#all in all we are having a more than shitty day over here . alas.

[ficsforgaza]

Hi everyone—please check out this week’s Creator Spotlight!

For anyone who does not know what this is, every week we highlight one creator with WIPs to sponsor, one creator with open requests, and one fundraiser that is in desperate need of funding.

If this is your first time seeing our blog, welcome! Please check out our pinned post for more information about what we are doing to help the people of Gaza!

˗ˏˋ SPONSOR A WIP SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ @ms0milk / Link to all WIPs

Writes for My Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen, Demon Slayer, Haikyuu!!, and Attack on Titan. Here are a couple of their WIPs up for sponsorship:

“Sparks x Fly” - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

recent graduate and new rookie agency owner, Dynamight, is anxious to get into the field and bloody new gear, but a moving-day collision with some shitty winged civilian turns into his own feathery nightmare when she shows up at an established agency– as their new chart-topping rookie no less.

“A Simple Show of Treason” - Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

sanemi's tsuguko no more, your hashira promotion is just over the horizon! one more untimely death and you'll have the job security you've longed for. nightmares, injuries and lost time, a lost life safe at home, unrequited love– soon it'll all be worth it. your mentor doesn't share your optimism however, and you find him near at all hours of the day. no more or less moody than usual but overbearing and always on the precipice of saying something.

˗ˏˋ ACCEPTING REQUESTS SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ @natty-whines / Link to their request rules

Requests open for Jujutsu Kaisen one shots, drabbles, and headcanons.

˗ˏˋ FUNDRAISER SPOTLIGHT ˎˊ˗

↳ Help Ala’s Family Overcome Crisis in Gaza ($1037 raised out of the $50,000 goal)

Prior to the conflict, Ala’s family was facing challenges as her father lost mobility due to a severe car accident. Now, after losing their home, they are displaced and living on the streets. Ala is the sole caregiver of the family and needs our help; the funds raised will be used for medical care for her father and basic necessities for the family to give them stability.

[scattered-winter]

nothing makes a guy more viscerally lonely than overhearing a conversation from a group of friends next to them

[frozenjokes]

CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (1/3)

I absolutely refuse to go through an add italics to the tumblr versions of my fics but grian is so angry all of the time it was necessary in this case

next

“So let me get this straight.” Grian, well, CuteGuy stood over HotGuy, the hero’s head pinned under his own boot. It was times like these that Grian considered ditching the boots altogether; wrapping his talons around any hero’s face like this would be an absolute sight, but alas, he wasn’t trying to get painful calluses all over his feet. Grian was sure HotGuy could escape this if he wanted to; he’d just have to roll to knock Grian off, but he stayed still, staring up at Grian with those big, pathetic eyes. “You want my help with your romantic endeavors. You want to pretend fight so you can pretend win, yeah? Impress that special someone?”

Grian knew who it was, of course. Not because HotGuy announced it or because it was on the news, no, but because this certified idiot had set his sights on Cub. Cub! His roommate Cub. What could HotGuy even want from a guy like Cub- just a guy! A human, not even a conventionally attractive human, who hardly knew anything about heroes and villains other than their names! Cub, who worked a shitty job with a shitty manager, who basically did nothing but go on little walks and hang out at home- there was nothing about Cub that stood out, so why in the fuck was HotGuy so- Grian hissed, pressing a little harder on HotGuy’s head, who grunted. HotGuy didn’t get to have Cub. Cub wasn’t- HotGuy didn’t even know him! He didn’t get to take Cub- his Cub- and turn him into some kind of hero worshiper!

“Stop looking at me like that!” Grian’s anger reached its boiling point, though HotGuy didn’t flinch, looking more disappointed than anything.

To his credit, he did look away, pursing his lips, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the idea.” The infuriating amicable lilt to his voice stayed even despite his face being crushed against the pavement, and Grian wanted nothing more than to choke it out of him.

“What gave you that idea?” Grian snarled, and HotGuy shrugged.

“When you’re really pissed off you start drooling, and honestly, it’s quite gross. Are you stressed? Have you considered Xanax? Does wonders for me on bad days.”

“My insurance won’t renew my prescription and my doctor fucking sucks.”

“Ah, I feel you buddy. I mean, I basically live in a hospital, but sometimes I need some more benign stuff and it just feels like the whole system is out to get you! Don’t even get me started on before I got into the hero business, gosh. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you were far from my first choice. I asked The Goat, but he told me that would be a monumental waste of his time, Mumbo told me he wouldn’t be convincing enough and also to stop calling him he’s retired, I haven’t seen Worm Man for years but I’m still looking-“

“How many people did you ask before me?” Grian tried not to be offended, but honestly, he was very offended- HotGuy has the gall to ask favors then admit Grian wasn’t his first choice? Why not? He knew why. But why not???

“Anyone I could find, really. I mean, heroes are easy enough to track down, but a lot of them are busy and also don’t give a fuck, but villains kinda just wander around and cause problems wherever. Though, I figured if I stood here long enough you’d jump me like you did last time. Hey, by the way, if you see Poultry Man, will you tell him I’d like to talk?”

Grian seethed; he had seen HotGuy up on the apartment complex where they had fought last and assumed he was looking for Cub- was Grian really that predictable?

“The last thing Poultry Man would want to do is help you impress some guy you don’t even know- what’s the deal anyway? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”

“Hey! I know Cub plenty! We had such a nice walk the night you broke my visor and then a lovely lunch date the next day! Well- maybe not a date. I don’t know, I never asked what he thought. I kind of don’t want to know, though. And I wasn’t going to ask Poultry Man to help me do anything, I just wanted to talk to him about all the chickens he released into the poor woman’s home- it’s not important-“

“Poor woman? She’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s not important,” Scar strained, and Grian felt the tiniest bit vindicated, “All I meant to say is that I would feel bad beating the shit out of Poultry Man, even if it was just pretend. He’s just a misguided guy in a chicken costume.

“Misguided?” Grian’s hiss cracked into a higher pitch, “Poultry Man is EVIL. Poultry Man could CRUSH YOU. What makes you think you’re any match against him, huh? Really.”

“I mean, his costume looks a bit bulky, not great for maneuvering. I doubt he can see very well out of the mask, too. I don’t know, maybe he’s like, secretly ripped or something, but I still don’t think he could do much damage.”

“You’ll regret underestimating him when you’re taking your last breaths under his claws.”

“Oh, I hope not! I just wanted to chat about where he got those chickens, but you’re nice for standing up for him! You’re a good friend, CuteGuy.”

“I-“ Grian felt his body short circuit for a moment, everything replaced with the type of fury that can only be released by picking someone up and violently shaking them. HotGuy was perfectly polite about it, enduring Grian’s fit of rage before hanging somewhat limply in his arms, not even using his own legs to stand after Grian was done. HotGuy stared. Grian stared back.

“You’re strong.”

“Fuck you.” Grian dropped HotGuy, who just collapsed, wholly unready to support his own weight. Fine. Good. With a few strong beats of his wings, Grian took off, leaving HotGuy firmly in the dust. Flying was good and the evening breeze was good and if shaking someone annoying wasn’t enough to make them stop being annoying, then it was time to let it go. Something Grian was famously bad at.

When he looked back HotGuy was still just laying there, INFURIATINGLY, just staring at the sky! He wasn’t even looking at Grian, he was just completely zoned out-! What was his damn problem?

Grian’s boots cracked against the cement on either side of HotGuy’s waist, and HotGuy screamed, so genuinely frightened, Grian was pretty sure the noise would color his memory for the rest of his life. “Where are you meeting him?”

“What?” HotGuy squeaked, and the sound was just as beautiful.

“Where do you want me to be for your stunt?”

“I-I was going to meet Cub at the City Park-“

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to get me arrested? You’ll meet here, in the parking lot across the street at 9:00. And I don’t do play fights, but if you shoot me I’ll rip you a new one. And I want $500.”

“That’s- a lot of money-“

“You won’t miss it. You and your piece of shit rich friends spend that kind of change like it’s nothing on designer clothes and cocaine. And I want to see your sorry face when you’re forced to cough it up after I flatten your ass then steal your man.”

“You- why are you so mean to me? Hey- you are not allowed to-“ Grian didn’t let him finish, beating his wings hard enough to batter HotGuy’s face before taking off, definitively this time.

Perfect. This was going to be fun.

[ghosts-cyphera]

guuuuuurl i have to get this off my chest - I've been talking to this older guy online (no not Badj) he also does the adult VA stuff and he's very good and reasonably well-known. but that's on the side, he's a software developer as his day job and he's so damn cute. like a giant bear, he has a large female audience who coo over him but I mean that's understandable so I'm not jealous but I am a bit? I'm being stupid it's not like he and I are dating, but ... I invited him to a Halloween party last night, I got absolutely drunk (still alright and not messy drunk but you know, a bit unstable on the feet and I was so social where I'm more reserved usually). HE WAS SUCH A SWEETHEART, he kept holding my hips and guiding me through the party and sat me down on his lap outside next to the pool, caressing my back and THAT DAMN VOICE WHISPERING PRAISES AND COMPLIMENTS IN MY EAR DAMN I WAS FERAL. but he said we shouldn't do anything because I'm so drunk, he was proper drunk too though. but no I got so worked up because he's got such a dad bod but like super hot, muscular arms and all - amazing legs ... and he kept pulling me closer on his lap and kissing my neck ... BUT, one of my guy friends came running up to us - super drunk - and he kept talking to me and ignoring him and asked if I wanted to go to the second party with him because we always have a good time and he needs someone who drinks on his pace. THEN THIS MANS GRIP TIGHTENED ON MY HIPS AND HIS VOICE DEEPENED AND WAS LIKE, "we already have plans for after this." but alas, long story short, he got pissed at me because he thought my friend and I were together and he didn't wanna believe otherwise so basically he just LEFT and my baby boo bear hasn't been replying my messages even if he's online - I have been PLAYED BY A MAN 15 YEARS OLDER THAN I ?! I'm so dumb 😭😭😭. I have an important project due tomorrow but I keep checking my phone and checking his socials 😭.

so sorry - I just needed to rant because I can't tell my friends about this, even if I'm in my 20s they'd freak out that he's in his late 30s.

YOU HAD ME IN THE FIRST HALF I'M NOT GONNA LIE

bestie hold up. no. no, no, no. this sounded so fucking good up until you dropped that he LEFT?? this man in his fucking late thirties left you at the party, because he didn't want to believe that you were telling him the truth about you and your guy friend?

my darling, I'm so sorry to say this but that's literally a baby boo bear. what we are looking at here is a man child, who still in his nearly forty years of living has not learned how to communicate EVEN THOUGH his literal hobby/job relies on him speaking?? 😭

no but seriously, him not replying to you after an argument even though he is online is abusive. I will not bend on this. giving silent treatment as a way to punish someone is manipulative af. does he know that you have an important project tomorrow? if he does, bestie—drop him. please, I am begging on my knees for you to drop him.

on the off chance that he actually suddenly replies and tells you that he had an emergency or... something that stopped him from replying today, yes sure you can give him another chance but remember that even then—instead of communicating—he left you at the party. he also acknowledged that you were so drunk that you shouldn't do anything together, but apparently in his eyes you weren't drunk enough to not be left behind?? yeah you were with your friends, but I just absolutely love men who are protective and possessive but have no issue just dropping you the second they get their feelings hurt over their inability to communicate and trust their partners.

I'm sorry if this is too harsh and too straight forward. I just... I feel so shitty for you? I'm so sorry. you don't deserve to be treated like this. you really do not, and hey—based on what you've told me you absolutely did nothing wrong. you're not dumb. he made you feel special and wanted. it is not naive or stupid to want and need that. I am so, so sorry that he took advantage of that, but please know that this is not on you. 💗

[mediumtires]

It's two days into the summer break and I'm already going through vroom vroom withdrawals, so I re-read Seven Years then decided to nitpick season 5 of DTS. Seven Years is so stuck in my head (especially with last weekend's ass grab) that I started to wonder how Christian and Toto's relationship would affect DTS. Would there be a full episode about their relationship? Would they be more included in each other's episodes? Would Netflix try to get footage of the two acting like a couple? The only guarantee is that Tumblr would be analysis every interaction between the two because we already do that.

Also, I use Microsoft Edge over google so I thought you might find this funny.

The first thing they list is that he is a racing driver, not a successful team principal, a racing driver. :p

ohhh this is such an interesting take!

personally i didn’t make dts a thing in seven years because i just didn’t want to deal with the mess of it. it adds a whole other layer of emotional clusterfucks of being exposed to the wider public (outside of the f1 bubble even), even more cameras following them around the paddock, mic-ed up 24/7. there is a snippet i started writing after the whole “change your fucking car” business that i couldn’t even finish because the whole thing was so messy and i could not come up with a proper way to solve this because i was so embarrassed for them lmao.

but let’s walk for a second. let’s say their involuntary outing happens and dts are around for it all, i do think netflix would be a perfect vessel to promote lgbtq+ visibility and rights in motorsports and both pr teams would jump at the chance. obviously an outing like this is a huge fuck up marketing wise, nothing was planned, no one was prepared for it so they’d need to act quick and with netflix around, they’d have the perfect opportunity to angle the narrative any way they want. plus for netflix it would obviously mean Millions. everyone and their mother would watch the new season.

not sure they’d have a full episode. don’t think christian or toto would agree to this during some of the worst moments of their lives lol and in seven years i tried my best to not glorify or romanticise a shitty situation like being outed by someone else against your will. but i do think they’d both still want to be on dts, they enjoy the spotlight and the attention too much. in my mind they’d both show up to their netflix interviews smirking, a little ala “look at you and your lil cameras, i had a secret you couldn’t even imagine being true, you only know the things i choose to tell you, i’m in charge here”. to me that’s kind of a power move. i also think certain questions would simply be blacklisted so all we’d get would be ambiguous layered eye-twinkling comments about the rival team principal while touching their wedding rings. “oh toto slammed that desk *eye roll* yeah he’s so emotional *smirk*” or “christian has a big mouth, don’t believe everything he says, i don’t” or “singapore last year? yeah i think…. i think we won. did we? can’t remember, i was a little busy” but they don’t ever talk about singapore directly.

post outing i don’t think we’d get much husband material on dts. i tried very hard to write them as being private about their relationship and i still think that rings true, even post outing. there were instances where i thought it’d be significant and meaningful to them as a couple to show their support for each other a little more publicly (or maybe just a little less secretively) but those moments were about them more so than an act for the public or the cameras. in my mind they wouldn’t walk hand in hand through the paddock just because they can, not mid season on a thursday morning anyway. they’re professionals and they’re at work. but it’s a different thing when a netflix camera zooms in on them through a window and they’re having a quiet lunch tucked away in some corner of rb hospitality, or a brush of hands or a discreet smile when they pass each other somewhere and a camera is around to pick up on it.

so that’s my take! the most interesting angle to me though is how the public perception suddenly changes from seeing them as individuals to seeing them as a unit. it rewires your brain from “oh these two are fun, they hate each other” to “oh these two….. don’t hate each other. in actuality they…. they seem to love each other enough to be…. husbands. huh”

[its-a-hil]

ok. random question. literally from the random question generator at randomwordgenerator dot cahm: What's your go-to funny story now, but was horrendous at that moment?

(i think it gave me a question i already know but eh shoot)

hm.

alright i think this is actually more of the reverse than the forward direction, but sure

when i was in middle school, i was such a horrible procrastinator (note: i am still one of those) that i often wrote rough drafts of essays during lunch

(the one year in middle school i didnt do this was when i had english 1st period. tbh i wish my schedule had worked out like that all 3 years, but alas)

but i got so comfortable just throwing out words with a pencil that i kept doing it and now i almost never edit anything bc i need to write it all in one go or it's wrong

but final drafts still had to be typed & printed, so it was only my rough drafts that were like this

fast forward to high school, and rough drafts became less of a thing

my compulsion to procrastinate did not.

oh also relevant here is that i was emotionally incapable of asking for an extension or submitting online after class or anything

so.

senior year of high school. we had an essay to write on Twelfth Night, where we had to pick a word that was repeated a few times and discuss its effect on the story

i picked 'fancy' and used it to argue the absolute bullshit point that it meant the whole thing was a dream, because i had no other ideas and my brain refused to set aside time to do something more reasonable

except.

i did not begin writing until lunch of that day.

i did not have access to the computer lab i had planned to write the essay in.

i pleaded with a friend to lend me his laptop, on which i did the most frantic writing of my life. i dont remember if i ate any food during that lunch period.

(according to my diary i also said something shitty to that friend even as he was doing me a massive favor, which. god.)

looking at the document now (ty google drive), it seems that i didnt actually finish the essay, just wrote notes on the different uses of the word

im not sure if it was just a rough draft or notes kind of thing that was due, or if i lucked out and the essay was extended or something? unclear

but what is clear is that i wrote 440 words in just over an hour, and that's not counting the quotes i had to transcribe (which also made up over 400 words)

the following night i turned it into an actual 750ish word essay in also about an hour, bc. yeah. (i still didn't write an intro until i printed it out during study hall the next day lmao)

so anyway the essay was shit, the teacher was genuinely confused and pulled me aside after the class where she handed the essays back

note: she was also the theater teacher & that semester i was doing the play afterschool, and i think she knew i was better than what i handed in

:/

in my defense i was fairly depressed that couple of months, partially due to an responsibility that i did not realize i could easily say no to. the only consequence that refusing that responsibility would have had is that i would have hated myself less and possibly liked engineering more

oh also looking at my diary apparently that was also the week that i taught precalc bc the teacher's partner was suddenly out for paternity leave and i had an essentially free period during the precalc class

so yeah that's probably the third most interesting week of my senior after the week that we had the play performances and the week i was out in the hospital when my lungs spontaneously collapsed

the funniest part of that story is that it took me another 3ish years to realize that i wanted to be a teacher, and another 2 years after that to act on that desire. lmao

anyway bc im sure you freaks want to see it, im putting the essay under the cut

Actual essay:

Twelfth Night is one of Shakespeare’s most fantastical plays. Even without the use of magic, the supposedly realistic events are completely improbable. There is evidence that the play was intended to be a fantasy, and throughout the play, the word “fancy” is used to suggest to the audience that the events of the play are little more than a fanciful construction of Orsino’s mind. 

Orsino speaks four of the six instances of “fancy” or “fantasy.” Two of these instances come in his first monologue, right at the beginning of the play. He claims that “so full of shapes is fancy that it alone is high fantastical” (1.1.14-15). As Adams says, in this passage Orsino claims “that his own imagination is so fertile that it is supremely capricious and whimsical.” (Adams 58). It is odd that the play would start with this double mention of fancy, especially when the word is not mentioned again until the end of Act two. It is even stranger that the plot concludes with Orsino making Viola/Cesario his “fancy’s queen” (5.1.415). Although Feste finishes the play with his final song, this line is the last spoken by any other character, and is a natural conclusion to the play nonetheless. There must be a reason why the play both begins and ends with a word only used six times throughout. This is the most direct clue that the play does not merely describe events in Shakespeare’s mind, but instead describes events in Orsino’s mind. 

More clues can be found by examining the other uses of fancy in the play. Sebastian remarks “Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep” after encountering a smitten, and unfamiliar Olivia (4.1.65). This line comes in one of the more fantastical scenes in the play, where Sebastian enters Illyria and is mistaken by everyone for Cesario. Sebastian can only conclude “this is a dream,” and calls upon fancy - imagination - to keep him from waking up. Sebastian addresses fancy as a powerful being, that has the ability to manipulate the world he sees. If the play does take place in Orsino’s imagination, fancy would have this power. Another thing to note about Sebastian’s mention of fancy is that it is in reference to Olivia. Her love for him, and reproach of the men who were dueling him, is the only reason he would want to continue living in this dream.

Olivia is a common subject of fancy, as used in its alternate definition of love. Malvolio, just before seeing Maria’s letter, thinks aloud that “should [Olivia] fancy, it should be one of my complexion” (2.5.24-25). Almost all references to fancy are directly related to Olivia. In fact, every major male character, except her uncle, is in love with Olivia. It is difficult for Orsino to conceive of a character who is not enamored when in the presence of the beautiful lady Olivia.  To him, when Olivia enters, “heaven walks on earth” (5.1.99). 

Regarding the rest of Malvolio’s scene, it is no less strange than Sebastian’s. The dour puritan begins with a statement of love for his lady, and then follows the insane directions of a letter that apparently describes her love for him, while the pranksters hide and watch in a nearby bush. Orsino’s mentions of “fancy” also take place in strange scenes. Without touching on the chaotic mess that is 5.1, 1.1 regards a Duke, who has been laid low grieving over his unrequited love for Olivia. She, in turn, decides not to admit any suitors until she has spent seven entire years mourning her dead brother. This scene feels almost surreal, setting the stage for the play that is to follow. Since almost every instance of the word fancy comes during a surreal scene, it can be inferred that the word is an indicator - a message to the audience that this play is a fantasy in the mind of Orsino.

There is one more use of “fancy,” however. During the argument between Orsino and Viola, Orsino speaks of men’s fancies as “more longing, wavering… than women’s are” (2.4.41-42). Twelfth Night is certainly long, spanning three months in Illyria, and the play constantly wavers from uplifting to demeaning, from reasonable to insane. The play as a whole fits so well with Orsino’s description of his “fancies” that one must wonder why that particular description was used. Interpreting Twelfth Night as a fancy conjured up by Orsino’s stricken mind makes a good deal more sense than attempting to reconcile the events with the real world. 

Work Cited:Adams, B. (1978). Orsino and the Spirit of Love: Text, Syntax, and Sense In Twelfth Night, I. i. 1-15. Shakespeare Quarterly,29(1), 52-59. doi:10.2307/2869169

The notes i wrote during the lunch period:

The first appearance of the word comes during Orsino’s monologue. The grief-stricken man describes his lovesickness by referring to his imagining of fantasies involving Olivia. Fancy is “full of shapes” to hear him tell it, filled with all kinds of images (1.1.14). This implies an interesting idea of the plot; it may be nothing more than a lovesick dream conjured by Orsino’s mind. After all, the plot is as “high fantastical” as something a distressed lover might imagine. (1.1.15). 

Malvolio’s mention of fancy is also about love and imagining it. He talks about “her [Olivia’s] fancy,” but the context of the scene and the rest of his dialogue imply that he is the one who fancies Olivia (2.5.24).. Malvolio claims that Olivia has said she would fancy “one of my complexion,” indicating that Malvolio has, through confirmation bias and imagination, convinced himself that Olivia was in love with him even before reading Maria’s letter (2.5.25). The fact that Malvolio, the outwardly stalwart Puritan, is as fanciful and in love as Orsino is a strong device for making fun of the Puritans as Shakespeare was wont to do. 

Sebastian has his reference to fancy when he meets Olivia and finds that he is the object of her fancy. 

[Discussing of the other two quotes]

In Twelfth Night, characters mention fancy when in fantastical scenes. Orsino had neglected his duties as a Duke to be lovesick over Olivia, Malvolio convinced himself that Olivia was in love with him moments before happening upon a letter regarding Olivia’s love, Sebastian came to a foreign city and found that a woman he had never seen was madly in love with him, and the final scene is perhaps the most fanciful of them all. Everything comes together in a hilarious, satisfying, and utterly unrealistic way. The use of the word fancy indicates that a scene either was or will be fanciful. This implies that Shakespeare is breaking the fourth wall, drawing attention to works of the imagination when the audience may be considering the play as imagination. In that way, Shakespeare implies that this comedy, however nice it may seem, is just a lovesick fantasy in the mind of Duke Orsino. 

Note also that almost every mention of the word is in reference to Olivia. The only exception is when Orsino calls Viola his “fancy’s queen,” but Orsino could just be (Inception-style) trying to prove to himself that he can love another. That is why the timeline does not make sense; Orsino needed to believe that his mind was not so changeable, that he would need three months with another woman to move past his love for Olivia. 

Quotes:

1.1.14-15:

Orsino: “So full of shapes is fancy 

That it alone is high fantastical.”

Context: These lines conclude Orsino’s opening monologue about his lovesickness and passion for Olivia. The monologue is discordant throughout, and this line sounds very arrogant, that nobody but a lover could have an extreme imagination.

This quote illustrates Orsino’s arrogance about his position (which is expanded upon in his later argument with Viola) and tells the audience that Orsino has spent some time cooped up in his mansion thinking of Olivia. 

2.5.23-25

Malvolio: “I have heard herself come

thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one

of my complexion.“

Context: This comes just before Malvolio finds Maria’s letter, when he is fancying that Olivia might be in love with him. He has almost convinced himself of her love even before he sees Maria’s letter, which would be a strange coincidence if Twelfth Night was not a comedy. 

This quote describes Malvolio’s desperation to be loved by Olivia. He uses a few choice words and actions of Olivia as a justification for her love, indicating confirmation bias and lack of perspective. 

4.1.63-66

Sebastian: “What relish is in this? how runs the stream?

Or I am mad, or else this is a dream:

Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep;

If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!”

Context: This comes just after Sebastian enters Illyria and finds a beautiful woman suddenly wish to marry him. It is so illogical that he believes he must be dreaming, and he wishes for fancy to keep him from waking up. 

This quote tells us that Sebastian is wondrous at his entrance to Illyria. He forgets about Antonio as soon as strange men wish to duel and a strange beautiful woman claims to be in love with him. Sebastian is far more relaxed than most people would be in this context, especially if they could not find Antonio, the only person he was close with for the past three months.

5.1.412-415

Orsino: “Cesario, come;

For so you shall be, while you are a man;

But when in other habits you are seen,

Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.”

Context: This is the last line spoken by any character except Feste. It comes after Orsino learns of Viola’s true identity and gives up his love for Olivia. 

This quote implies that Orsino still thinks of Viola as Cesario, at least while she is in men’s clothing. 

[beautiful-detective]

I was looking up to other people's opinions on For My Derelict Favorite and I think I found a reddit post that sums up my thoughts on it pretty well:

The comments are a gem too. My commentary under the read more!

Okay, so I haven't brought it up or at the very least stressed the importance of this but DIANA DOES NOT OWE CAEL ANY AFFECTION AND TO THINK THAT SHE DOES IS GIVING INCEL/PICK-ME LIKE VIBES! In fact, the entire story has a very subtle undertone of rampant misogyny in it. You see some people talk about it here and there but far more choose to ignore whether than address the rather problematic messaging.

The art is good, yes but like Unholy Blood, the story is severely lacking in nuance. Fuck, I say that Unholy Blood is better simply because it isn't some pick-me's fantasy on what a REAL woman is like.

Also, as mentioned in one of those comments, Cael decides to take his life on Diana's and Helios' WEDDING DAY. I'm not going to get pissy or angry that Cael's suicidal 'cause first of all, that's really shitty and second of all, that not exactly what I wanna discuss. Perhaps, I was too easy on Caelus but it's extremely shitty to try to take your life on your best friend's special day. Also, I can totally understand the comments that bring up how the narrative pats him on the ass too much 'cause same.

It really sucks 'cause the premise was interesting but it's a real shame that they author decided to go the revenge route. Instead of two "broken" people find solace in each other and heal over past trauma/wounds. It could have been like but alas...we didn't get it.

Oh well, at least we have "I failed to Oust the Villain!". It's rather dark in nature but I love it. ❤️

[kuschelkissen]

The urge to "woke-ify*" rewrite my old stories and OCs...

*as in adding some queer relationships, getting a bit more diverse with body types and skin colours, etc...

Just me rambling and trying to sort my thoughts, probably long post, so... under cut. Feel free to scroll past, it's mostly for me anyway.

So... when I was about 20 years younger, I wrote this story about a group of 8 teenagers going on your average fantasy journey to find a magical item to destroy The Bad Guy (TM), and in the end, I had 4 (straight) couples. 5 if I include the random side characters along the way.

Aaand they all... well. I was a teenager in a predominantly white town in Germany (there was one black girl in the entire school and a few muslims that were tad darker than the rest of us, if at all), my main interest were anime and let's just say, the characters reflect that.

Old, old art:

Over time, I did some redesigns here and there, giving my green haired elf some actual useful armour, for example, and darkening the skin of some of the characters a bit, too, even if not significantly.

The other day I thought I'd try to play around with some body types, wondering where I could go with this crew. It was more playing around with 3D models in Clip Studio, because I was too tired to look for actual references, so don't judge these sketches, they are merely a base idea for me to work with than anything else... (plus it's digital and I just... I can't. Idk why but I just can't work digitally =__=)

Looking at these now with not tired eyes and mind I'm like... yeah, this has lots of room for improvement, lol. But I have a clear vision in mind, we will see if I can manage to bring that down to paper! (Wish me luck).

Apart from the appearances, I kinda want to go into their dynamics/relationships.

I think, my green haired elf girl (Alayses) would probably end up nonbinary if I wrote her today. She got mistaken as a guy more than once (... as far as I remember. It's been a while lol) and I always wanted her to have an androgynous look (though I never really succeeded with that). If I go this route, I'll have to have a deeper look into German neo pronouns, which will be a whole different problem.

I probably won't tear apart all the couples, because I just love too many of them. But... >_> I guess <_< I'll make a "Fanfavourite*" canon.

*as in... my friends from school who used to read my shitty stories and came up with side-ships lol. It's a bit sad that I barely have contact with any of them anymore, would love to see their reactions.

I mean... I even DREW them together for one of my friends. Can as well just make it canon.

And these two already had something going on in my head back then lol sadly they were just side characters and one of them is dead oops.

Apart from that, Tari will probably end up alone or maybe dead, and Leera... who knows, maybe she elopes with one of the side characters (or ends up alone, too, like she originally should have.)

The thing about all of this is...

IF I go this route, I'll have to rewrite everything. Which probably won't happen for a long time, so it will be all in my head once again.

I wish I could go back to having all that freetime I had when I was younger... freetime and energy, but alas...

[sukirichi]

wine: ingredient 44 + sugar 7 + spice 12 for gojo satoru *slams table* thank you for feeding us kind maam

for sukirichi’s milestone event: 

the meal order : 🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) your dinner has been served! also bruh LOL you’re a choso simp this is hilarious spspsps

— who are you to deny him when he only wants to worship you?

gojo satoru x fem! reader

contents/warnings: nsfw, slight angst, reader is hot girl shit, gojo long schlong, hate sex, car sex, spanking, riding gojo, slight angst, praising kink taken to a DIFFERENT LEVEL (i want to make people question the extent of their praising kink), body marking, rough sex lol it’s always rough in my stories, unedited

Your friends pushed you out of the club, all of you laughing, hands clutched around your waists as loud, drunken giggles fill in the night air. It was a wild night; your friends invited you to the club to take your mind off your stupid boyfriend. You thought you’d end up moping around, too much of a buzzkill to ever let loose because it wasn’t that easy to stop thinking about him, but even you were surprised when you started grinding with people on the dance floor just three drinks later.

The gals were more than delighted to see you enjoying your night, only dragging you out the club when you nearly shoved your tongue down another man’s throat.

Scratch that – your friends called you to hang out because you lied about having a shitty day at work. You’ve had your fair share of shitty days, but you were one of the most prominent lawyers in your firm, no one dared gave you a bad day. Your subordinates knew that if they even looked your way without your permission, you wouldn’t hesitate to dump paperwork on them, or assign them to the nastiest cases just to piss them off.

Yeah, you were sort of a bitch, but you didn’t care.

It took a lot to get where you were now. It wasn’t easy to be a woman in a male-dominated workplace and you were forced to strip your softness off, replacing it with hard armor and sharp tongue concealed under bold red lips, a tight pencil skirt that accentuated your curves, and a pair of black suede pumps.

You deserved all your success. You were smart, stunning, confident, powerful – so then why did you feel like shit around your shitty boyfriend?

The answer was loud and clear. It bothered you to no end that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret because his family was too different from yours, coming up with a shitty excuse that you were just “too different.” He never bothered explaining, and every time you confronted him about, he’d only wave his hand, distract you with those delicious and soft lips of his until you forget it over and over again.

You were okay with it at first. It wasn’t a really serious relationship; you only started dating him because you saw yourself a lot in him – confident, self-assured, maybe even a little cocky – plus, he was extremely attractive.

But the longer you spent time with him, you were beginning to fall in love.

Yes, you, the ice princess of one of the most respected law firms all over the city was beginning to soften up at a certain blue-eyed man who had magical hands.

But tonight – tonight you’d forget about him.

Your stomach was heavy with expensive liquor and you were nearly staggering on your knees, the only thing preventing you from falling were your more sober friends. The others were holding you close to keep you upright, while one of your friends moved to a quieter part of the block to call an Uber for you. Your friends were all happily married, some with children, so they couldn’t really stay out too late at night and chaperone you all the way back home.

You were well-aware you were being a bother, but fuck, couldn’t you lean on someone for just once? Sighing, you leaned closer to your warm friend, mumbling something about wanting to forget about everything you’ve been through.

“There, there,” she patted your head comfortingly, “You’ll be fine, babe, you’re a strong woman. I know you’ll get through this.”

“But I hate it,” you drunkenly admitted, lips trembling the more you thought about him, every stupid little thing about him – his soft white hair, those pretty blue eyes he always hid under shades even at night, his large, calloused hands that always felt so rough when keeping your legs open for him and you couldn’t even start talking about his cock, he was just so blessed and perfect in every little thing that you hated it. You hated him. “I don’t like this feeling,” you sniffled, “I feel like I’m being looked down on, that I’m being pushed to the side. I feel unimportant, like I’m not good enough.”

“Who said you aren’t?”

You froze in your friend’s arms, eyes meeting with those blue ones you could never get enough of. As if noticing your silence, your friend immediately covers you with her arm, glaring at your boyfriend. “Do we know you or something?”

“No,” Satoru replies coolly, brows furrowed in the state you were in. You turned away from him with a scoff, arms crossed on your chest. Why did he have to be here out of all places? Wasn’t he busy with work or whatever family shit he apparently couldn’t tell you about even though you’ve both been dating for a year and a half now? He just wasn’t giving you a break, and the hairs on your arm stood up when he said, “Not that you have to, but may I please drive Y/N home?”

“She’s not going anywhere—”

“She’s a friend of mine,” he insisted, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You almost melted. Almost. “I need to talk to her about something.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped forward, your friend’s arm latching onto yours. You could tell she was worried from the way her gaze darted back and forth between you two. Satoru was, after all, clearly uninvited, and he didn’t seem like your type either. You always insisted you preferred refined man, men like his friend Nanami Kento, but alas, you were stuck dating this one instead.

“It’s fine,” you told her with a fake smile, “I’ll call you later when I get home.”

You never got to call her – simply because you didn’t make it home. The moment Satoru closed the car doors behind you, you both got into a heated argument. Satoru hated silences and always made sure the car was filled with music, but this time, he didn’t notice there weren’t any songs when you opened your mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the anger and pent-up tension of not being able to hold him and kiss him in public like normal couples did, in addition to the fact Satoru never explained why he insisted on keeping you a secret – whatever it was, you just snapped.

“I don’t even understand why I’m still dating you!” you huffed, legs crossed on top of the other as you gazed out the window. Lips trembling, you tried so hard to not cry, especially not in front of the man who was breaking your heart. “This is hardly a relationship when I’m not free to call or text you as you please, when I can’t go out with you on dates and we’re always hanging in my apartment. I’m your girlfriend, Satoru, we’ve been together for a long time but I honestly don’t even feel like it. What the hell are we dating for then?”

Satoru clenched his teeth, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love you,” he said coolly, acting unbothered and unaffected as ever, but the clench in his jaw said otherwise. “If that’s not enough—”

“Of course it’s not enough!”

“I’m trying here too, okay?” Satoru slammed on the brakes and parked on a desolated spot, hands running through his hair while he breathed heavily. Once he’d calmed down, he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eye like a man. “I’m trying my best. It’s just hard. It isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“What isn’t easy as it looks? Dating me? Letting the whole world know I’m yours?” when Satoru didn’t respond, you scoffed, patience running low and thin. “You’re pathetic, Satoru. Dating you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I thought I was a smart woman.”

With a shake of your head, you slung your purse over your shoulder and reached for the car door. You were about to leave when Satoru suddenly pulled you towards him, his lips slamming into yours.  Like always, you fell into his trap, into the blissful pleasure that was his lips and his hands, and you hated it, hated him, hated him so fucking much because you were so tired of his entire existence.

You wanted to let him know he was insufferable.

You wanted him to feel the pain and misery he put you through.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled as Satoru kept fucking into you, the entire car windows fogged and the vehicle shaking. “I wish I never met you, you asshole,” Satoru, displeased, only buries himself deeper into you, as if they would erase his mistakes and shortcomings.

Satoru’s large hands snake to your waist and onto your breasts, expertly tweaking them between his fingers. Your head fell back to the crook of his shoulder, your back pressed against his hard chest as Satoru trapped you in his strong arms, impaling you on his cock over and over again. “You’re lying,” he whispered into your neck, tongue and teeth playfully sucking at the tender flesh. His grip on your hip was bruising and possessive, and your breasts bounced fervently at how he snapped his hips upwards to feel your walls coat him and hug him tightly and warmly. “Why would you hate me, sweet girl? Don’t I always make you feel good? Don’t I remind you enough that you’re the best fucking thing ever?”

You didn’t respond right away, your breath taken away with how you could never get enough of this, of him. He was right no matter how much you denied it. Despite being terrible in everything else, Satoru knew and respected you, even admired your dominance and intelligence when other men were intimidated by it.

No, he worshipped you. He made you feel like you were a divine goddess when he tugged at your hair to tilt your cheek to him, his tongue slithering to your lips to taste himself on his tongue from when you previously busted his nut with just your mouth.

Lipsticks smeared on his cheeks and crescent moons on his pale thigh from your nails, Satoru looked wonderful beneath you like this.

He was beautiful, so damn beautiful, but it didn’t change the fact he’d put you through hell these past few weeks. 

No, it wasn’t just the past few weeks. Things were always complicated with him. He was perfect in everything else but when it came to you, he made it a mission to hide you and your relationship, changing your contact name to a totally random one “just in case.”

Your mind was confuzzled and you felt like you were on the urge of breaking apart from both his ministrations and his confusing treatment over you. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back fervently with the intensity of your hatred over this man.

Your hand reached his to guide it to rub at your clit, and Satoru, eager to make you feel good as always, happily obliged. Satoru kept bouncing you on his cock until you were too overwhelmed to speak, crying and mumbling incomprehensible words. 

Him, only him, would ever have the ability to let the sharp-tongued and intelligent woman who never bat an eye in court lose her wide vocabulary, falling apart in his arms while his long length abused your puffy lips.

“You made me feel like shit,” you finally admitted, tugging at his hair until Satoru is lowly groaning at the slight sting. But did you care? Of course you didn’t. You wanted to hurt him too.

“How so, sweet girl?”

“I can never have you the way I want,” you answered through gritted teeth, moaning out when Satoru suddenly thrusted too deep, hitting your most sensitive spot that had you quivering in his hold. “You don’t—” you gasped, “You don’t understand what I feel, how you make me feel like I’m never good enough for you. That’s the reason why you don’t want anyone else knowing, right? ‘Cause I’m not good enough for you, never gonna be good—”

Satoru didn’t let you finish your words, shutting you up with his cock instead. The vehicle shook uncontrollably with your mating sessions, and Satoru silences you by pulling at your leg to press it on his chest instead.

The sudden switch in positions had your muscles tensing and stretching, adding only to both your pleasures with the new thrown in factor of slight pain. You felt Satoru kiss your neck down to your shoulders, scraping his canines until you were absolutely lost. You gave in, you gave up, head lolling back next to his loving lips that murmured sweet nothings.

“Not true, sweet girl,” he reminded you, flattening you on his cock and making you roll your hips while you slid up and down his pole sensually. Unlike the previous pace, the slow sensation of your pussy hugging his cock with your arousal letting him slide in easily allowed you to feel every part of him, almost mind-wrecking at how good he’s able to make you feel even after such a long time of having him already.

“You’re the sexiest and most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, the best, the absolute blessing of my life, and I just want to protect you, sweet girl. You’re too precious for me to lose,” Satoru kept mumbling over and over again.

You could no longer process his words functionally, not when he’s slamming you down his length like that and burying himself in you as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Satoru’s hands were still curious, appreciative and gentle as he runs his hands, dipping into all your curves and pressing into your most sensitive spots the way you liked it.

“You’re always so good for me so no, sweet girl, never gonna let you go, not when you’re so perfect for me,” Satoru eased your worries – temporarily – with his words, and you’d believe his lie, you’d fall into the same mistakes over and over again because you were just that weak and powerless when it came to him. “You’re made just for me, sweet girl, you’re the prettiest and your pussy is the prettiest – I worship you, I adore you. You’re so divine.”

You blamed it all on your ego.

He praised you so well, made you feel so good and always placed you on top of the world when he’s inside you like this. Even if you knew he’d knock you down the pedestal just hours later, you opened your doors for him all over again.

Satoru knew this too, because he rammed inside your walls and ruined everything that you held firm beliefs in, his large hands smacking your ass to urge you to bounce on him like you weren’t made for any other purpose than to be the woman he adored.

You lied to yourself – you always did – but did you care? So what if you couldn’t be the one he really loved? What did it all matter when you were the one he worshipped?

For the sake of the praise and the compliments, you’d let him fuck you and play with your heart over and over again. It was a toxic routine you’d never get tired of, and you no longer complained, forgetting about everything he’d done and every heartbreak he caused you because he was there, whispering into your ears how good you made him feel and how you were the only one made to take him, and you didn’t care. Not anymore – not when you were worshipped.

[seriouslysnape]

Loving Every Inch

Neville Longbottom x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Body image issues. Very brief sexual content.

Word Count: 1,461

“What about me had you so preoccupied?”

The rain fell steadily from the gray skies outside. The pattering of the rain on the roof was a monotonous drum in your ears as you subconsciously listened to it. Thousands of raindrops stuck to the windows and raced one another down to the bottom of the sill, leaving a wet trail behind them as they slid down the glass. Every few minutes or so, a roll of thunder would boom off in the distance causing Neville to flinch in your hold. He had straggled his way to your dorm, knocking on the door quietly as always, no matter how many times you told him that he didn’t have to knock.

He entered after you gave him permission, not saying a word until he had crashed on your bed. He found himself settled between your legs with his head resting on your chest. He mumbled a sweet, but brief “hello” before growing quiet. He had a rough week between a heavy workload and several exams that he had studied countless hours for. Over the course of the last five days, he had been by your side whenever he had a free chance (which still wasn’t very often). He had told you all about his shitty week and how it was seemingly endless. But alas, Friday was finally here and his hellish week was over.

You could feel the strain in his shoulders when you rubbed them, and the tension all over the rest of his body. Your fingers combed through his soft, dark hair that was strewn about his head. Neville usually put a decent amount of effort into making his hair look nice, but the way it was now showed otherwise. He had become a little more careless as the week had gone on, and his hair was the last of his worries. On top of that, he had been growing it out to “try a new look”, and it had developed a bit of a curl to it as it became lengthier. 

He babbled out a rather muffled sentence at the feeling of your nails scratching lightly at his head. You cocked your head to the side as you peered down at your boyfriend, wondering what in the world he had just said.

“Say again, Nev?” You requested.

“I said I’ll fall asleep if you keep that up.” He repeated, referring to the way you were massaging at his head.

You let out an airy laugh, ceasing the movement with your fingers.

“Sorry,” You apologized, “You can take a nap if you want.”

“I want to spend time with you, flower. I’ve hardly seen you.” He remarked, shaking his head in refusal.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere in this weather.” You referred to the nasty weather outside.

Neville turned his head to rest his chin on your chest to be able to look up at you. You could see it in his eyes that this week had done a number on him, but he seemed perfectly content where he was now. You swept some of the hair out of his face, his pupils dilating at the sentiment.

“Can we just lay here? Maybe talk for a bit?” He asked, his voice sounding small, “I’ve missed you, tulip.”

You smiled genuinely at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a nod.

“Sure. We can stay here,” You granted, “Did you have a good day?”

He shrugged, his head craning to the side just a touch as he continued to look at you.

“It’s better now. I...I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“Oh? All good things I hope.” You joked.

“Of course, love. I would never think badly of you.” He replied instantly.

“I know, Nev. I was just kidding,” You laughed, taking his face into your palms, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs, “What about me had you so preoccupied?”

A sweet smile appeared on his face, his eyes brightening with happiness.

“I was thinking about how you’re so pretty; I couldn’t wait for the day to be over so I could see you...so I could touch you,” He explained, his hands trailing from your waist to your hips, “Haven’t seen you all week and I missed feeling you.”

“I missed you. I’m proud of you for working so hard.” You complimented him.

His voice had faded into a huskier tone, his eyes practically gleaming with anticipation. He pressed  a kiss just above your navel through your sweater, his fingertips curling around the hem of it. He went to lift it over your body, but you stopped his hands.

“Wait, don’t. I don’t...want to do this right now.” You blurt out, shimmying higher against the headboard away from him.

He caught your panicked tone and his shoulders dropped. Normally, if you weren’t feeling up to sex he’d just mumble a short “okay” and then move on. This time, though, he could tell it was something more than you just not feeling like it.

“But...I want to touch you. I want to make love to you.” He said, returning to his normal tone.

He kissed a few more times against the material of your sweater as he awaited a response. Body image was something that you had struggled with countless times before. It was something that Neville had always been willing to help you work through, praising you and assuring you that he thought you were perfect. It helped some, but some days were better than others.

“I know, angel, I just...don’t want to.” You lied.

Neville’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. It had been quite a while since you had shied away when he tried to take your clothes off. He figured that since you hadn’t really been around each other lately that you had fallen back into a pit of doubt.

“If this is about your body, [Y/N], you know that I think you’re stunning,” He hushed out, his fingers dancing along your sides, “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You looked away from him, watching the layer of raindrops on the window from the steady storm outside. When you didn’t give him a response, he continued on.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I want you to see yourself the way that I do,” He stated, “I’ll never pressure you into anything, but I do love you. I love every inch of you.” 

He gazed up at you with pure admiration and desire. He would tell you for the rest of your life that he thought you were the most wonderful human to ever walk into his life. He cherished you and everything about you. He hated that you sold yourself short.

“I love you, Nev. I guess it’s just hard to see myself as beautiful.” You responded, nervously twirling at the hair on the back of his head.

His lips upturned into a slight smile, his head pinging with an idea.

“Can I show you?” He questioned.

“Show me?” You echoed.

“How beautiful you are?” He elaborated.

Your heart took a leap, but despite your hesitation, you nodded. His hands returned to the bottom of your sweater, but waited before trying to remove it.

“Can I...take this off?” He asked, pausing before doing anything.

You nodded again, and he whipped it off of your upper half. Neville’s eyes widened and his cheeks went red when he saw your breasts peeking over the top of your bra. You could feel the warmth of his blush under your fingertips, something that you always found endearing. Neville was easily flustered. He was shy, and it didn’t take much to have him red in the face. He had become much more confident with you over time to the point where he wasn’t constantly bashful around you. Although, your tits never failed to bring a pink tinge to his face.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty…” He almost whispered, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your right breast, “All mine too. Thank Merlin I don’t have to share with anyone. Not sure I’d like that.”

His kisses moved up your chest to your neck where he stopped to suck softly in a few of your more sensitive neck areas. His hands were gentle on your body, one cupping your breast and the other beginning to fiddle with the side of your knickers.

“Neville…” You breathed out when he sucked just below your jugular.

“Mmhm?” He hummed, not interested in stopping what he was doing.

“I want you to…” You sighed when he moved to your other side, “...to fuck me.”

He chuckled kindly into your skin, capturing your lips in a deep kiss before complying.

“Anything for you, my pretty girl.”

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

tongue-tied like we’ve never known || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, swearing, not really proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: two single parents try to start their lives again...

Mornings were always the worst for you. Trying to pry Tommy out of bed, and even yourself for that matter, was always an incredibly stressful task. But you’d learned to live with it and quickly come to accept it. After all, he was only young now. He’d be old soon enough and you knew you’d miss these youthful years. 

You stood by the school gates, waiting for little Tommy to come bounding out of school to tell you all about his latest adventure. You always looked forward to hearing how his day went. As small children scrambled out of the doors after their teachers and straight into the arms of their parents, your eyes fell onto Tommy. He was with a boy you didn’t recognise. “Look, look! Meet my new friend,” Tommy grinned as he stood before you excitedly. “This is my mum.”

“Hello,” the little boy, dark-haired with perhaps the most striking green eyes, smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oscar,” you smiled. “Are you new?”

The boy nodded, his cheeks flushed slightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tommy had made a new friend. He’d been kind to the new kid and offered him a form of friendship. 

You were tugged away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You quickly turned to see a man, a little taller than yourself. You figured this was Oscar’s father from the dark hair to the green eyes. “There you are,” he smiled warmly and it seemed to make your heart flutter, as if he was smiling at you.

“Daddy, this is my new friend, Tommy,” Oscar grinned excitedly. 

For the first time, the man shifted his gaze from the two young boys to you. Your stomach lurched as you made eye contact with him. “You must be Tommy’s mum,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking it gently. You hadn’t felt like this since you first met Tommy’s dad. It was all of eight years ago now on a night out with your university friends, most of whom you didn’t even speak to nowadays. He had been kind then and polite and the sort of man you’d always envisioned yourself marrying. So, you ended up getting together and everything seemed great for the first year and a half. But then things began to decline and you both seemed to lose trust in one another and you felt as if you were putting all of your energy into this relationship. It was killing you. But then you fell pregnant with his baby and he broke up with you anyway. You went back home to live with your own parents for a while before you eventually found a proper job and moved into your own house. 

Anyway, you found yourself walking down the street, Tommy and Oscar running ahead slightly, with Harry. You had Tommy’s light bag clasped between your hands, listening to Harry tell you about Oscar. “And yeah,” he concluded, “we moved down here a couple of weeks ago, just the two of us.”

“What about Oscar’s mother?” you couldn’t help but find yourself prying. 

Harry seemed to tense slightly, before shrugging, “She was never really around much. Her parents thought she should have gotten an abortion but she didn’t want one and had the baby anyway. So, they kicked her out and she left Oscar with me and moved to Dublin with her friends.”

“That’s shitty,” you sighed. “At least you have Oscar, though, right?”

He nodded, smiling, “Exactly. What about Tommy’s dad then?”

“He was a dick. He broke up with me a couple of months after I told him I was pregnant,” you replied. 

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “sounds like a dick. Does he see Tommy then?”

You shook your head, your eyes caught between Harry’s and your son's lively figure running up and down the path ahead of you with Oscar. “No. He’s tried to reach out a couple of times but I haven’t let him see him. I just feel like introducing him to his dad six years later could just, you know, fuck it up. Besides, if he didn’t want to be with me through all the shitty, difficult stuff, then I don’t think he’s allowed to enjoy all the joys of being a parent.”

“Well,” he smiled, “good on you.”

And that was how you met Harry Styles. Over the weeks that followed, you would walk Oscar and Tommy to and from school with him. Tommy would spend time round at Harry’s and Oscar would spend time round at yours. And it felt like every time you saw Harry, you felt simultaneously more comfortable around him but more and more nervous. 

But you hadn’t dated anybody since Tommy was born. Having a young child seemed to be a deterrent for a lot of people. Or maybe had more to do with the fact that you didn’t have time for a relationship between work and raising Tommy. Sure, you’d been on plenty of dates and it wasn’t as if you weren’t ready to get back into the world of dating and relationships. If not for yourself, for Tommy. You wanted him to have some kind of parental figure that wasn’t you. 

You found it difficult to focus on the book you were reading when all you could hear was the two boys laughing loudly upstairs. Oscar was round for dinner and Harry was due to pick him up any minute. And as a knock at the front door finally snapped you into a new state of consciousness, you got up to answer it. Harry stood happily on the other side, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Evening, Y/N,” he smiled. 

“Evening, Harry,” you mocked. “Do come in.”

You opened the door wider, allowing the man to step into your home. You called down Oscar and Tommy, only to be met with groans. They appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces twisted into bitter scowls. “Why?” Tommy sighed. “Can he stay for a bit longer?”

You exchanged a glance with Harry, who shrugged. “Fifteen minutes,” you sighed. Really, all you wanted was to go to bed. They grinned and dashed back into Tommy’s small bedroom. You guided Harry into the kitchen, letting him sit himself down at the table. “Do you want a drink?” you asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he smiled.

You grinned, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, “Suit yourself. So, how was your day?”

“Stressful,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”

“Anytime,” you shrugged. “He’s delightful. Besides, you’ve looked after Tommy so many times, I kind of owed you.”

“Nonsense,” he laughed. “We’re not exchanging favours. We’re just… helping out a friend.”

You couldn’t help but let yourself deflate at ‘friend’. You had known all along that you were just two, young single parents that only knew each other through their six-year-old sons. But a tiny fragment of you hoped what was happening meant something more to Harry, like it did to you. There were instances of harmless flirting and subtle glances. “Right,” you nodded, forcing a soft smile. “Well, thanks for helping out a friend.”

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the table and your eyes wandered from their tips to the tattoos that peeked out of the cuff of his jacket. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked and you almost cringed at the small talk. 

But alas, you shrugged, “Not really. I have some work to catch up on, so an action packed day for me tomorrow. What about you?”

He shook his head, “I wish I had plans. Could go out for drinks or something, but I can’t because I have a needy six-year-old.”

“Treasure it while it’s still here,” you said. 

“Believe me,” he grinned, “I am. God, I’m so scared for the day he just… stops needing me. You know, the day he just sort of realises that he no longer needs me to wash his clothes or walk him into town or buy him things. And it took me ages to get used to putting somebody before myself, I don’t think I could imagine living without him now. Like, one day he’ll go off to uni and get a job and only come home every other birthday or Christmas.”

You smiled gently. You were sure he’d never been so vulnerable with you before. “It’s weird to think that’s what we’re doing with our parents now. We fear the day our kids stop needing us, but our parents are living that day.”

He hummed in thought for a moment, “I should probably go see my mum soon. I haven’t seen her in months. And my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Gemma is her name. She’d love you.”

“I’m sure I’d love her if she’s anything like you,” you said. 

You took a final gulp of your orange juice, your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You looked at the clock on the wall, noticing twenty minutes had passed since Harry arrived. “Right,” you smiled. “I’ll go get Oscar.”

And as you walked towards the kitchen door, Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

You turned back to look at him, your heart pounding heavily. All kinds of questions and hypotheticals raced through your mind as he paused for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody else, Y/N?” he asked. 

“Meet somebody else?” you repeated, though you were sure you knew exactly what he meant. 

“Yeah, you know… like somebody to replace Tommy’s dad. Somebody for you to settle down with and raise Tommy together. Do you think you’ll ever meet them?” he asked. 

You were utterly confused as to what had prompted him to ask such a question. But you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t hear your heart in your temples or taste your blood in your mouth. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d like Oscar to have a mum.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think that would be great for him. I’ll go get him.”

That night as you lay alone in your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share your bed with Harry. To feel his body beside yours on cold nights. To be woken up by his lips peppering your face in light kisses in the morning. To discuss all the trivial things when neither of you can sleep at night. Maybe he was trying to tell you something that evening…

Oscar had become ill over that following weekend. Nothing too serious, but something that warranted a day or two off school. So, after you picked Tommy up from school, you drove to Harry’s to check if they were both okay. Tommy sat at the end of Oscar’s bed, recounting everything the young boy had missed at school, while you busied yourself in Harry’s kitchen. You were heating up some of the soup you had made for the poor boy. “You’re really too kind. You didn’t have to do this,” Harry told you as he made you a cup of coffee. 

You shrugged, “Well, Oscar’s like my second son at this point.”

He smiled, albeit his cheeks a little red, “I’m glad you think that. I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as a mum at this point too.”

Now it was your turn to turn red. Your face heated up at Harry’s passing comment. Did he really think of you as a mum? “That’s sweet,” you said. “About what you said the other night… about meeting somebody, my friend says she knows a guy she thinks I’d get along with. So, I think I’m really going to try dating.”

He stiffened slightly, “Oh yeah? That’s great, Y/N.”

He hugged you and you couldn’t help but feel so safe in his arms. The hug was perhaps a second or three too long, but neither of you pulled away. And, as your bodies were pressed together, it was almost as if you shared a brief but looming epiphany together. “But,” you began again, “why try dating a stranger when I already know somebody?”

“That’s a good point,” he whispered softly, finally pulling away to make eye contact. He explored your face and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks. 

“I mean, this guy that I know, he’s sweet. Really sweet. He’s super funny and caring and so, so generous. And he has a kid himself, so he won’t be put off by the single parent thing.”

He understood what you were trying to tell him, “Sounds like an angel. Who is this fine man of whom you speak?”

You grinned, “I don’t know if I should say. He has tattoos and green eyes.”

“So he’s incredibly handsome as well as being an angel?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you chuckled. And, as if the sky were falling down, Harry wasted no time in pressing his lips to your own. He kissed you and you kissed him back. All of your prior dating worries just seemed to slip away as you buried your fingers in Harry’s soft hair. It was only when you heard a quiet ‘mum?’ from the doorway did you jolt apart. Tommy stood in the threshold of the kitchen and suddenly the microwave went off, notifying you that Oscar’s soup was ready. You and Harry turned back to each other, finally registering Tommy’s presence, “Shit.”

[ms-demeanor]

While I love the theory of the depression post, the cause of my depression is my own ugliness and inadequacy. And alas no amount of small external things ever distract me from having to see myself be myself, feel myself, every moment. It just shows other things are better than me, once again.

Okay but what if your brain is lying to you about that.

Did someone sit with you and examine your life and all your actions at some point saying “yep, anon is totally inadequate, doesn’t measure up to standards 21-a through 47-m of being a person, that’s where the depression is coming from” or is that a thing that your brain has told you?

Because depression brain lies.

You exist. You’re a person with a presence in the world. That is adequate. You are reaching out and making contact with people. That is adequate.

Depression brain likes to tell us that we’re failures, that we haven’t ticked the right boxes or finished all the projects that we meant to, or that we’ve let down all our friends and family and are failures, irredeemable, intolerable, inadequate failures.

But. Like. Your brain is an asshole and its checklist of what you have to do to be “adequate” is completely impossible and you can never measure up to it so. Don’t? You really don’t have to? Just being here and existing as a person in the world is a good enough reason to want to exist without pain and misery.

It’s impossible to fail enough as a person that you DESERVE to feel this way, so it’s okay to take steps to feel better, even if they seem stupid and silly and like they won’t work because your depression is just a PART of you and you’ll NEVER FEEL BETTER and you SHOULD feel like this because you’re a BAD PERSON. (All of those all caps words are lies that depression brain tells a lot of us. They’re not true for me, I’m guessing they’re not true for you either because I honestly and legitimately believe that they’re not true for any human beings and unless you’re about to tell me some really cool facts about the universe then you’re a human being and you don’t deserve to feel like this, couldn’t do anything to deserve to feel like this)

Now, let’s talk about ugliness.

Physical appearances are totally immaterial and have no bearing on your worth or value as a person and if people treat you badly for being physically ugly those people fucking suck and you don’t have to pay attention to them. They and their shitty opinions are not your problem.

BUT if you’re talking about emotional/mental ugliness, well, that’s a thing that depressed people often deal with.

We’ve got a lot of ugly thoughts, sometimes we think cruel things about others as well as ourselves. Sometimes we end up being unpleasant to be around; sometimes we even end up manipulating other people and that’s certainly not a good thing.

But there’s a difference between having ugly thoughts and ugly emotions and being a bad, cruel, or unpleasant person.

It’s okay to think ugly things. You’re probably never going to stop doing that and without a lot of practice you’re going to reach for ugly reactions as the first response to anything that upsets you.

This is an excellent reason to learn to recognize and articulate your feelings and to take responsibility for how they impact other people.

Because here’s the thing, being a “bad person” internally doesn’t really matter (I mean, it matters in the long-term context of your ongoing mental health but that is a problem for someone who is not in deep crisis mode to grapple with) so long as it doesn’t impact other people.

But, okay, let’s say you’re right and your depression is caused by the fact that you’re an inadequate, ugly person.

Over time writing down good things that you enjoy will STILL prevent you from dropping into depressive spirals and will still provide evidence that you’re capable of experiencing positive emotions.

Even if there’s a “legitimate” reason for your depression there’s no reason to make it worse and it’s not cheating on the universe if you take steps to alleviate the symptoms.

Also, tip for people who have issues with feeling inadequate:

Don’t just write down things that make you feel good, write down when YOU do a good thing.

Were you there for a friend? Did you help your sibling with homework? Did you offer to pick up groceries for your neighbor? Did you volunteer for the Trevor Project? Did you finish writing a paper? Did you update a fanwiki?

WRITE IT DOWN WHEN YOU MAKE AN IMPACT ON THE WORLD. Write it down when you do something that makes someone else’s day easier, write it down when you finish a project, write it down when you do favors for people.

You don’t have to, like, go out and BRAG about these things, but when your depression brain is saying “hey you’re a shithead who has never finished anything and never helped anyone” then you can go “bullSHIT I helped that guy who needed a jump last week, and two weeks ago I finished my midterms.”

I have complicated feelings about this because I think the definition of “worth” our society imposes on people is harmful - “You are worth more than your productivity” is genuinely the most helpful thing that anyone has ever said to me and was actually life-changing - but there’s still value in being able to point to the world and go “I did that and it mattered” and, yeah. That song you wrote mattered. Picking up your mom’s medicine from the pharmacy mattered. Giving cash to someone who needed it mattered. You have value in the world and it’s okay to write down the valuable things to do to use them as evidence in the bullshit show trial your brain is setting you up to fail.

Also.

So what if things are better than you.

There are worse things than you too.

Write a list of the things that you are better than.

“I am better than every single employee of ICE.”

“I am better than that girl who built a career off of carrying a gun at Kent State.”

“I am better than literal dogshit and even literal dogshit is an important part of the local ecosystem so at least I’ve got that going for me.”

Like, yeah, I am *NOWHERE NEAR AS GOOD* as evidence that the moon is wet, but I’m better than cities that fund school resource officers.

ALSO ALSO

This specific type of negative thinking, the “your advice about depression is very good but it doesn’t apply to me because I’m a special category of unrecoverable awfulness” is a very, very common symptom of untreated, unmanaged depression. It is similar to the “your advice about depression is very good but doesn’t apply to me specifically because I have [x] barrier that prevents me from writing a journal of positive thoughts” negativity.

We’re all unique and special buds, but you ain’t special in that way.

Pick up a blank piece of paper and write about a meme you liked. Do the same thing tomorrow. Do the same thing the day after that. Do the same thing forever.

For some people it doesn’t get better, but you do get better at managing it.

Good luck, buds.

[mellarkably]

Favorite BenVi or BeVi scene in terms of performance?

there are many benvi scenes i love from both season one and season two, that feature great performances from maitreyi and jaren. i think they are both very young and talented actors.

if i had to choose one, though:

2.04's devi, you followed him.

this scene, no matter how much it hurt me, was easily one of my top five benvi scenes this season, dare i say the entire run of the show. there is something about it that feels unsettling, uncomfortable, yet raw. and while the scenery, dark atmosphere, night-time setting, and sad music playing behind it do add to its tension, a lot of its hard hitting nature is in fact, not only owed to the writing, but the performance.

this scene is risky. it's risky to do because its success is majorly dependent on the performance.

the beginning of this confrontation starts off with the two approaching each other like their usual snarky selves—except it isn't usual. yes, they're both smiling. but ben is not smiling because he's happy, not even smiling the way he normally does when he used to banter with her, specifically in season one, cockily and with snark. it isn't entirely that same feeling anymore. devi is smiling in efforts to avoid the true gravity of the situation, as well as her frustration over him flaking on their bet (she seems to be more disappointed over the fact that he's still angry with her more than the actual bet itself but that's an analysis for another day). she rushes over her apology, and desperately asks, in a lighthearted manner, can we just be even now?

the genius of this performance is that although viscerally, they may be smiling, you can clearly see there's so much more underneath it. under devi's smile is desperation. under ben's cocky remark is pain. (i guess it feels bad to commit to something not knowing the other person was lying the whole time) i personally believe that someone who doesn't know about the events that transpire in 201 and 202 could still be able to tell the difference between their cocky smiles in season one, while they argue over how contraction of aids works, versus this scene, where what they're arguing over—not bantering, important to make that distinction—holds much more emotional weight than any of their previous bantering. that previous bantering was over trivial things. this conversation is not. it's heavy. and we see that difference not only in the context but in the acting.

when devi asks for them to be even now, we see it sets ben off. others who are much better at metas than i am have already gone in depth over why this sets him off as much as it does, abandonment trauma in all of its galore, and so i won't go too deep into the psychology of his actions. back to the performance, (since that's what anon's question asked me) no, we're not even, he says, with no more smile, no more façade. he is deeply hurt, and bothered that devi doesn't seem to realize just how much she has hurt him. to him, he's thinking she doesn't care about his feelings (we know it's untrue, ben does not) this thought of his has arguably been worsened by a week of seeing devi and paxton in the hallways chumming it up, as andy says. keep in mind ben has no idea till now that she's tutoring him. all he sees is her prioritizing paxton's forgiveness over his, choosing paxton over him once again. it's a common theme in the season, comes full circle in the finale when ben realizes that isn't the case, but alas, it's meant to be tragic, isn't it? that's its beauty.

and when we return to this scene with more knowledge of why he's this hurt, the acting, THE ICONIC devi, you followed him—everything just drops.

devi's smile drops. ben's smile has long dropped. the emotions have intensified, and are fully out, fully being shown, visually. he starts his speech, delivered fucking perfectly by the actor, with vocal inflections, tensed up emotions, and tear brimmed eyes.

at the party, you followed him and you left me behind.

it's not like we haven't seen serious scenes like this before in nhie. straying away from benvi scenes, even devi and paxton have some serious conversations this season, but for some reason (to me at least) nothing (only regarding scenes about the love triangle, my favorite performance overall would probably be the therapy scene in 209) feels as raw as this scene. nothing about this scene is sugar coated, there isn't even a slight attempt at humor. the show takes the dangerous route of showing the true consequences of certain actions done, and what's most important is that neither of them are meant to be antagonists in this scene. ben finally communicating his feelings lets devi know she's messed up more than she originally ever thought, and we see it keeps her up all night, the fear that she may never be able to win ben back—not even just romantically, because he was a great boyfriend, but as a friend in general. she values what he offers her, as a confidant, someone on her intellectual level who understands her. they're very similar people.

so yeah, this scene is my favorite benvi scene, performance wise. maitreyi and jaren shine here, and i can tell they both put a lot of effort into it, especially jaren with his line delivery. this scene could have gone horribly wrong: it could have made ben seem like a dick, or devi seem like a dick, but the true hard fact is that although both of them have done shitty things up to this point (arguably devi more than ben) you cannot hate either of them. you cannot villainize them. these are just two teens who are hurt by each other and being vulnerable with another.

it's the vulnerability of this scene that intrigues me, and it's something i love about devi and ben in general, the fact that they'll always be honest with one another, won't bullshit or skirt around things. and a lot of my love for them has to do with the great acting. they're both, on paper, sometimes unlikable characters, but in combination with the writing, maitreyi and jaren give the characters undeniable depth (even lang fisher agrees). that depth is shown in this scene. 11/10.

the runner up would have to be the s2 bathroom scene, there's a lot of feelings i have about those stares, the repressed feelings shown, the delivery of lines. they are all very swag. i also love the talk at her house in season one, episode six, and their talk at the hotel on the model un trip.

[oligbia]

Hello, can I get a short fic a/b reader who's dating Deku, but both are unaware that Bakugou likes reader also? Reader isn't a fan of Bakugou and always complains to Deku about how he kisses his ass too much and lets him get away with ish. Reader is definitely more sensitive/indignant than Deku tbh.

*ahem* this took embarrassingly long. But,, here. I like it <3

Bakugou X Reader X Deku

SFW, mild angst

Contains: yelling, insults, implied self harm *briefly at the end, very vauge*, bakudeku if you squint, references of suicide *in refrence to middle school Deku*

    Katsuki Bakugou was not jealous. Bakugou was confident and was going to be a top hero, and top heroes didn’t have time to be jealous. And, above all that, he was not jealous if stupid Deku. 

    Sure, maybe he was mad that dumb Deku got a partner before he did, but it wasn’t personal. Bakugou definitely didn't think about you. He didn’t think about the way your hands would look in his, the way it would look when his much larger arm rested around your waist. He didn’t think about sparring with you all the time, the way your body would look glistening in sweat as you cave him all you had. He only thought about sparring with you because he wanted to kill you, you were just another extra… right?

    But you were soft, delicate even. But, you also were assertive, not all peppy like the other girls. You were always looking for a fight. You wanted to protect people, not just save them. You weren’t afraid to kick Mineta in the balls (both sets), and you weren’t afraid of hero work. You never hesitated to jump into the fight. You were heroic- worth Bakugou’s time. 

It made sense you would like Deku more than him, it made sense Deku would get you. Deku was going to be a pro hero too, and with the way All Might dotes after him, he would be a hell of a hero too. Deku was smart, he was kind, and he was a decent fighter. He was everything that Bakugou wasn't. 

Because to you, Deku was a hero. He was going to save the world one day. But Bakugou was just a villain who managed to fool everyone into letting him be a hero. To you, Deku was kind and caring; Bakugou was just loud and violent. When Deku was emotional, Bakugou was just loud. He was a prick to you, and he knew it-and that destroyed him. 

***

“Hey Kacchan! Come hang out with us tonight!” Deku stood over Bakugou's desk, freckled face glowing as he smiled. Bakugou noticed your presence behind Deku. You were trying to hide your annoyance, Bakugou noticed. 

“No way would I ever hang out with you losers.”

Kirishima grabbed Bakugou’s shoulders, squeezing him playfully. “C’mon Bakugou! It’ll be fun.”

“Fuck off, shitty hair. I’m not going.”

Deku looked defeated. You knew how badly he wanted to hang out with Bakugou again. You didn’t see why of course- Bakugou was a jerk and wasn’t worth your boyfriend’s time. But, alas, you would do anything for the green haired boy.

You gave Bakugou a side glance, “Everyone is going- it would make you lame if you were the only one who missed.”

Bakugou looked at you, both angered and intrigued. “Huh? What did you say to me?” He rose from his seat, leaning around Deku to see you closer.  You looked him in the eyes, not intimidated or threatened. Deku looked vaguely panicked next to the both of you.

“I said you would look like the class loser to skip. It’s just a group hang out, Kacchan.” You teased his nickname, knowing it would set him off. 

Bakugou tried to leap forward to you, sparks setting off from his hands. “Shut up, dumb bitch!” 

You were about to hit him first, before Deku grabbed you to hold you back, his large arms containing you. Kirishima held down Bakugou, having to harden his arms to hold the explosive boy back. 

Deku drug you off somewhere, whispering in your ear in an attempt to calm you down. Kirishima sat Bakugou down. “Dude, you have to accept that she doesn’t like you.”

Bakguou rolled his eyes, looking out the classroom window. He knew you didn’t but he wasn’t going to accept it. 

“You have to move on. It isn’t manly to fight a girl.”

“It’s plenty okay to fight her, she started it!” Bakugou sat down in his seat, mumbling angrily. “and I don't like her- she's just as shitty as all of you extras.” 

Kirishima looked Bakugou up and down, seeing through his bullshit. “Whatever you say, bro.”

Bakugou let out a ‘tch’, thinking back at your interaction. He never wanted to actually hurt you, maybe playfully rough you up, but not genuinely hurt you. He never meant to yell at you either, you clearly preferred softer guys anyway. 

***

“You really shouldn’t fight Kacchan so much-”

You snapped your eyes to Midoriya, blood still boiling. “And why is that?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“He did everything. He’s a jerk.”

“He’s going to be a hero just like us, Y/N, one of the best-”

“Not with the way he treats people. He’s going to be a shitty hero-”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know Kacchan the way I do.” Midoriya tried to reach for your hand, but you swatted it away. 

“Do you even know him? He bullied you in middle school and was never really your friend as a kid. Honestly, Izuku, I don’t know why you kiss his ass so much, he will never respect you back and is always going to make your life, everyone’s life, hell.”

Midoriya’s jaw dropped at your words, unsure of what to do. You had never been this mad at him, or at anyone. Small fits of anger were a normal occurrence for you, but normally a minute alone and a kiss to the forehead would put you at ease- but this was beyond Midoriya. 

You crossed your arms, walking away from Midoriya. He ran behind you, trying to catch up. 

“Wait, Y/N, you can’t just leave.”

“Yes I can. I can’t be around that blond headed shit stick anymore or I’ll fight him.”

“You would win-”

“Don’t kiss my ass now, Midoriya.”

Midoriya looked to the ground. He really wanted to support you, but he also knew that he respected Kachan. To him, Bakugou was a hero, someone he looked up to. Bakugou was powerful, his quirk was amazing. He had the talent and skills to become a hero. He was someone who demanded authority and respect, he was a talented hero. He was amazing. 

“I’m sorry, just don’t go yet-” he peaked up at you, your body leaning against the wall, head in hands. 

“I won't go anywhere.”

“Good. Perfect.” Midoriya walked to you, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms to rest on your waist. He placed soft kisses on your hairline. 

“I’m sorry I got mad.” Your voice was not much more than a mumbled, muffled in his shirt. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry Kacchan doesn’t listen.”

You tensed, aggravated Midoriya just wasn't getting it. 

“Why do you respect him?” You peeled back, looking up at him. Midoriya’s arms stayed firm around your waist. “To me, he just seems mean. I mean, the kid bullied you your entire life. He told you to kill yourself ‘Zuku. Why do you keep pining after him?”

Midoriya blinked. “I don’t know. I just think hes going to be a great hero, and I admire that.”

You let out a defeated sigh. “So is Todoroki, and he’s nice to you!”

“I do respect Todoroki-”

“Not as much as you respect Bakugou.”

Midoriya stayed silent. You were right, he just didn’t agree with you. He was someone of reason who tried to work his way through things logically, but your view of Kacchan didn’t make sense to him. Yea, he was sort of loud and abrasive, but that was just one of those things about him, like how Todoroki is blunt and Iida is controlling. It wasn’t bad, it was just part of him. He knew that he didn’t have the best relationship with Bakugou in the past, but things can change; people can change. It was all water under the bridge now. You were all going to be heroes soon, none of that middle school stuff mattered, not to Midoriya anyways. 

“Let's just go back to class. We can worry about this later.” You started to pry yourself out of Midoriya’s grasp, his arms only pulling you in closer to him. 

“Thank you for trying to listen to me. I promise Kacchan wont lash out to you again, okay?” 

You nodded, not really believing him. Most of the time, you were the one who pissed Bakugou off first anyways. Midoriya placed a chaste kiss to your lips, letting his hands fall from your waist to find your hands. He placed a small kiss to your knuckles, watching your grow pink with the familiar blush he loved to see. 

***

Bakugou watched Deku kiss you, his arms holding you close. It made him sick. You should have been in his arms, his hand on your waist, his lips on yours. His hands tightened into fists, small burns forming on his own palms. He knew he wasn’t what you wanted, he knew you weren’t ever going to like him, but he couldn't stop pining after you. He couldn’t stop daydreaming about you, how he would treat you, the places he would take you. 

When you walked back into the room with Deku, both of you avoided his traveling gaze. You shot him a fast glare before Deku could usher you both back to your seats next to each other, Iida immediately lecturing you. 

It was the first time you saw Bakugou without his angry scowl, but rather, a sad frown. 

[letters-from-eros]

I'm glad you're back from your hiatus 😊 can I request an imagine where the female reader is secretly dating Bakugou, and one day while changing, the girls see a hickey on the reader's neck. At the same time, the guys see Bakugou's back covered in scratches. The class puts the pieces together and sets up a plan to catch them in the act. Sorry if it's too detailed or long though 🥺 your blog is awesome!

A/N: I'm glad to be back, babes! This is a really cool request and there's no such thing as an overly detailed request. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Form: One-Shot.

Warnings: Implied sex, harsh language (because its Bakugo we're dealing with here)

Left a Mark.

Katsuki is nothing short of a horny teenager when it came down to it. That was something you had to realize and understand. It was far from the first time he had left his mark on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be his last.

He was overall neutral to the idea of your relationship being secret, he was more happy to have you by his side then anything. People knowing that fact was an afterthought. But... The circumstances would become long forgotten when things would get hot and heavy between you two.

It was far from the first time you had to scold him for leaving a hickey on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be your last.

"Y/N!" Uraraka called out, her usual innocent tone unwavering.

"Hm?" You quickly looked at the girl who shouted your name, a small smile playing on your face. Everytime you look at her you get a reminder of Katsuki's crude nickname for her, 'Round-Face.' Crude, but certainly fitting.

"You have a hickey!" The smile quickly dropped and your cheeks warmed up like the sun was shining directly at them. It was hard to ignore the sudden feeling of so many eyes on you...

"Don't worry about it," You quickly dismissed, your eyes glued to the inside of your locker as you slipped on the rest of your gym uniform.

"I bet it was Shouto! I see the way you always look at him!" Mina teased and suddenly, the entire locker room erupted with your classmate's own assumptions on who had left the hickey on you....

"Yeah!! Get some, Baku-Bro!" Kirishima yelled out, in the locker room adjacent to the girls'. His voice echoed off the walls, only adding to the annoyance Katsuki got from him.

"Don't call me that, shitty hair!" Bakugo was quick to insult and refuse the "endearing" nickname his friend had to give before actually picking up on what he had to say.

The sudden and hard slap on his back was enough to get his attention and the overall ache it left was enough to get him to remember just what is on his back.

"Damn! The woman has a pair of claws on her! Who the lady?" Denki questioned with a borderline proud look on his face. He must be oblivious that he's truly rolling the dice with his life treating Bakugo this way.

"None of your damn business!!" Bakugo yelled, the majority of the males in the room were quick to mind their own business, but one more comment escaped someone's lips..

"Uraraka's nails have been getting kind of long, lately.."

Of course, the one and only Minoru Mineta would be stupid enough enough to make another comment while Bakugo was teeming with pure anger.

The girls and boys of 1A had exited the locker rooms practically at the same time, all choosing to selectively ignore the burning smell wafting off of Mineta and a small explosion sized hole in his uniform. They all stood in a scrambled bunch, all chatting amongst themselves. Honestly, it was no surprise that their teacher would be late to the class...

You stood beside Katsuki because its what felt natural. What neither of you knew is that you both were too embarrassed to even look at each other in the moment. Even after all the merciless teasing had ceased, the feeling of overall humility was yet so subside.

A thick wave of awkwardness surrounds you both, seemingly muting the gossiping whispers that actually centered around yourself and your hotheaded boyfriend..

"You guys won't believe it!" Mina excitedly whisper-yelled to the tightknit group of friends whom dubbed themselves the baku-squad. "Y/n had a hickey on her shoulder!"

"No way! Bakugo had scratch marks on his back right now," Denki responded, just as eager as Mina.

There was about three whole minutes of talking about who could've been the one who left the scratches and hickeys amongst the single-braincelled group of friends before the one voice of reason amongst the group spoke up.

"Guys, they left the marks of each other.." Sero finally explained, a disappointed tone hung from his words, he was truly waiting for when they would figure it out themselves but... Alas, it seemed as if he was the only one with a single problem solving cell is his body.

"Ohhhhhhh...." The three finally connected the dots before shifting their gaze to the pair standing next to each other. Did they always stand that close together, was a mutual thought between the group (and the answer was yes)

"Well are you sure its them? I had ending up betting on the hickey being from Shouto.." Mina mumbled, slightly upset. She wasn't against the idea of her two friends dating, more the fact that she lost a bet and had to treat a lot of people to food if Sero was right.

"Pretty sure," Sero exaggerated his words to create a sarcastic tone, but that only sounded like uncertainty to his friends.

"Well I actually bet on it being Y/n," Kirishima announced proudly. Through his slight bouts idiocracy at times, he knew his best friend well. "How are we gonna prove that its them, though?"

The question lead everyone to a similar solution.... Catch them in the act, of course. This group of kids were far from stealthy, but they were determined to make things work.

"Do you want to ditch these losers and head to my room?" Bakugo whispered into your ear, the warm breath paired with his low tone never failing to sense a shiver down your spine.

"Don't call our friends losers!" You whisper yelled, glancing at your closest friends who dotted across the dorm's kitchen. They were arguing over what food to eat when they studied, unknowing to the fact that yourself and Bakugo had already went over this subject together as a form of a date.

He rolled his eyes and straightened his posture from leaning down to your ear taking a half step away from you, assuming the reprimanding words overall meant a no.

"Hot chips are overrated!!" Denki yelled and you're first instinct was to glance towards your boyfriend, who was... Passionate about his hot food, to say the least.

"Fuck this!! You guys can fucking study on your own!" Katsuki already didn't want to be there, then Kaminari went and said some dumb shit.

But that wasn't the only fuel to his anger and when you get to know the hot headed boy, you can tell if what he says he's angry about is what he's angry about. Having been his partner for as long as you have, you could tell he wasn't storming away solely because Kami said he didn't like hot chips.

He was frustrated, so, so frustrated and sick of this "secret relationship."

He was thinking about his locker accident, way more than one would think he should be doing. Why couldn't he just answer the barrage of questions with a proud smirk? Were you not proud of him? Ashamed, even? Insecurity hit him like a fucking truck, and he couldn't even ask for a quick hug and words of comfort because.. Other people were around? It sounded stupid when really thought out, and he wish he did when you first asked for the relationship under wraps.

He took a sharp turn around and walked away, ignoring the pleas from the group of people who were far from academics, but you on the other hand were more concerned about Bakugo himself.

"Don't worry guys, I got him," You had mumbled to your friends before quickly scurrying away to follow him.

The plan was going good so far, since you two did separate from the group, not exactly on such negative pretenses but.. That was the goal.

"Bakugo!" You called to get no response, just him continuing forward in the direction of his dorm room.

"Bakugo, slow down!" Did he... Did he just start walking faster?

"Katsuki!" You yelled once you got to the hall his dorm was on, he finally stopped. "Tell me what's wrong."

He quickly turned to you, an unreadable emotion plastered on his face, the only thing that could be deciphered is that it certainly wasn't happy.

"Do you a-fucking-shamed of me or something?!" He yelled, his voice cracking along with your heart. It didn't take much thought to figure out he was upset about the current state of the relationship. Even though you thought you had gotten used to with his sudden yelling, you couldn't stop yourself from flinching away from the sudden harsh-sounding words.

"Katsu, of course I'm not. I'm so sorry for making you believe otherwise," You began what you meant to be a comforting speech but the blonde didn't let you continue.

"Then why the hell can't anyone know we're together, huh?! Why-" His angry yelling came to a halt when you put both hands on either side of his face. The feeling of your soft touch almoat instantly calmed him down.

"Look at me," You demanded, his red hues bore into yours, they were progressively getting softer by the second. "The only reason I asked for our relationship to be in secret is because I wanted to keep our love between us. You're my boyfriend no matter how many people know. I'll never be ashamed of you, I love you, K-"

A rushed, greedy kiss came from the slamming of Bakugo's lips onto yours, because in the end he is just a horny teenager who has a bad problem of not letting you finish your sentences.

"I told you!! I know my bro the best!" The kiss was quickly separated by both parties as Kirishima's voice pipes up, his volume never failing to surprise.

"Wh-What are you guys here for?!" Your stomach twisted with embarrassment, having been caught in the act of kissing Bakugo by your entire group of friends that stood at the end of the hallway.

"They saw the hickey and scratch marks you two left on each other and wanted to see if you both really were the ones who placed their mark on each other.." Sero mumbled out an explanation that you could barely pick up over Mina and Denki's own conversation about how much they loss betting that another person was "with" their friend.

"Well now they know.." After listening to the entertaining complains from Denki and Mina you spoke at a soft level only the boy beside you could hear, a fond smile placed gently upon your face. You don't think that letting other people in on the relation ship would be the worst thing.

"Maybe I should leave more hickeys on you, then.." A sly tone slipping out a mischievous smile.

"Katsuki!!"

[princessamericachavez]

Tonight I’m just very annoyed because 80% of the criticism I’ve seen regarding the MCU’s America Chavez casting seems to come from people who either haven’t read the character’s comics or vaguely know about her through Tumblr. 

So, I just wanna address a couple things and y’all can feel free to ignore me and keep echoing hate without information just to pick apart one of the few WOC in the MCU. 

Okay, here we go: 

1. Was America Chavez white-washed?

Shot answer: No. 

Long answer: America has never been explicitly mixed-race in the comics. Yes, many artists have drawn her as an afro-latina, but many also haven’t. It literally varies from comic to comic, as do her mother’s looks. 

Do you see my point?? And, just to be clear, I am not saying she isn’t afrolatina... I’m saying that it’s never been made clear by Marvel and that is surely a fault of theirs, but it explains why the MCU casting wasn’t explicitly for mixed-race latinas. 

2. Isn’t America supposed to be from PR? 

Short answer: Yes (I GUESS??)

Long answer: LISTEN, this is a very weird subject. I’ve seen people annoyed that Xochitl is of Mexican decent when America is technically Puertoriqueña, but as a matter of fact America hasn’t been from PR for most of her publishing years. 

Ever since the Young Avengers v2 run, America’s race has been vaguely-latina-alien (think, the way Superman is white but actually he’s an alien from krypton). She was from a parallel utopia from outside the multiverse, but she was also clearly culturally a latina. 

Around 3 or 4 months ago, a new comic retconned that backstory and made her a human girl from PR whose mothers took her to some very unethical magic-mad-scientist experimental treatment in an attempt to save her from a rare disease. (god i hate this retcon but alas)

So, yeah, technically, now you could say that America is canonically from PR which solves some of her vague ethnicity issues... but to say that the MCU messed up her ethnicity is misguided because she wasn’t from PR when the actress was casted (and honestly, knowing comics, who even knows how long this backstory will last). 

3. But they aged her down so she couldn’t be with Kate Bishop!! 

Short answer: Not really??

Long answer: America’s first introduction in the Teen Brigade put her at 16. As of her reintroduction in Young Avengers v2, she was still underage and Kate was already older than her (there’s a whole arc about Kate worrying over turning 21 and getting brainwashed alongside the rest of the adults). Honestly, Xochitl being a teenager gives Marvel time to work with her and set up the Young Avengers (think about how long these movies take to be produced, filmed and distributed!). She’s an adult now, btw, because we’ve seen her drink legally in the comics, but it’s been years since her YA days. 

What is odd is that Kate is practically a young adult already, when the rest of her team is well behind, but no one seems to be bothered by that because of course we all love the chosen actress and her age makes her more shippable than young underaged heroes. So, yes, the age difference sucks and probably means we won’t get Amerikate in these movies... but choosing to attack the WOC teenager in the equation because of it is kinda shitty. 

AND FINALLy

We haven’t even seen a single scene with America in the MCU. She might be mediocre, she might be amazing, I’m hoping people will fall in love with the character that will give her comic counterpart better writers and storylines in the future... but dear god, I just wish the fandom would give her a chance before hating on her.