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yellowocaballero · 4 months ago

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hi! i've been reading some of your older fics and was wondering if there's any merit in watching buffy for the first time in the year 2024

This may not be obvious, but this is actually an extremely complicated and highly subjective question. I'll try to go on for too long.

As background: my mother loved Buffy and its spin-off Angel growing up. It was our Bible (besides the actual Bible). Not kidding, she was on the forums and fan groups and wrote fanfiction for it and everything (These days, she's really into kdramas and Asian dramas, and calls me about how the Thai seem like big fans of gay people). So I'm quite biased.

BTVS is both a product of its times and ahead of its times. It was a show about feminism and the struggle of living in this world as a woman, when very few shows were doing that. It was the first show to have a long-lasting lesbian couple, and the first show to depict a kiss between them. For better or for worse, it was one of the codifiers of broody vampire boyfriend. It was pretty unafraid to be experimental in a lot of what it did. It had incredibly complex and nuanced character work and growth that I still aspire to. Spike's arc is still matched in quality only by Avatar's Zuko. Angel's long term arc, from Buffy to his spin-off series, still makes him one of the most complex characters on TV. It had the most complex depiction of depression on TV at the time and I still think it's one of the best. I think the show had very high highs.

It also had very low lows. Some of the feminism is problematic in retrospect. The sapphic couple has a rather famous element that was severely problematic. There are, overall, some deeply atrocious arcs that I can appreciate objectively but not in practice. Xander: a whole-ass character aged awfully. On a meta level, the workplace conditions were bad (thanks, Whedon.) There are no people of color. The spoiler's sake I won't go into detail on this, but in general the good stuff was so influential and the bad stuff was just awful.

I think these days people tend to brush off the entire thing because it's Whedon. That is more than fair. But I'd also say that Whedon & Buffy is extremely similar to Brian Michael Bendis & Ultimate Spider-Man. Bendis was fantastic at writing sassy, bouncy, permanently stressed-out teens - issue was, he wrote entirely different serious adult characters the way he wrote these sassy teens. Same with Whedon: the annoyingly constant quips are perfect for Buffy, because that's who the characters are. They're awful in Marvel, because Steve Rogers is not Xander. Kinda similarly, Buffy was genuinely feminist for 90s TV - issue is, Whedon has not grown or developed his views, and now his works feel so sexist (oh my fucking god why did you treat Natasha like that). After a certain point it's egotistical: you're writing like that because you're Joss Whedon and it's how you write, not because it's what's best for the characters and story. But it was really important to me to get the character voices right, and it's freaking difficult to endlessly write dialogue that distinct, full of voice, witty, and clever.

I think BTVS & Angel TV's greatest influence on my writing is how intensely character-driven both of those shows were, and how intricate the characters were. What every character did was something they would do, if that made sense. Even the stuff I hated to watch, that made me uncomfortable, was the culmination of so much (usually). I think I also picked up the constant wit and humor lol. On a personal level, the conversations I would have with my mother where she broke down the character motivations and composition of the story was my first exposure to looking at storytelling from an analytical perspective and a framework of critical analysis, which was an approach I carried into the rest of the media I consumed and that was the primary reason I was able to become a decent writer. Thanks, Mom. Have fun with your kdramas.

TL:DR: There is merit, especially if you care about good character work. There are things about it that may make you want to drop it, which is extremely valid. Season 1 is rough but interesting, Season 2 and 5 are the best, Season 3 is pretty good, Season 4 and 7 skippable, and Season 6 is........epic highs, epic lows......

#my asks #the basic premise of Buffy is “what if the monsters and demons that plagued the psyche of a teen girl were real”#which is a very simple thing but the focus on character ended up creating such a complex story #and it highly influenced how i try to have the physical conflict mirror the emotional conflict #externalization of emotional conflict is great #i dont talk about it much but i was genuinely very proud of that story #it mattered a lot to me that I hit the character voices EXACTLY #and that i was earnest and honest in exploring the themes of buffy and what made it important #i think you can tell that it was written by somebody who loves buffy at the bottom of her heart #it very much is a “how meg would write buffy” thing #I wrote Angel as an awkward younger version of his self from ATVS S5 #when we as the audience has lost all respect for him lmfao #but what really stuck with me is a major theme and line from angel:#“if nothing we do matters then all that matters is what we do”#and colliding angel's nihlism with buffy's desperation to live a meaningful life was excellent #i did what i wanted to do very precisely and that is the joy of hitting a level of writing skill where you can do that #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer

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sephirthoughts · 3 months ago

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Father: Verb

Epilogue (2 of probably 4)

Summary: 11 year-old WMD Sephiroth is assigned a new handler/bodyguard, named Vincent Valentine.

LISTEN I LIED OK. THERE ARE MORE THAN TWO PARTS TO THIS EPILOGUE I CAN'T HELP IT. a lot of people need to have their loose ends tied up and who am i to deny them? after this, there's a heavy one (mom needed her own entire chapter), and the fun one (for everyone else) will be last. i think. who knows, at this rate.

gratuitous sephiroth because he's beautiful

“You guys come from Nibelheim?” asked a shirtless, very suntanned teenaged boy, who had just carried in a crate of vegetables. “No? Oh, man, did you hear what happened over there? Earthquake opened up natural gas vents, blew Shinra Manor sky high. The Mt. Nibel reactor melted down, too. Town’s ok, but the reactor’s fucked. Lot of people out of jobs, now. They’ve been showing up here, all week.”

“Is that so?” replied the customer he was addressing; a tall, slender, extraordinarily handsome youth, with black hair and crimson eyes. “How unfortunate.”

“Know what I heard?” the first teenaged boy’s equally shirtless and suntanned brother piped up, as he carried in another vegetable crate. “I heard a bunch of those monsters they were making there broke loose, and that’s what did it. They say Shinra’s covering it all up, by claiming it was earthquakes and gas leaks and shit. But my best friend’s girlfriend is in the fourth infantry and she told him—”

“Alright you two, shut your yaps and get back to work,” a trim, middle-aged woman in an apron and sundress scolded, shooing away her gossiping sons, who rolled their eyes and stalked off, with their crates of vegetables. She beamed at the customer they’d been chatting to, as she unfolded a paper bag and filled it with the wrapped sandwiches he’d ordered. “That all for ya, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the youth nodded. “Oh—and a chocolate chip cookie. Thank you, ma’am.”

The little blonde boy at his side reached for the oversized cookie, but the youth took it and put it into the bag, with the sandwiches.

“No more sweets till after lunch,” he admonished. “You can’t grow up tall and strong like me, on an all-cookie diet. Now give me your hand and don’t run off.”

The woman behind the counter smiled warmly, to see the older boy (brother she assumed, though they didn’t look much alike) taking such attentive care of the younger, and the little one minding him so well, holding his hand and doing as he was told, without fussing or making a scene.

Just then, the sound of a crash and two young, male voices arguing came from the back of the shop. She sighed, shaking her head. If only her two idiot sons were so well-behaved and thoughtful as those two. They must have a much better father.

Oblivious to the unfavorable comparison they’d created for the other two young men, the black-haired youth and the tiny blonde boy walked down the bustling street, hand-in-hand, till they reached one of the many nearly-identical stucco buildings, with terra cotta roof tiles, that were as common as sand, in this beach-resort town.

This particular one was a small house, that was rented to tourists by the week, and had the advantage of being almost directly on the beach and also close to the town center, where all the shops and dining were located.

“Ms. Strife, we’re back!” the older boy called out, as the two entered. “Take off your shoes, Cloud, we don’t want to track sand all over the place.”

“Boys, thank the goddess,” a young blonde woman said, from the kitchen table. She’d been sipping iced tea and flipping through a copy of Midgar Magazine, but as the two approached, she collapsed in her chair and flung her arm theatrically over her face, like a tragic heroine. “You’re just in time to snatch me from the jaws of starvation! Quick, quick, my roast-beef sandwich! Before I waste away to nothing but bones!”

“Mama’s being dramatic,” the little blonde boy informed the older one, pursing his lips. “Don’t give her any, till she says please and thank you. That’s the rules.”

“Ah, my cruel son,” his mother intoned, reaching over to capture him in her arms and tickle his ribs, while he giggled and kicked. “No use trying to escape, Cloudy boy! This is your punishment for betraying your poor, starving mother! Oh, thanks for picking up lunch, Seph. If you don’t mind getting your pa, I’d appreciate it. He hasn’t come out of his room, yet, and I don’t dare disturb him.”

“It’s alright. He hates the sun and he doesn’t eat, anyway,” Seph answered cheerfully, taking a seat at the table. “He’ll probably sleep till sunset.”

“Uh-huh. But he’s definitely not a vampire,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, as she set her wriggling son back on his feet.

“Vampires eat blood. People blood,” Cloud asserted, with a grimace. “Mr. Valentine can’t be a vampire.”

“Cloud is correct, my father doesn’t drink blood,” Seph confirmed, as he poured glasses of milk for himself and Cloud. “But he used to sleep in a coffin.”

“Disappointing,” Claudia lamented, through a bite of her sandwich. “I bet he doesn’t even turn into bats or explode in direct sunlight, either.”

Seph arched a black eyebrow. “Would you prefer he was a blood-drinking monster?”

“If he’d turn me into one, too. It’d be kinda cool to be a vampire.”

“Mama! Be good!” Cloud scolded, mortified by his mother’s laissez faire attitude toward joining the ranks of the undead.

“Tch, what’s the fun in that? Besides, if I was good all the time, you wouldn’t exist, my darlin’ little bossy-boots.”

Seph nearly choked on his sip of milk, and covered his mouth with a napkin, coughing and sputtering.

“What’s being good got to do with having a kid?” Cloud wanted to know.

“Nothing, baby, mama’s just being silly,” his mother replied breezily, ruffling his golden hair. “Alright, boys, I hope you dirtied up some laundry for me to wash, or I won’t have anything to do to earn my keep around here, before the boss wakes up.”

“You did laundry yesterday, Ms. Strife,” Seph pointed out. “We’re wearing the only clothes we’ve dirtied up.”

“What about your linens? Those must need a wash, right?”

Both boys shook their heads.

She slumped defeatedly. “Can’t one of you be a team player and wet the bed? Are you trying to make me obsolete?”

“My father doesn’t really expect you to be working, all the time. He mostly hired you so that I wouldn’t be lonely.”

“I know that, but…I’m just so grateful to him, for getting us outta that shithole town—”

“Mama!”

“Oops—I mean, that dirthole town. Anyway, I can’t ever repay your pa for giving us this opportunity. So I at least want to do everything I can to be useful.”

“You’re already doing more than enough, Ms. Strife,” Vincent’s deep voice said, from the archway, where he had appeared unnoticed by the group.

“Father!” Seph smiled, hopping up to throw his arms around him, as if they hadn’t seen one another in a week.

“Ah, well—ha ha. I just wish I could do more for y’all,” Claudia said awkwardly. “Seph looks after Cloudy all day, and aside from cooking dinners, I hardly have any housework to do. I feel like a regular bandit, taking what you’re paying me.”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Strife, I have more money than my father and I will ever know what to do with,” Seph assured her. “If we can use it for something that helps you and Cloud, and makes us happy at the same time, why not do it?”

Claudia raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you mean your pa has money?”

“No, it all belongs to my son,” Vincent said serenely. “Since I have been legally declared dead and have no wish to be declared living again, Seph is the sole heir and legal possessor of the family assets.”

“That’s right,” Seph put in cheerfully. “Plus, I emptied Hojo’s account before Shinra froze it, so I have all of my fake father’s money, too.”

Vincent nodded approvingly and patted Seph on the shoulder.

“I’m guessing there’s more to that than I want to know about,” Claudia remarked. “I was just wondering, why us? I mean, Cloudy ain’t even close to your age and I’m a high-school dropout who’s never been outta Nibelheim. There’s gotta be better companions for a couple rich, educated gentlemen.”

“Ms. Strife, do you believe in omens?” Seph asked. “Or portentous dreams?”

“Uh. I’m as religious as the next person, I guess. You’re not saying you had a dream about us, are you?”

“I am saying just that,” Seph nodded earnestly. “That day we first met, in the bakery, I had the strongest feeling that there was some fate between us. Then that night, I had a dream. A messenger from the goddess came to me, and showed me…a lot of confusing things, about the future. But amidst all the chaos, the thing that stood out most clearly was little Cloud, here. He is deeply important to the Planet, and it’s my goddess-given duty to act as his guardian angel. To protect him and help him, any way I can.”

This was all news to Cloud, who was staring at the older boy, with eyes as wide and round and saucers. He’d even stopped eating his chocolate chip cookie.

“It’s so strange you’d say that about a dream,” Claudia said, with a glance at her son. “Because…well, you wanna tell ‘em about it, baby?”

Cloud frowned and drew into himself, shaking his head.

“Is something the matter?” Seph asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Cloudy had a dream that night, too. He came running into my room, screaming about the town was burning down, and we had to get out of the house. Scared the tar out of me.”

As she said this, a look of pain flickered across Seph’s face, so briefly that no one observed.

“I ran to the window to look, but everything was quiet, just like normal. I told him it was just a nightmare, but he kept saying it wasn’t a dream. He insisted that the town was gonna burn and the boy with the silver hair was gonna fly down and save us from the fire, cause…uh. Cause you’re an angel. With wings and everything.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Cloud muttered sullenly, without looking up. “I wasn’t even sleeping.”

“I thought nothing of it, but then the very next day, there was that huge explosion at the manor,” his mother went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Broke windows all over town and shook our whole house. Then all those helicopters started flying over and a lot of big trucks came roaring through. People running by said the manor went up like it was full of dynamite. Cloudy was trying to drag me out of the house, to go over there, but it was too dangerous, and the soldiers wouldn’t let anyone anywhere near it, anyway. It was plain eerie the way it happened right after his dream, and all. I mean, the town didn’t catch fire, but it was damn close. They say rubble got thrown all the way to the old Lawson cabin, in the outskirts.”

Seph nodded gravely. “I’m glad no one from the town was harmed. It seems the goddess truly was protecting you.”

“You and your father, as well. Unless you think it was just dumb luck that you weren’t there, when it happened.”

“I don’t believe in luck. But, in any case, that’s my reason for having you two with us. I want to protect Cloud and take care of him, no matter what it takes. If that means helping you establish yourselves in a better place, with more opportunities than Nibelheim, then that’s what I mean to do. But we can talk about all of that another day. If you don’t object, I was planning to take Cloud to look for shells and beach glass.”

“Sure,” Claudia smiled. “I mean, as long as the boss doesn’t mind.”

“Father?” Seph prompted, when it became clear Vincent wasn’t aware he was being deferred to.

Vincent looked startled. “Hm? I’m the boss? When did we decide that?”

“You’re my father and Ms. Strife works for you. You’re literally the boss, in that respect.”

“I see,” Vincent said, slumping gloomily. “Then my first act as the boss is to tell everyone to do whatever you like. But don’t keep Cloud out too late. And if you get the slightest whiff of trouble, you call me. Do not engage. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Seph said dutifully. “Come on, Cloud. Let’s go change into our swimsuits.”

“Leave your dirty clothes on the floor, this time!” Claudia called after them. “I need something to do!”

“My son is…very spiritual, Ms. Strife,” Vincent said, once the boys had gone. “I hope his ideas don’t trouble you. If so, I’ll ask him not to say such things, in your son’s presence.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all. The goddess speaks to everyone in different ways,” she said, as she began to clear the few lunch things from the table. “So, when were you planning on telling me the truth, about who you two are, and why you’re on the run from Shinra?”

A little while later, Cloud and Seph were headed to the beach, hand-in-hand, with plastic buckets hung over their arms. Cloud was wearing bright blue swim trunks, with a yellow starfish pattern, and Seph was in black surf shorts and a white v-neck t-shirt.

He’d pulled his shoulder-length hair back into a low ponytail, and with his outsized height and visible muscle tone, he looked much older than fourteen. Cloud, however, was small even for a boy his age, and so they made something of an odd pair, as they strolled along at the surf line, stopping, ever so often, to pick up shells and colorful bits of sand-tumbled glass.

“Why’s your hair and your eyes different now?” Cloud asked, as they crouched to paw about in the wet sand.

Seph smiled at him. “Did you like them better, before?”

Cloud nodded.

“I’m sorry I changed them, then. But people are looking for me, and they’d recognize my silver hair and mako eyes, right away. I have to disguise myself when we’re in public, for now.”

“What’s mako eyes?”

“I have been regularly treated with mako infusions, since I was a baby.” Seph dispelled the crimson illusion on his eyes, and Cloud leaned close, to inspect them. “My eyes are naturally light blue. That green in the center is from the mako.”

“Why aren’t the black parts round, like other people’s?”

“I was just born that way,” Seph said, with a rueful smile.

He preferred not to explain to the child that, despite his purification by Chaos, the effects of Jenova’s cells on his body couldn’t be reversed. The damage had already been done, as it were, and so the related traits were permanent. Among these, were his slit pupils and silver hair.

“Do they look scary?” he asked Cloud. “Like monster eyes?”

Cloud shook his golden head. “They look like cat eyes. Cats are nice.”

“When we settle down somewhere less temporary, would you like to get a cat?”

“Yeah! Lots of cats!” Cloud said excitedly, then his face fell. “But what if your pa won’t let us?”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know that my father likes cats. Even if he didn’t, he’d let me have as many as I wanted. He has a lot of paternal guilt, and I’m afraid it manifests in over-indulging me.”

“What’s paternal guilt?”

“It’s when a father feels bad for not being a better father, or for his child having had an unhappy life. None of what happened to us was his fault, of course, but he still blames himself.”

“Is that why he’s sad all the time?”

“Yes, partly. He has suffered a lot. But I’m doing my best to take good care of him and make him happy.”

“But you’re not supposed to take care of him. Grown-ups are supposed to take care of kids,” Cloud asserted.

“Don’t you take care of your mother, too?”

“Mm. Yeah, I guess so.”

They dug around for a while in silence, but for the roar of the ocean and the plunk of shells and glass into their buckets. When there was nothing more to be scavenged, they moved on, in search of another spot.

“What people are looking for you?” Cloud asked.

“Shinra. They are not nice people. But it’s nothing you or your mother need to worry about. There’s no one in the world who can hurt you, if you’re with me and my father.”

Cloud made a dubious face. “Not even soldiers?”

“Not even soldiers.”

“What if they have guns?”

Seph’s eyes flashed with bloodthirsty intent. “If anyone dared to use a firearm in a manner that threatened you, they wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.”

Cloud’s eyes went round and his mouth fell open. “You would kill them?”

“Yes.”

“Have you…killed anyone before?”

“Yes, I have,” Seph answered, matter-of-factly. “Does that frighten you?”

Cloud thought about this for a moment. “Well, why did you kill them? Were they bad?”

“Not all of them. I have killed and hurt people, who didn’t deserve it. I was very little, not much older than you are, now. When I couldn’t control my emotions, bad things happened, and people died. I didn’t know right from wrong, back then, because no one taught me. But I do now. Those bad things won’t happen again. Never. I’m going to protect people, not hurt them. I’m going to save everyone, this time.”

Cloud picked up a broken sand dollar and fiddled with it. “Did you didn’t save everyone before?”

There was an oddly mature pointedness to the question, that made the hairs prickle up on the back of Seph’s neck. “Cloud, do you ever…remember things that haven’t happened yet?”

The boy started to shake his head, then paused and turned it into a hesitant nod. “Mama says it’s dreams, but it’s not when I’m sleeping. And sometimes the things I remembered happen.”

“What kind of things do you remember?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Cloud, you can tell me anything. I promise, I will always believe you.”

“W—well, ok. I dreamed about…you, before I knew you. And then we saw you at the bakery. Mama already told you about the dream where you flew down to save us from the fire. But after that, I dreamed about you again. You didn’t look like you look, but I know it was you. You were big and tall, and you had a long jacket and long hair, all the way down to your butt. And you were burning everything and standing in the fire and…and I had to kill you.” Cloud burst out sobbing and threw his little arms around Seph’s waist, burying his face in his t-shirt. “I don’t want to kill you! I won’t do it! I won’t!”

Seph picked him up and cradled him tightly in his arms, rocking and soothing him, pressing kisses to his golden head. When the boy was calm again, he set him down on his feet, and crouched to be on his eye level. “I know what you saw was terrible, but it will never happen, I promise.”

“You believe me?” Cloud sniffled, wiping his pink-rimmed eyes.

“Of course I believe you. I saw the same thing.”

Cloud’s eyes went wide yet again. “You did?”

“I did. I think what we both saw was a memory of a different future, from before I changed everything. That was the future where I didn’t save everyone.”

“But it’s not gonna happen now?”

“No. The things we saw were real. Terribly real. But they’re not, anymore. I’ve broken the shackles of fate, from all of us. Now, we’re free to make our own destiny.”

Cloud gave a bewildered frown. “You talk weird.”

“I know,” Seph smiled.

“Your pa talks weird, too. Like he’s from a book.”

“Well, he’s an old man. He can’t help it. I’m just weird. Is that alright?”

“Mmm…yeah, it’s ok,” Cloud decided. “You sound smart, like a grown-up. But you don’t act all grumpy and bossy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Only, don’t get into the habit of assuming all grown-ups are smart. A lot of them are extremely stupid. Especially the grumpy and bossy ones.”

Cloud laughed delightedly at this, as Seph took his hand, and the two walked on, to seek out another spot for gathering shells.

“Do you think my mama and your pa will get married?”

“To each other? I certainly hope not. Then we’d be brothers.”

“You don’t want to be brothers?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Cloud said quietly, lowering his head to look at the sand he was kicking.

Seph squeezed his hand. “Don’t be sad. It’s not because I don’t like you. I don’t want us to be brothers, because I want to marry you, one day.”

Cloud gave a start and jerked it away, his round cheeks turning bright pink. “You want to marry me??”

“Yes. Not for a long time, though. When we’re grown up.”

“B—but I’m a boy! Boys can’t marry boys!”

“I think it’s good we got you out of Nibelheim, sooner rather than later,” Seph remarked, making a distasteful face. “Those kind of backward ideas seem to be epidemic in small towns, like that.”

“What’s a backwards idea?”

“A backward idea is one that relies on ignorance, prejudice, or blind adherence to tradition, to make a moral judgement, about something with no inherent morality attached.”

“Uh…”

“For example, the idea that two men or two women can’t be married. People like to say it’s wrong, but what is actuallywrong about it? Is it bad for a woman to love another woman and want to be her wife? Is it bad for a man to want to build a life and a family with another man? If it’s not wrong for a man and woman to do those things, why is it wrong for two men or two women?”

Cloud thought for a moment, then his face lit up, like he’d had an epiphany. “It’s not! It’s the same!”

Seph gave an approving nod. “Exactly. When you hear moralizing statements like that, never just accept them. Interrogate the idea and form your own opinion.”

“What’s interrogate?”

“It means to honestly ask yourself what you really think. If you can’t decide, ask someone you trust. Seek out other perspectives and information. Never take a right or wrong statement at face value.”

“Ok. If I can’t decide, I’ll ask you.”

Seph blinked. “Wait, me? You mean…you trust me?”

“Uh-huh!” Cloud beamed. “You’re my guardian angel. Even if you don’t have wings.”

He had to swallow against the aching tightness in his throat, at the pure, guileless sweetness of this innocent child. A child he remembered as a young man, looking upon him with the bitterest animosity, as he drove a sword through his gut—after Sephiroth had done the same to him. But…that wasn’t truly them. They would never become the mortal enemies, who drew one another’s blood in madness and hatred. Destiny was defeated. Their fate was their own to write.

“Cloud, can I tell you a secret?” Sephiroth said, leaning down to speak softly in the boy’s ear. “I do have wings.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY we all deserved a beach episode i think

next chapter

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buckssuspenders · 4 months ago

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pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

By heartbeatdiaz

Summary:

"Okay, fine." Eddie rolls his eyes and rests his elbows on the table, leaning a little bit. Buck gets distracted by how Eddie's muscles look on that tight shirt he's wearing. "Show me, then."

Buck slowly moves his gaze from Eddie's arms to his face. "S-show you what?"

"Show me your game." Eddie smirks and leans in a little bit more, his muscles straining against his sleeves. "Hit on me."

"W-what? Eddie, c'mon."

"What? You're the expert, right?" Eddie takes another sip from Buck's beer and gazes up at him, his eyes are heavy-lidded.

"I guess I did say that, yeah."

"So teach me. Show me the Buck 1.0 moves or whatever." He grins at him and moves his hand, brushes his knuckles against Buck's forearm— ghosting over his skin.

Buck gets goosebumps and pulls away, nearly falling off his stool.

When he straightens, wincing, Eddie is grinning at him, delight all over his face. "Who doesn't have game now, Buckley?"

or:

Buck inadvertently challenges Eddie to try to hit on him by laughing at the fact that the guy has no game. It ends up being the best thing ever.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 3,348

Status: Complete (1/1)

#buddie fic recs #ao3 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #teen and up audiences

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emrys-and-his-king · 11 months ago

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It’s fic rec time :}

Please Hate Me, I am Difficult to Love (Loving You is Like Breathing) by portently (on ao3)

Teen Audiences and Up | No Warnings Apply | 17,096

Merlin/Arthur Pendragon | Complete

Arthur should have hated what he saw. He should have been recoiling in disgust. Magic was cruel, disgusting, and violent. It corrupted and brought only pain to those around it.

But everything had been so gold, so full of life, so beautiful.

In which Arthur befriends a sorcerer hiding in the forests while hiding his identity as the Prince. As they navigate their budding relationship, the two explore what it means to be good and what it means to be loved.

My addition: It was so cute! Seeing Arthur come around to magic especially in such a short period of time was so fun to watch. Also, it changed the dynamics very interestingly in which Arthur never registered as a prince to Merlin, and was, this time, the one keeping secrets.

The characters are well written and so fun to watch dance around each other as always, even in a completely different *shrugs* everything.

#merlin fanfic #merthur fanfic #merthur #merlin fic rec #merthur fic rec #portently #teen audiences and up #ao3 #fix rec #au #bamf merlin #powerful merlin #strangers to lovers #first kiss #angst with a happy ending #rooks recs

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ineffableclassics · 1 day ago

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“Aziraphale isn’t the Supreme Archangel.”

“What do you mean,” he retorts, dragging his good sense back into his brain. Because that made no sense, in any universe, “he’s not Supreme Archangel?”

Saraqael frowns at him, and shrugs a shoulder. “We haven’t seen Aziraphale since the Halo Incident.”

Wait. No. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t–

or;

Crowley thought Aziraphale went to Heaven. Turns out Metatron locked him in Purgatory instead.

Words: 46,386

Status: Complete

Rating: Teen And Up

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quietwings-fics · 8 months ago

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New Discoveries, in Good Hands

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Doctor Who Ship: Jack Harkness/Rose Tyler Additional Tags: Trans Rose Tyler, Facial Shaving, Minor Ninth Doctor/Jack Harkness/Rose Tyler, Touchy-Feely, Intimacy, Innuendo, Season/Series 01, Flirting, Denial, Trans Male Character, Fluff Wordcount: 3084 Summary:

Jack shows Rose what shaving is like. Rose enjoys more of it than she thought she would. (Or, Rose's first steps towards self-discovery.)

Rose is always surprised by how barren Jack’s room seems compared to her own. She tells herself it’s just a matter of time spent onboard the TARDIS, but she still pauses to frown at all the empty space. Even his bed is neatly made where her own remains in a constant state of disarray. The only reminders that he’s still living here at all are a spare t-shirt thrown over a chair and the sound of running water from the adjoining bathroom.

She makes her way over to him. She doesn’t knock, and didn’t when she entered in the first place, but she does call his name when she pokes her head in. “Jack?”

He turns back to acknowledge her, smiling beneath the beneath foamy wisps left of his shaving cream, though Rose is more distracted by his lack of a shirt and the dark hair spread down his chest that he hasn’t shaved. He leans against the sink, still dripping from where he’s been splashing himself clean, a straight razor held in place beneath his palm. “The Doctor sent you to fetch me?” he asks. Rose forces her eyes back up to his face, which Jack notices. It only makes his grin wilder as he angles himself to give her a better view. At that, Rose has to look away entirely, torn between laughing at his familiar confidence and flushing hot from head to toe.

“Something like that. You were running late. He notices.” Sometimes it feels like the Doctor has Rose’s morning routine better memorized than she does. He might fail to pick up on when she’s upset if it’s right in front of his face, but never if it makes her miss her usual breakfast. There’s a subtle pull at Jack’s mouth when she’s done speaking, a brief pinch around his eyes, gone by the time he’s turning to the sink to finish shaving.

“I had… a long night. Slept through my alarm. I’m almost done here.” The pause makes Rose want to push him for more, and she would if she knew where to start. It’s only a matter of time. No matter how good he is at hiding his secrets, he can’t stop himself from inviting them in to look for them. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t want Rose and the Doctor to know eventually, but whenever that might be isn’t today, so Rose is left searching for something else to say.

“He also said to ask what your opinion on sea monsters is,” she falls back on. Despite avoiding the earlier subject, nothing about Jack comes off as defensive. He hums a simple note as he washes shaving cream off the razor and asks,

“With or without tentacles?” Rose blinks.

“Is that important?” she asks.

“Incredibly,” he answers. She watches the slow, practiced glide of the razor against the side of his chin, catching a few final hairs. He tilts his head slightly to get the angle right, showing off the curve of his neck to her. When Rose meets his eyes again through the bathroom mirror as he relaxes, he says, “Enjoying the show?”

“You like having an audience.” Jack leans down to cup his hands in the stream of water and splash his face. The razor rests at his side, the edge still foamy with cream and short, dark hairs. He pats himself dry with a towel, drops it against the sink, and then reaches out a hand towards her. Rose takes it without hesitation, stepping closer. Jack brings it up to the side of his face, resting her fingers against freshly shaven skin to feel the difference. Rose trails them down along his jaw and up again until she can cup his cheek in her palm. Jack’s eyes shut as he leans into her hand, relaxed and happy. In a week, maybe less, she knows she’ll be able to feel the rough beginnings of new stubble on his face. Something twinges in her chest as she thinks about watching that happen while she stays exactly the same. She frowns, not sure why that would even bother her.

She lets the expression fall away before Jack’s eyes open again. “Do I have to tell you you’re gorgeous? You seem to know already,” she teases. Jack nudges against her hand again playfully before she withdraws it.

“Never hurts,” he says. “Especially now that you’ve seen all the work I put in to stay that way. Unlike our Doctor.” Rose’s heart flutters with the ease with which Jack says ‘our’. “Do we even know if he ever shaves, or do you think he tells his chin hairs off sternly and they fall out in shame?”

“Sonics them away, I reckon,” Rose says, nodding as she lets her hand drop. The motion brings her gaze down to Jack’s chest again, and the speed at which she snaps her eyes back up to his makes her peeking even more obvious that last time. She can just feel Jack about to tease her about it, so she says the first thing that comes to mind to cut him off. “What does it feel like, anyway?”

“What?” he says, and she can hear the barely restrained flirtation just behind the words, held back to answer her question. “Shaving?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never shaved anything before?” He sounds skeptical.

“Of course I’ve- That’s different!” Funnily enough, she can’t remember the last time she bothered to, either. No one around to remind her, she supposes. No wonder her legs have felt warmer under her skirts. She resolves to wear something long the next time she visits her mom. If she can’t see anything, she can’t say anything, and Rose can carry on exactly as she is. “I didn’t use shaving cream for my legs.”

“You should,” he says, casually. “You might need more to cover it, but it makes the whole process a lot faster. Less nicks, much more smooth, really prepares you for showing off in fishnets.” Before Rose has a minute to put together the pieces on him knowing all of that, Jack is reaching for his can of shaving cream. “Hold out your hand.”

When Rose does, he gives the can a light shake and spurts some cream onto her hand. The white foam spills messily across her palm from the nozzle.

“Don’t-” she starts.

“There’s more where that came from,” Jack says, suggestive, completely ignoring her. Rose rolls her eyes. She squishes her fingers through the foam. “Well? How does it feel?”

“Cold,” she answers. “Soft? A little like lotion.” The consistency is the same, at least. It feels nice against her skin. Jack’s watching her, thinking.

She’s still playing with the cream when she hears the water run again. Jack’s wetting the same towel he used to dry his face earlier. He turns back to her, fingers nudging her chin up. “Hold still,” he says. “I don’t want to get your shirt wet.” He dab at the lower half of her face with the warm washcloth. “Not that I’d complain, but I make a habit of only ruining other people’s clothes when they ask for it.” He motions her around with little taps against her jaw, and she follows, making it easier for him to dampen her skin with the hot water. “Which you still could. I’m not giving up hope yet.” He takes her hand in his own, palm up, and scrubs the shaving cream off of it for her before he puts the towel down.

“What are you doing?” Rose asks, though it’s obvious. She thinks she just wants him to say it for her, confirm this isn’t some kind of joke.

(But even if she didn’t know, she’d still let him. She’s in safe hands with Jack. Very few people have ever made her feel that way.)

“You said you wanted to know what it was like.” He picks up the shaving cream can again. She sees him weigh it in his hand like he’s trying to estimate how much is inside before he shakes it again. He pauses just long enough for her to step out of reach if she wanted to, and when she doesn’t, he puts his hand beneath her chin again. It’s more sure now. He guides her with his thumb solid against her jaw, turning her head slowly to make sure he covers her face with the cream. It tickles more than it did on her hand, and Rose bites her lip to keep from giggling.

“I don’t have anything to shave,” Rose protests, a little late. Her chin and cheeks feel chilled by the shaving cream, but not unpleasantly. There are streaks of it on Jack’s hand as he draws back again.

“I’m using my imagination,” Jack tells her. He washes his razor off for her, turning it this way and that beneath the sink before examining it to make sure nothing is sticking behind from its last use. It looks well-sharpened, but even when Jack rests it against her cheek for the first time, Rose can’t feel scared. There’s far too much focus in his eyes, even more so than when he was shaving his own face earlier. Very slowly, he scrapes a little of the shaving cream off her cheek. The razor slides against her skin, warm from the water it was under, contrasting against the cream and leaving the space behind it exposed again. “Breathe, Rose,” Jack tells her. She inhales, not realizing she’d stopped until he points it out.

The next glide of the razor moves in time with her exhale as she holds as still as she can for him. His other hand has found its place beneath his chin again, keeping her steady. When all she can do is memorize the feeling of him touching her, she notices the little differences between him and the Doctor, that the Doctor’s fingers are slightly longer, that Jack’s thumb has more of a callous along the inside of it. The razor moves easily through the shaving cream, and she can see Jack begin to relax the longer it goes without incident, as though he needs more reassurance than she does that he won’t mess up and nick her.

“Smoothest shave I’ve ever given anyone,” he jokes, but his voice is low and warm. Rose swallows.

Did he mean before that he was imagining her with… with what? Surely not a full beard, not unless he wanted to laugh at her… right? No. Maybe- Well, maybe he wasn’t imagining anything at all, from how concentrated he was.

Or maybe he was seeing her in his mind’s eye with a lazy week’s stubble, gently shaving it off for her. Did he imagine how it felt beneath his hands before when he was preparing her? Was he imagining it now as he rubbed his thumb along the bottom of her jaw? Would he like that, a little scratch of growing hair that she was letting him take care of? Rose’s could hear her own breaths from between her parted lips catching with the thought of all of it.

Would she like that?

“You alright, Rose?” Jack’s voice pulls her out of her own thoughts before she can scare herself. Scare herself? Is she scared? Her heart is beating faster, but she can’t tell if it’s fear or something else.

“Fine,” she answers, lying poorly. Jack pauses, and she feels his thumb rub against her jaw again. She focuses on that.

Safe in Jack’s hands, wherever he’s taking her.

“I’m okay,” she says, and this time, it’s true. Jack still waits for her to pout and say, “Get back to work, Jack.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack says, a professional snap to the words like a verbal salute that makes Rose bite her lip again. The razor comes back, continuing its journey across her face and smoothing away the shaving cream.

A few more drags in silence follow before a lopsided grin climbs onto Jack’s face.

“Found one.”

“One what?”

“One little brown hair,” Jack says. He flips the razor for her to see, and it really is the tiniest hair floating in the shaving cream on the blade. Rose stares at it.

She feels strangely proud that it exists. Even stranger, a little sad that Jack’s shaved it off.

It’ll grow back, she finds herself thinking.

“Blow on it,” he says. “Make a wish.”

“You’re thinking of eyelashes.”

“I don’t think the wish will care that much which hair it came from.” She indulges him. She blows a few white drops of shaving cream back onto Jack’s chest. Without thinking, she reaches forward to wipe them off with her thumb. She freezes when she touches him, but it’s far too late to back out now. She brushes her thumb across each speck, following them down along his chest to the last one low against his ribs. Her fingers run over his chest hair as she does. It’s a fight both to make herself not react to that or to go back and explore a little more. Her cheeks are burning, and there isn’t nearly enough shaving cream left to hide it.

“You really didn’t need an excuse if you wanted to feel me up,” Jack says, and he sounds delighted. She almost pulls her hand back, but she stops herself. After all, he started it.

“Then I’m not going to bother with one.” With that, she resolutely slides her hand back up his chest. She feels it rise and fall slightly as he breathes, shift as he moves his arm again to continue shaving her. She curls her fingers to feel his hair move against them, the thick dark patch at the center spreading thinner across his chest. It’s soft.

No wonder he doesn’t shave it. She’s jealous.

Jealous of what? It’s not like she can’t get her fill of him. Jack will happily let her.

She tries to shake off the feeling and can’t quite.

“Do you ever wish you were someone else?” He wipes some spare shaving cream off of her cheek. He’s almost done. Not that there will be much of a difference to show it, Rose thinks. She frowns.

“In what way?” he asks. “Am I swapping places with someone, or am I turning into someone else?” She wonders how much his answer would change depending on which she chose, but in the end, she can’t pick both.

“The second one. I think.” Her frown deepens. “Sorry. I’m not sure what I’m asking. I’m confusing myself now.”

Jack takes her hand from his chest and lifts it to his mouth, absently kissing her knuckles before he answers. She’s not even sure he registered that he did it, too focused on the razor in his other hand and her question.

“I like being me,” he says, honestly. “Wasn’t easy to get here, so I think I’ll keep it.” Rose withdraws her hand, touching the spot his lips brushed. “What about you?”

Rose feels the razor make its last pass over her face. Jack lifts it away. Not a single scratch on her. Not a spot of irritation where he wasn’t careful enough. Rose lifts her fingers to her cheek and finds the skin there as smooth as ever.

“Yeah,” she answers, and she realizes she’s lying. “Who else would I even be?”

Jack passes over her face once more with the warm rag to get the last of the shaving cream off of her. He has to get another to dry her with. Rose enjoys the pampering.

“How about a Rose Tyler who’s been thoroughly kissed?” She turns her head up to let him. Jack’s arms wrap around her back. “Among other things,” he murmurs when he’s done.

“I’d like that.” Jack makes himself easy to get lost in, and right now, Rose wants that. It’s easier than… She’s not sure, but whatever it is, she’d rather be kissing him than facing it. And if Jack’s hands slide down to her waist and lower still, she’s not complaining.

She’s forgotten why she’d come in his room in the first place completely until the Doctor��who knocks as much as Rose did, which is to say, not at all—comes complaining. “Rose, you left thirty minutes ago, what are you-” He cuts himself off, and Rose drops her head against Jack’s shoulder to stifle a laugh. She doesn’t even have to look at the Doctor to picture his expression, rolling his eyes, annoyed that they could possibly think making out against a bathroom sink is a better use of time than what he has planned. Jack’s skin is warm, and they both unmistakably smell like his brand of shaving cream. She rubs her face against him.

“Just finishing up, Doctor,” Jack shoots back. She presses another giggle into his shoulder imagining the way the Doctor’s face must be screwing up in feigned disgust. She manages to get herself under control enough to lift her head and face him.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“About what?” the Doctor says.

“Rose came in for a shave,” Jack answers. He strokes her chin playfully. “How’s she look, Doctor?”

The Doctor looks her over, once a cursory glance, twice a real study. Rose is curious what exactly he’s seeing. It’s not like she’d had anything to shave. It’s not like anything had really changed, had it?

But the Doctor gives her one of those lovely, genuine smiles, and says, “Most handsome boy in town, I’d say.” Rose’s heart skips a beat, but she tells herself that’s nothing special. The Doctor can always make her feel that way.

She wouldn’t mind him calling her handsome again.

(She wouldn’t mind him calling her a-)

“And me?” Jack wheedles for his own compliment.

The Doctor lets his smile drop, showily unimpressed as he responds, “You missed a spot.” Jack shakes his head, disbelieving until he reaches up to touch the place the Doctor’s indicating on his own neck and finds a small spread of missed hair right there.

“We’ll wait for you,” Rose tells him, though the Doctor huffs about it and makes a face. He won’t go without her, and she won’t go without Jack, and somehow, they’ll make it work.

Jack waves her off to follow the Doctor back to the console room.

(“Doctor, settle a bet? Do you shave normally, or do you…”

“Rose, I know you’re not asking me if I can sonic a beard off.”

“Course not. I knew that.”)

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#fanfiction #teen and up audiences #1001-5000 #doctor who #jack harkness/rose tyler #jackrose #jack harkness #rose tyler #trans!rose #transmasc!rose

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undertale-fic-librarby · 4 months ago

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Dust to Dust

An angsty drabble focused on Dream to celebrate reaching 100 followers. This has not been beta read but I briefly skimmed through it for mistakes. This was written in one sitting, & may be fast paced as I was very high energy while writing it. Trigger warning for character death! Happy reading!

At first, Dream doesn't even notice that his brother has stopped attacking. With all the chaos going on around him, attacks flying from every angle & shouts coming from different directions, it's not a surprise.

So Dream keeps fighting, not stopping until he's startled by a loud cry from Killer. "Boss!" A little shaken, Dream looks around himself quickly to make sure no one is sneaking up on him before looking towards where the yell had come from.

He spots Killer easily, seeing him crouched over...Nightmare? That can't be right though, Nightmare was just attacking him moments ago! It has to be some kind of trick, he thinks to himself.

But as the moments pass & the fighting dies down as more people start to notice what's going on, Dream starts to worry.

Had he actually hurt his brother? Why wasn't Nightmare getting up? He'd walked off Dream's arrows before, why was this one any different?

Dream stumbles towards where Nightmare lay, now surrounded by the gang that his brother had collected, subconsciously. He doesn't pay attention to his teammates yelling for him to come back to them, nor his brother's followers yelling at him to stay away.

The only important thing is that none of them try to stop him as he approaches, falling to his knees & putting both of his hands on Nightmare, bow long having dissipated from his lack of concentration to keep it from fading away.

Shaking his brother's shoulder slightly, as if that would make him sit up & say that it was all some horrible joke to make him feel bad, Dream whispers out a broken, "B-Brother?"

But there's no response, not even a groan or a twitch to show that Nightmare was even still alive. He had to be though, Dream couldn't have actually killed him, right? This was all some big trick, or maybe a bad dream, as ironic as that would be.

As unaware as he is, it takes a moment for Dream to register the body beneath his hands starting to dust, parts of his brother drifting away in the slight breeze slipping between the monsters surrounding them both.

Dream starts to tear up at this, a sob building as he frantically tries to stop it, to no avail. Muttering senselessly under his breath, drops of liquid magic drip down his cheeks as his hands & forearms become covered in more & more dust. "No no no no no-"

Panicked as Dream is, he doesn't register the whispers around him, both his own teammates & Nightmare's muttering about what was going on. Had Dream truly defeated his brother once & for all? It certainly seemed so.

Unable to contain it any longer, he bends down until his skull is resting against Nightmare's body & lets out a scream of anguish, fists clenching around nothing as the arm they previously clung to faded into dust.

Dream screams for as long as he can, panting for breath between sobs as his tears hit the dusting body of his brother below him, mixing with the dust & causing it to clump. As he tries to regain his breath, he finally registers the sharp pain all over his body & looks down...

Oh. It would seem that he was dusting as well.

Dream has the sudden urge to scream again, but can't seem to find the energy as he slumps over Nightmare's partially dusted body.

Perhaps this was his punishment for killing his twin, the one that he had grown up with & known for both of their lives. Perhaps this was mercy, allowing him to be with his brother again & not forcing him to live without the other.

Whichever it was, Dream had little time before he could no longer think, the pain of his body dusting away while still conscious consuming him. Before long, the only thing that remained of the two was a pile of dust & a single golden circlet resting peacefully on top.

#i had a lot of fun writing this #i would say that this is probably meant for teen and up audiences if i had to give it a rating #i had so many thoughts i was going to put here while i was writing this #but they seem to have all vanished #y'all decided that this was gonna be posted today #so here y'all go #i didn't suffer nearly as much as i thought i would #once again this was just me writing down whatever came to mind #i feel like i hyped this up more than i needed to #tempted to change the title but i don't have anything better to replace it with #fic rec #utmv #nightmare sans #dream sans #tw character death #angst #personal writing #mod sleepy

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writersmorgue · 1 year ago

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Physical Headcanons ★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡

TWs: please read with caution! Discussion of adult bodies (all characters are aged up!) Pictures are included for visual reference. Teen and up audiences.

Featuring: Bakugo, Mina, Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki

【ｂａｋｕｇｏ　ｋａｔｓｕｋｉ】

This man is solid. The only squish on him is his pecs (He doesn't even correct his friends when they call 'em tits, he's proud of it). He's 6'2 (188cm), not a giant but a decent height to tower over the rest of Japan. His arms and shoulders are broad, tapering down into a slim waist. His hands are large and calloused, veins on his forearms visibly winding into them. He widens back out around his ass and thighs, but they hold nowhere near the power of his upper body. He relies on that area completely for his fighting style and it shows. There's a subtle V line into his pelvis, paired with a trail of fine blond hair that he prefers to shave. Having extra body hair under his suit can be uncomfortable, especially when he works hours upon hours without breaks. He added an undercut to his style during his second year of UA for a similar reason and has kept it ever since. Most of his height comes from his torso and his legs are an average length. Though his thighs are nothing to laugh at, the muscles are impressive even for their lither shape. His scent is something reminiscent of gun smoke and a new car. He prefers baggier clothes, not aiming to draw attention when he's not in uniform. He's sexiest in black and he fuckin' knows it. His lobes are stretched to 18mm, and he has an industrial on his left ear. His nipples are pierced as well "Because fuck you."

【ｍｉｎａ　ａｓｈｉｄｏ】

She's taller than most of her female colleagues, 5'9 (175cm). With long legs and killer muscles, her lower half carries most of the weight during her hero work. Her muscle build and workouts are similar to that of a hockey player, with her go-to fighting move being to skate on a wave of acid. She has strong abs, helping to keep her balance when she's on unstable ground. She's an absolute powerhouse in the gym, out-squatting most of her coworkers. Her sidekicks love goading the fresh UA interns to challenge her to a spar. Her fingers are long and calloused, and when she's on a break from hero work she always has a set of nails on. Her arms are smaller, but nothing to scoff at. She focuses on fighting and boxing to train them, rather than bulking up. She smells like whatever gum she's currently chewing and she prefers Japanese street style clothes. She has basically every ear piercing you can think of, plus her nipples and naval. Her hairstyle has remained basically the same since school, although occasionally she'll buzz the sides during the warmer months.

【ｍｉｄｏｒｉｙａ　ｉｚｕｋｕ】

The shortest, densest, thickest man for miles (possibly galaxies). Topping out at 5'4 (163cm). His fighting style relies mostly on his legs and arms meaning his thighs alone could crush twenty men. He loves to attach himself to people like a bodybuilding koala as a greeting. He was blessed with monster calf genes, they tripled in size during his time at UA. His arms aren't quite as impressive as his legs but don't underestimate them. With the power of OFA, he can easily punch a villain into space. The hottest part about him, though? His confidence. His debut as a pro hero also kicked off his modeling career. Instead of curling in on himself, he announces his presence loudly. He fanboys without shame and flexes for his fans when they ask. He loves showing off his strength, picking his friends up at every opportunity, and carrying them around without breaking a sweat. His undercut and controlled curls help lessen his naïve appearance, though his freckled cheeks and forest-green eyes remain filled with boyish charm. He smells like coffee and old spice. He loves his dumb graphic tees, but his manager forces him into reasonable clothes when he attends events. He's famous for one suit in particular that frames his ass perfectly.

【ｏｃｈａｋｏ　ｕｒａｒａｋａ】

Short, thick, and stronger than you. At 5'2 (157cm) she can (and has) take on dozens of enemies at once with ease. Without her her quirk she's capable of lifting triple her body weight, and her back muscles make Bakugo jealous. Her thighs are capable of crushing basically anything you can put between them, and she regularly offers to open watermelons because it flusters everyone watching. Villains have taken one look at her and fled, she is that powerful. She's an anxious nail-biter and her cuticles are always messed up. Nail polish doesn't last an hour on her. She opted for a shorter haircut after second year, though her longer bangs remain with her signature style. She loves athleisure wear and can be found wearing leggings and muscle tanks 90% of the time. Rarely does she attend events she's forced to dress up for. Her stomach is soft and she has a naval piercing with a small planet charm dangling off of it that she never changes. She smells like flowers and rain.

【ｔｏｄｏｒｏｋｉ　ｓｈｏｕｔｏ】

One of the tallest in the former Class A, he stands at 6'5 (196cm), although Bakugo claims that's inaccurate. His muscles are lean and lengthy. His fighting style mimics Mina's, and his build is similar to that of a figure skater or swimmer. His abs are envied by all of Japan, and his V-line was the sexual awakening of millions. The carpet does, in fact, match the drapes, not that he advertises it. He grew his hair out after UA, and prefers to wear it loose or french braided down his back. His thighs and calves are lankier, and he focuses his workouts on speed and endurance rather than weightlifting. He's definitely the model of the group. Effortlessly handsome although his style is that of a 14-year-old boy. His stylist regularly steals the cargo shorts from his house, but he just buys more. He owns at least 30 v-neck t-shirts in every color he can find. His redeeming style quality is his hero suit, which was finally swapped out when he debuted to a more sleek design. He smells like a campfire in a snowstorm, more of one or the other depending on which side of him you're standing on. He has no piercings but several tattoos that his costume covers.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs encouraged. No reposts. <3

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