? Maybe she was once a naive young girl who got 'used' for something, and it soured her opinion on other people. I mean, she's plus-sized during the FLAPPER era, where thin was like 1990s level of in. But there's a lot of plus-sized women who talk about being some guy's sneaky link, because he wants to prey on her insecurity and get her into bed, but then never be seen with her, because she's not a socially acceptable dating option. Did Mimzy get her heart broken, and now she doesn't trust anyone? Now she just uses people for what they're good for, because hurt people hurt people, and she's continuing a cycle she herself was a victim to? Maybe Mimzy's redemption could be about letting people in, about not letting trauma turn her into a bad person.

Husk is an alcoholic and a gambling addict. Most people don't just pick up those hobbies for the fun of it. Husk is a miserable little man, and he was probably driven to drink because of his own unhappiness. He was pansexual in the 1970s, right? Maybe he couldn't accept himself or he was forced to not accept himself. Maybe he was forced into a loveless marriage, and he started to go out to the casino to get away from the wife and family he never wanted. But more and more and more he spends time over there, because he doesn't want to go home. And soon he becomes dependent on booze and gambling because it gives him a little joy in his miserable life. But addiction doesn't hurt just the addicted person. It hurts everyone around him. He starts skipping work to gamble. He loses his job. He steals money from his wife. He bets the car. Then the house. He leaves his family destitute, and he's convinced he's the victim because he never wanted to be a husband and father in the first place. When he dies of alcohol poisoning, his family doesn't even claim his body. His redemption could be about how when your own life sucks, it's not an excuse to hurt others. You have to find better ways to cope with a bad hand.

Angel Dust is too many things. He's a prostitute and a porn star and a gay man in the 30s and a gangster and a drug-addict. But if we were gonna try and make all of that make sense, Angel Dust is very family-oriented. He grew up in a mob family. Loyalty is EVERYTHING. So in his mind, killing people was a lesser sin than "betraying" his family by not getting rid of their enemies. His family is everything to him. So he can't be gay. He can't. He can't. He's SO repressed. He refuses to acknowledge it. He spends his entire, short life, trying to fit the mold of a perfect, loyal son. But… he did kill a LOT of people… So when he dies in some shoot out, he goes to hell, and he snaps. He did EVERYTHING he thought was right. He did everything his family told him to do. He was the perfect son, and when he dies he gets sent to hell. He immediately loses all inhibition. He's still a sex/drug addict, but only after he winds up in hell. He's going to spend eternity giving into every single base desire he denied himself while alive. It's destroying him. He's selling himself to men, but deep down he's still ashamed and wondering what his family would think. He drowns out those thoughts with more sex and drugs. Angel's redemption arc is about balance. Yes, he should have been able to be true to himself while alive, but complete indulgence is just as hurtful to him as complete denial.

Sir Pentious… why is he even in hell? I mean, he's a little annoying, and in the pilot he was involved in a gang war, but what did he do in life to justify being sent to hell? Well, he was a Victorian Englishman, so I'm gonna say racism! Horrible racism and colonialsim. He was raised in a time where those were the dominant thought patterns, and he did not analyze them one bit. Conflict can come when black-coded characters like Alastor and Husk expect to be treated like human beings. And Charlie has to face the difficulty of believing a person can change, but how to deal with the current harm they're causing the people she cares about. Maybe Sir Pentious isn't a recorring cast member. Maybe he came to the hotel because he thinks he should be in Heaven. He brought glory to the British empire. He was a kind gentleman. He donated to charities. But he leaves the hotel because he doesn't think "those people" are good enough for Heaven. He refuses to acknowledge his behavior as needing to be changed, but Charlie tells him there is a spot at the hotel when he's ready to change. His character is about how you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. He can be offered all the chances in the world to be better, but until he can come to terms with his own capacity for evil, he can't be redeemed.

Cherry Bomb doesn't exist, because she's a superfluous character that doesn't fit in my rewrite. Sir Pentious doesn't get a love interest, and Angel Dust's friend is now Vaggie.

No fallen angel crud. Vaggie was a prostitute that got murdered like Viv originally planned for her to be like 10 years ago. I think Vaggie shows some really codependent traits in the show. Charlie seems to be her entire world. She sings about being her armor. She's willing to put herself in harm's way to defend her, even die for her. She doesn't seem to care much about the other patron's of the hotel apart from them being facet's of Charlie's dream. Maybe Vaggie was one of those poor women who gets trafficked by their boyfriend (or maybe girlfriend in her case). A single person becomes her whole entire world, and she's willing to do ANYTHING for them. Even put herself in dangerous situations that lead to her death… But she did it for love! <3 She hurts herself for love.. for approval. And maybe the show can get into a conversation about what sin really is. So many people define sin as harmed caused to others, but what about harm caused to yourself? Viv originally stated that Vaggie's feelings for Charlie were one-sided, and I think that detail would be even more poignant in this interpretation of her character. She's trying so hard to be noticed and to be loved, and Charlie's become a goddess in her eyes. She puts her on such a pedastal she has no room for her own worth. Her arc is maybe a bit too similiar to Nifty's depending on how we choose to interpret her character, but it's also about finding identity outside of others and being able to set boundaries. Because loving someone and wanting to help them and wanting to protect them are not bad impulses, but like anything else, when taken to extremes it becomes something bad. Dependency can twist love into obession.

Lucifer is the Devil! He's evil! No sad-man, Dad-trying-his-best nonsense! He's evil! The big twist of Hazbin Hotel is that they're not in Hell! They're in Purgatory. There are no sins that cannot be forgiven, but sin can also not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Purgatory is a place where your sins are burned away so that eventually you can join God in heaven. In Purgatorio, Dante depicts Purgatory as a place of effort. People are in constantly motion striving to get closer to heaven. Purgatory in Hazbin could be a place where people get a second chance to work on their vices. If they couldn't be a good person in life, then they have all of eternity to try again. But Lucifer, the prince of LIES, has convinced everyone they're in Hell. There is no redemption. There is no getting better. He causes the sinners to fall into a great despair. Why try getting better if there is no hope? So when people learn they're in hell, they dig in their heels. They lean even further into vice. They cannot experience love or laughter or joy again. So they settle for booze and sex and violence, anything to numb the pain of knowing they're trapped forever. But is a hell of their own making, little do they know. By tricking generations of sinners, not a single soul has redeemed itself and gotten to heaven in centuries. That's why no one believes it's possible. That's why when Charlie suggests it, he's furiously disapproving of her. He doesn't want people to get better. He doesn't want to improve. He wants everyone to be as miserable as he is, because misery loves company. But he can't tip his hat too much or the older souls might get suspicious. He is the Prince of Lies. His power comes not from strength but from manipulation. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. In Hazin, the greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing people there's no hope for themselves. I was once told that Judas's great sin was not betraying Jesus, but his own suicide after falling into despair. How glorious it would have been to go to a church named after Judas the Repentent. But alas, it is not so. The greatest sin you can commit against yourself is thinking you're too far gone.

And that's why I think Alastor is the central sinner to the narrative. Because he shares Lucifer's viewpoint. People can't get better. Nothing ever gets better. People are bad or people are good, and you can't be both. And who could blame him for having that idea? Let's just pretend that Alastor's lack of visual black-coding is because he is a VERY white-passing creole man. And because of that, he was treated so differently than his mother. And he was treated differently when people found out about his heritage. He became a big radio host. He was popular. He was famous. But he wasn't seen as an equal human being. He was a performer to be enjoyed, but never a person to be respected. He was "one of the good ones" at BEST. And he believed in the good of people. His mother was such a kind soul. She instilled in him that everyone has good inside of them. So he waited to see it. He waited and he waited, and he only saw increasing racism and violence towards his people. One day he just snaps and kills someone, and he considers it a justice. People like that are never going to change. The world is better without them. So he just keeps murdering racists until he gets shot in the head. And when he finds himself in hell, he believes even LESS in the good of people or God or heaven or whatever. If killing racists sent him to hell, then God is evil, and the idea of objective morality in and of itself is perposterous. Positioning Alastor as a vigilante killer would also make some of his comic depictions make more sense. Like he's a really nice guy to Rosie and other women, but he's also a violent murderous man. It's because he thinks people are good or bad, and if you're bad it justifies whatever he does to you. The cannibalism might also be like a power thing. Alastor's arc is about believing in Charlie's mission, genuinely. Eventually, it's not about watching people stumble and fall, because there's a cosmic humor to the cruelty of the universe. He starts to genuinely see people improve, but he fights against the idea, because his life was defined by static, perpetual, instituional evil. Maybe a soul gets redeemed before his very eyes, and he still doesn't believe it. Because to admit a human's capacity for moral growth is to completely restructure his entire understanding of the world, and that's scary.

Finally, Charlie. Princess of Hell. I've always been rather fond of Tolkien's sentiment that evil cannot create, only corrupt. So I don't think Lucifer is her real father. I think Charlie was like… a baby angel. And when Lucifer was leading his rebellion he stole children and forced them to fall to hell with him. It was just another way to bring misery, forcing the innocent to share the burden of his punishment. I think he got a sick pleasure from raising her. He "loved" her, or at least she thought he did. He was very, very good as playing Father. Prince of Lies and all that. He gets a chuckle knowing she's so happy here rotting in hell and has no idea what she's missing from her true destiny in Heaven. But that goodness inside of her can't be extinguished. She's an angel. She has a natural instinct to help human souls and fight evil. But because she was raised in Hell, she doesn't understand the complexities of sin that the elder angels would have informed her about. She's naive, and she certainly has to learn how to help guide people towards a brighter path, but she doesn't change her stance. So many times characters who believe in the good of people end stories with some pessimistic maturity where they realize that some people can't be helped. But Charlie doesn't change. Charlie stands firm at the end of the series believing that EVERYONE can be redeemed. It won't be easy, and you could argue it's not even fair, but she believes it. Lucifer chastises her, saying it'll take an eternity to change a sinner's mind, but she just smiles. Because an eternity is what she has, and she'll spend it helping people.

Also Chalastor is canon.