#shit uh I should probably add some actually useful tags

[valka-arialitan]

Listen I- I NEEDED TO STUDY BACKS, OKAY ?

Let's say that it's following my headcanon according to which Shepard tends to get cold easier after Lazarus, due to most of his body being actual cybernetic implants. And so he often wears his hoodie while sleeping.

[cantwritethetword]

Music to my Ears

(+ Tickletober2023 Day 15: Cackle)

Fic Descript: Eddie hears Steve's proper laugh for the first time and becomes OBSESSED with hearing it again. Luckily, Eddie has a way to make that happen.

~A/N  - This is my first ever Steddie fic, and I haven't actually got up to Eddie in stranger things😅 but the amount of fics I've read (mostly nhasablogg cause their fics are fucking GOLDEN) makes me think i've got a decent understanding of the guy. lemme know if I completely fuck up his character tho lmao.

Hope this is alright, and hope the start of 2024 has been kind to you all <3

EDIT: This was also meant to be tickletober2023 but I'm adding it in now

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link 

Fighting demonic entities from another dimension is certainly one way to bring people together.

Steve and Eddie certainly didn't have had the most typical start to their friendship, so the pair were more than happy to slide back into a more regular young adult friendship experience once everything had calmed down.

But, the less crazy shit the two experienced, the more Eddie noticed Steve's little quirks that his brain couldn't help but fixate on. Nothing that necessarily bothered him, just weird things that most people probably didn't realise about Steve.

One of those weird things was his laugh. Or, rather, his lack of proper laughter.

Any time someone cracked a stupid joke, or something funny happened in the movie they were watching, Steve would bow his head and let out a few near-silent snickers, before lifting his gaze again with a slightly-too-perfect grin.

The first time it happened, Eddie put it down to nerves. Steve wasn't quite used to hanging out with Eddie's bandmates yet, so of course he would be more reserved than usual.

But it happened again, and again, and again. And the less people that were around, the more confused Eddie became. It was almost like Steve was consciously stopping himself from laughing aloud.

From that point forward, Eddie made it his mission to make Steve laugh. He'd poke fun at Dustin, goof around with his guitar, and add even more dramatic effects to his DnD games. But nothing seemed to crack Harrington.

That was until they were alone.

The pair had been lounging on Eddie's bed, talking back and forth about whatever TV show they had just finished. Eddie had made some stupid joke under his breath, not thinking anything of it. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and had no intent other than maybe getting Steve to roll his eyes.

But with the relaxed atmosphere of Eddie's bedroom, Steve's guard was so far down he didn't have time to pull it back up, and it was almost like the laughter started before either of them realised.

It was high pitched, only a level or two below squeaky, and certainly didn't fit Eddie's old image of 'Douchebag Steve'. The giggles were bright, clear but still bunched together. It came out in a stream for only a few seconds before both men locked eyes with surprise on their faces.

Eddie was entranced. It wasn't a particularly special sounding laugh, but it was coming from Steve. It was Steve's actual real laugh.

The man in question went red, and started stuttering out a "Where were we?" in an attempt to switch the conversation back.

Though Eddie allowed Steve the free pass, and carried the conversation back to Twin Peaks. But his brain kept ticking. Would Steve let that happen again? How could Eddie get him comfortable enough to laugh like that? How could Eddie even make him laugh enough to spill?

Steve was, by now, fully under the impression he had gotten away with it, but Eddie - the meddling kid - was far from ready to let it go.

As the conversation fell to a comfortable lull, Eddie spoke.

"You know, you should laugh like that more often."

Steve completely bluescreened. "Uh- I- What do you mean?"

Eddie sat upright. "Your normal laugh is so... quiet. Just then it felt like you really let go. I liked it."

"No I didn't." Steve's eyes fell to the bedsheets, out of Eddie's gaze. "My normal laugh is my only laugh, I don't have a different laugh."

Eddie chuckled, moving closer and almost looming over Steve. "You really don't want to start this fight with me, I know what I heard."

Still maintaining direct eye contact with the bed, Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no fight to be had, I didn't laugh any differently. You can't prove it."

Oh that did it. Those three words struck a chord with the resident musician, and everything clicked into place in his mind.

"I can't prove it, huh?" Eddie smirked. "I think that's where you're wrong, Harrington."

With a predatory glint in his eyes, Eddie launched his fingers onto Steve's ribs and began vibrating his fingertips against the bones.

Steve let out a strangled gasp and tensed up, half-choked grunts squeezing through his sealed lips as his hands fought to pry Eddie's off him.

"Come on Harrington, just lemme hear you laugh." Eddie teased with a wink.

"ED-EDDIE- PL-PLEASE-!" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, snickers beginning to break through his resolve as he gripped Eddie's wrists rigidly.

Almost there Eddie thought to himself. "Just let it happen Stevie."

And happen it did.

It all became just a little too much for Steve's nervous system to handle, and those adorable squeaky giggles Eddie was looking for flooded the room. Steve's hands lost their strength, and his arms crossed weakly in front of his stomach to protect himself. At least, that was the intention. In reality he had just trapped Eddie's ticklish fingers against his sides.

But by this point, Eddie had forgotten all about his little attack. His fingers stopped abruptly only seconds after Steve had cracked. Frozen, Eddie was unable to pull his eyes (and his attention) from Steve's bright giggly smile, even as Steve's laughter faded.

"Fuhuhuhuck..." Steve whined, his hands covering his eyes and breaking the silence that had formed since his little giggle fit had ceased.

Eddie chuckled, ruffling Steve's hair. "I'd say that proved my point, wouldn't you?"

"You tell no one about this." Steve said sternly, lifting himself onto his elbows. "Especially not Robin... or the kids."

Eddie grinned. "Oh I'm happy to keep this between us, our little secret hmm?"

After a quick nod in response, Steve let his gaze drift around the room for a moment. "So... uh... are you gonna let me up or..."

"Pfft, nope." Eddie laughed, and shot his fingertips straight under Steve's arms.

And this time, Steve didn't even try to stop himself.

[idsalgay]

introduction !! (finally)

last updated: 8/17/24

(OTHER ACCOUNT: MUTHAFUCKINARO!!)

hello!! im ace, though i also prefer cass, mercury, mer, accio, AMG2, aceline, or in some cases, ace mcfartpants

✓ | i LOVEE mario, SMG4, kirby, undertale, omori, gacha, drawing, painting, music, crochet, theater, war and countries, clothing design, interior design, digital art, TADC, dougdoug, space, bee and puppycat, and way more you should ask me about!! (if, that wasn't enough already)

✕ | i HATTEEEEEEEEE cheese, weird textures, loud noises, uncomfortable situations, slurs, art block, and cleaning

DNI'S:

bigots, sex blogs, pedophiles/zoophiles, racists, sexists, proshippers, anti-lgbtq, ect (the basic dni critera)

also, if you shit on furries, therians, religions, hypersexuality, disabilities, or artstyles, dni please!

art commissions (currently in this case, free)

Yes, you heard that right !! im opening up commissions! i do all art for free in general, probably in this case because i dont need money, but also to have fun and see other peoples designs on ocs/creations. my ask box is open, send me a character and i'll draw it! i have pictures of drawings i do (without reference, currently practicing to not practice) (?) i do have boundaries as listed below--

do's:

sfw

mild blood

partially suggestive (will discuss more)

full body

partial body

furries

non-human

characters and or OC's

interior house art/any interior

ship/selfships

digital and traditional

animals/quad legged

DONT'S:

very/heavily suggestive (again, will discuss more)

full on gore

pedophilia or zoophilia

proshipping

body bases (tracing reasons)

any general thing that a normal artist wouldnt accept in a sfw style.

talking about suggestive art, i allow requests as such:

flirting/teasing

MILD touching. (as, hand resting on thigh, head, cheek, waist, ect)

other sfw, yet still suggestive things, keeping it at a minimum. though i understand what suggestive means, i want to keep it safe for viewers.

for nsfw in general, heavily suggestive--

i cannot draw whatever kinky shit ya got in your head. yes, i want to make people happy-- but i dont want to flat out make myself uncomfortable.

i will not allow:

nude/exposing bodies

pornographic material in general implied

actual intercourse

heavy text (cursing, mumbling sexual noises, ect)

please respect this, and have fun requesting! go all out and dm/send an ask, i wont guarantee to respond right away, but i will try to keep responses consistent! i do add watermarks still :) (no stealing.. grrrrrrrrr)

tags i use:

#ace rambles - me rambling about something

#acesaves - things i wanna save for future!! :D

#smg4 rambling - i think this should explain itself if you've seen my profile

#just needed to get out of system - angry venting

#ace needs to shit - weird shitting jokes i make because poop funny

#aces commissions - drawing commissions i made

#gamer ace !! - a game im playing/referencing

#ace and funni friends - my silly friends (mostly irls)

#acemisc - miscellaneous stuff that shouldnt belong in this world

#aceship - selfshipping (drawing wise)

#aces public dairy diary - not always vents, but stuff on my mind

#heavy vents - crazy stuff happening in my life

#cool sketches - cool sketches out of my handy dandy wandy notebook

nicknames/names for peeps i know:

@moonysfavoritetoast - evan/cosmo (he/they, they/them)

@meerealsssss - mee (she/her)

@the-rizzly-bear - will (he/him)

@homoashell - starr (she/her)

@37x3 sparky (they/he)

riss - my kewl sister (she/her)

artheno - kewl sisters boyfriend who i hate (not really, hes cool) (he/they)

father - my science teacher!! who!! adopted me!! (he/him)

father 2 - actual father and uh hes bad father.. (he/him)

mother - actual mother who is kewl and i love (she/her)

layz - kewl gay friend (they/them)

wife pt 2 - me, evans, and mee's wife (she/they)

seven - oc (she/him)

waterwelon - fursona (he/it/fae)

if you want your tag added or removed, please dm me <3

also please be my mootOKAY THATS ENOUGJ OF MY INTRO.'

[blatantescapism]

Ah yes, it’s that special day where once again I find myself wondering what the ever-living fuck Joe Finigan was thinking.

This is the story of how I utterly failed to have the appropriate emotional reaction to 9/11. Mind the trigger tags. I’d add more but I ran out. This story is insensitive by nature and I probably shouldn’t share it, but it’s also such a weird slice of American life that I kinda feel like I gotta.

So, context.

Columbine happened in 1999, when I was in 5th grade. Schools across the US started to be like, “hm, maybe it’s time to actually address this issue somehow.” Our elementary school brought in some random police officers to talk about it. Police who, if anything, had been trained in how to make kids more traumatized.

We didn’t have active shooter drills back then. They were just like, “Hey kids, I want you to imagine this fucked up scenario that I am vividly describing. What would you do if it happened to you? Do you have a Plan? Will you be able to stick to your Plan even while your classmates are screaming? You should think about it hard, in graphic detail, so that when the time comes you won’t hesitate to make Tough Choices. Breaking your leg because you jumped out a window is still better than being dead! Listen to this story of a girl who hid under a desk, but then the gunman found her and she couldn’t escape because there was no room to maneuver and so she was trapped and the gunman shot her while she bravely said her prayers, we have a weird creepy obsession with painting the victims as modern Christian martyrs and we totally invented the entire story but you won’t realize that for at least a decade. And remember: don’t run in a straight line, run in zigzags so that you’re harder to shoot.”

So yeah, that was 1999, we were 11 years old, and we took that shit very much to heart.

Two years later, it’s 2001. There have been 15 new US school shootings in that time. My sister and I are in middle school, it’s early in the school year but we’ve started to get into a normal rhythm,

Suddenly there is a totally unexpected blare on the intercom. It’s Principal Joe Finigan, he is about to make the most significant announcement of his career, and for some fucking reason he decides that THIS is the best thing to say:

“There has been a, uh, a terrible tragedy. Everyone should go home now. Uh, ask your parents what happened. As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.” Click.

We don’t have any other sources of information. The teachers aren’t telling us what’s going on, but some are crying.

Obviously there must have been a school shooting in town. But what the hell did he mean by “as far as we know, we are not a target at this time”? That makes it sound like the gunman is still at large. Is this a sniper situation? Is it even safe to walk home? Are we going to have to line up in the office and take turns using the school telephone to call our parents?

We cautiously head outside, and there’s a line of parents already out there waiting in their cars to pick their kids up. Oh shit, it must be bad. Was it the kindergarten? Or the Catholic prep school?

Our mom is upset. She says she doesn’t want to talk about it while driving. She’ll show us the news on the TV when we get home.

We get home and steel ourselves to face the news, fully expecting to see the names of close friends and neighbors listed among the dead.

So please imagine how appalled our dear mother is when we say, “Wait a minute- all this fuss is because some buildings are on fire in a completely different state?!”

“As far as we know, we are not a target at this time.”

Dear Joe Finigan. What the fuck made you say that. Please tell me, did you genuinely imagine terrorists being like

“At this time, our target is the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. But next, we shall target a mediocre school in a bland suburban town that nobody has ever heard of! Ohoho! Ah hah ha ha!”

Anyway, there’s something to be said about how after both events, the US response was, “You see, this is why we need more guns. We tooootally promise they’ll only be used to hurt Bad Guys! After all, we’re the Good Guys! USA! USA!”

[saphushia]

H-hey um hi, I was uh, well I was just wondering how you did that cool character list cuz I wanted to make one for myself but I'm just like new here n stuff so I was wondering if you could tell me how you did it also your art is funny as shit and I love the style

i'm assuming you mean the character/oc page on my blog? it's a modified version of this page theme by @macfustythemes. you're going to need to know a little bit of html/be willing to do some trial and error in order to use it (more if you wanna actually tweak the layout), so i'd recommend downloading brackets, which is a code editing program that will make things way easier. you'll probably have to send a ticket to support asking them to enable javascript on your blog, as the code is dependent on javascript for its filtering. (it's off by default to prevent ppl from running malicious scripts. in my experience there was very little fuss getting it turned on, just ask nicely)

you can change your theme by either going to your blog and clicking the palette icon that should show up along the top right, or by going to your settings -> select blog on the sidebar -> second option down is 'edit theme.' if you look for themes anywhere but tumblr's inbuilt theme garden, the steps to install them is 'there will be a link to a site that has the entire html code for the theme, copy it and paste it in the right spot in the theme editor' if you want to change the theme of your whole blog there's an option at the very top of the customization sidebar that says 'edit html,' delete everything that's there and then paste the new code to change the theme for the whole blog.

to add a page, scroll all the way to the bottom of the customization sidebar and hit 'add page'. when you're making a new page you can either use a standard layout, which will basically look like a post on your blog (like my tags page), or a custom layout, which will allow you to edit/paste html to change the entire page (like my characters page). if you're using a page theme you will need to copy paste the code you get from the theme source.

if you're looking for either full blog themes or other page themes, i'd recommend browsing @theme-hunter instead of the inbuilt tumblr theme browser. way better imo. here is specifically character page themes, and they also have some tutorials and guides for changing themes/basic html tweaks, though some seem a bit outdated.

also, the talk of html is probably scary if you aren't familiar with it, but i promise it's not that hard. tweaking tumblr themes is actually how i've picked up enough html knowledge to code simple web pages from scratch lmao

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

I wanna read one of your president fics but I have like .5% knowledge about the US presidents so could you give me a rundown on the presidents in one of the fics I should read-? Also why do you know so much. Are you planning on becoming a history major-

okay so like ngjfgkbh its below but read tags for all issues mentioned:

the chatfic is basically all of them so i cant run down ALL of them, but basically fuck LBJ, fuck reagan, fuck jefferson, fuck FDR, fuck like... a hella ton of those mfs. stan bobby kennedy and jack kennedy. for the linken fic, JFK was obviously the the 35th president. He was involved in the Space Race between the USA and the Soviet Union for like, basically who can get in space faster. His Presidency carried most of the Cold War and he actually started to draw back soldiers from Vietnam and TRIED to repair this stupid ass government, but LBJ said 'fuck that' and put the soldiers back. His soldiers were... uh... well... cant explain but illegally horrible.

Lincoln, 16th President, Civil War. Was Republican which I know sounds hella unusual but back then, parties were basically switched. Hell, Jackson, one of the worst who did the Trail of Tears which took Native Americans' land and forced them off of it, created the Democratic Party. His Presidency was mostly on the Civil War but of course the Emancipation Proclamation came through. The War was originally states rights but became slavery real quick. States--mostly the South, which made up the Confederacy--receded from the start and boom it started. Once it was over they began to come back. Bro got shot ofc as you know. Was hella sad and depressed and had mommy issues + abandonment issues + was probably bisexual.

JFK probably was too, and there's a BUNCH of weird coincidences between them, so that's why LinKen exists. One of the best nicknames i've seen for them is Headshot Homos. He had chronic illness + his back was always in pain and he had to take a shit ton of pills for it. He may've been SA'd as a kid too, which leads into the hypersexual activity, and that leads to the cheating.

SO TL;DR: you dont need to know just about anything to read the fics. I barely go for historical accuracy. For the notes, it's usually at the end where I add in any fun history facts, most of which are on TR because... well. They are. The chatfic and some references may not make sense if you don't know some stuff, but the comments--the 100+ there are, or 200+ i dont remember--have a bunch of facts in them by some super cool ass readers/friends. There's two other chatfics made inspired by mine, and the one by JFKMyBeloved has a bunch of facts in I believe both chapters notes. The other is hella accurate probably too.

Overall you can go in and see them as original characters and you're good. I'll explore the trauma as I have in chapter 11 throughout. And as I said any TR shit WILL be explained because I can't stop including that mf in EVERYTHING 💀💀

and tbh it just started as a hamilton phase, became more, and soon i was reading a fuck ton of books. i guess my brain decided TR would be my ONE president that I care the most about. 2000+ pages have been put into learning about this mf and HOURS of documentaries and reading his letters to his kids (it's in a book, A Bully Father, 10/10 with some spelling mistakes though). So I can barely tell you about the others but I WILL tell you abt TR ahsjdkfghnm

so yeah kind of i guess. if political science doesnt work, it's history, and then english. that's my Plan A, B, and C in order.

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 8

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Teen Words: 1.8k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Ellie

Yep. She’s going fucking crazy.

After weeks on the open road, being confined to a single hospital floor is torture. Boredom sinks in with claws and teeth, and there are only so many games of Boggle they can play before she wants to climb out of her skin. She’s so desperate, she’s reading the shitty magazines from the box at the nurse’s station.

“What the hell’s a ‘horrorscope?’”

Joel glances up from his book. “Horoscope. Not horrorscope. It’s, uh, astronomy–”

“No, astronomy is science ,” she says matter-of-factly. “This looks like bullshit. And my version sounds cooler.”

Joel just grunts and goes back to his reading. She’s pretty sure he’s read the same book like ten times already. She sighs and looks down at the magazine, tracing her finger down the little inset chart until she finds her birthday.

“Hmm, let’s see. Guess I’m a…Taurus,” she frowns, reading aloud. “‘Overall, this month is about aligning your actions with your values. Embrace your steady determination and let it guide you toward a more fulfilling and balanced path.’ The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s mostly made-up bullshit,” Joel agrees.

“Hmm. What’s your birthday?”

“Noneya.”

She looks over her shoulder at him when he predictably adds, “Noneya business.”

So fucking lame.

“Alright, guess I’m just gonna have to read every single one of these–”

“Jesus, stop. It’s September twenty-sixth.”

“September twenty–whoa,” she says, looking back at him. Outbreak Day. He’s gone quiet, nose still stuck in his dumb cowboy book. “That’s…grim.” 

“You’re tellin’ me,” he mutters.

Things get very quiet. She’s not sure if she should push; it’s hard to get a read on Joel’s moods sometimes. After a pause, he puts the book down and sighs.

“You gonna read my horoscope or what? The suspense is killin’ me,” he says drily.

Must be one of the good days .

“September twenty-sixth, that makes you a–”

“A Libra,” he says.

“You dick!” she laughs. “You already knew?”

He shrugs, not offering further explanation, but the faraway look in his eyes tells her he’s thinking of Sarah. Horoscopes definitely seem like something a fourteen-year-old kid would have liked back in the Before.

“Libra. Okay, here it is: ‘Today you’re going to be a grumpy motherfucker who’s old as fuck.’”

He narrows his eyes, biting his lip on a smirk. “It don’t say that.”

“Does too,” she grins.

“Yeah? Then let me see it.”

“No,” she sticks out her tongue and slaps the magazine shut, chucking it back into the box, then flops back on her bed with a groan. “Why does saving the world have to be so fucking boring ?”

“You’d have to ask Marlene,” he sighs.

She pauses.

That’s not a bad idea, actually.

They’re finishing up the daily blood draw when she poses the question.

“Why can’t we go outside?”

“What?” Marlene is looking down, distracted by something in a file.

“Outside. Y’know, the opposite of inside. Trees and fresh air and shit.”

She scoffs. “It’s too risky.”

“There’s no infected–”

“Because I have men out there holding a perimeter,” she says. “We see hordes come through on a regular basis and we redirect them, but it doesn’t always work. We haven’t had a lockdown yet but it’s only a matter of time.”

“It’s not like we’d go far–”

“It’s not about that. You are too important. The answer is no.”

“C’mon man,” she whines. “It’s dead in here.”

“No, it’s alive in here, Ellie. That’s the point. At best, you’re a sitting duck and a target. At worst, you’re dead meat.”

Ellie looks back at Joel as if to get his help, but he’s pretending to be engrossed in his book again. Jerk.

“Even just outside the door, maybe?” Ellie tries. “Or what about an open window downstairs–”

“No.”

“So you just get to keep me locked up in here, is that it? Might as well be chained to the fucking radiator again.”

Marlene folds her arms. “You’re not a prisoner, Ellie, but there are sacrifices you need to make. This is one of them.”

“This is bullshit,” she spits.

Joel clears his throat behind her and Marlene wheels around, glaring.

“There’s a courtyard on the first floor,” he says after a pause. “Closed in. Looks pretty overgrown, no access from the outside.”

Marlene sighs. “I’m well aware–”

“Looks like two, three entrances at most. Put guards around. I’ll be with her.”

Marlene’s nostrils flare as Ellie looks back and forth between them.

“Just an hour or so once in a while. Kid needs fresh air,” Joel mutters. “You said it yourself, she ain’t a fuckin’ prisoner.”

Marlene huffs a long-suffering sigh, but something in her relents.

“I’ll see what we can do.”

Joel

Two days later, they’re escorted to the first floor by a trio of Fireflies. Ellie is practically vibrating with excitement. A few weeks in this place and the tiniest amount of freedom is enough to make her giddy.

Joel swallows his discontent and tries to take comfort in seeing her smile. And when the doors open into the courtyard, overgrown as it is, she practically disappears into the greenery. 

“Ellie!”

He’s startled by her speed. The moment her sneakers touch the dirt floor she’s off and ducking between shrubs and branches, out of sight before he can blink.

“Joel! It’s a jungle!” her voice rings out from somewhere ahead.

And it is. The trees have grown so thick and tall that the whole area is shrouded in shade. He wanders after her, pushing branches and large fronds aside. It’s just starting to warm up, and what little sunlight filters through the canopy overhead is a balm. It’s hardly a garden, but after weeks in the cold, sterile confines of the hospital, it feels like an oasis in a concrete desert.

He can hear her up ahead, muttering to herself like she does when she’s pretending, something about a secret temple, a wild and unexplored planet and some doctor person from those comics she reads.

“Rarr!”

Ellie jumps out from behind a bush, fingers splayed like claws. He starts, and she grins a little maniacally. “Scared?”

“Terrified,” he drawls, but her enthusiasm is contagious.

At the center of the courtyard is a stone fountain, crumbling and covered by leaves and detritus. Ellie stands over it, fascinated, watching bugs skitter along the surface of the shallow pool of stagnant water. She looks up at his approach, grinning.

“It’s so cool out here.”

“Reckon it’s a nice change of pace,” he agrees, mindful of the guards lingering around the perimeter.

“Let’s play a game! Hide and seek?”

“Uh, I dunno if that’s–”

But she’s already off, yelling at him to count to fifty and don’t you dare peek, motherfucker . He makes it to twenty before his nerves have him running off to look for her. It takes him several minutes–several excruciating, harrowing minutes–of searching under brush and around trees and skirting the edges of the courtyard, calling her name and feeling every one of his fifty-six years. As he’d suggested, there are guards posted at both entrances, and he catches their looks of smug amusement when he crashes by, but none of them give up her location.

It takes far too long to find her, although in truth it’s probably only five minutes. He’s saved by the sound of scraping against bark and a soft, “oh, shit!” from one of the trees. He looks up to find her standing on a branch, arms wrapped around the trunk, grinning down at him.

“Found you,” he says, hoping he does a decent job of hiding the panic in his voice. “Get down from there, you’re gonna break your neck.”

“Am not,” she says, easing herself down onto the branch and dropping to the ground. “See? Easy. Ow, fuck.”

“You hurt?”

“Nah,” she says, sitting at the base of the tree, pulling up her jeans to examine her left knee. “Well, maybe a scratch.” 

He bites his lip, has to sit down next to her in the dirt to calm his racing heart. “I don’t like this game.”

“That’s just ’cause you suck at it,” she preens.

“Sure,” he grumbles as she flops down onto her back and stares up at the rustling leaves.

“What do you think it’ll be like? After?”

“After what?”

“Y’know. We go back to Tommy’s…you become a famous sheep rancher…I start my astronaut training,” she says lightly.

Joel cocks his head, thinking. “They have a school, if I’m rememberin’ right.”

“Ugh. Barf.”

“Bet it’s a better school than FEDRA.”

“That’s a pretty fucking low bar.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs. “Prob’ly get a house. I’m sure they’ll have construction work…don’t know how good I’d be, I’m outta practice, but…I’m sure I’d find somethin’.”

She wrinkles her nose, chews on her lower lip for a little bit. “Do you think Jackson has a place for orphans or do they do, like, a foster family thing, or…?”

He looks down at her, brow furrowed. “I dunno. I, uh…figured…you’d stay with me.”

“Oh,” she says softly.

“Did you…not want that?” he says, chest tightening uncomfortably.

She shrugs. “I just thought…before, you said…”

Sure as hell ain’t your dad.

He pales. Shame gnaws at him, turns his stomach. All those weeks together after Jackson, after everything they’d been through, he'd let her assume she was still on her own. He was such a fucking asshole.

“We didn’t talk about it,” she continues quietly. “So…I just…didn’t know.”

“Ellie,” he nudges her. “I want you to stay with me, if that’s what you want.”

She shrugs, but she won’t look at him.

“I’m–I’d be lucky to…to have you,” he says shakily. “Guess I shoulda said it sooner, but…I mean it, kid. No…no orphanages or foster homes or any a’ that. You’re with me. Alright?”

The last words come out in a rush as his throat tightens.

She shrugs again, but her eyes shine and she finally smiles. “Yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

“Yeah?” He smiles back. “It’s a deal.”

“Besides, you’ll need someone to take care of you in your old age,” she smirks. “I’m not changing your diapers though.”

He thinks of an off-handed joke over a long-ago breakfast, surprised to find the memory doesn’t hit so hard, doesn’t ache the way it usually does. It’s a relief and not, like he’s letting go of something.

Shaking his head, he stands up, wipes off the seat of his pants. “Ever played Marco Polo?”

“No…”

“It’s a game. Kinda like hide and seek but it’s, uh…”

Less nerve-wracking , he thinks, biting the inside of his cheek.

“It’s slower,” he finishes instead. “Get up here. Close your eyes an’ keep ‘em closed.”

She grins and stands, making a show of squeezing her eyes shut. “Now what?”

“When you say ‘Marco’ I have to say ‘Polo’ and you have to try to tag me.”

“With my eyes closed? That’s not fair.”

“Gotta use your ears.”

She giggles. “So you’ll suck at this, too, huh?”

“Reckon I will,” he sighs, cracking his back, thinking he’s getting way too old for this. But she’s grinning with her hands covering her eyes, and he thinks he can manage a little longer. For her.

“Alright, kid. Count to ten.”

[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

© @capsgrantrogers

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

��Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit��� you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

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[grymmnox]

dfo fic recs <3

said this was gonna be an owl house blog. i lied. whoops.. have some dad for one fic recs. all under the cut!

hero’s shadow - feelingstabby

teen and up, gen, creator chose not to use archive warnings

incomplete, 55/100 chapters, 481,829 words (yes, the author has stated that they are actually aiming for 100 chapters)

summary:

Izuku doesn’t cry. He is a weapon, and weapons don’t weep.

He won’t cry until the battle, when he’s falling through the air, when it settles in just how real it is that he’s going to die, because yeah, the doctor warned him this would happen, but there’s always been a part of Izuku that thought he’d live forever.

Just like his father told him.

Or, how a few heroes help Midoriya Izuku become something more than a lost vigilante.

yes, vigilante izuku with plenty of trauma. and dadzawa and dadmic. and mistakes made on several people’s parts, because they are all human. i love it..sm. as of writing this post, i’m on chapter 39, so over halfway through. however, i have a feeling something is coming up. we’ll see :)

Ill-Gotten Gains - ghostmaybite

mature, gen + m/m, archive warnings do not apply/creator chose not to use archive warnings

incomplete, 36/? chapters,  225,740 words

summary:

When his father and Tomura start planning the USJ attack, Izuku makes a plan of his own. It’s simple, only four steps:

1. Steal Eraserhead’s quirk 2. Use it to kill All for One 3. Give Erasure back, hopefully 4. Go to jail, probably

He’s prepared for the plan to fail at any time, but surprisingly, it’s not until step 4 that things fall through.

FANTASTIC dad for one fic. honestly amazing. i love it. so much. ALSO!! izuku has afo! as in the quirk! or a version of it! it is so...akjsndfhjgjhgnad!! it is FULL of angst! (and the stain arc is coming up...excited.) everyone is becoming a train. now that i’ve said something you won’t understand without context, you’ve gotta read the fic. go on. do it.

the face of the future, the blood in my veins - intheeveningsunrise

mature, gen, creator chose not to use archive warnings

complete, wip sequel/recovery fic. 27 chapters, 218,513 words

summary:

“My name is Midoriya Izuku,” he says in a hushed voice. “I’m from Musutafu. Born and raised here.”

Mikumo blinks at him. “That supposed to mean something?”

“I don’t know!” Izuku throws his palms up in surrender, huffing. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this. Just tell me why you stole my face, so I can kill you.”

“Uh… this isn’t your face. This is my face. I was born with it.”

“You are so, so close to getting stabbed.”

or, Izuku runs into his twin at the USJ - and then proceeds to run into him seemingly everywhere he goes.

With every meeting, the two begin to uncover a deep web of lies that has been suffocating them both ever since they were children. All the while, Izuku tries desperately to pull Mikumo out of the grasp of their father - All For One.

ahahHAHA YES I LOVE THIS FIC...still have to finish it. i plan on doing it very soon. maybe even after posting this. we’ll see. it is AMAZING..and also adds mikumo into the mix :) it’s REALLY interesting, but def deals with heavy themes- which is honestly kinda just..in the territory when it comes to dfo fics. but yeah. read the tags, which you should do for every fic you read but yk

A Stranger's Smile, a Traitor's Guile - JoWithTheFlo

mature, gen, graphic depictions of violence

incomplete, 9/? chapters, 35,185 words

summary:

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Touya asked. “Eating shit food out of dumpsters and bathing in public bathrooms?”

“I do,” Izuku answered, honestly. “But I’m free this way.”

“What if you could be free and have a roof over your head too?”

Izuku gave him an amused look. “I can’t. I’m eight years old and, technically, don’t exist. It’s not as if I could get a job to pay rent.”

“I could though,” Touya said, voice oddly strained as he made the offer. “If you wanted. To live like that, instead.” --- Wherein Izuku has All for One, uses it to help whoever he can, and stumbles across a family along the way.

i LOVE THIS FIC. touya/dabi and izuku bonding has always been something i’ve enjoyed and looked for, and this one having dfo and izuku w/ the afo quirk?? checks off SO MANY BOXES. seriously, give it a read. you’ll probably enjoy it.

sitting in my hand is the sand of a shattered hourglass - zel_over_on_the_beach

mature, gen, creator chose not to use archive warnings

oneshot (part of a series, though! there is an incomplete prequel fic), 12,254 words

summary:

I am here! I am here! Izuku keeps waking up on the day villains attack the training camp, and the only way he can think of to end the loop is to keep everyone else safe. Too bad he keeps failing at that.

It's a time loop fic, okay?

TIME LOOP FIC. YEAH. its so...alkdsfjsdfkasbdfksa. read the tags, of course. shit goes down with muscular..quite a few times, really. it’s just. MMMMM SO GOOD. definitely give it a read if you enjoy time loop fics. or even if you don’t, give it a chance. it’s fantastic.

Pull him under - SorrowSeye

teen and up, gen, no archive warnings apply

oneshot, 9,875 words

summary:

All the stress of recent events is enough to turn Izuku's hair white. In fact, it does just that; when his hair loses all color overnight, Izuku ends up looking incredibly similar to someone he would never want ties to.

Nothing can hold you down quite like family.

ONE OF THE FIRST (if not the first) DFO FICS I READ. it is SO GOOD. definitely, DEFINITELY, check it out. all might is there, as is the rest of class 1-a..such a good fic. i’ll be giving it a reread soon, that’s for sure.

Words as Weapons - NearoRiver

teen and up, gen, no archive warnings apply

incomplete, 33/38 chapters, 109,275 words

summary:

When Midoriya Inko dies in childbirth, Midoriya Hisashi—better known as All for One—decides to raise his son Izuku by himself... without ever telling Izuku he’s Japan’s worst supervillain. While navigating his father’s high expectations, insidious emotional abuse, and overpowering quirk, Izuku fights to become a hero.

- - -

Old summary: Midoriya Hisashi is All for One. Midoriya Izuku is going to become a hero.

who would i be if i DIDN’T add this fic?? it is SO GOOD. I LOVE IT. seriously, read it. after reading the tags, of course. the way afo is written in this fic is..so good. utterly terrifying and disgusting but SO GOOD. SO WELL DONE. it’s just. adskjnfajklsdnfkjasdfba. AND THE TRAINIGN CAMP ARC IS COMING UP...like it is starting SOON. i am EXCITED.

-

well, i think that’s it for now. feel free to ask for any mha fic recs (or toh, but tbh most of what i read there is. hunter-centric. and it’s a tad difficult for me to read fics w/o him being a major part..which kinda sucks cus i’m sure there’s many wonderful fics i’m missing out on bc of it.)

if any of the links are wrong or broken or whatever, please let me know so i can fix em (or try to, at least. whether i succeed is another matter entirely.)

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

���Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

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2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

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3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

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4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

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5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

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6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

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7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

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8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

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9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

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10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

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11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

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12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

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13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

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14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

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15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

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16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

[annyankers]

train tell me about your xander 👀 (please?) (also hi)

XANDDDDERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

OKAY SO--- for one thing I have a tag for him on here that’s xander (train’s version) (we see a pattern here lol) also my old rp blog for him is @andhaert  which has some things like headcanons and aesthetics. 

For starters I use Liam James, especially in his role as Billy Bennett, for my actor for Xander for a few reasons:

1. It helps mentally separate this version of Xander from canon!Xander who we all know is Very Contentious whether you think he should be or not, also helps to separate Xander from the actions of his original actor Nicholas Brendan. This is kind of a standard practice in the tumblr rp world (swapping out your actor when you find out the original is Kinda Yikes) where I started to develop my Xander Concepts more coherently and it’s stuck.

2. I think Liam works really well as an actor for Xander both in looks and acting and his role as Billy really highlights it as they’re similar characters.

3. It’s probably his most prominent role atm that I know of so it’s the easiest to get content for. He also works for me as Xander with his normal brown hair but the mohawk is the dominant look.

Moving on from there I really just like..... think about Xander in terms of what we know about him factually and textually and then separate that from the Whedon and 90s teen male tv character taints. Whedon has said that Xander is like, mary sue-ish self insert of his high school self and i feel like it shows and frankly holds his character back a LOT. I’m actually a rabid Xander stan I think he has a lot of potential and good in him. I just feel like both the writers and the fandom don’t really uh..... wanna actually engage with it or his character lol.

We know canonically that Xander comes from a poor, abusive and unstable household. We see in the show evidence of verbal and emotional abuse and heavy neglect. There’s literally a scene somewhere in S1 or S2 that I don’t wanna spend and hour finding in the transcripts where he has to remind his own mom she has a son which is played for comedy but is like um... WOW. It’s implied both of his parents are alcoholics and honestly I think his father is physically abusive (I can’t remember if it’s actually canon or not but it just you know, the Vibe is There).

I don’t think we really see? A lot of that? In how he acts? Like we do see some of it but say, compared to how much the show loves to gorge itself on Buffy’s trauma the amount of time spent on Xander’s trauma and struggles at home is laughable.

So I tend to write Xander as the true ADHD  loser burnout he is and things like the dyed mohawk, ratty clothes, punk shirts and bands and skater energy Billy has just like.... Works™ for Xander. Same with the ADHD energy. Xander strikes me as a kid from a bad home with learning disabilities who’s given up on school and has turned to staying out of the house as much as possible, weed/substances, and acting out for attention as ways to cope with his shitty life. He’s sad and desperate and begging for someone to care about him and the only person who does truly give a shit about him when we meet him is Willow with whom he’s in a kinda co-dependent clingfest with because of the huge amount of insecurities they both have.

I’m genuinely sad we didn’t get skater!Xander for the whole high school era and i’m making it happen for society. It fits in soooo well with the whole Vibe the show is going for. Also I made him worse and now he likes Ska because it’s the 90s and also just look at him. Ofc Xander would like Ska. It also adds in some interesting shit with the Xander-Spike dynamic to have Xander more on the ska/skater/burnout end of punk and spike on the more trad/this is a sociopolitical statement/i’m here for the ART side of punk. It does NOT give them an immediate middle ground but it DOES give them the ability to clock each other in 0.00005 seconds. Like Spike sees him in a Descendants shirt and is like “oh I immediately know everything i need to know about you now”.

I also just think it’s more real????? I find generally with people/kids that part of why they get into subculture and special interests and such is to Cope with things. I will never forget when this dude in high school basically told me he was so in the paint for sonic the hedgehog because it was the only thing keeping him fucking sane and it altered my whole fucking concept of life and reality. I physically cannot look at sonic the same now and every time I see it I think of him and all the other people who’re into it and I’m just like “godspeed mother fuckers may you find peace in those fucking emeralds”.

Even while trying to remove the elements of his character that I think are like, creator or era taint that tends to end up skewing the conversation around him from actually being about him to being about Other Shit I don’t remove his dogshit creeper energies in like, high school, especially 1x1 to 1x6. They get better over time sure but I think it’s important to show that side of him. His dad is the Worst and Jesse-- one of his ONLY friends-- is a Massive Creep and he’s a Teen Boy. It’s really not that shocking that when he’s like 16 he just.... Sucks So Bad. All teens Kinda Suck, it’s literally part of growing up. It’s things tho like The Pack that help to start not just him changing but galvanizing others into looking out for him more.

(including the gifs as breaks in the behemoth lol kill meeeeee)

For one thing I will die on the hill that XANDER WAS ALSO A VICTIM OF THE HYENA POSSESSION AND THE SA ATTEMPT. That’s not something he’d do, want to do or ever try to do and it occurred while he did not have full autonomous control of his actions. I’ve seen some REAL DOGSHIT TAKES ON THIS ONE AND I WILL SHOOT ON SIGHT OVER THIS.

I tend to see him trying to cover it up as him trying to compartmentalize and repress the trauma of it instead of whatever the fuck THAT was in the show. I also think it really only works for so long before he loses it because I don’t think he can look Buffy in the eye without mcfucking losing it because he just feels so awful about it. Which is what prompts like..... the only moment of Giles giving a shit about Xander because he talks to him about it and helps him find a way to get some help (be it Giles himself or whatever professional-ish help they can get him given his situation and the desire to keep his parents out of it).

And that’s one of the huge differences in My Xander™ just like, he fucking-- he fucking SEES the fucking guidance counselor or some shit for you know, THE CHILD ABUSE, NEGLECT AND SA TRAUMA. Which I mean... he probably should’ve been already give how guidance counselors work but dskjghsdkfj shhhhhhh. It’s then with that, friendship, dating Cordy and Time that he starts to get less and less shitty and more Baby Boy Little Guy Meow Meow Deluxe. He still cheats on Cordy and says shitty stuff but like... there’s a noticeable overall improvement in him over S1 to S3. He’s not getting full on grade A therapy and all that but like, he’s being given a sounding board and some tools and the thing is that Xander at his core IS A VERY GOOD AND SWEET PERSON!!!! So really it’s just all about getting him to a place where all the bullshit beaten into him by his dad and SoCieTy is out of the way so he can Be A Good Boy™.

I maintain his crush on Buffy and his struggle with it over the years but I also have it kinda Die finally around S4 and then not hang around as a weird Complex for the rest of the fucking series. Seeing how he absolutely fumbled his whole relationship with Cordy and then how his relationship with Anya is going in Some Kind of Direction it all helps to finally shut the door on that for him and he really whole chestedly embraces his role as best friendboy after that. I think especially around then when he’s being a MANIAC trying to save up to gtfo out his parents’ house and Buffy’s having a Crisis about like... being a votech gal in academic world they really hardcore bond. They’re both smart but neither of them are really made for academics or classical office vibe jobs and it’s just something people like Willow and Giles will never get. It’s basically ADHD kid solidarity and they’re finally able to achieve their final friendship form without his pining issues out of the way.

I think also to make Spike’s Yoko Factor Nonsense make ANY sense Xander should actually BE SEEN CONSIDERING JOINING THE MILITARY and it’s ENTIRELY because they have that whole recruitment thing of like “join up and we pay for your education/board/etc” and he’s DESPERATE to get out of his shitty home life. Like he cannot get a half decent job for more than a fucking week, he’s desperate for money and stability and idk he didn’t die that one time on halloween and he monster hunts w/o dying either so maybe he can handle this???? and finally Escape????? but then there’s a lot of Classic Xander Strife around the choice and a genuine fear that if he leaves they’ll just... get on with their lives just fine. which would be crushing for him, that he contributed so little they just kept going with out a hitch.

Season 5 to Season 7 is really where Xander for me comes out to be just like.... the carebear godsend hero that he’s supposed to be. Like he’s talked about as the Heart of the Scoobies and Buffy’s metaphorical heart but while he does do a solid job mirroring/expressing/etc her heart he’s kind of a shitty one for the group. Like if he’s supposed to be the MOST EMPATHETIC SCOOBY IN THE GANG THEN JFC YIKES. 

By S5 everyone else’s lives are like, officially starting to fall apart while Xander’s is getting more certain and more together. He’s like, Maturing. Like a fine Faygo. And even better he’s finding the balance between being Goofy Silly Mohawk Nerd Xander and like, Adult Big Boy Xander. I think that Xanya and Spuffy should be even BIGGER parallels especially in this season with Xanya being like the more wholesome human/demon romantic relationship dynamic-- basically PROVING that it CAN work-- something that can then be used to lampshade the issue in S6 when Spuffy enter toxic hookup hell. What Spike is asking for ISN’T insane, Xander and Anya ARE DOING IT!! wHaT’s ThE pRoBlEm BuFfY?!?!?!

But Anya’s human you say!!! it’s totally different!!!

Shut the fuck up she was a demon for 1,000 years, had a soul the whole time and never once feels bad for her past actions. She’s in the same boat as Spike you’re just a sheeple falling prey to the broken ass soul propaganda.

It’s also an opportunity with the solidification of his relationship with Anya as like Something Real and not young adult horny relationshiping to show how he really is as a person. Less of the belittling “helpful” comments and more him just like, genuinely LISTENING to her and LEARNING her language like we see him do when he’s Suave!Xander in 5x3. like he Hears her and then is able to almost IMMEDIATELY understand what she’s actually saying/where her anxiety is coming from. I love the idea of Xander basically always being the most kneejerk reactionary to all situations and sometimes saying Dumb Shit because of that but then also being the only one who’s brave enough to then circle back later and reevaluate his stance.

Like he’ll say something that hurts someone’s feelings then be willing to circle back unprompted and look at himself with harsh honesty and see what he did and what’s going on with him then act accordingly and adjust/apologize/reconsider his stance/etc. Basically if Buffy is a bleeding heart then Xander should be too and the thing that makes him The Heart™ and not Buffy is that unlike her he is unwilling or unable to close off his heart to anything. Buffy can face off against the hordes of Hell but will collapse under the threat of emotional honesty with even herself. Xander was raised in Hell and not unlike Angel tbh, has to constantly reevaluate his like Whole Existence to make sure he’s not becoming what he hates-- the very real and human monstrosity that his parents represent.

His whole goal in life is to not be his father. His superpower that not even Buffy has is that he’s so incredibly brave in the face of human evil, human cruelty AND emotional vulnerability. He’s been mocked, ridiculed, bullied and tormented his entire life and he’s still stayed big hearted and intensely kind when it counted his entire life. He’s open, thoughtful, understanding, empathetic and more than willing and able to put himself in the other guy’s shoes. Something none of the others can manage like... at all lol. His relationship with Anya should be in part about showing us this and it only fails because he’s like what... 21? and still working through all his bullshit around his shitty family. Not because they were a broken couple which is more the show vibe no matter how they wanna pretend like he wasn’t a shitty boyfriend to Anya for 2 seasons lol.

I think it’s important in the back end to have at least one of them still semi-functional and Xander’s already been living in “I have to do something about my life bc otherwise I will Become That Which I Fear” hell since high school. He’s the furthest along on that road and the emotional anchor of the group so ofc he fucking sam gamgee carries them all up the side of mt doom for like 2 solid seasons lol.

my depiction of Xander is always about healing, growth and the power of empathy, love and kindness. I feel like making him more subculture-y and with a certain amount of substance abuse (weed and booze mainly) makes sense given his history. I think he’s the foil to Angel and Spike (and Giles in someways) and their own explorations around toxic masculinity and masculinity in general. He unpacks the damage done by his father way more efficiently than Angel ever does and he learns how to be more emotionally open without reflexive retaliation when hurt than Spike does. He’s very much trying to get to this place where “I am. And that is enough.” sits well in his chest and permeates his life. Which is more than anyone else in either series can say LOL.

Also just like.... make the whole Xander vs the trio toxic nerd boy culture meta discussion thing actually WORK.

He also highlights in the narrative the idea of there always being another option. He’s not living the expected college life. He’s not acting or dressing like society thinks he should. He’s also found a way to thrive via construction/carpentry and finds a happy place between growing up and not giving up all the things he likes that can be considered childish or lame. He also hasn’t compromised his personality or identity to “be more mature” or “act like an adult”. He refutes the ideas that Giles keeps expressing about what he (Giles) has to do as an Adult or what Buffy should now be capable of as one by just like being a Cringey Little Dude and also Pay Taxes On Time. Like Spike he’s living and working in defiance of a society that has done nothing but hurt him but unlike Spike he’s coming from a place of optimism and compassion. 

Xander SHOULD be friend shaped. He and Tara SHOULD be the go-tos on all things emotional. He should be kind, creative, open minded, empathetic, and loving all while also being Kind of a Dick sometimes. When the writers talk about how when they wanted to make the audience upset/riot they’d just put Willow in danger or emotional distress -- by the end of the show that should be Xander!!!!!! by S7 I should be RIOTING if Xander is in danger!!!!!

Also the faith-xander victims of child abuse self recognition via the other vibes oh god the faith-xander victims of child abuse self recognition via the other vibes

 He’s just a silly little guy!!!! just a fun little boy!!!! just a harmless little fun-time boy!!!!!! you wouldnt sentence a silly harmless little fun-time boy!!!!! its his birthday!!!!!!

GOD THIS ISN’T EVEN ALL OF IT BUT I LOST MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT AND THIS IS SOOOOOOO LONG ALREADY FUCK

(last gif for the road bc this is massive Xander/Cordelia energy)

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[drabbles-mc]

Spoken For

Happy Lowman x F!Reader

Part 2 can be found Here

Request by @est1887​: this is for my love happy. Y/N at a party it isn’t really her scene but she just tags along with her friend the sons are in attendance and she walking with her head down and bumps into happy and he knows her name she didn’t think anyone noticed her because she stayed to herself. Later on maybe the Same party maybe a different one someone is bothering her and she tells them her fiancé is happy “Tacoma killer” lowman lol you can do you thing of course switch it up whatever way you like thanks your the best fluffy and cute please 🥰🥰🥰 “No no no, sorry! I just-... I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.” & “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

Warnings: language, alcohol, skeevy men

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This was really fun to write! I kind of like the sort of cluelessly protective side of Happy. Like, the man does not need the details of why you need his help he is just ready to throw down on your behalf regardless. Love that for him. Hope you enjoy! xo

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Large parties had never really been your thing. You weren’t a huge fan of the crowds and being around people you didn’t really know. Yet, somehow, your best had talked you into going to the SAMCRO clubhouse on more than one occasions for their parties. You never particularly grew to like them, but you managed to get through them. There was no way you were going to let your friend show up all by herself.

For the most part, you managed to successfully stay out of the fray. You watched the chaos unfold from the sidelines, keeping a constant eye on your friend without hovering too badly. Usually you were able to manage to make one beer last you all night, wanting to keep your wits about you.

The two of you had landed yourself in a group of the other girls who frequented the clubhouse parties. She knew them much better than you did, but they were always nice to you. Since she had a group to be with, a group that you figured would keep her safe for a few minutes, you excused yourself to step outside for a few minutes to get out of the suffocating cigarette smoke that was filling the clubhouse.

Your eyes were glued to the floor as you tried to maneuver your way through the crowd. You managed to slip through a few different groups of people mostly unnoticed, and you were about to make it to the door when someone’s shoulder collided with yours. You stumbled half a step before a hand firmly wrapped around your arm, keeping you from falling to the ground.

“Shit, I’m so—” you stopped short when you saw the person who had caught you, the person you shouldered, “Hey, Happy. Uh. Sorry, I just, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You leaving?” he asked, completely skipping over everything you had just said.

You shook your head, “No. Just, um, just stepping outside to get some fresh air. Besides,” you nodded over towards your friend, “I’m her ride. Can’t just bail.”

“You should watch where you’re stepping around here, Y/N,” his eyes intensely searched yours, “Don’t wanna step into something you can’t get out of.”

Part of you wondered if he ever responded to anything someone actually said to him, or if he was always just moving onto the next topic. That part of your brain was drowned out, though, by the part that was taking in the fact that he had just said your name. The way it rolled off his tongue snapped you to attention, “What?”

“Said you should watch your step,” his eyes narrowed slightly, “You good?”

“Yea! Sorry. I just…I honestly didn’t think you even knew my name.”

His head tilted slightly as he processed what you had said. He shrugged his shoulders, “Well. I do.”

You chuckled, face feeling hot for a moment, “Yea, apparently,” the two of you stood there in the midst of the chaos for a few more moments before you excused yourself, “Well, I’ll see you around.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more as he disappeared into the throws of the party. You were silently shaking your head at yourself as you finally made it outside. The music was muffled when you were on the other side of the clubhouse walls, and it gave you some much needed respite from the overload inside. You sat down at the picnic table and took a deep breath, glad to have it not taste like smoke and alcohol.

You gave yourself a few minutes of peace and quiet before forcing yourself to head back inside. Things hadn’t calmed down at all in your absence, which was mildly disappointing. But you knew that you still had a few more hours before people would start to filter out and go off in their own directions. You made your way over to the bar and ordered a drink for yourself, saying thank you to the prospect behind the bar although you weren’t sure how well he could hear you above the noise.

Your friend came bounding over to you, throwing her arm around your shoulder. She was already pretty tipsy, but she was safe and seemed like she was having a good time so you weren’t going to be a buzzkill.

“You having fun?” she asked with a huge grin on her face.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your beer before responding, “I always do.”

She leaned farther onto you, “You wanna go home, don’t you?”

You shook your head and smiled, “I don’t. Go on, have fun with the girls. If you need anything just come find me, alright?”

“You gonna sit at the bar and scope people out?”

You laughed and nodded, “It’s my favorite pastime.”

She flitted back towards the group that she had been spending her evening with and you shook your head with a laugh. You settled onto your seat, leaning back against the bar so you could watch the party unfold.

You were perfectly content and minding your own business when a man came up and approached you at the bar. You purposely didn’t look at him or acknowledge him, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone. But of course he didn’t. They never did. You tried not to draw too much attention to yourself as you slid one of the rings on your hand over to your ring finger, hoping to add another layer of deterrent.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” his smile was too intense to be genuine.

You looked him up and down, not attempting to hide the disdain on your face. You weren’t looking to meet anyone at these parties, but whoever this guy was definitely wasn’t the kind of person you were looking to talk to. He wasn’t even wearing a kutte, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You had no problem being petty and picky, especially given your current company.

“My name isn’t sweetheart,” you weren’t confrontational by nature but you had no use for skeevy men.

“Then why don’t you tell me what it is?”

You turned to him and flashed him a smile, letting a beat of silence pass before saying, “It’s none of your business.”

“C’mon, it’s a party, lighten up,” he inched closer to you, “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I’m not the one you want to be doing this with,” you shook your head and nodded towards the ring on your finger, “Dealing with my fiancé is not the kind of problem you want to deal with tonight.”

He scoffed, “Some fiancé, leaving you all alone at a party like this.”

“Because he assumes that people know enough not to fuck with me,” you glanced around the clubhouse, eyes landing on Happy. A smile crossed your face as you called over to him, “Happy! C’mere!”

The color drained from the face of the man in front of you. Happy’s face was never one that was overly expressive to begin with, always mostly neutral with a touch of anger. But you could see the confusion swirling around in his eyes as he walked over. You hopped down off the stool and casually draped your arm around his waist, causing him to tense up.

“Hey, baby,” you were impressed with how easily the words fell from your lips.

His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and then to the man standing in front of you, “What’s going on?”

You leaned against him, resting your other hand on his chest, “Nothing. I was just telling this man that if he didn’t leave me alone he’d have to answer to my fiancé, and he didn’t believe me.”

Happy’s eyes bore into the man in front of him. Without any hesitation he wrapped one arm tightly around your waist while the other reached into his kutte and pulled out his gun, pointing it directly at the man’s head. Both your eyes and the man’s went wide. He stumbled backwards a step, hands going up in surrender.

“I-I’m sorry, man. I…I didn’t know.”

“Get the fuck out,” he stepped in closer to him, gun hardly an inch from the man’s forehead, “Now.” You could tell that the man’s feet were probably just frozen to the ground out of fear, but Happy didn’t care. He tapped the end of his gun against the man’s forehead, “I’m not gonna say it again.”

That seemed to snap him out of it. He turned and all but ran towards the door of the clubhouse, not caring that he was shoving through people as he went. Happy tucked his gun back into his kutte and you instantly let your arms fall back to your sides, not wanting to push your luck even more when you had already done so.

“Sorry about that,” you said, nervously rubbing your hand on the back of your neck, “I panicked.”

“If he comes back here again, I’ll kill him.”

You laughed, but you knew that he wasn’t exaggerating, “Something tells me that it won’t end up coming to that.”

“Fiancé,” he said the word like he was unfamiliar with the sound of it.

“Hm?”

“Can’t believe you told him I’m your fiancé. Why not boyfriend?”

You chuckled and shrugged, “Like I said, I panicked. Plus, fiancé has a little more umph to it, you know?”

“Umph?”

“Yea. Umph. Like,” you saw the look on his face and shook your head, “Never mind. Thank you for getting him away from me, though. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Told you to be careful of what you get yourself into,” for the first time all night, you saw a hint of a smile on his face.

You laughed, nodding, “I know. Lucky for me, you’re around to bail me out.”

“Stay closer next time,” despite the roughness of his voice you could see the mischief in his eyes, “that way no one will talk to you in the first place.”

You smiled, “I’ll be sure to track you down.”

He nodded, “Good,” he waved to get the prospect’s attention, “Get her another beer,” he turned back to you, “Find me if you need me.”

He walked off without another word or backward glance, but you were very aware of the way his hand trailed lightly along the small of your back as he walked off. The contact was light, and brief, but you felt like your skin was on fire.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a beer bottle clattering against the top of the bar. You flashed a smile and a nod to the young man behind the bar as you lifted the bottle. You looked around the clubhouse as you pressed the bottle to your lips, happy to see your friend still mingling and content. Immediately after, your gaze found its way to Happy who was already looking at you as he sat at the table with his brothers. One end of his mouth kicked up into a smirk as he subtly tilted his beer bottle towards you. You laughed, unable to stop smiling as you returned the gesture. The clubhouse was a lot of things, but surely it was never boring.

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Ch. 4

AO3

Prev

When Bruce asked Marinette to stay the night at the manor for a couple days while he went out of town for work, she was a little nervous. Sure, they’d been dating for almost four months, and yes she’d met Jason and Dick before, but this was the first time she’d be spending time with just Jason. Without Bruce there to mediate. But so far, it’d been fine. They’d gotten closer over the past two months, and Jason was actually a sweet kid. Standing in front of Gotham Academy, Marinette frowns at the sky, willing the rain to stay away. The bell rings and she shifts, nodding at the kids who waved at her, probably recognizing her from the cafe. She shifts to the balls of her feet, trying to see if she can spot Jason in the crowd of kids. Spotting him, she waves excitedly, grinning widely. 

“You’re so embarrassing.” He says, walking up to her and shaking his head. But the grin on his face definitely contradicts that. 

“I’m just excited to get ice cream.” She teases, nudging him gently. Even though he was only twelve (and much shorter than Dick and Bruce), they were close to the same height. Damn her Maman’s shortness. As they walk to the ice cream stand near her favorite park, Marinette listens to Jason explaining his day, frowning as she realizes: he’s being bullied. 

“But it doesn’t really matter.” He adds after telling her about the boys picking on him. Her eyes narrow. 

“Bruce didn’t tell you that, right?” She asks. He shakes his head. “Good, I thought I was going to have to add him to my list.” 

“What list?” Jason asks, frowning. 

“The list of people whose asses I have to kick.” She says, smirking at Jason’s surprised laugh. 

“Mari, you can’t- you can’t just beat up my bullies.” He says, laughing. 

“And why not? I’m short. I’ll say I go to public school. What’re they going to do, call my parents?” She snarks, working hard to keep a straight face. As Jason continues laughing, though, she finds it impossible to keep a straight face and instead joins him. “Seriously though, sweetheart, if these kids are bothering you, I can go up to the school. No one should be treated like that, and if you’ll let me, I’d love to give the principal a piece of my mind for letting it happen.” She adds. Jason sighs. 

“They won’t listen to you. Those kids’ parents have money and shit. I’m nothing to them.” He grumbles and she stops, turning him to look at her. How could this sweet little boy, someone who meant the world to her, say that he’s nothing. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me. You are not nothing. The amount of money a person has doesn’t mean a damn thing. How you treat others, what you choose to do, who you are as a person, that is what matters. That’s what makes you so much better, so much more than those little pricks at your school.” Marinette rambles, looking right into his eyes, desperately hoping he believes her. He’s silent for a minute, before he lunges forward and wraps his arms around her. Marinette sighs, wrapping the boy up in a big hug, kissing the top of his head. They stand there for a few moments before Jason pulls back, quickly wiping at his eyes. 

“Yeah, uh, if you really wanna go up there I guess you can.” He says, clearing his throat. Marinette smiles, ruffling his hair. 

“As long as it’s okay with you. Wouldn’t wanna embarrass you.” She says and he snorts. 

“I don’t think anyone could be more embarrassing than when B signed me up for school and he was acting like Brucie.” He says and she sighs. She’d heard all about ‘Brucie’ and though he’d never acted like that around her, he definitely still acted like that in public. But without the excessive flirting with models. Finally arriving at the small ice cream cart, Marinette and Jason each get a cone before starting their walk around the park. It’d become something of a tradition when she picked him up from school. She couldn’t always do it, because of the cafe, but that just made it that much more special. They’re halfway down their favorite path when her luck runs out and the rain that had been holding off for a day and a half comes down with a fury. It wasn’t warm rain either. No, the rain was ice cold and chilled her to the bone almost immediately. Gasping, she grabs Jason’s hand and tugs him under a pavilion to try and get some shelter from the rain.

“God, I’m so sorry Jay. I didn’t realize- it looked like it was gonna rain for days.” She says mournfully, teeth chattering as she digs her phone out of her purse, praying that it’s not soaked too. Alfred would definitely come pick them up if she asked. 

“It’s fine M, it’s just rain, it’s not like it’s gonna kill us.” 

---

Bruce walks into the manor, frowning when he doesn’t see Marinette. He’d expected her to still be around, even though Jason was definitely at school. He sighs, guessing that she’d had to leave to deal with something at the cafe. He shuts the door, and is about to go to his study when Alfred appears. 

“Ah, Master Bruce. Your turn.” He says simply and Bruce frowns. 

“Sorry, what?” He asks. 

“Miss Marinette, sir. I’ve tried to help her, but she is extremely stubborn. Thus, your turn.” Alfred says before walking away. Bruce frowns. What happened while he was gone? 

---

“M’fine.” Jason mumbles, swatting her hand away as she tries to feel his head. 

“C’mon Jay, just lemme check. If you have a fever you need more medicine.” She says, sighing in relief when he stops struggling and lets her feel his head. She hums, sitting back in the chair by his bed. “Do you need soup? Or maybe some cocoa?” She asks. 

“No. Just sleep.” He mumbles. Marinette nods in understanding, singing to him quietly despite the tickle in her throat. The poor kid was sick, and she blamed herself for letting them get caught up in the rain yesterday. Just as he falls asleep and she feels her own eyes droop, the door swings open. 

“Mari?” A voice says and she groans, waving whoever it is away. 

“Shhhh. He’s sleeping. Gimme a minute.” She mumbles, glancing at Jason once more before standing and moving outside the room, shutting the door slightly to not wake him up. 

“What happened? Why isn’t he in school?” Bruce asks, his face scrunched in concern. She frowns, knowing he’s probably going to hate her for letting his youngest son get sick. 

“We went for ice cream yesterday and then to the park, but it started raining and we got soaked and now he’s sick and I’m so sorry, but I’ve been giving him medicine and making sure he’s eating and drinking water so he’ll be okay but he definitely couldn’t go to school today.” She rambles. Bruce frowns and reaches forward, putting a gentle hand on her forehead. 

“Mari, love, are you sick too?” He asks worriedly. She scoffs. 

“No, of course not.” She says. 

“Yes she is.” Alfred says as he walks by, continuing down the hall as if he didn’t say anything. Marinette frowns, glaring after the man. 

“Traitor.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Love, maybe you should take some medicine and go to bed.” Bruce suggests, but she shakes her head. 

“No, Jason needs me. He’s sick.” Marinette argues. Bruce frowns. 

“Have you at least taken some medicine?” He asks, and she pouts. 

“It makes me sleepy. I was afraid I’d fall asleep and not know if Jason needed something.” She says, and he sighs. 

“Mari, my love, you aren’t going to get better if you don’t take medicine.” Bruce says, gently wrapping his arms around her. She sighs and leans into his embrace, feeling safe and complete in his arms. Until she hears Jason start having a coughing fit. She immediately pulls away from Bruce and rushes back into the room, grabbing the glass of water off of his night table and holding it, waiting for him to stop coughing before she passes it to him. 

“Careful kiddo.” She says, setting the glass back down on the night table. She sits on the edge of his bed and gently pushes his hair out of his face. He sighs, his eyes shutting again almost immediately. 

“Thanks Mom.” He mumbles sleepily, and soon his soft breathing is the only sound in the room. Marinette is frozen. Mom. Mom. He’d called her mom. Was it just because he’s sick and exhausted? Or did he actually look at her as a mother figure? Was he going to be embarrassed about it when he wakes up or will he accept it? Would Bruce be okay with it? Or would he be angry at her for it? Would he-

“Marinette, honey, are you okay?” Bruce asks softly, she kisses Jason’s head before standing and burrowing herself into Bruce’s chest. Realistically, there was no reason for him to be mad at her about this. Or Jason. It was just hard to combat her thoughts sometimes. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks up at Bruce with a soft smile. 

“I’m fine. I think I’ll take that medicine now.” She says, letting out a happy sigh as Bruce holds her hand and leads her out of the room. 

“Besides the rain, how was your week?” He asks once they’re back in the hallway. She opens her mouth to ramble about how fun it was, until she remembers Jason’s scowl as he talked about the group of boys at school. The way he clung to her when she promised to do something about it. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d be against talking to the Principal at Jason’s school. If I could, I’d like to go with. Some boys are picking on him and I promised him I would try to do something about it.” She explains, nearly missing the loving smile Bruce gives her. 

“I’ll set up a meeting for Monday afternoon, how does that sound?” He asks and she nods. 

“That should work.” She says, tilting her head in thought. “If it doesn’t work, I’m going to kick his ass.” She adds. 

“Okay, love, let’s get you that medicine and get you into bed.” Bruce says with a chuckle. Mari smiles and nods, knowing he thinks she’s kidding. She’s not. No one messes with her kid and gets away with it.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @ashbrea381writings @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo @galla02006

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace