#these kind of insane aus scratches an itch

[mari-lair]

Terukaneaoi murderers au! Heavily inspired by @pedi-bug's Camp AU

warning: ooc, murder, violence.

Set in 1991, in a world with no ghosts.

Teru is part of a mercenary family, if a Minamoto gets paid, they kill, and because of this upbringing, he doesn't value human life, with the exception of his family's lives. He longs for playtime with kids his age and attending parties but he doesn’t have the time, he tries his best to have fun on the job instead, developing sadistic tendencies over the years: if he can't laugh with someone, hearing them scream and beg for mercy will do just fine.

It's a bad habit of his, to torture his targets, the clan finds it a nuisance since a quick kill is far less risky and efficient, but Teru is good at taking people to isolated places and making others believe the death was caused by some wild animal, so his bosses reluctantly let him do as he pleases. It annoys them, and the clan knows Teru knows, but he get all his jobs done, they can't do much about it. 

He kills animals sometimes (except cats cause his family owns one and he doesn’t want to kill something that reminds him of his family) but doesn't make a habit out of it, aware his public image need to be trustworthy. He loves praises, so he is a little happy to have fans, he encourages attention and is so loved that no one ever suspects him.

Aoi's family is just her and her mom, she doesn't make any friends but she has been drowning in admirers from a young age. Aoi doesn't like violence (she doesn't like to get hurt) so when she is cornered by the kindergarten bullies and forced into dating the 'king of the playground', she holds hands, gets hugged, and follows the boy around, but she hates being a trophy, she wants to die, she wants to squash her 'boyfriend' like the bugs in her garden, like her mom had gotten rid of her dad.

She puts rat poison on her boyfriend's drink and says is a gift. He dies. She is in shock at first, she only wanted to make him sick, not kill him, but it feels oddly pleasant to go to the kid's funeral, as if she has some control of other people’s life, as if it proved a point that despite her frail body and lack of ambition, she really is above those people.

She wanted to kill someone again but mom said she got lucky she is too young to be suspected, she should stop. She promised her mom she wouldn't kill again but she goes back on her word pretty quickly, unhappy about her life. She didn’t want to get caught though, so she aimed to kill someone that is not perceived as related in any way to her.

Teru caught Aoi in the act when she is fourteen, he is intrigued, able to tell she isn’t trained. They occasionally ran into each other in the dead of the night.

Teru is infuriating to Aoi, she hates how easily he can find her, how incompetent he makes her look, she hates him. She had felt ashamed when she killed her first adult and couldn't get rid of every evidence fast enough, so Teru had to help her, saving her from being caught. Sometimes he gives her murder tips, happy he can talk with someone about his job, even if Aoi doesn’t share his passion for blood, preferring clean murders, usually poison based, her talks about flowers and the ways she occasionally relates gardening with murder (both give her the power to decide if a living being will flourish or die) makes him curious.

Their meetings are the closest thing to a game Teru has ever played, he loves to find who her next target is, and try to end them before her. It is frowned upon in his clan to kill without being financially compensated for it but 'playing' with Aoi left him happy enough to finish his kills quickly, no longer going out of his way to destroy all his targets.

One day they are sent to a summer camp and Aoi sets her eyes on the son of the owner, a friendly boy who helps everyone in need with a smile, so kind, so determined, so lovable, he is everything she wishes she could be, even his name, Akane Aoi, seemed to mock her. 

She wants him dead.

Akane is rarely alone, he is perceptive and smart, but Aoi wasn’t too worried at first, noticing he is a trusting fool and well aware people love to help a cute and delicate girl, it would be easy to pretend she is having trouble with something and isolate him where he could have a tragic accident.

Unfortunately for her, Akane gets wary of her and teru way more easily than anyone else, eager to help but keeping their interactions short from the get go.

It’s odd.

Aoi is frustrated, she never liked to work too hard, but at this point it would be a bruise to her ego if she gave up. She tried inviting him to paint her nails, having prepared toxic paint to do his nails back, but he picked the same nail polish color as hers so they matched, she tried to drug his drink but he always seemed to notice when it got spiked, throwing it away.

Teru is intrigued by the challange, he calls Akane to help build his tent and tries to lure him with manual jobs to separate him from the group, but his plans never quite work, Akane doesn't get tired no matter how much he works, he doesn't hesitate to call Teru out on task he should be able to complete on his own, and is too fast to fall in any traps. He also sees better than Teru in the dark, a very rare feat.

It's the first time a mutual target lasted more than a week, and the two talk about it a lot, even if Aoi refuses any of Teru's offers to team up, she does agree to share any information they get on him.

Akane is a half-blood vampire in an era where vampires are basically instinct. He can age, go in the sun, and eat human food, his retractable fangs helping him feel like a normal boy, but he still craves blood and his senses are inhuman, he cannot help but feel dazed and suspicious of Aoi and Teru. He thinks Aoi is really cute and sweet, so he drops his guard with her sometimes, being genuine and gentle with her, but his guard always comes back when he catches a hint of poison under her flowery scent.

Teru smells like blood, the mercenary has been so soaked in it since he was a child that it became a part of his scent, he cannot fool a vampire’s nose. He kills wild animals during camp sometimes, and Akane never catches him in the act but he can smell it, it drives him crazy, he wants to bite Teru so bad that he avoids him, his wariness mixed with hunger. Teru can feel his eyes on him, and he is as wary as he is intrigued by the attention Akane gives him, which is different from the strange switch between favoritism and distrust he has with Aoi.

Aoi is conflicted when Akane reprimands anyone who harasses her and shows genuine worry for her well being, yet refuses to have a hike alone with her, it bothers her to the point she finds herself fake smiling less to catch his attention every time she tries to poison him. Teru gets easily attached to Akane, cause the boy can fight well and he heals fast when Teru hurts him. Akane is willing to play even the most basic of games with him too, and many of his murder attempts get pushed aside so they can play hopscotch, a more violent version of tag, 'never have I ever', and many other games he had heard his peers play years ago.

He forces Akane to stay with him a lot, much to the vampire's displeasure, so Akane kills some animals to satiate his thirst, throwing their corpses in the lake so the drained bodies don't scare anyone.

Akane realizes they are only trying to kill him out of the whole camp, so he is convinced they know he is a half vampire, and feels a little anxious that they will out him. He also thinks Aoi and Teru are dating since they disappear together many times and come back without smelling of murder or poison, but he isn't sure, he is mostly confused by whatever their relationship is.

In two weeks Teru and Aoi are already attached to Akane, their murder attempts are more half-hearted.

They realize Akane has a big weakness when a hiking accident results in an ugly cut on a camper’s leg. Akane is very hesitant when bandaging the camper, hyperventilating at the sight of so much blood and clearly distracted, excusing himself later and claiming the sight of blood can make him sick.

Aoi doesn't like to get hurt, but Teru does not hesitate to cut himself while peeling an orange to test Akane's claim, amazed by the way Akane got even more dazed and anxious with him than with the injured camper, to the point others got worried, and Lemon decided to be the one to bandage Teru so his friend could calm down.

The two are hit with a golden way to kill Akane, but they procrastinate it, deciding to kill their friend on the last day of camp. Is not like they'll see him again after camp even if he stays alive after all.

[codename-adler]

AftG AUs I NEED : An Open Invitation to All Writers

sharing ideas i’ve toyed with for so long but i’m beginning to accept i prolly won’t ever write, thus i’m taking a chance some of these will bewitch someone out there body and soul, and i’ll be able to scratch the itch a little… the more the merrier after all !

The Last of Us : either a romantic version of Joel & Ellie’s dynamic (obv. with the ages adjusted) /OR/ episode 3 AU 🥲 [any ship] {EDIT: i KNOW it’s been done already once, twice, but i *need* more! not just with Andreil! let’s be explorers of possibilities, cmon!!}

Detroit: Become Human : this one i’m really only thinking of Andreil, with either as android and the other as human… i don’t necessarily see them conforming to a specific plot line from the game, i think the android/human dynamic is interesting enough and fits them perfectly, but go off i guess !

Brokeback Mountain : i don’t really need to explain this one do i? happy ending vs. canon character death, that is the true question… [any ship]

Titanic : it’s got so many options and tropes, it’s like a buffet for fic writers ! could be used as setting only, or follow Jack & Rose’s tragic (or not!) love story. [any ship]

The Haunting of Bly Manor : Jamie & Dani haunt me still. great opportunity for Renison, Lailalvarez or Kathea, or perhaps a gender swap on mlm ship? or not, leave them boys as is. haunt me, it’s all i ask. [any ship]

BBC Johnlock : don’t shoot the messenger alright? sorry for the ptsd flashbacks btw. i just think their dynamic and crime/detective AU are great opportunities. i’m personally partial to Jeanaaron for this one, as they were my og idea bc the similarities are??? amazing??? Sherlock!Jean & Watson!Aaron, and the Reichenbach Fall??? so neat. but really, [any ship]

The Maze Runner : Thominewt // Kandreil !?!?!? it’s right there! [any ship] tho.

SKAM : ofc Robbe & Sander from WtFock are physically the perfect Andreil which leads to a great adaptation opportunity here, but Élu from SkamFr are also a great blueprint for a Kevaaron story. honestly any S3 Skam + [any ship]

Dune : listen, i don’t have all the answers. idk how that would even work. but surely you can figure smth out ! [any ship]

Inception : i love the movie. i love hans zimmer. i love Arthur x Eames. NORA SAKAVIC LOVES ARTHUR x EAMES. they’ve got such Andreil vibes, but so do Jerejean, even Renison. and the Foxes as dream crew??? so perf it’s insane. give me and Miss Sakavic what we really want. [any ship]

The Fault in Our Stars : 🥲 [any ship]

CA: The Winter Soldier / Civil War : so it’s kind of like an amnesia AU, but more angsty bc Stucky dynamic. Andreil’s the perfect fit, but who knows who else… [any ship]

Jujutsu Kaisen : 🥲🥲 [any ship.s]

Attack on Titan : 🥲🥲🥲 endless, endless paths… to pain ! [any ship.s]

How I Live Now : is that too niche? or too boring? 🤷‍♀️ (also let’s leave out the cousin thingy…) [any ship]

Red, White & Royal Blue : duh. (but not so duh, apparently, since i’ve yet to read it !!!) [any ship]

The Old Guard : oh the possibilities… Yusuf & Niccolo my loves… nobody be doing it like them, nobody. absolutely one of the most movie ever… top 10 of mine for sure. ugh, gosh ! foxes as Immortals?? the action, the mystery, the soulmates?? please i’m begging. [any ship]

that's what i'm letting go of for now... if anything inspires you, please tag me in your works so i can indulge in and appreciate what you've come up with!!

Love, Adler xx

[sleptwithinthesun]

a personal (and very extremely late) fill for the🤞and 🥰 prompts on the spring prompts list, written for t/im d/rake from d/c c/omics. yes, i'm aware it's summer. however, i started this fic over two years ago and it needs to be done.

2K words, next part of the t/imber college au. hope you like it!!

"Look at me for a second?" Bernard asks, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against his notebook a couple of times, just to ensure that he has Tim's attention. It lands just to the right of his half-finished sketch of his roommate, who's typing a lab report up on his laptop on the other side of the library table. 

Tim complies, glancing up and making brief eye contact to show Bernard the slowly-emerging freckles scattered over his cheeks and the ever-present, bruise-like bags under his eyes. They've been getting worse lately, probably due to the arrival of the spring season and its various allergens, even though Tim started taking Benadryl towards the beginning of March. They're now a week into April, with allergy season in full swing.

Bernard's gaze sweeps over Tim's face, and then he squints down at his drawing. After a moment of deliberation, he goes back over Tim's lash line and carefully shades a touch lower and darker than he was previously. "Thanks." 

"No problem," Tim replies, coughing quietly into a fist a second later. It sounds chesty, same as it has been for the past few weeks, and Tim just keeps going, like someone's scratching at his lungs. Which, to be fair, is probably how he feels about the whole thing. He's been getting worse at night recently, waking both himself and Bernard up at early hours in the morning with coughing fits. 

There's not much either of them can do about it, though, and Bernard's not been sleeping well, anyway. Not to any fault of Tim; he's just been… wondering. About some things. Regarding Tim, sure, but not because of him. Nevertheless, he's been staying up with him until his roommate manages to fall back asleep congested snores emanating from his side of the dorm. 

Not for the first time since they'd arrived at the library, Tim suddenly drops his chin towards his chest, eyes pinching shut tightly before his shoulders give a minuscule jerk forwards. He barely manages a shallow inhale before the motion repeats twice more, and then blinks a few times, sniffling quietly into his sweatshirt sleeve. Also not for the first time, Bernard murmurs, "Bless you."

"Ugh, sorry, I don't think I'm dohh—" He cuts himself off with another silent double, and then a third pair for good measure. "Oh, fuck me," Tim mutters, a bit breathless. 

"Christ, bless you times... how many even was that, seven total? They're so quiet; it's hard to tell." Tim nods to confirm the number, his eyes bleary from sneezing as he rubs a knuckle against the side of his nose to quell the remaining itch instead of responding verbally. "Bless you times seven. Why do you sneeze like that, anyway?" 

Tim blinks at him, clearly confused. "Like what?"

"Like… you're completely stifling to the point where they're silent." Bernard fumbles to explain, trying to find the right words without sounding insane. "I don't know anyone who can do that without using their hands or something. It's kind of... uh, impressive, to be honest, but can I ask, why do you sneeze that way? Is there a reason, or is it just...?"

"I don't know," Tim says, then shrugs. "I never really thought about it. It's polite, I guess, to make them quieter. Doesn't bother anyone else."

And Bernard-of-several-months-ago would have simply been content to have even gotten an answer out of Tim in the first place, would have accepted his word without a second thought. But Bernard-of-now can see the little flicker in Tim's eye, the one that means he's lying to him, which makes no sense, because what does Tim have to lie about?

It's a sneeze. There's no backstory to it, as far as Bernard is aware of. It's simple, it's thoughtless, it's inherent. Sure, he knows that people can hold back their sneezes if needed, but at it's base, it's a reaction, and one that's hard to control. The level to which Tim can manipulate his own, though, speaks to something far more complicated than Bernard can even begin to form connotations to.

For now, he has to let it go. Everything about Tim is a mystery, and the code to deciphering him is written between the lines of Dick's offering of his and Jason's phone numbers. So, unless Bernard texts one of them to ask why Tim sneezes weirdly, which is quite possibly the most bizarre question he could even raise, he's on his own.

Don't let it be said that Bernard Dowd doesn't love a challenge.

-

Over the remainder of the week, Bernard keeps an eye on Tim as if he's a sentry assigned to stand guard over him. He does feel weird about it—almost stalkerish, which, honestly and a bit embarrassingly, isn't exactly new to him—but it's not like Bernard's trying to learn anything he didn't already know about Tim's personal life. He lives in the same room as Tim, for crying out loud. Objectively, he's not doing anything wrong. At least, that's how Bernard justifies it to himself.

He's aware that he's being all Bernard about it, looking too deeply into it when, in reality, it's probably nothing more than Tim preferring not to draw attention to himself. At the same time, Bernard can't help but feel as if there's something more to it. After all, Tim decided to hide the fact that he was missing a whole-ass organ for a semester; he truly wouldn't put it past Tim to somehow have a buried trauma about sneezing. It would only make sense for him.

To be perfectly honest, though, Tim is boring.

Bernard didn't notice it in their fall semester, when Tim was being avoidant for the most part and didn't trust Bernard enough to reveal anything about his personal life. Apparently, he wasn't missing out. Tim studies more than anything, and even when he's not studying, he's doing homework or reading or something equally uninteresting. It makes his observation of his roommate very dry.

Until the moment where he invites Tim to sit outside.

They're moving through the quad together, Tim having just attended his linguistics class and heading into a free period while Bernard's done with classes for the day. The April weather is gorgeous, with a nice breeze cutting through the heat of the day. It's so nice, in fact, that Bernard asks—

"Want to stay outside for a bit?"

Tim's steps pause for a moment, hesitating. "Why?"

Bernard can barely stop himself from staring in shock at him. Sure, he grew up in the city, but he spent every moment that he could in the park. "it's... nice?" he ventures. "Plus, you could use more sun."

"First, rude. Second, if you insist." Tim sighs, glancing around for a place to sit. "As long as we're not directly in the sunlight."

Bernard rolls his eyes. "Sure, whatever. Vampire."

Tim scoffs at him, following Bernard as they move to take a seat in the shade underneath a tree. He only seems vaguely annoyed, meaning that he does actually care, at least a little bit. They're not at the point yet where Tim's comfortable being jokingly annoyed or mad with Bernard, since Bernard did it to Tim once and ended up sending Tim into a spiral for the next day over whether he was actually upset.

So. His annoyance here is at least vaguely interesting.

"hn'x! ngt! hnk'tt!"

"Bless you," Bernard murmurs. Tim shakes his head and immediately goes to sneeze again, sitting up with his head tipped back slightly, eyes half-shut, mouth partly open as his breath hitches quietly.

"hh...hi'h? hHhh—" He's trying to hold it back and is failing miserably. "—hk't! hxxt! hn'gt! h'hHn'gt-sh!"

"Bless you."

"Why'd you want to be out here?" Tim asks, voice nasal. His head immediately bobs down toward his chest again, nose pressed into the crook between his thumb and pointer finger to at least give himself a semblance of modesty. This set is even more numerous than the first, each sneeze coming in rapid succession.

Bernard sits up straighter in alarm. "Uh... exactly how allergic are you to pollen?"

Tim's response is another rapid set of sneezes.

"You need to get better at putting your foot down," exclaims Bernard, grabbing Tim by his free wrist and hauling him upward as Tim sneezes again and again, each perfectly stifled and barely making any sound. The only reason, Bernard reflects, that he can hear them is because Tim's sneezing too much to fully have control.

"You're—gxt'sh!—telling me," Tim gasps out. Mockingly, he attempts to add, "You could use more su'h'nxt! hxt'ch!"

"Okay, Sneezy, let's get back to the very climate-controlled indoors," says Bernard, hastily dragging him toward the building.

-

Tim's lying down on his bed when Bernard walks into their dorm, three days after the incident, absently staring up at the ceiling. There's nothing taped up there—Bernard checked.

"You okay?"

"Fine," replies Tim. "Just... thinking."

Bernard sets his backpack down next to his bed, placing the binder in his hands down on top of his comforter to ensure he doesn't forget about the homework in it. "Anything in particular?"

Tim shrugs, which is his way of saying Yes, but I don't want to talk about it. Bernard had given up on trying to interpret all of Tim's nonverbal signals on his own and reached out to Dick the day after Tim's allergy attack; Dick had informed him that reading Tim was like learning a new language. He wasn't very communicative at best, even with members of his own family, and it took Dick years to figure everything out. Jason is still struggling, apparently, which Dick attributes to Jason being in college while Tim was adjusting to living with the Waynes. He's gradually been passing tips onto Bernard, trying to make his living experience a tad easier.

Uncertainly, he walks over to Tim's side of the room, stopping just short of sitting on the bed with his roommate. Looming over him feels like an equally terrible option, and Bernard just stands there for an awkward moment.

"This is a little creepy."

"You're one to talk," Bernard says before having the chance to properly filter himself. He's trying to get Tim to open up, here.

Tim huffs out a laugh, then sniffles quietly. "Just sit down."

Bernard does. Neither of them say anything for a long minute, with the silence frequently broken by Tim's soft sniffles as he continues fighting off the pollen in the air.

"You know you can sneeze, right?" he blurts out. Tim doesn't blink. "Like, around me. I don't mind, I promise."

When Tim doesn't respond, Bernard keeps rambling. "It's just that, every single time I've seen you sneeze you're stifling. No matter what. Even if you're alone in the room, you don't make any noise, and, like, it's worrying me. It's not, um, normal. Not that you're not normal, obviously, but—"

"Bernard."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Bernard rolls his head to look at Tim. His roommate is still looking at the ceiling instead of at him, but he's talking.

"I was..." He pauses, starts over. "My parents very much believed in the adage of children being seen and not heard. To them, my silence wasn't an expectation, it was a strict necessity for me."

"Tim..."

"For whatever reason, they included normal bodily functions in that." Tim scoffs, but it's devoid of any feeling, as if he's making the noise only because he's expected to show disapproval toward his parents. "Coughing, sneezing, anything like that was taboo. So, I learned to keep quiet."

"You know that's not okay, right?"

"I've heard that nearly a thousand times from Dick and Jason." Now, he turns to face Bernard. "I'm aware."

Bernard sighs. "Do you believe it?"

A moment of silence. Three different emotions pass over Tim's face, too quickly for Bernard to parse through them all, but something sad is certainly there. "I'm working on that," he says eventually.

"That's good," replies Bernard, and they fall back into silence before Tim sneezes adorably, much like a baby kitten.

"hk'sh'iew!"

"Oh my God."

"Shut up!"

[mythicamagic]

May I ask why you like Sukuna so much? Don't get me wrong, I love him too, he reminds me of Yang from Piofiore, but I thought you would be more attracted to Gojo or Geto? 🤭

Thank you for the excuse to yap, anon! Talking about my biases is one of my favourite things to do.

I guess my answer can be summed up with three points:

Sukuna is hot - I like his tattoos and his true form satisfies my monster romance cravings

Sukuna is charismatic

Intelligent villains make brain go brrr.

To elaborate, when JJK first came out I did simp a bit for Gojo because of his eyes and white hair. It wasn't really anything other than shallow - hey, he's pretty.

(I've never been a Geto girlie, I respect those who are, but I haven't felt anything toward him other than sympathy for his breakdown or apathy toward him becoming a cult leader type. He's aight.)

When Sukuna was first revealed I found him entertaining but wrote him off as purely insane. Fun to watch but nothing interesting. This changed in episode 4.

That episode showed his charisma tbh. An insane villain is only fun to watch passively, that or they become annoying. A truly personable villain is one that lives comfortably by enjoying what they want to do but also demonstrating intelligence and cunning. Guys like Sukuna and Yang are my favourite type of villain because they're so incredibly selfish they seek to assuage their boredom via entertainment. They thrive in violence that isn't targeted or hateful, just pure enjoyment. Putting aside the murder part- as someone who is incredibly meek and anxious irl, those characters appeal to me because they thrive unapologetically. Their ugliness is embraced and celebrated.

From a purely simping standpoint- Someone like Nanami is the greenest flag you've ever seen. That man would take care of you and love you. 10/10 you should marry, he's perfect. However, for someone like me, that perfection would make my imperfections feel worse.

Characters like Sukuna basically remove that because they're reveling in their own fun. I think to really enjoy them is to remove your own ego from the equation in a way- because these men will not cater to you emotionally. Yang is there for pleasure, Sukuna is there for entertainment, ect.

However in this way - you can kind of find vindication through them too. Liliana grew into herself more by becoming Yangs woman. She lost her freedom but gained it in other ways by experiencing sexual liberation and the darker aspects of the world- living in it and adapting. I figure life with Sukuna would be like that too in some AU where he wouldn’t automatically kill you.

I find Sukuna the most interesting character in JJK because he's centered and intelligent even as he revels in chaotic destruction. He's well read and has a history that gives him a tangible presence. He's strong but playful, cruel but absent of hatred for his opponents in a way that feels almost respectful even as they're fighting to the death (with the exception of Itadori).

A lot of what he is ticks my boxes. I expect Scar from Wuthering Waves will also scratch my itch for this type of villain too once we know more about him.

Er so yeah...take your pick anon haha. Simple answer: Sukuna is a cool villain, and I like to watch him have fun (not excusing anything he does but I trust your media literacy enough to understand that)

Complicated answer for simping: something, something, female empowerment fantasy through being allowed to be the worst version of yourself with a villain, thus achieving liberation from societal constraints.

[formula-fun]

ohhhh my gosh I have so many thoughtssss

why is charles an enigma??👀👀👀

and charles doesn't start piloting along with max???

(charles in a lab,,, charles in a labcoat,,, charles in lab glasses,,, mmmmm,, very concept)

ohh my goddd the languages and the neural link from that experimental drifty thing with mattiaaaaa

jsjdhsjsj the daniel thing lmaooo I can only imagine the vibes,, just charles bewildered face and daniel being rlly forward and overly friendly despite not actually knowing him

and the kids seeing charles and max being dumbasses lollll

pls don't feel like you have to answer if you don't want to give out spoilers,,, I've just not come across a pacrim au that's scratched so many itches before <3

charles in a lab coat and glasses.....secretly buff nerd charles leclerc with an office job and a tension headache. you understand the vision

charles was one of the posterboys of the jaeger program when he first became a ranger because he was so YOUNG and CHARISMATIC and he was one of the first academy graduates to actually get a jaeger of his own! he did so many press tours and appearances and everyone loved him!! and then one day he just disappeared due to Reasons and nobody knew where he went, and then a month later he showed up in some secret lab and the boss of the lab announced he would be helping run things because he knows a ton about secret lab things. the whole situation is very mysterious to the lab techs let alone the cadets who are just there to test out the robot parts. i cant even think of a metaphor for this. it would be like showing up to your first day of work in the CIA and learning your supervisors are Daft Punk or something. like its just fuckin weird

Charles and max don't start out as partners! they're actually stationed pretty far apart for most of the early years and dont see each other much. max becomes a ranger before charles does, so charles gets to angrily watch him do interviews and game shows and shit like that while he and everyone else are still stuck at the academy

the vibe with daniel is kind of insane. i wont get into it but theres a lot going on there. like he's fascinated by charles but he's also really protective of max so it's....intense

[rosewaterandivy]

can i kick it?

not me having band!au thoughts about Eddie, Steve, & Rob on this fine Wednesday morning...

blurb under the cut

eddie only joined steve and rob's pet project because they begged him to. I'm thinking Chicago, early aughts - rob, nance, and steve are in college, eddie works at their local record shop and begrudgingly lets them hang a flyer for band auditions (a singer and rhythm guitarist particularly).

like, steve can play guitar and carry and tune but the man just loves his drums, okay? let's just take a minute to appreciate hot n' sweaty Steve in shorts and a backwards baseball hat, absolutely no shirt just goin' feral on the drums. rob is on the bass and it drives Nance absolutely insane, like that's my hot gf!? i'm sweatin'

so, eddie takes pity because they're dinguses who show up to corroded's shows even though it's definitely not their usual scene and he kinda likes them, sometimes. whatever. shows up to the shitty garage of their co-op house and completely crushes the audition, obvi.

they jam for a minute, just casually like, and that's when you roll up. You've got your guitar and are a little shy, ask if this is the audition for the band.

eddie and rob definitely clock steve giving you the once over and how his voice gets all soft and sweet when he tells you that you've got the right place. So you set up and just start tuning up the guitar, maybe some open tuning with some swampy slide guitar into a bit of erruption by eddie van halen? Just a lil' amuse bouche, if you will. and then, because why the fuck not, you launch into purple rain because who doesn't love prince? the mic isn't even set up but that doesn't even matter because they can hear you loud and clear, a belter - who woulda thought?

eddie and steve have never been harder in their goddamn lives. rob can't seem to pick her jaw off the floor. nance is the only one with a functioning brain cell and asks if you'll sing something else for them.

"sure, okay. like as backing vocals or?"

steve scrambles to get you set up with the mic and stand and you ask what kind of vibe they're looking for. steve and rob mumble but you can't seem to catch what they're saying - greenday, jimmy eat world, something corporate, ramones, misfits - and then eddie rolls his eyes and cuts in with, "y'know that pop-punk emo shit?"

steve scratches the back of his neck, twirls a drumstick in his hand. doesn't wanna be the one to push you, or make you uncomfortable, but no one just half-asses purple rain, so he's pretty sure when he says, "i mean, you sound like a singer to me."

you bite your lip because you've never sung for a band before, just backing vocals and guitar mostly. but you're itching to be in another band since your last one splintered apart and they seem like decent enough people.

"i mean, i'll try." you hand your guitar off to eddie and motion for the acoustic propped against the wall behind him. you swap and get set up, strumming a bit as you tune. "if you hear me fuck this up," you say into the mic, "no you didn't."

steve and rob take a seat next to nance on the busted sofa while eddie leans against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his chest, sweetheart resting against his hips. he recognizes the chords and he is very interested in what is about to occur.

it's one of those moments that journalists will ask about for the rest of their careers.

if i should stay, i'd only be in your way (rip chris cornell, you're my fave)

by the end of the song, rob is nearly bouncing in her seat clutching nance's hand so hard while steve just smiles, all blushy and cute because he was right, of course he was, and eddie just shakes his head with a soft laugh.

"soooo." you drawl into the mic, hands flitting nervously against the strings.

steve and rob share a look before clambering off of the sofa to kneel at your feet and pull a wayne's world "we're not worthy." while eddie sidles on up to you and asks, "so, did it hurt?"

"did what hurt?"

"when you fell down the stairway to heaven?"

you sputter the most unattractive laugh, there's definitely a goosehonk in there somewhere (he mentions it every time he tells this story), and that's when they all knew.

you were it for them, they'd found the missing puzzle piece.

[cutthroatcarnifex-ooc]

lumis, jamjar, aestus, gallay, finley, calfuray, miyers, and likyly 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23; 24, 25

For future reference please dont send me so many at once I really get overwhelmed

What memory would your OC rather just forget? Lumiss: Killing Bawurz Jamjar: IDK Aestus: IDK Gallay: IDK Finley: IDK Miyers: Anytime Somati brings up dying Likyly: IDK

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them? Lumiss: She hates killing people Jamjar: She can curse Aestus: She's actually really respectful of her friends boundaries Gallay: He's genuinely a nice person and tries not to be casteist Finley: Angry little shit Miyers: IDK he seems pretty easy to read Likyly: IDK

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw? Lumiss: Already answered Jamjar: IDK Aestus: Refuses to improve herself, stuck in a pity party Gallay: Heavily manufactures his personality to be appealing Finley: Naive and unaware of how vulnerable he is Miyers: resorts to violence first Likyly: Naive?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn? Lumiss: Freeze Jamjar: Freeze Aestus: Fight Gallay: Freeze Finley: Fight Miyers: Fight Likyly: Flee

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want? Lumiss: not far at all Jamjar: normal amount Aestus: gives up instantly Gallay: manipulates pretty far Finley: screaming fit far Miyers: kills Likyly: normal amount

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass? Lumiss: no Jamjar: easy Aestus: hard Gallay: easy Finley: hard Miyers: has none Likyly: hard

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them? Lumiss: Girl now, she's getting an overhaul soon to her storyline Jamjar: nothing, too new Aestus: design different Gallay: nothing, too new Finley: nothing, too new Miyers: capable of feeling emotions actually Likyly: nothing i can think of

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder? Lumiss: yes Jamjar: no Aestus: no Gallay: yes Finley: no Miyers: yes and does frequently Likyly: no

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC? I don't want to do this one.

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC? Ancestor versions basically scratch this itch for me

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it? I'm just gonna give you their strife specibus if they have one Lumiss: Kamakind Jamjar: Spadekind Aestus: would like psionics, isnt able to use them Gallay: Coinkind Finley: don't know yet Miyers: Improvkind/Ducttapekind Likyly: don't know yet

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways? Lumiss: put everything into her moirail and lost her sense of self because of this Jamjar: no Aestus: doesnt take care of herself Gallay: vapes Finley: no Miyers: self-harm straight up Likyly: no

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along? Lumiss: yes Jamjar: yes Aestus: no Gallay: yes Finley: yes Miyers: no Likyly: yes

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters? Lumiss: competent Jamjar: not as a mutant Aestus: lovable Gallay: kind, chill and accepting Finley: scary Miyers: doesnt care Likyly: nice, friendly

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who? No

What is your OC's pain tolerance like? Normal for all but Miyers, and Likyly and Finley who have high pain tolerance

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise? Lumiss: Murdering Bawurz Miyers: Everything with Blood Echo!Somati. Haunted by a doom-magic alter of your presumably dead boyfriend because you broke a promise Gallay: On beforus he is stuck with a cullee he loves but the cullee is constantly starving and he needs to constantly feed him bigger and bigger things . He's going insane from guilt and stress.

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal? Personal for all but Miyers

How does your OC behave when enraged? Lumiss: screams and cries Jamjar: screams Aestus: throws things Gallay: idk yet Finley: screams and hits Miyers: quiet and emotionless Likyly: pouty and angry tears

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest? Lumiss: no Jamjar: yes, manifests as being grumpy Aestus: yeah, shes a hater Gallay: no Finley: yeah, grumpy like jam Miyers: kind of idk Likyly: not really

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it? Lumiss: no Jamjar: no Aestus: chronic migraines, she doesn't handle them Gallay: no Finley: albinism? Miyers: enuncliation of eye, he got used to his lack of depth perception Likyly: albinism?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be? Lumiss: neutral good Jamjar: neutral good Aestus: chaotic neutral Gallay: lawful good Finley: chaotic neutral Miyers: true neutral Likyly: neutral good

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express? Lumiss: already answered Jamjar: idk, concern Aestus: self-hatred, self-hatred Gallay: idk, admitting when he needs help/humility Finley: idk, fear Miyers: grief, grief Likyly: fear, none

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions? See answer to the AU question

What is your favorite thing about your OC? Lumiss: idk Jamjar: cute Aestus: i liek her personality Gallay: i love gallay so much i like his personality and appearence Finley: idk Miyers: little weirdo love him Likyly: one of my babies love her

[lollytea]

I originally started following after the first trolls movie.

You haven't posted trolls in the while and maybe you don't keep up with the media at all.

but if you do, it would scratch an itch in my brain.

What do you think of Guy Diamond's son, Tiny Diamond? Like Jade vs Tiny Diamond is kind of a whiplash huh?

What do you think of branch's brothers????? I'm just so curious b/c ur headcanon content is very tasty to me.

Haha! All of my trolls brainrot has been effectively purged. The kind of things that I'm interested in have varied so far elsewhere that I really can't sink my teeth into this franchise the way I did when I was 19. Its a universe that doesn't really take itself all that seriously and functions on saccharine surrealism, which is fun to watch for an hour and a half, but I can't really get invested in it. Its just not what I vibe with anymore. And if I'm just not interested in staying long in the world the characters inhabit, I'm just not gonna think about it much.

But! I do watch the new trolls movies when they come out, mostly cuz I love Poppy and Branch and its always nice to see them again. I appreciate that they've remained three-dimensional characters throughout all three films, and their wide range of emotions are taken seriously, in spite of the overall goofy tone of the movies. And as I said, the world itself can be fun to sit in for an hour and a half.

Nobody needs to know my overall thoughts on trolls 3. But the short version is that I didn't really like it and will probably never watch it again. But there was a lot of talented designers, writers, animators etc. involved and I like to appreciate the bits of magic they brought to it.

Tiny Diamond is....certainly a bit. His character is just. Being a bit. It's not a bit I find all that funny (baby with a grown man voice), so I really don't feel anything about it. Except for Guy Diamond giving birth out of his head, like the King of the Gods, producing his noble daughter Athena. I feel a lot of indescribable emotions about that.

Diversity win! The trolls franchise has mpreg!

Anyway, point is, Tiny Diamond was the first of MANY characters that the sequel films fired at us. It's made it all feel....a bit crowded. There's just a lot of bitches to keep track of. And they dump all of them out in front of you in the span of one film that it's hard to get particularly attached to any of them.

I don't even have anything to say about Jade, except I was transparently more into the characters than the world when I was 18/19. Jade was an OC that existed (almost) solely in the Human AU. I didn't give a shit about troll Jade obviously. I didn't develop him all that well and have no real emotional attachment to him anymore, so I don't really feel anything about Tiny Diamond becoming his Canon counterpart. Tbh I think it gave me an interesting glance in the mirror. With Jade, I had strayed very very far from the trolls' goofy ridiculous vibe. The introduction of Tiny Diamond was a humbling experience agsbdjnk.

I quite like Branch's brothers! It's the kind of info that makes me wish they revealed Branch had brothers seven years ago when I was going absolutely insane about trolls. I love sibling relationships. I would have had so much fun with it. Like throwing new toys into a baby's playpen.

But unfortunately the info has dropped in 2023 and I am 25. Sad face.

But still, Branch's brothers are neat. I like that their designs are all distinct but they still have the family resemblance you'd expect of brothers. I like that John and Bruce are fat. I like that Clay is all gangly and peaky looking. I like that they're all well meaning but kinda unintentionally dickish for refusing to acknowledge Branch as anything but a baby. I like that Floyd was a very sweet nurturing big brother and Branch still has a soft spot for him twenty years later. I like that Floyd is a twink. Yippee.

I think Bruce is my favourite, mostly cuz I had the most fun during his segment of the film. I love the puppet land. I love his big puppet wife and puppet children.

To be honest, as soon as I finished watching the movie, I began losing memories of it at a rapid rate. This is just what I remember. Okay byeeee <33

[wifiwuxians]

sent here by aoxue lol

Songxue + spy x family au?

HELLO i was literally just typing this up under her post so it's great you came to me! i've added xxc to it too i hope that's ok? also, for anyone reading this and wanting some kind of spy/assassin-esque story...

please read fairy fish by pomegranites (SO SORRY I KNOW YOU HAVE A TUMBLR BUT I CAN'T REMEMBER THE URL RIGHT NOW </3), it is songxiao but they're assassins and AQ and XY are there too being SUPER cute, we had the privilege of getting it for SL Love Week! it might scratch the itch!

but now...

keep in mind i am riffing here. I have not consumed this media!! but it's a good premise!!! SL and XY get paired together for their cover story, with SL being the cool and handsome spy tasked with observing his tricky target and XY being his, um, wife. more on that in a moment. their perfect angel child sent from heaven (A-Qing) is a mischievous little squirt with a sharp wit and the power to read minds, but she keeps it very well hidden. she fears rejection and abandonment (reader do you sense a theme in my AUs) if they were to find out. it makes her a good judge of character, though. she often bites XY when he gets too close to her.

SL didn't really want to fall into the spy business. it's antithetical to the just and righteous morals he grew up believing in, but personal tragedy and an increasing lack of faith in the justice system and heads of government led him down that path. he tells himself he's doing it for the sake of his country and the good of all people and leaves it at that. he tries to be genuinely affectionate to A-Qing, because he thinks she's fantastic even though she's trouble, and he tries to keep her on the right path. thing is, affection isn't really his forte. fortunately for him, A-Qing knows how he feels about her.

XY is in it for the possibility of bloodshed. he's been told he has license to kill if things go sour for whatever reason, so while he is strongly encouraged to ensure things do not, in fact, go sour, he's sort of always hoping they do. like SL, personal tragedy has set him down this path in life, only he acts purely out of need for catharsis as opposed for any love for his nation. as a result, A-Qing thinks he's scary, even though she's conflicted because he does genuinely like her, biting aside (he sort of finds it funny, actually).

XY is not at all keen on playing the role of doting wife and mother, and SL respects that, and doesn't demand any of that at home. XY does what he has to in public, but at home is his authentic self; a man. (hits you with transgender beam). the arrangement suits him just fine, since SL is not affectionate and is actually rather detached, and he can just horse around with A-Qing without the added pressure of responsibility, completely neglecting the thought that she might want an actual family.

XXC enters the scene as A-Qing's dazzling, sweet, gentle, enthusiastic homeroom teacher. he is everything A-Qing wants in her life and she knows he has a soft spot for her specifically. SL is smitten with him the moment he meets him, tripping over his words in the most unprofessional way possible and adopting a sort of softness towards him in future encounters that resembles how he behaves with his daughter. XY is baffled and honestly? pretty damn hurt. he didn't mind detached cold SL because he figured he was like that with everyone except the squirt, and now here he is falling for some goody two shoes glorified babysitter when he's meant to have a wife? PLEASE! his thoughts get scary for a stint and A-Qing kicks him in the shins repeatedly, and that clues him into the fact that she has powers, though he doesn't ask for fear of sounding insane. SL is very confused at the home dynamic that develops from this, and everything hangs in the balance. XY finds that XXC is disarming, and hates himself for not being able to commit to hating him fully (and less as time goes on). SL has to battle with this newfound attraction and the fact he is a married man, even if it's all for show; especially because he's started to develop a soft spot for his spouse.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

I though to myself “what kind of insane or wholesome thing should I ask for?” And landed on something up your alley: werewolf Dan going grrrrr on some people who try hurt human Max (could be a non driver au!). Bonus for some werewolf Pierre and human Charles being friends and coming to help? Idk, memories of teen wolf are banging around in my head like a DVD logo on screen. Dan being possessive in a healthy way! Max loving it! Piarles love! Idk, love them werewolves!!! (please tell me if this is too much)

Vicsy, my friend. I'm sorry this took me so long. I had a long think.

This actually is going to be a little scene pre - and it's coming closer. Just for you. So have a drabble from werewolf Pierre fic. It's a bit different, but I hope it scratches the itch.

Also, I guess Spoilers for my own damn fic.

Max could protect himself. Daniel was intimately familiar with all of the ways Max could protect himself.

He had a scar on his ribcage from...one of those enthusiastic protections.

It's just that...Max is making him wait for something and Daniel is like...fine with that. Something to do with their pack and the whole reason Max is here and blah blah blah. Danny knows it's important.

But right now. right now. Max is wearing one of those open shirts and he's dancing underneath the lights and it's touching all of his skin in the places that Danny is only allowed to look at and never touch.

Not yet.

Not until whatever Max is waiting on happens.

Danny trusts him and he trusts Pierre and he can be a very very patient man - he has been - but the thing that's cracking that patience tonight is that Daniel is under the impression that Max still knows that he is his.

Max might not be Danny's right now, might not be in his bed, but he's not in anyone else's.

Danny certainly isn't in anyone else's.

"Hey," Pierre bumps their shoulders together. "I knew bringing you two out this close was stupid, but get it together, yeah? You can't go wolfie in here."

"That guy is touching him." Danny grits out. "He's got his fucking -"

"Daniel." Pierre bites, pointing outside, but Daniel is already going, shoving through people to get out the back door, abandoning Pierre when he should be protecting him.

His breathing is hard and Pierre was right. He has no business being in this bar - not when it smells like sex and desire and Max. Everywhere smelling like Max. People smelling like they want Max.

The metal door slams shut behind him and Daniel gulps in the air - feeling the moon pressing down on him.

This was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a way to keep them all in check - let them burn off some of that energy that makes them a bit crazy this close to the moon - and Danny has ruined it by being two seconds away from -

Danny is leaning against the dumpster and it smells so awful and overwhelming, but it's clearing his head of Max. Or that's what he tells himself when he hears the backdoor open and he spins.

"Danny," Max is saying his name before he's even out the door, but he doesn't look mad - just soft. Sweat still dripping off his body and Danny can definitely smell all of that - can smell everything and it's really not helping with the moon and the -

Until he catches a whiff of that other guy - his scent all over Max so Danny puts up a hand, can't stand to have him this close.

"You are being very silly," Max says with a raised eyebrow. "You know I don't -"

"No, Max." Danny bites out, anger and frustration bleeding through. "I don't know because all I know is that I have to wait and -"

Max steps right into his space, hands on his face and it all melts away because all Danny can see is blue and all he can smell is Max and all he can feel is want.

It's not often that Max gets close enough to him for Danny to feel the bond between them, but he feels it now and it's like every other time - like the moon no longer has any say over Danny. Only Max. Only ever Max.

The bond between them flickers and it's enough that Danny can feel it - can feel how Max was dancing with that man and thinking about Danny's hands on him. How he only wanted Danny there. How he waits on Danny everyday. How he consults the gods for -

"Someone is coming," Danny whispers eyes wide. "Someone -"

"For Pierre." Max smiles before tipping his head forward to rest on Danny's collarbone. "After he comes." Max whispers. "That's what you're waiting on. When he comes, you and I get to -"

Danny wraps his arms around Max, tucking his face into his hair. "You don't have to tell me more. I know how it works."

Max breathes him in deeply and another flicker of something comes through - desire and trust. The feeling of being protected.

Danny can wait.

Danny can be patient.

"Soon," Max kisses Danny's jaw as he pulls away. "Thank you for wanting to protect my honor from that very ridiculous man, but you can go and run it off now. I promise, the only man I'm going home with is Lando and he won't try anything with me."

"He's too afraid you'll turn him into a toad." Danny laughs, trying to pin Max's quick fingers before they can pinch him in retaliation.

"I am not that kind of witch, Daniel." Max huffs and Danny releases him.

"Soon." Danny confirms.

Max raises a shaky hand to Danny's cheek. Love. It's love that comes through. "Soon."

[silvernyxa]

Ooooooh I read through the Luv on TV posts and I am HOOKED. Have you written a fic or anything anywhere? It's soooooo good and I'd like to see more!!

unfortunately theres no fic! doing a full fic for this AU would like actually take me forever to write, but i might end up doing little snippets here and there!

in the meantime, tho, here's some of my initial notes 👍

Patrick and Joe still meet in Borders, but all talk of starting a new pop punk band is just that. All talk. Fall Out Boy, before it’s even called Fall Out Boy, dies right then and there. Patrick doesn’t end up sharing his demos, doesn’t meet Pete Wentz, isn’t cajoled into becoming a singer. 

Without a band to focus on, Patrick goes on with his life. He graduates, goes off to college, graduates again, and he finds himself back in Chicago living in a shitty apartment working a shitty retail job because it turns out, there’s kind of nothing to do with an English degree. 

It gets to the point where the only conversations Patrick’s really having is small talk with customers and clipped reassurances to his mother that he’s fine, yes he’s eating his vegetables, he’ll come see her next weekend maybe and yeah he kind of does need help paying rent. 

Maybe some of the wires in Patrick’s brain are a little crossed, or his morals are a bit looser than the average person’s, or perhaps he’s just gone crazy from standing at a register all day- whatever the reason, Patrick makes the very logical conclusion that to solve his social problem, he needs to steal a dead body. 

Patrick’s the kind of guy who just knows weird shit because his mind is constantly searching for something to scratch that itch for knowledge and the depths of the internet is a wonderful place for that sort of thing.

Patrick is also the kind of guy (or, he likes to think of himself as the kind of guy) who can learn anything he sets his mind out to. Drums, trumpet, foreign languages, coding, how to break into a morgue, how to get bloodstains out of your carpet before your landlord sees, you name it. There’s a plethora of online forums that Patrick has to make sure to clear from his search history or better yet he ought to just destroy his whole laptop. 

His robot’s kind of a weird guy. Patrick doesn’t know if it could even be considered a robot. He’s just…weird. He’s not got the best control over his body. He seems to be insanely freaked out by small moving creatures, so Patrick has to keep scaring off the feral alley cats that gather on his fire escape. He doesn’t sleep and sometimes just sits there staring at Patrick, quietly watching, his screen flickering in the dark of the night, both alive and dead at the same time.

But Patrick likes him anyways. There’s nobody else in the world who can keep up with him, match for match, when it comes to quoting 80s movies (it definitely helps that he’s, like, basically a walking talking computer) He doesn’t get annoyed in the way other people tend to do when Patrick goes off on a ramble, and even seems actually interested to hear what he’s got to say. He treats Patrick’s shitty GarageBand tunes like they’ve been composed by fucking Mozart and the impressions don’t piss him off, either, and he doesn’t leave. He stays and he lights up when Patrick gets home from work and asks how his day was and it’s fucking nice, so yeah, Patrick likes him.

[storm-leviosa-fanfics]

5!!

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oooooooh. okay this is actually tricky bc i have negative impulse control and will write down anything that comes into my head it's just a matter of whether i actually finish/post it.

There's an installment of the pony club au that i could write if the people who actually read that wanted something super angsty but it would completely destroy me. it would not be a healthy fic for me to write and it is not an itch i want to scratch.

in my notes app i also have written down 'one day i should write a text-fic for yj' and that is a terrible idea and i will never do it. i can read as many text/chat fics as i like but i will never write one. if you want to imagine one, it would definitely be the version of yj in the pony club au that pull all kinds of stupid shenanigans and would definitely all go to the same uni when they grow up just so they can live together in the most insane student house (i would not want to live in that student house).

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Misty, chapter viii

chapter i | chapter ii | chapter iii | chapter iv | chapter v | chapter vi | chapter vii | chapter viii | chapter ix | chapter x

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit (whole thing)

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Snowman!Ezra x f!reader (monsterfucker au)

Tags: it’s basically monster fucking but with a snowman which could technically be classified as a monster i guess?, gothic horror kind of, sorrow, dementia, anxiety, dog murder, masturbation, Frankie thirst, pet murder, racism mention, huge age gap, implied possible sexual abuse of minor, spookiness, PiV sex with an actual snowman, possible hallucinations, hypothermia, Frankie yearning, the spookiness continues, More dog murder and implied sexual abuse of a minor, implied illegal abortion, adulterous kissing, lots of crying.

Chapter warnings in addition to the above mentioned: Further mention of implied predatory behaviour.

Summary: Escaping your empty apartment after having been dumped by your fiancé, you rent a cottage at Oakgrove House over Christmas to nurse your wounds. But strange things seem to happen at the estate, where an old woman wanders around in search of old friends long gone, and snowmen appear as if by themselves on the lawn…

Chapter word count: 3,021

Tagging: @harriedandharassedsed @paulalikestuff @pazizz @lovesbiggerthanpride (let me know if you want in)

Keep falling. I'll find you.

His whisper settles around your skin like a prayer. His lips are cold against yours. His one arm is around you as he leads you out on the ledge. A feral glint in his eyes, a conceited smirk on his ruggedly handsome face, a little nudge - and you fall.

You jerk awake, nauseous the minute you leave the heavy, sick sleep you had fallen into after your breakdown on the couch. Your body is aching, itching, sweaty and shivering at the same time, and your head feels like someone has transplanted a cast iron cauldron inside the bone. You blink sluggishly against the bright embers that remain of the fire, then see how they reflect in the water on the floor.

Damn it.

Exhaustion is making your limbs heavy, and you have no idea how you'll be able to get up and wipe the floor dry from your little tantrum. Not to mention what the upstairs must look like.

You shiver and close your eyes to fight the nausea. You have no idea what happened last night, but you must have dreamed it all. The other explanation is too wild, too much like a dark fairy tale to be true. There simply is no way that a possessed snowman came up those stairs and fucked you. It must have been some insane dream, one that made you sleepwalk and open the window to let in the falling snow. The melted snow on the stairs was from Frankie's boots.

Frankie. How will you be able to look him in the eye again? Maybe you don't even have to: you're leaving tomorrow. You can just hide in the cottage until then. You groan as the shame makes bile rise in your throat, and you manage to heave yourself up from the couch and stagger to the bathroom. Bent over the porcelain bowl, you give in to the cramps of a stomach expelling its contents, but nothing comes up, and you sink down on the cold tile floor.

You want to make sense of the things Olga told you this morning, but you're afraid to go there. It's too sad, too upsetting, to think of that 16-year-old girl, enthralled by a dashing stranger twice her age, getting into the only kind of trouble that sort of relationship could lead to, then having to kill her beloved dog for him to even deign to help her deal with it. It's sickening.

Does her family even know? Not that it's your business to tell them, no, you would never talk about this to anyone, but it would be horrible if the old woman had gone all her life without ever telling anyone. And why would she tell you of all people?

The scratching on the inside of your ribcage is driving you mad, the pressure on your sternum is making it hard to breathe. Somehow, you realize that you're spiraling towards a panic attack, and that you have to ward it off, so you get off the floor, take deep breaths, and walk into the kitchen. Your hands need something to do, your brain needs a distraction. Strong, sweet tea seems to be the way of Oakgrove House, so you put the kettle on and fish out a bag of Earl Grey from the jar on the counter. There is no honey, but you find a bag of sugar. Sitting by the kitchen table, you sip your tea and gradually calm down as the beverage seems to spread warmth and sweetness not only in your belly but also in your veins. You look at the clock on the kitchen wall and discover that it is late afternoon. A glance through the window tells you that it has finally stopped snowing, and the short December day has already ended. It's not dark, however: the moon is casting its silvery light on the snow-covered world. It's almost as light as the daytime and seems even lighter, since there is no snowfall to cloud the view. You see warm yellow lights in the distance, telling you which windows are lit in the main house.

The snowman on the lawn is still gone. You wonder if it was ever there.

The tea revived you strangely, so you get up and start to clean the floor. Going methodically, you soon have the living-room floor dried off. Taking one step at a time, you work your way to the second floor, and the bedroom.

You stop when you see the bed. The sheets are still damp, and there are bits of wet branches and frozen garden on your pillow. Brown straws and moist moss that smell of forests in the fall are spread over the tangled sheets, bringing the ghost of Ezra's popsicle kisses to your lips. You pick up some of the remains, touch them to your lips, smell them, before throwing them back onto the sheet and gathering it up. Opening the window, you let the sheet out of it, and beat it forcefully several times, before taking it back in and closing the window. The sheets are now damp only. You strip the bed, wipe the floor, and leave the laundry in the basket in the bathroom, as instructed by Denise when you signed the rental contract.

Your phone is on the bedside table. It's low on battery, so you connect it to the charger, and look over the text messages you've received. Most of them are from your parents, the rest have been sent by friends. They all say the same: are you okay, what are you doing, where are you, please respond, Merry Christmas! You reply to them all with the same I'm fine. Been out walking and then sleeping before ignoring the missed calls from your mother. You let the phone stay silent, even turn off the data, and leave it on the nightstand. You have no interest in talking to anyone or seeing any more messages.

Beginning to feel more like a functional adult, you prepare a simple meal for yourself, relight the fire in the fireplace, and eat while watching the flames consume the logs, plate balanced on your thighs.

"Well, merry Christmas," you tell yourself, wishing in the same moment that you had just kept your mouth shut. The quiet little greeting to yourself sounds lonely in the empty room, perhaps even more so with the fire crackling cozily.

Your eyes start to wander over the spines of the books in the little bookcase next to the couch. The classics are all there, well-thumbed paperback copies from decades ago, along with some newer bestsellers, probably left by earlier tenants. A few field guides to North American wildflowers, fishes, and birds. One thick, older tome of birds, no doubt with drawings instead of photographs. Putting the dinner plate to the side, you stand up and pick out the older bird book. You never were that good at identifying birds, and living in a city, you mostly just saw pigeons, ducks in the park, and various corvids picking at the trash on the streets. Opening the book, you browse through it, admiring the beautifully painted drawings of small birds as well as bigger ones, read little snippets of information about the robin, grackle, and common shelduck. Turning the page, you find the Turdus merula, or common blackbird, and with it, an envelope.

Albeit unremarkable and unmarked, the envelope is not empty or sealed. Hesitating for a moment, you eventually decide to take out the once-folded paper inside.

It is a letter, and it is dated in September but lacks a year.

Dear E,

I will expect you at Christmas. Thank you. Your Blackbird.

After that simple message follows a poem, and you realize that it's the same one you heard in your strange summertime dream, the one in which you could see Olga as a young girl read for Ezra. Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall...

It's heart-breaking, this little note from a young girl to her first love. You wonder if Ezra ever even got it. And if he did, why did he leave it behind? Where did he go, and what promises did he make about returning?

Your imagination is running wild. Ezra, a feral predator smelling fresh blood, seduces the rich, protected daughter of the house, gets her pregnant, forces her to have an abortion and to drown her own dog to make sure she'll never talk, then leaves her with false promises of returning for Christmas. You yourself were a love-struck teenager once, yearning for the big romantic love story that you had been assured by media and society would soon befall upon you, and you can just imagine what the torture of waiting.

"Where the fuck did you go, you asshole?" you mutter to yourself, closing the book but keeping the letter. "What did you do?"

Putting the papers back into the envelope, you fan your face with it as your anger rises.

"Men are such shit jerks," you say out loud, remembering Sandra Bullock's inability to call out her incompetent coworkers in some action comedy. "Just shit jerks. Shit jerk dick fucker assholers."

Suddenly filled with holy rage, you leave the letter on the coffee table, pull on your outerwear, and go out in the garden.

"Where are you?" you call out into the night. "Where are you when I actually need you?"

There is no trace of the snowman, but you feel the change in the temperature, and when you grab a handful of snow, it forms easily into a ball. With an almost manic sense of purpose, you start to roll a body from the snow in the front garden of the cottage. Fueled by anger, you quickly proceed to the second ball and, eventually, the third. There is no longer any chance of digging up anything from the lawn that would serve to model your snowman's face, but you form ears and a nose for it, and make indentations to suggest eye sockets.

It is a poor substitute, but it is something you can punch as you start screaming at it.

"Why? You fucking child molester, why?" You kick at the soft mass of white where the crotch would be, finding grim satisfaction in the total annihilation of the area, before hitting the face until the head falls off. You proceed to kicking at it in the snow before stomping on it until pressed into the ground.

"What on earth are you doing?"

You turn around and see Olga standing in the wet snow, rubber boots on her feet but no coat. Catching your breath, you lean towards what is left of the snowman. The old woman's blank face tells you that she is once again trapped in some past that you so unwillingly have been granted glints of, and you don't know whether or not it's a good thing.

"Olga..."

"He came to you last night, did he not?" she accuses, her voice filled with envy and sadness. "He came to you but not to me."

"I didn't want him to," you defend yourself. "I don't want anything to do with him!"

"I told him not to come back, it was too dangerous for him here. Every Christmas I waited for a sign, and he built me a snowman so that I would know he had been here..." Olga's voice trails off as she moves closer. Reaching the beheaded snowman, she caresses her bare hand over what would be its shoulders.

"Poor Ezra... dear, poor Ezra..."

"There's nothing poor about him," you object weakly. "He was a terribly person."

You might as well be speaking to the dead balls of snow between you two, because Olga does not react to you at all. She keeps patting what remains of the snowman, mumbling to it. You just watch in exasperation while you fight the urge to grab her by the shoulders and just shake her out of this misplaced grief, shake some anger into her instead.

You snap out of it when you realize that she's not wearing a coat.

"Olga," you say, now with a gentle voice, "why don't we go back in?"

There is no reaction, so you try again. "Olga?"

Her head snaps up and she stares at you, fear and shame shining in her eyes, like she has been caught doing something bad. You try to present a friendly smile to settle her, but she regards you with such suspicion that it almost makes you feel guilty for something you have not done.

"I don't want to go back to him," she pleads. "Don't make me go back there."

"You never have to go back to him," you promise, taking a tentative step towards her. "He can't hurt you anymore."

"Mother and father didn't know. I couldn't tell them." A tear runs down her wrinkled face, and your heart aches for her.

"I know," you nod. "Olga, it's okay. You're safe, but you need to go back inside."

"That's where he is!" she yells, agitated and retreating when you try to get closer. Not wanting to scare her, you stand back, a little lost as to what to do. Your phone is upstairs so you can't call Denise without leaving Olga. You have a feeling that if you turn your back at her, she'll be gone, just like the ghosts that haunt her mind.

"Olga," you try, "what would you like to do?"

She frowns, as if trying to remember, and you choose your following words carefully:

"Would you... like me to help you with something?"

Olga hesitates for a moment, before nodding.

"Yes."

"What can I help you with?"

She blinks and looks around her, as if looking for the right words in the snow around her.

"Find... find him. Find Ezra. Tell him to come back and take me away from here."

"Mom!"

Denise comes running from the main house, another woman in tow. You guess it's one of the sisters. Olga seems disoriented and frightened, but you close the small distance between the two of you, and take her hand.

"It's going to be alright, Olga," you tell her just as Denise and her sister reach you.

"Oh my God, thank you!" Denise pants, taking off her coat and putting it over Olga's hunched shoulders. You mumble a reply and nod at the sister, but both she and Denise are too busy fussing over their mother to do any introductions. It suits you well, and as soon as the trio are on their way back home, you return inside the cottage and head straight for the fireplace to rekindle the embers and load more wood into it. When the crackling flames are licking the sticks and logs, you stand up, at a loss for what to do. Turning around, you regard the bookcase for a moment before stepping up to it.

Something about what Olga said has sown a seed a suspicion and doubt in you. That disoriented sadness of hers in combination with her words; it just did not add up. Something was telling you that there was more to this than you initially thought. You still had no idea what had happened last night, but it had felt real and moreover: you had not been afraid. You had been calm, aroused, curious. You had enjoyed it, whether or not it really happened or was only the queerest of wet dreams. The snowman that you had come to call Ezra was not a threat. Ezra was not a threat.

Methodically, you start to pull out the books and check each and every one of them for more letters, notes, cards, any little thing that would tell you more, tell you that Ezra got what he deserved, that Olga had a happy, healthy life until dementia decided to throw her right back into her adolescence and the abuse that she was subject to.

An atlas of North America finally yields something: a card drops out, and another one is pressed between the old pages. You pick up the card and retire to the couch with it and the atlas. The card shows the rather boring-looking main street of a small town in Arkansas. Frowning, you turn the card but find that it is empty, save for Olga's name and address, scribbled by a hand that knows how to write elegantly, but lacks the time. You put the card to the side and pull out the next one. Another dime a dozen small town postcard, this time from Nevada. Nothing written on it except the same name and address, in the same hand. You browse through the atlas and find three more cards, all of the similar kind. Looking at the pages where you found them, you see that each page corresponds to the place the card was sent from: Arkansas, Nevada, Montana, North Carolina, California...

You get up and fetch your phone from the bedroom and turn on the data. Googling the names of the towns, you soon realize that they all have one thing in common: they are, or have been, mining communities. Each one has a gemstone mine of some kind.

You chew your lower lip in contemplation. There is nothing that suggests that these cards are from Ezra, but the post stamps are from the 1950's, which would correspond with Olga's age, and you just have a feeling. You are not exactly Miss Marple, nor did you ever aspire to be, but you know you are onto something here. These cards are from Ezra, and they are his way of signing to Olga of his whereabouts. Her parents did not approve, Olga had said the other day. Had Ezra written a single word of greeting on these cards, they would have been intercepted by her stuck-up parents.

But why are the cards here? And are there more?

You realize that have seen a hatch in the ceiling above the second-floor landing. The cottage has an attic, and the attic is where old secrets go to die.

[princess-of-the-corner]

something about my william

he tried beign a good father, he truly loved his children.

he was also originally hesitent about the children killing. but due to losing his children, he let go of that doubt

and he was also sad when he heard sammy died.

and with charlies death, that was a complete accident, and he was freaking out when her dead body dropped to the ground that he just dropped her in a small corner and fled.

despite being a serial killer and such, deep down, hes a coward, a scared traumatized child.

now note, THIS DOES NOT EXCUSE ANY OF WHAT HES DONE. at first he was doubtful of the plan as well, but through the years he began to lose his mind, lose himself.

cause something about remenant in my au, is that it does make you immortal, but has side efefcts, and the more you have, the worse they become.

and william is filled with a lot of remenant, though nora is filled with the max, which is why shes become so insane, as she wasnt always that insane, but the killing of sammy was still just her.

but with william he wasnt....that fully gone, like he couldnt come back gone.

which is where him being trapped in fnaf world comes from, hes stuck there and has no way of coming back to his home, and he has to accept it, but no one knows him here, and its sort of like a second chance, he also notices that hes...not as insane as he used to be, so maybe, just maybe, he can be a good person?

OOF

Okay SO.

For my William:

He was always a bit murdery. That urge to kill was always there. But he reined it in and tried to be a good person. For a long time.

Then Sammy happened.

And while he had kept it to just one, the urge was stronger now. He mitigated it with his projects. Potential ways of killing that he could get away with. But he never acts on. It doesn't make the urge go away, but it scratches the itch enough.

Then Evan and Elizabeth die. The latter being because of him and his projects and becoming a Ghost.

And with him already kind of looking for an excuse to kill again......

Inbetween the initial five murders and what happens in Silver Eyes, he actually doesn't do much if any murdering. It's actually a bit more looking into Ghosts. Wondering why Elizabeth and the others became Ghosts but Evan didn't. Occasionally popping back into Hurricane under the 'night guard' disguise to check out the old location. (he doesn't stop by his old workshop. People might see him. And he doesn't want to face Elizabeth.).

The events of Silver Eyes happen, and oh boy he can't resist that much potential animatronic-themed murder. But Charlie manages to kill him instead.

Now.

Ghosts in my AU? Have Obsessions. Something that they are, well, obsessed with. So that ramps all of his murderous tendencies up to 11.

[unvoluntaryauthor]

Alright, so this has been in my head since forever—like, all the way back when My Hero Academia first started. Now that it’s over, I think it’s finally time to bring this idea to life. I’m calling this AU "The Ruins of Society Gather Together" (or just "Ruins" for short). Imagine a world where the villains actually win... but not in the way you might expect.

Let me be honest: I stopped watching MHA at some point, so most of this is based on my own headcanons and ideas, plus bits and pieces I’ve picked up from TikTok and fandom posts about the War Arc. This AU is more like my own dive into what I think is going on in the villains' minds. Like, they’re amazing characters, don’t get me wrong, but I think there's so much that was left unexplored with them, you know?

We all know why the League of Villains became who they are. We know their backstories, their goals, and their pain. But sometimes I feel like they could’ve taken a different path—a way that stayed true to their motives but hit even harder. I’m not saying I can "improve" on the League of Villains or rewrite them "better" than the creator, because that would be ridiculous and honestly disrespectful. It’s more like... I just want to see a different version, a version that digs even deeper into the kind of twisted, complex world they inhabit.

So, yeah! That’s the vibe. This AU is purely for fun, just my take on things. Let’s dive in and see where Ruins takes us.

…..

Alright, so hear me out—I feel like it makes zero sense for All For One to just let Shigaraki sit around gaming all the time. Like, that doesn’t fit his whole “evil mastermind” vibe. Maybe he’d let him play, sure, but only if Shigaraki was using those skills for something bigger. Imagine if, instead of just gaming, Shigaraki was this intense, high-level hacker. He’d have all this insane computer knowledge and be able to dig up every little scrap of info that the heroes try to keep hidden online. That way, any classified files, strategies, or secrets would be totally at his mercy. The heroes would think their files were safe, but Shigaraki would have it all at his fingertips, twisting their own data against them.

Shigaraki himself? He wouldn’t be that different personality-wise. He’d still be the edgy, chaotic gamer we saw in season one and two. But now, he’s *smarter—not in a social or emotional way, but in terms of raw intelligence. He’d still see his battles as a game, just like someone playing League of Legends. Only now, while the heroes are playing chess, he’s out there dominating at checkers, using his skills to stay a step ahead. The heroes would be strategizing, thinking they’re so clever, and meanwhile, Shigaraki’s wrecking them at his own game. I think he had so much more potential to be this kind of scary-smart threat early on, but he didn’t get a chance to show it because All For One just let him drift along, and that doesn’t feel like something All For One would actually allow.

Like, remember how petty and manipulative All For One is? He didn’t just let Shigaraki be his own person. He took his quirk at birth, gave him a new one, and basically turned him into a weapon. The guy manipulated Shigaraki’s entire life, even making him accidentally destroy his family to mold him into the Shigaraki we know. That’s not someone who’d just sit back and let Shigaraki do whatever he wanted.

I don’t think Shigaraki would be overpowered, either—not in the traditional sense. He’d still struggle with hand-to-hand combat, and he’d still be that skinny, frail guy he was in the first seasons. But I’d add some side effects to his quirk that’d make things a bit more real for him. First off, his skin would be super dry, which explains why he’s always scratching himself. He’d need some special cream to soothe the itch, but he’d still be irritated and uncomfortable most of the time. And then, he’d have trouble maintaining body fat, which is why he’s all skin and bones when we first meet him. This would also mean he’d always be freezing, hence the long sleeves and sweaters he wears even when he’s inside. It makes him feel a little more human, a little more vulnerable—like, he’s powerful but not invincible.

[inu-mxki]

it’s nice to have a friend / tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

a/n: i just wanted to write for shiggy. that’s all ♡

warnings: college au, slight suggestive content in one part (if you look real hard), mentions of bullying

word count: 2056

There wasn’t an exact moment in time that he could pinpoint when it began. It just kind of appeared one day, this warm, fluttering feeling, then it made a home in his chest and never left. From then on, he felt it every time he was in the same room as you, like it was so powerful everyone else could sense it too. He couldn’t explain it, people either avoided him or picked on him for his skin condition, chose to make him feel gross and alienated over anything else. He steered clear of the common areas, didn’t take up any extra activities and lived in his dorm room when class wasn’t on. Tomura Shigaraki was strange, a weirdo, they said, and no one wanted to get too close to him.

But you did.

Pretty. That was the first thing he thought when he saw you, smiling at him with your books to your chest, asking if the seat beside him was free. He nodded, silently, in awe that someone as beautiful as you wanted to be next to him. Had he seen you before? Surely he’d have noticed you out of a crowd, he’d never seen someone like you before, and your perfume, it was so sweet that his palms started to sweat and his voice locked in his throat. You’d asked him for a pencil, and he momentarily froze when you leaned closer to him to whisper it, the itching on his neck becoming so intense he had no choice but to scratch.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, shakily getting the pencil from his bag, and handing it you. Then you smiled again, taking it from him so gently with a soft ‘thank you, Tomura.’

You knew his name? How? He wasn’t even sure you went to this university. Just who were you, had he finally gone insane and started imagining things? But still, you turned up, sitting next to him, making small talk about the subject, and laughing at his attempts to make a joke. And it was genuine, a genuine sound of happiness that left you, and his heart began to swell at the sound of it, and soon enough those lessons were his favourite.

He found out a lot about you, how you really were a student at this university, and that you were the same age as him, and the reason you’d wandered into his life some time back was because you’d change one of your extra-curricular classes. You’d tell him things so casually, things that someone would say to a best friend maybe, things he didn’t quite know how to answer but loved all the same.

“Do you like this colour on my nails? I was unsure about it, but I think it’s growing on me. What do you think?”

“I-it’s nice.”

Small things, like how you just started walking with him to class each morning, running up to him and going on about your night, asking him about his, what he likes to do in his spare time and if he had any hobbies.

“I like gaming,” he muttered to you one day, “I have a lot of games.”

“Oh, really? You’ll have to show me one day.”

Tomura thought that if he was going to wake up, it was going to be in that moment.

Then one Saturday night you were coming over, to his dorm, which he’d cleaned so thoroughly he spent the entire day doing so. He got snacks, but one of each flavour because he didn’t know what you liked and was scared in case you’d leave if it wasn’t right. You turned up at the door, beaming at him with a bag of more goodies, letting yourself in like you’d been there a hundred times over.

“I got two of each flavour,” you said, “in case you didn’t like one of them.”

He’s dreaming. It’s just a really, really, long dream.

He’d set out the games for you to see, nervously telling you about each one and then saying immediately afterwards “but it’s fine if you don’t want to play that one.” You were just happy he was sharing something with you. Tomura had caught your eye a long time ago, but you didn’t want to approach him out of the blue, so took your chance when you were transferred to his class. He just seemed so sweet, misunderstood, and you were aching to get to know who he really was on the inside. Tomura was cute, and the crush you had on him was astronomical.

“I like the sound of that one,” you told him, pointing one out, “let’s play it.”

When he didn’t answer for a moment, and just stared directly at you, you feared it was perhaps the wrong choice until his little, raspy voice spoke up.

“That’s my favourite.”

Turns out Tomura really likes take out pizza, and chocolate milkshake, and has a mini fridge full of fizzy drinks. He likes video games and anime and has a picture of his family by the bed. Tomura Shigaraki like’s it when you come over to play games with him, he likes it when you laugh so hard you lean on his shoulder, he likes it when you talk, when you tap your pen on the desk, when you offer him the last Oreo and when you say his name.

“Tomura.” It’s all he hears now, it’s all he wants to hear now, but he’s so afraid that you’ll run at the first sign of his feelings. He has a friend, someone who chooses to spend time with him, he can’t ruin it because he’s fallen in love with you. And good Lord, does Tomura Shigaraki love you. He’s memorised the way your eyes crease when you smile, how you like your tea, your toast, what menu items you pick out for lunch, the way you nibble at your lip in concentration, the way you wear his favourite colour on your nails.

One night it got so late, it wasn’t good for you to walk back. He offered you to stay, as you were snuggled against his arm and concentrating on the game before you, not really registering that you were so close to him. You said yes, you’d like that, and his face burned a furious red, and then you giggled, and his palms were sweaty again, and his neck was itching so bad he had to satisfy it. Not once had you mentioned his skin, or called his hobbies weird, not once did you shun him, move away from his touch, from his company. Even when you paused the game and looked up at him to accept his offer, you smiled at him and then nuzzled more into his arm. His chest was on fire, the controller almost slipping out of his hands when you threw yours down the bed and wrapped your arms around his.

“I like being with you, Tomu.”

“You do?” he said, his voice that usual soft tone, but now it was shaking a little.

“Yeah, dummy,” you chuckle, and he felt it against him, “I like being with you. I like doing things with you. I just, like you, Tomu.”

His finger slipped and pressed a button he didn’t want to, and the game was over, and you were still hugging him and nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. He cleared his throat, throwing the controller down to meet yours. He was quiet for a long moment.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, scratching at his hands, “don’t you think I’m, you know, weird? O-or gross, or something.”

You moved away from him a little, shuffling to face him directly, and your eyes were full of sadness suddenly, and then your hand was on his, stopping the aggressive scratching.

“Is that what you think? That you’re weird, and gross? Tomura, that’s... that’s so wrong.”

You had such a nice voice, so soft and gentle towards him, thumb lightly rubbing his knuckles, not flinching because of the dryness. He swallowed thickly, not knowing how to answer that when you shuffled even closer to him, pulling his hand into your lap.

“No, I don’t think you’re weird, and I certainly don’t think you’re gross,” you told him, “actually, I think you’re rather kind, and passionate, and sweet,” you paused before you finished, a clear thought hanging around your head, “and I think you’re really pretty, Tomura.”

“Pretty,” he rasped, and your mouth curled into a smile.

“Yeah,” you whispered, moving even closer, so close that your body was pressed against him. Your hand untangled from his, and gently, you moved his powdery blue hair from his face.

“But my skin,” he murmured, eyes searching yours for some kind of answer, “it’s-”

“Just needs some love and attention,” you tell him softly, being as gentle as possible when your fingers graze his face for the first time, “it’s part of you, Tomu, and I like all of you. Even the bits you don’t.”

This is dream. This is not real, any moment now I’m going to wake up.

“I like you,” you repeat, “very much, actually.”

You’re so close now, so close he could kiss you, like, for real kiss you. He can’t do that though; his lips aren’t soft and plump like yours. Surely, you hadn’t been thinking about kissing his lips the way he’s been thinking about kissing yours. They just look so soft, so supple, and he thinks about it, all the damn time, and now you’re drawing nearer, rubbing your nose against his, closing your eyes at the contact. Relax, he needs to relax, he wants this, he wants you, don’t ruin it, don’t overthink.

So, as calmly as possible, he pulls you a little closer, almost into his lap when you finish the job for him. He’s aching down there, you knew that immediately, but that’s okay because you like him. You really, really like this guy. Your hands find his hair, carefully carding through and lightly scratching at his scalp, and he sighs, melting into it, melting against you, body going limp with relaxation. His arms wrap around you, bringing you closer, if possible, and now you’re cuddling, straddling him, brushing your lips against his, tracing his jaw with your fingertips and lovingly nuzzling your nose into his cheek.

“I like you too,” he manages to say, but it’s not enough to explain how he feels, it’s just all he can get out right now, hugging you tighter, thanking the Lord for sending you to him, scared that if he lets go, you’ll disappear. “A lot,” he finds himself saying. Then your lips are on his, but it’s only a light peck, almost a question, when it’s over in a second. His cheeks burn that bright red colour again, and he feels the giggle you make, and his chest is warming and tingling and squeezing all at the same time.

“Is that okay?” you ask him, and all he can do is nod, and bump his nose into yours to silently ask for another, and you comply, pressing a little harder this time when he kisses back.

And then you kiss him again, and again, until your mouths are moulding together and he’s breaking away for air just to reattach once more, hands snaking under your hoodie to hold your hips. Your hands are in his hair, and you don’t move away when his rough fingertips gently pull at your shirt to feel your skin, light touches that send a shiver down your spine, his other hand balling your shirt into his fist.

“D’you want to sleep in my bed with me?” he asks you, panting from the lack of air, and he looks so pretty with kiss-swollen lips and messy hair.

“As long as we can cuddle,” you say to him, getting comfy against his chest and placing your head just under his chin. His chest is aching but in such a nice way, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his cheek against your head.

If this is a dream, he never wants to wake up. Ever.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” he asks timidly, and you squeeze him harder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tomu,” you mumble into his chest, “I’ll still be here. Promise.”

disclaimer: I do not own My Hero Academia or any characters/storyline associated with it