#and succeeding in this endeavor only by finally saying things like “this part is so copia. this one is very copia.”

[itsnothingofinterest]

I think that the LoV deserves to win in the Final War because if they win, they will be able to create a world for themselves. The Heroes never meant to deserve to win at all considering the fact that most of them are morally corrupted (like the HPSC) and they are more interesting when they lose all the time.

If Spinner were able to win against Shoji, that would prove that his point will be always right and he would be able to save Shigaraki. If Toya succeeded, it would be the punishment that Endeavor deserves for abandoning his eldest son. If Toga succeeded, she would be able to do anything she wants. If Tomura Shigaraki wins against Deku and destroys Deku along with the entire Hero Society, Tomura Shigaraki would be able to have peace with his friends.

If I may be allowed the opportunity to rant: I'm sure some will say this is crazy at this juncture of the story but honestly? I get where you're coming from. Or at least 90% of it.

I mean for starters, I sympathize with the League far more than the heroes (no surprise from a villain fan). I think they’ve earned the happy endings they want after how hard they’ve struggled against the towering odds they’ve faced, an area which I feel they far surpass the heroes. I want them to win, I want them to prove the strength of their bonds, all that fun stuff for them.

And just logically, if you look at the worlds both sides are trying to make…the villain's world kinda seems better? Because after all, isn’t the plan to just take the current world, tear it down, and rebuild it without a whole bunch of its glaring flaws? The easy world Toga wants where kids like her don’t fear for their lives. Where corrupt heroes like Endeavor and bigots like the CRC aren’t left to their crimes. In a warped way, they’re almost like young All Might.

Compare that to the status quo the heroes want back, the very one that brought us here, which I don’t see much reason to root for. I mean even if you say “but all the people who’ve died”; first off, I swear mha civilians frequently act like horror movie victims so I can only care so much for them. But if I did, they want back the very status quo that led to all that death in the first place so…it feels like it’ll just lead back here again. A return of the status quo? This chaos is part of the status quo by now, you sure you want it back?

(Granted this is all hampered a little bit by Shigaraki’s sudden decision to sink the country and really where did that come from? Did Tomura just say that to appear more inhuman? Did Hori make him say that to appear more threatening? Because that kind of interferes with a lot of the League’s goals y’know. Sure he doesn’t want to give the status quo loving heroes a chance to rebuild what he destroyed, but society still needs replacing as part of the plan. The PLF are still supposed to rebuild according to their desires. I may make a post about just this plot point soon.)

Not to mention that I totally get what you mean about the heroes not narratively earning a permanent win here. Not only have they as a whole not really developed and surpassed their old flaws, but just the fact that they’ve been doing their own war crimes in this arc (when you’re really supposed to stick to your morals and beat villains by the book against make-the-world-better-by-extreme-measures-type villains) really makes me think they just don't deserve the win because they kind of can’t be trusted going forward. I mean the final arc's supposed to show where everyone is ending up; how they'll be in the future. And the impression being left is that the heroes, even the kids to enough of an extent to worry, have shown the same corruption we know the HPSC for.

About the only thing I disagree with out on is that I don’t want Deku specifically to die. He can be, to put bluntly, a self-righteous moron about things he doesn't understand at times, and can be a bit of an AM clone a lot of the rest of the time; but I'd hardly wish his death for just that. Especially since it seems any hope for the heroes side not repeating their mistakes rests on him pulling his head out of his arse and getting a clue on how to be better than All Might. Not that I think that'll happen anytime soon, but that's why I keep insistently hoping for an MHA part 2.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Sorry I took so long with this. Mix of being busy with real life and being in a writing funk. Which is why this may not be my finest post either. Hope you understand.)

[mylittlemystery]

A-Y for Masky, sorry for the late response 😅

Hey, don't worry about it. This response is pretty damn late by the time I finally put it out, so I think we're even in the end. XD Hope my headcanons about this character are to your liking!

A: Aftercare | What is their aftercare like after a heavy round of tickling?:)

I can't see him giving out any aftercare if I'm keeping things one hundred. He's just gonna leave you there to gasp for air on the floor after he's done with you - it's not in his nature to be caring, after all.

B: Bondage | How do they react to bondage, do they enjoy it and if yes, what is their favorite pose?

Do not try to tie this man up because he will gut you like a fish the split second he gets loose - you're already going to get your ass beat by tickling him, so don't turn it into a murder on top of that. As for tying others up, he prefers to use his body weight to restrain them like in wrestling.

C: Chase | What are their chances in a chase, both as a lee and ler?

As a 'lee, he's not going to win if somebody starts chasing him. He's more strong than fast, so he would most likely end up hitting part of his chest on a door frame as he's scrambling off. He's most likely just going to try and beat the 'ler up if they try something like that.

As a 'ler, he's just gonna pick the 'lee up and start going to town on all their weak spots. He'll be damned if he's roped into doing something even more childish than just simply wrecking somebody - AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN!

D: Death Spot | What is their most ticklish spot?

His waistline. It's super fun to tickle there and watch him collapse at the damn seams. XD

E: Expression | How do they express their wish to tickle/be tickled?

When he wants to tickle somebody, he just tackles them to the floor without any prior warning that he might do so. If he's tickling you, then chances are that you pissed him off and he's out for blood. You can kiss your ability to breathe easily goodbye-

When I say that he rarely wants to be tickled, I mean that he RARELY wants to be tickled. Usually the only way you're gonna be able to tell is if he's drunk and acting a bit more relaxed than normal (and by you I mean Hoodie).

F: Fight | What is their behavior in a tickle fight like?

He starts trying to twist anyone near him into an inescapable pretzel shape with a bit of tickling thrown in here and there. He's usually the one to take things a bit too far in terms of roughhousing, but what do you expect from somebody who likes to tickle someone while their face is literally pressed into the floor? XD

G: Gentle | How do they react to gentle tickles?

This is the only time you might actually get to hear him chuckle - a whispery and fleeting sort of sound - but you will walk away with several broken fingers at the end of it. Kinda worth it, though...

H: Habits | As a lee/ler or both, do they have specific habits when it comes to tickling?

As a 'lee, he is going to try his absolute best to try and punch the 'ler. If he ends up succeeding in such an endeavor, he is going to have absolutely no qualms about doing so. He woke up and chose violence every single day of his life...

As a 'ler, he tends to pin the 'lee down by pressing his knees into their abdomen. It really fucking hurts, but you are going to have to deal with a substantial amount of pain if you want to be tickled by him. That's just what happens when you poke a bear, after all!

I: Interrogation | How well would they handle a tickle interrogation?

There's no way he'd ever tell the interrogator anything, but they'd have to be identified through their dental records once he's gotten free and had his way with them. You don't embarrass Masky and live, after all...

J: Joy | Their absolute favorite thing about tickling?

He's another guy that appreciates the power trip such a trivial activity can bring him. He thoroughly enjoys being able to bring someone to their knees via something as simple as simple and childish as tickling, and it's the only reason why he'd ever willingly engage in such an activity.

K: Killer Move | As a ler, do they have special skills to use against their lees and drive them crazy with?

He has really blunt nails that do wonders in setting a 'lee's nerves ablaze and making them practically screech with desperate laughter. They might end up with a few marks afterwards, but whatever. XD

L: Laughter | What does their laughter sound like when they are tickled?

It's a deep and rumbling roar of a laugh that almost sounds like a sound a lion would make, but it can actually get kind of high pitched if you tickle him in the right spots. Basically, he's your own laughter instrument. XD

M: Mornings | Their tickle behavior during mornings?

Do. NOT. Tickle this man in the mornings unless you have a serious death wish. He is grumpy enough as it is, and that increases tenfold when he isn't entirely awake. He will cut a bitch if they're dumb enough to try something like this with him...

N: Nights | Their tickle behavior during nights?

This is when he's most likely to be caught in one of those rare playful moods because he's usually drunk off his ass by the end of the day. Your best bet is to tickle him around this time because it usually results in the least amount of physical injuries acquired (he might even be in a 'lee mood if you're extraordinarily lucky).

O: Online | Text messaging and social media, do they have some kind of online tickly behavior to tease their lee or ler with?

No, his phone is reserved for business talk and business talk only. Social media annoys him beyond belief, so this doesn't apply to him whatsoever.

P: Partner In Crime | If they were to go after a lee and accept the aid of a tickle partner, who do they prefer to join hands with and why?

Hoodie, obviously! They are quite literally partners in crime to begin with, so it only makes sense that they'd also be metaphorical partners in crime when it comes to wrecking somebody's shit via tickles. Pray for a miracle if these two decide to target you...

Q: Question | Their response to the question ‘are you ticklish’?

You will get some major side eye as a response. If you're dumb enough to try and find out for yourself afterwards, you will be getting a real sharp punch against the bridge of your nose. XD

R: Role | Lee or ler, what is generally their main role?

Definitely a 'ler. I think he only gets a 'lee mood, like, once a year. XD

S: Safeword | If they were to suggest the safeword for a tickle session, which word will it be?

Safeword? Oh, so we're using safewords now? XD No, but in all seriousness, he's usually tickling someone after they've pissed him off, so...have fun dying!

T: Teasing | Their most favorite methods of teasing their lee/ler?

He loves mocking his 'lee for their reactions, calling them pathetic and shit like that. He is a very mean 'ler to be targeted by, so keep that in mind before you go fucking with him.

When he is a 'lee, he's too busy trying to throw his 'ler off of him to worry about teasing them at all, so that part doesn't really apply to him.

U: Unusual | Do they have some unusual tickle spots? Where?

His palms are very ticklish, and they're one of the only spots that can make him laugh lightly. Hoodie is the only person who's allowed to take advantage of this little tidbit.

V: Victim | As a ler, who is their favorite lee and what makes this person their ultimate victim?

Toby, one hundred percent. It turns out that jealousy and bitterness make for two great motivators to tickle someone to tears. Who knew? XD

W: Word | What is their reaction to the T-word? Can they say it out loud or do they get embarrassed?

He can say it out loud. Although, he does struggle with the term "ticklish" in particular...a bit strange, but you know.

X: X-Over | In a crossover AU, which other fandom character would be a fitting tickle fight opponent for them and why?

I know Michael Myers might seem a bit on the nose, but I genuinely can't think of a better partner for him. They're such a great pair to put to a head to head in a tickle fight, and you can't tell me that I'm wrong.

Y: YOU | Any personal self- or reader-insert tickle fantasy / headcanon to share with this character?

As much as I've expressed how you don't wanna tickle this guy unless you have a death wish (or you're Hoodie), I still wanna wreck him senseless. XD

[nixonio]

Bakugou Apologized and I Have Some Constructive Criticism

So, I read the fan translation for Bakugou's apology, and I figured I'd analyze it to the best of my ability. Well, not analyze, more like give my opinion on it.

I want to start off by saying that I'm not an anti. I'm I'm a stan either. I'm tagging this as both, though because I want to hear every side, and think about everyone's opinions so that I can make sure mine is the best it can be.

Also yes, I know it's fan translated and that the official will probably be different, but I wanted to have fun and do it anyway🥰

Please note that this is my opinion. You are more than welcome(in fact encouraged) to tell about your own opinion in the replies, but please be respectful.

Everything I write here is to be read in the most respectful and kind tone. It's how I was meaning for it to be read. I'm sorry if it doesn't come off that way, but please know I am in no way trying to be rude with anything I say.

Now then, let's get started.

First of all, he starts out with a bit of an insult "you were always far behind me" thats not true, but it's Bakugou's opinion. I'm not sure I like how he states it as fact. "You were always so far behind me." Rather than "I used to think you were always so far behind me." or "I thought you were so far behind me."

Bakugou does, however, imply that him looking down on Izuku because of him being quirkless is wrong, and I think that's awesome.

After this, he starts giving a reason(a pretty illogical one, in my opinion) as to why he bullied Deku. Bakugou felt that Izuku was somehow miles ahead of him. Next he goes into what he felt, why he felt the need to hurt Izuku. It's because of something he was feeling. And of course, how could you talk about that with someone? Especially being immature and at that age(around five or so). He didn't have to talk about it, but hurting someone is never the option(we knew this already).

Next he talks about how he was distant. And OK, that's good. He should have been distant.

Except he wasnt distant.

I can admit that on normal circumstances Bakugou didn't go out of his way to speak to Midoriya, but when Deku would speak to/compliment him, insults were thrown. Bakugou should have been distant then. Also, "I grew up distant and always tried to beat you down" are contradictions to eachother, imo. Bakugou, back in middle school, went out of his way to bully deku. That's not distant. Now back when they were small, yes. I'd say Bakugou was kind of distant. He still made fun of Izuku though, so he probably wasn't as distant as he thinks he was.

Next he talks about he could never truly be superior to Deku, how he always lost. But this is(in my opinion), unnecessary. He's giving all these reasons as to how things didn't work out for him, and that last part being placed well....last kinda makes it seem like because everything didn't work out right, he's sorry. I know this isn't how its meant, but I feel it could have been worded differently. I can't help but wonder, though, if Izuku had submitted, if Bakugou had been superior in his own eyes, if he'd succeeded, would he still be sorry?

In alot of cases, though, Bakugou succeeded in beating Midoriya down(temporarily). Physically anyway(the final exam, and when he impaled Izuku with his headpiece).

(Note: A differing opinion has lead me to think differently about this. Bakugou had become distant in an emotional sense, he and Deku weren't as close as they were before. No longer besties, if you understand me.)

At least, after this, Bakugou explains that he realizes nothing he said really matters. I like that he can understand this, and I appreciate that he feels Izuku is owed an explanation at least. The one thing I hate about this is that his reasoning for doing what he did is longer than his apology. His apology is one line.

It's just one. If someone told me that they put me through hell because of an idea they'd placed in their own head that was so incredibly far from the truth(like Bakugou saying that he thought Izuku was looking down on him during their first battle at Ground Beta), I wouldn't feel any better. As a matter of fact, I'd feel worse about it. There is literally nothing Izuku could have done to prevent the bullying. Even if he wasn't quirkless, Bakugou back then, might not have been able to fathom the idea of someone being even a little better than him. So he probably still would have bullied Deku. Only this time Izuku might have been able to fight back depending on the quirk he would have been born with.

If someone murdered my mother, and stood in court explaining why, far more than being sorry, I wouldn't be any happier. Yes, the reason matters, but the amount of time you spend explaining the reason should be virtually nonexistent compared to the time you spend showing remorse and sorrow.

I very much enjoy how he understands that Izuku wanting to leave UA and go it alone wasn't necessarily wrong. I think Bakugou is correct here. Nice Bakugou, very cool.

I'm also very happy that Izuku apologizes for saying that everyone couldn't keep up. Very cool, Izuku.

Please don't get me wrong, though. I'm proud of Bakugou for even bringing this up regardless of how he did it. I think that Bakugou apologizing is a huge step in the proper direction. I cant help but be concerned over how he'll be different in the future though.

Well, why would I be worried about this? Because he's shown promise before, but soon after goes back to being pretty rude. Bakugou explained to that child that looking down on others would prevent him from realizing his own weakness "If you keep looking down on everyone, then you won't notice your own weakness."(My Hero Academia Episode 80(sub): Relief For License Trainees -16:00). Yet, he continued to look down on others in a sense, even as recently as the Endeavor Training Arc. Bakugou's arrogance continues, even when he realizes that looking down on others is wrong. He claims that Todoroki could never notice something he didn't already notice(My Hero Academia Episode 103(sub): One Thing at a Time -7:18). And when he claims that Endeavor, the Number 1 Hero, is ripping off of his style "He's copying my Explosion" (My Hero Academia Episode 103(sub): One Thing at a Time -6:50).

Truly, I hope Bakugou's arrogance and negative confidence will subside, and we'll be able to witness him being blatantly and openly kind to others. I'm not asking Bakugou to change his character, he could become an Inosuke(Demon Slayer) of sorts. He could even become a more obvious Tsundere, with the narrative showing his thoughts and agreeing with him actually caring in a more obvious fashion.

But, that's just what I think

Once again, feel free to comment your opinion on my criticisms of Bakugou's apology, or even tell me what you think about it! I love hearing differing opinions.

[whythinktoomuch]

(pt. i)  (pt. ii) 

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

//

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

--

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.  

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

//

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

//

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.  

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

//

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

//

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing,  sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.  

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

//

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

[kjack89]

Belle Épitaphe

Because this post has lived rent-free in my head for the past six years :’)

Happy Barricade Day, y’all!

ExR, canon compliant(ish) soulmate AU.

As was not uncommon, Enjolras’s parents hosted a party for him when he turned sixteen. Not quite a debut into society, it was instead an opportunity to gather and to wait for the words that would appear on his skin, just as they did on all upon reaching one’s sixteenth birthday.

The words would indicate his soulmark: the last words that his soulmate would ever speak to him.

It was an old tradition, the gathering for the words, dating back as long as any could imagine. But where once an entire village might gather to pray for good words, for words that revealed a name, or clue, of his soulmate’s identity, now it was more a formality to see if his parents need wait for a specific person to marry him off to, or if easier arrangements could be made. Now, instead of praying for a name, his parents – and more than a few young ladies from surrounding houses – hoped for vague words that could be uttered by anyone.

Enjolras hated every minute of it, dressing in uncomfortable, fancy clothing and pretending to make polite smalltalk with all of his parents’ friends. But most of all, he hated the very idea that some words that appeared on his skin might bind him to someone without his – or their – consent.

No matter how unlikely their meeting one day might be.

So he alone did not celebrate when he felt the words sear against his wrist; he alone did not hold his breath as he twisted his arm around to see the words that stood out starkly against his pale skin.

“Do you permit it?” his father read aloud for the assembled crowd, and his mother let out a small, delighted gasp.

“Such romantic words,” she told Enjolras, holding onto his other arm with both hands. “Think of what kind, loving wife will utter those words at the end of your long life.”

There was nothing Enjolras would rather imagine less.

And as he glared down at the words that had appeared on his arm, he vowed silently that he would never allow any to get so close to him as to say those words in any kind of final parting.

----------

It was, bluntly speaking, an easy vow to make and a far easier one to keep than Enjolras had at first anticipated, in no small part because he escaped from his parents before they could force him into anything resembling a courtship. Once he was in Paris, once he was surrounded by like-minded youths, he felt no need to give literally any thought whatsoever to soulmates, to soulmarks, or to the last words fate had destined someone to speak to him.

It had long since fallen out of fashion to endeavor to search for one’s soulmate, so it was not something of which most young men spoke, save in – gently or otherwise – mocking the lovelorn among them. How many times had Courfeyrac sighed and made an excuse for his errant roommate, telling them, “You really must forgive Marius; he is looking for his soulmate, after all”? 

It was something to roll one’s eyes at, if the subject even came up at all.

And around Enjolras, whose sole concern could be best summed by those three words liberté, égalité, and fraternité, it very rarely came up.

He may well have gone to his grave without ever giving it another thought, were it not for a casual utterance by someone he knew not at all.

When the barricades arose, Enjolras was filled with conviction, even more so than what usually filled him, conviction and righteousness enough to displace what little patience he had for things not associated with the Cause for which he had pledged his life, and very likely his death.

Which was perhaps why his temper soured so quickly upon hearing the latest of Grantaire’s many drunken soliloquies. Usually he could block them out, or ignore them as he tended to more important things, but standing on the crest of the barricade, facing down what was to come, he could not find it in himself to ignore it, or Grantaire.

“Grantaire,” he shouted, “go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don’t disgrace the barricade!”

Had he known what effect his words would have on the man, he might’ve tried shouting at him sooner. Immediately, Grantaire sobered, something Enjolras couldn’t quite read softening his expression. “Let me sleep here,” Grantaire said, almost gently, and Enjolras shook his head, already turning away.

“Go and sleep somewhere else.”

But Grantaire did not turn away, and something in his voice kept Enjolras rooted to the spot where he stood. “Let me sleep here—until I die.”

Anger welled in Enjolras’s chest as he stared balefully at Grantaire. When so many would doubtlessly lose their lives in service of freedom...what right did Grantaire have to use death as a bargaining chip, there of all places?

“Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying.”

He knew the words were harsh even as he was speaking them, a cold pronouncement of Grantaire’s character. But if Grantaire seemed affected by them, his expression did not show it. Only his tone seemed affected as he told Enjolras, his voice low, “You will see.”

He mumbled something more, something incoherent, but Enjolras was saved from having to decipher what else the man might possibly have said to him, but Bahorel shouting, “Here’s the street in its low-necked dress! How well it looks!”

And then Enjolras’s returned to the barricade and directing the efforts of the newest recruits who had arrived just as the rain stopped. They were a motley assortment of troops, but still Enjolras called each comrade as he gave out instructions.

As he paused near two men arranging a table on its side against the barricade, he could not help but overhear a snippet of their conversation. “I am confident we will survive this,” one said with a grunt as he shouldered the table into place. “After all, my wife did not utter the words marked on me before I left this eve.”

“Strange,” his companion said. “Your wife said the words marked on me when I left her this eve.”

The first man guffawed and shoved his companion with the camaraderie many of their number shared, their jokes about bedding each other’s wife continuing as they headed in the opposite direction, and Enjolras just shook his head before returning to the task at hand.

That should have been the end of it, an offhand joke shared between brothers at arms, but instead, the thought of the last words he might speak or hear stuck with Enjolras, even as the barricade was completed, even as they lost Prouvaire, even as they discovered the spy among them.

He endeavored to put it out of mind, and succeeded in ignoring it until they finally all settled in for the night. Then and only then did the thought begin to twist, low in his stomach. Especially when he thought of what he had said to Grantaire.

To say that Grantaire vexed him was a vast understatement; Grantaire vexed, irritated, confounded, and infuriated him. And yet for all his drunken ramblings and professions of belief in nothing, for his interruptions and distractions, for the way he had offered once to black Enjolras’s boots and for his failure to complete the one task Enjolras had ever deigned to assign him, Enjolras had never once been able to bring himself to send him away.

Not until that night.

And now, as he tried to get what little sleep he could in the shadow of the barricade as they waited for what battle was to come, he felt something like guilt seep through him.

He had not meant it, what he had said to Grantaire, and he knew better than most that the chance of them both surviving the barricade was not high. As much as he had never wished to care about the last words he said to any, the thought that those were the last words Grantaire might ever hear from him was unbearable.

After everything, he owed Grantaire a better farewell than that.

Mind made up, Enjolras stood to return to the Corinthe. The motion woke Combeferre, who had settled nearby. “Enjolras?” Combeferre asked quietly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras assured him. “There is simply something that I must do.”

He could not quite make out Combeferre’s expression in the darkness, but he knew him well enough to guess what look he might wear. “The best thing for any of our number right now is sleep,” Combeferre said. “And to let those already asleep continue so undisturbed.”

“And if the last words I said to you were in anger, would you sleep undisturbed?”

There was a challenge in Enjolras’s voice, but Combeferre did not rise to it. “Had I drunk that much wine, I imagine so,” he returned instead. “There is but one thing Grantaire would wish to hear from you, and as you cannot offer that, it is best to let him sleep.”

“Perhaps,” Enjolras said. “But still I must try.”

If Combeferre made any further argument, Enjolras did not linger to hear it, instead slipping into the Corinthe and making his way to where Grantaire still lay with his head against the wooden table, fast asleep. Despite what Enjolras had said to him, his expression looked almost serene in the dim light, and Enjolras hesitated for a moment before shaking his shoulder. “Grantaire,” he said, his whisper sounding overly-loud as it pierced the silence. “Grantaire, wake up.”

Grantaire’s eyes blinked open, and he stared, unfocused, at Enjolras for a moment before his vision cleared enough to recognize the man half-kneeling beside him.

Then, to Enjolras’s surprise, his eyes widened in horror. “No!” he half-shouted, scrambling backwards from Enjolras and almost falling out of his seat. “No, no, please—”

“Grantaire—” Enjolras started, concerned, but Grantaire shook his head wildly.

“Do not speak to me, I beg of you,” he pleaded, and Enjolras frowned.

“I must,” he said firmly, and Grantaire let out what sounded almost like a whimper, covering his face with his hands. “Grantaire, please, you must let me say this. The words I last spoke to you – I would not have my last words to you be in anger.”

Grantaire lowered his hands, looking at once very sad and very tired. “But you must,” he said, sounding more sober than Enjolras had ever heard him. “Those words were the best gift you have ever given me.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire turned suddenly, and yanked his shirt up to show Enjolras his back. “Grantaire, what—”

Again he broke off, but this time not in confusion. He broke off in recognition, seeing the words he had spoken reflected back at him from where they were marked on Grantaire’s skin. Almost without meaning to, he raised his hand to trace with trembling fingers the words he had shouted earlier. “Grantaire,” he whispered, though he knew not what to say after that.

Grantaire flinched, just slightly, at the sound of his name, and Enjolras pulled his hand away as if he had been scalded. “So,” Grantaire said, lowering his shirt after the silence that stretched between them had turned uncomfortable. “Now you see.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I do,” he said, “but I also do not. Those are my words, but they are not the last that I will have spoken to you.”

“Apparently not,” Grantaire said. “Though how I wish that they were.”

“What do you—” For the third time in as many minutes, Enjolras broke off as realization hit him. “Because if they had been, I would be your soulmate.”

Grantaire couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “Long have I imagined what it would be like to hear those words,” he murmured, so quietly that Enjolras could barely hear him. “What might my soulmate be like, to have such harsh words be the last spoken to me? But then I met you, and I knew, if there was any from whom I could hear those words fall off his lips and have them be sweeter than any confession of love…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras bowed his head, his chest feeling tight. He could not pretend that he had been fully unaware of the way Grantaire looked at him, or spoke to him, but to have it confirmed like this was more than he thought he could bear. Especially now, with those words between them and so little time left. “So when I said them earlier…”

“I knew that if I were to die, it would be worth it to know that you were my soulmate.”

Grantaire delivered the words evenly, even as Enjolras looked away. “I am sorry,” he said finally. “For what I said, and for all I have said after if I have ruined what peace you found.”

“May I ask one thing of you?”

Enjolras glanced over at him. “If it is again to black my boots…”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “No,” he said. “I wish to know what words are marked on your skin.”

Enjolras hand flew almost immediately to the words on the inside of his arm, and he rubbed them subconsciously. “I am not certain what good it would do now,” he hedged. 

“Perhaps none. But that does not change the fact that I wish to know.”

Enjolras hesitated before bowing his head in acquiescence and rolling his shirtsleeve up until the words were revealed, as dark and imposing as they had been when first they had appeared so many years before. He thrust his arm toward Grantaire, who bent his head to read the words silently to himself. Then he straightened and met Enjolras’s eyes. “I have seen the problem.”

Enjolras frowned, rolling his shirtsleeve down again. “What problem?”

Grantaire nodded toward his arm. “I’ve once asked you for permission to do anything.”

Enjolras laughed, a sharp, surprised sound. “I suppose not,” he agreed.

“And I doubt that even now I shall suddenly start.”

“Again, I suppose not.” Enjolras hesitated. “I have never given much thought to my soulmate, even to the idea in general. What good is a soulmate found only at death? My concern is with the rights of the living. Including the right to never find their soulmate if they do not wish.”

Grantaire’s eyes flew to his. “I would never dream—” he started, but Enjolras shook his head.

“I know,” he said softly. “And yet, there is a part of me that now hopes that I will not go to my death without hearing you say those words.”

He would never know what possessed him to say it – undoubtedly, the same instinct that had driven him to wake Grantaire in the first place, the same instinct that had stopped him from removing Grantaire from their meetings all these years, the same instinct that drew them together when they were the last two in the Musain late at night. It was that same instinct that made him painfully aware how close they were even then, and how little effort it would take to close that space and press his lips against Grantaire’s.

But he was saved from that instinct by Grantaire saying, quietly, “I am sorry.”

Enjolras blinked, confused by the apology. “What for?”

“That I will never speak those words.”

“Even if I were your soulmate, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to.” Grantaire gave Enjolras a small, sad smile, and the breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat. “To utter the words that would sever us...if those are the last words that I am to speak to you, then I would rather be struck dumb than speak our last.”

This time, when Enjolras again felt the instinct to close the space between them, he did not fight it, leaning in to kiss Grantaire. Grantaire was frozen for a brief moment before melting against Enjolras, curling one hand in Enjolras’s shirt and pulling him even closer. Enjolras reached up to cup Grantaire’s cheek, kissing him desperately, the weight of the moment leaving him wishing he could stretch the kiss into infinity.

But all too soon, he knew he had to pull away, to end the moment, because he knew Grantaire would never have been able to bring himself to. “I love you,” Grantaire told him, his hand still balled in Enjolras’s shirt, and Enjolras covered his hand with his own, squeezing his hand gently.

“I know.”

“Will you do one more thing for me?” Enjolras did not answer, just looked at Grantaire expectantly, and Grantaire swallowed, hard, before asking, a little hoarsely, “Will you say them again to me?”

Enjolras knew instantly that he meant the words he had spoken earlier, the ones written on Grantaire’s skin. “Grantaire—” he started, the name sticking in his throat.

“Please.”

Enjolras released Grantaire’s hand. “I cannot,” he said softly. “They were needlessly cruel then, and unspeakably so now.”

Grantaire just lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps,” he said. “And yet, I am asking you to.”

Enjolras tilted his head, trying to read Grantaire’s expression. “Why?”

“Because hearing you speak those words again…I will go to my death with a smile. It is all I have ever wanted, to hear those words from you. And I beg of you the chance to hear them again.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt unbearably tight. “Grantaire—”

“I have been resigned to my fate for longer than you could ever know,” Grantaire told him, though there was no resignation in his expression. Just something as close to hope as Enjolras had ever seen there. “Will you not do me this last kindness?”

“Grantaire—”

Grantaire’s expression did not flicker. “One way or another, I die with this barricade. So I beg of you, let me die in peace knowing, for however brief, that you were mine.”

For the third time, Enjolras said his name, but this time, it was not to deny him. “Grantaire—” He could barely speak around the lump in his throat, but he knew he must. He owed Grantaire this much. “You are incapable of believing—” Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed and Enjolras could not help himself, reaching out to again touch Grantaire’s cheek, his fingers so pale against the flushed skin. “—of thinking, of willing, of living—” His voice broke, and Grantaire opened his eyes and reached up to lay his hand over Enjolras’s, turning his head to press a kiss, featherlight, against Enjolras’s palm. “—of dying.” 

They stayed like that for a long moment until Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now go. And if the Lord is kind, I will see when I wake.”

Enjolras bowed his head and swallowed, hard, before nodding, just once, and retreating from the Corinthe without speaking another word.

It was done.

And he had a battle to prepare for, one he hoped would make him forget how much, in that moment, he wished to hear Grantaire say the words marked on his own skin.

----------

It was fitting, in a twisted sort of way, that Enjolras found himself back there, not even twelve hours later, backed into a corner with the barrels of twelve guns aimed at him. 

They had offered to bandage his eyes, but Enjolras wished to stare down his death with what defiance he had remaining. He lifted his chin as the sergeant repeated his order, “Take aim!”

But then, another voice shouted from beyond them, a voice that Enjolras knew, a voice he had resigned himself to never hearing again: “Long live the Republic! I am one of them.”

There were no words that Enjolras could muster as Grantaire crossed the room to stand next to him, but he did not need any. 

His words to Grantaire would be his last. For whatever peace it might bring both of them.

“Finish up both at one blow,” Grantaire said to the sergeant before turning to Enjolras.

As their eyes met, Enjolras understood, finally. Romantic, his mother had called the words on his arm, because she had envisioned them said by a doting spouse at the end of a long life. But she could never have imagined how much more beautiful they would be when spoken by someone he had not realized until too late was the one person who could ever have been his soulmate, the one with whom he would die in service of the idea of freedom for all men.

“Do you permit it?” Grantaire asked. The first, last and only time Grantaire had ever asked his permission. The only time he had ever needed to.

And Enjolras wordlessly pressed his hand with a smile.

[sedge-yells-at-comics]

Reprinted below, in case the link implodes.

Flash #27 Reveals Why Reverse Flash Is a Truly Unique Villain                

The finale of "Running Scared" provides a gut-wrenching Rebirth update to one of DC's most complicated villains: Eobard Thawne, the Reverse Flash.

By Meg Downey Published Jul 27, 2017               

If you’re a fan of the Flash, you’re probably pretty familiar with the concept of the Reverse Flash, a man named Eobard Thawne who, like Barry, has super speed and wears a flashy costume. Of course, the “Reverse” might sound like he’s the literal opposite of the Flash -- maybe someone who slows things down instead of speeding himself up? Or maybe someone who runs backwards?

There are a lot of obvious and incorrect guesses pretty readily available for casual or newer fans to throw darts at. The reality of the Reverse Flash is, however, pretty complicated. Mostly because his “reverse” status is actually ideological at its core. Flash media, be it print, animated or live action, has traditionally made this apparent by painting Eobard as someone who is essentially pure evil -- a sort of manic, time traveling serial killer who is motivated solely by his endless need to destroy Barry Allen from the ground up.

At that point, the problem then becomes finding a way to make Thawne’s homicidal drive, well… unique in the scope of the DC Universe, a place that just so happens to be populated by enough over-the-top villains to populate a decent sized Midwestern town. Why is Reverse Flash someone that’s specific to The Flash? What differentiates him from any of DC’s other iconic arch rivals, like Lex Luthor or The Joker?

Well, The Flash #27 has the answer, and it's probably not the one you expected.

Running Scared

The rebirth of the “classic” Eobard Thawne (as opposed to his New 52 revamp) began in the Flash/Batman crossover mini-event “The Button” back in April, a four-part storyline which connected the original Thawne to the events of last year’s DC Universe: Rebirth one-shot.

Since, then, Thawne’s taken up residence as a perpetual thorn in Barry’s side in the hero's own ongoing series, stepping directly into the spotlight for the three-part “Running Scared” arc which served to highlight Thawne’s Rebirth status quo. For the most part, it’s a story that fans will be pretty familiar with, borrowing heavily from elements of stories like The Flash: Rebirth and Flashpoint. Thawne’s from the future, he time traveled to kill Barry’s parents, he’s connected to a negative form of the Speed-Force, and so on -- But that’s where things start to get their Rebirth-specific legs.

It’s not that creators Josh Williamson, Howard Porter and Paul Pelletier are trying to reinvent the proverbial wheel with “Running Scared” -- just unlock a different side of it by shining a light on one of the most unique aspect of Eobard and Barry’s relationship.

Reverse Flash doesn’t hate Flash the way Lex Luthor hates Superman, or Bane hates Batman. It’s actually (appropriately) quite the opposite. It’s the reverse. Eobard Thawne loves Barry Allen, obsessively and vengefully, which is where his endless, destructive need to ruin Barry’s life comes into play.

“Running Scared” highlights the fact that a young Eobard grew up alone (though Williamson was quick to confirm that that particular story element came out of an earlier Geoff Johns Flash issue) with only his idealized and imaginary version of Barry -- a character from his history books -- to keep him company. Barry was, for all intents and purposes, Thawne’s only friend, confidant, and emotional anchor, despite the fact that the two of them wouldn’t actually meet for years and years.

It was plenty of time for a very troubled and very lonely Thawne to fall in love with a version of The Scarlet Speedster that existed only in his imagination...and, well, it’s pretty obvious how that particular emotional endeavor actually went down. Actually meeting Barry and subsequently being forced to deal with the fact that he was just a guy and not the cartoon character Thawne had built in his head for years, proved to be too hard a stress test for Thawne’s fragile psyche.

Fatal Attraction

Meeting and being disappointed by a personal hero is a rough experience for just about anyone, but rather than allowing himself to move on -- or even allowing himself to simply decide to hate Barry instead, Thawne’s obsession only doubled down.

As issue #27 hurtles to its conclusion, Thawne’s real motivations become abundantly apparent. As Barry, infected with Thawne’s own inverted Negative Speed Force thrashes Thawne within an inch of his life, he presses him with a question - Why, if Thawne has always been so inspired by him, has he gone out of his way to ruin Barry’s life at every turn? Why has he done all of these terrible things, from killing Barry’s parents to beating Wally within an inch of his life, to kidnapping he and Iris and hauling them to the future?

Thawne’s answer is as unexpected as it is heartrendingly honest: because these horrible things are the only way Thawne understands how to make Barry spend time with him.

It’s that simple.

Thawne’s love for, and obsession with Barry Allen has permeated his life so deeply and completely that he is even willing to count his time spent being pummeled half to death by Flash as a win. He’s completely unable or unwilling to differentiate between Barry’s affection and Barry’s hatred, and he’s ready to do whatever it might take to put himself at the center of either emotion in Barry’s mind.

“A few years ago, it would have really hurt my feelings to hear you say that,” Thawne taunts after Barry threatens him, “but now to think that I caused you that anger? That I could get under your skin like this? It warms my heart.”

It’s deeply troubling, of course, and horrifyingly uncomfortable to get a look into the head of a villain who is, essentially, the personification of a fan gone terribly, terribly awry -- a theme that only gets more difficult to swallow when you begin to think about the increasingly complicated relationship between fans and their idols in actual, genuine, non-super heroic world around us.

This subtle reworking of the Reverse Flash has made him one of comic’s most poignant ruminations of the idea of toxicity in fan communities, idolization of strangers, and self destructive obsession, and it did so in a way that boldly allowed Thawne to win at the end of the day.

The issue closes, and the arc completes, with Barry exactly in the position Thawne wanted him in: completely alone, just like Thawne was as he built Barry into a hero of mythological perfection in his head. Now, where Barry will end up, and whether he’ll be forgiven by Iris, Wally and the roster of people he’s been manipulating as he leads his vigilante double life, is still largely a mystery.

It’s clear that Thawne didn’t expect, or even really want, Barry to come running into his arms to start their life together the second he succeeded in isolating him -- he makes that abundantly clear as he warns that he’ll just return again and again and again, de-powered, killed or otherwise hindered. Iris may have added an exclamation point to the end of the story arc by “vaporizing” Thawne with a Black Hole gun, but it hardly matters.

Reverse Flash will be back, somehow, at some point, and it’s doubtful that his love and obsession for Barry will have wavered in the slightest. We know now that’s just now how his mind is capable of working. It’s unlikely that Thawne will ever feel anything for Barry beyond his own supremely twisted adoration, no matter how many times the Flash pummels him into the ground. It’s just not the way Thawne’s brain is able to process information anymore.

It’s complicated, messy, and uncomfortable, but it’s also one of the clearest articulations of exactly what makes Reverse Flash such an interesting villain in the scope of not just the Flash family of books, but the DCU as a whole.

[ushiwakatrash]

On your knees, King!

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you--naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART I

Part 2 →

“All hail the Barbarian king!”

Chants roared throughout the fallen kingdom as the last palace on the hunt list fell to the hands of the barbarians. The leader of their army, along with his trusted dragon, stood tall as they basked in their hard-earned victory. 

The dragon who could shapeshift into human form kneeled at the foot of his master. “At long last my king, Yuuei is ours. This glory is because of you.” 

“There, you are wrong, Kirishima. This victory is ours. TO THE BARBARIANS!” the king cheered. His soldiers followed suit with their own cheers of victory but in the castle of Yuuei, a family shuddered in fear.

Since the king couldn’t govern all of the kingdoms he had conquered all at once, he usually appointed the royal family to do it for him but one wrong move may cost their heads.

That fear was enough for the other kingdoms to pledge loyalty, knowing how the Barbarian king would definitely hang their heads on the palace gates if they ever displeased him.

The same feeling emanated in the walls of Yuuei. They knew of the new King’s ways and now they were the newest set of prisoners of the Barbarians. The king however needs a token, one of the most worth in the former king’s possession.

Other nations brought forth their best quality gold, finest jewels, the smoothest cloths of silk, but only this kingdom had a princess--and that was worth more than any of those other gifts combined.  

(Y/n) was called a weight on the family name by her own kin. She was far from what you would call an elegant lady. During the daytime you would see her sparring with the knights. Other times she would go hunting with her commoner friends.

She knew her way with swords and weapons. She is also very skilled with the bow. One of their best knights, Iida Tenya, taught her to wield these things even if it was against his will at first.

She was the princess of the people and all the commoners adored her. Her family on the other hand frowned upon her actions calling it ‘unfit for a lady and a princess’ but she could care less. 

Raw strength was not a problem for this princess and accompanied by her smarts, everyone looked up to her. The royal family could careless for their people but the heart of (Y/n) was just like that of a commoner.

She knew of their struggles and accepted criticism they had which earned her the respect of almost all of the people. She sometimes would sneak out of the castle to give food to those who have nothing on their plates or give medicine to the sick.

The only person who knew this was her childhood friend, Prince Shouto. They were introduced to each other when they were young as political marriages often happened between royal families; they were engaged.

And because their kingdom had also fallen in the hands of the great King Bakugou, their engagement had been called of because even if they remained in their respective palaces and continued to govern their own land, they were royals no more.

She lacked finesse and grace but she never lacked in heart and compassion. She was the only princess born in a royal family and because of her attitude and crass behavior, the King found her useless and an embarrassment.

 What other way to get rid of her than to give her as an offering? Surely she would refuse the offer so the king had to plan on how to break the news on his only daughter.

The queen refused to give her daughter away but if they did not comply, all three of their heads will be chopped off from their body. It was the only way to survive in their lost kingdom.

The only lucky thing that they could happen to have right now is that their daughter would be at the age to marry. She was.

-- 

The sun was out and the weather was nice--the perfect time to catch a wild boar. The town folks will surely enjoy the meals that could be made with it. She reached for the red tooth that was attached to a slim piece of rope wrapped around her neck and touched it for good luck before hunting.

When she was only starting to get into hunting as a young girl, she wandered off to the woods by herself. That’s when she met a blonde with piercing red eyes. At fist he was hostile towards her but after a few more visits, they became friends.

He taught her how to skillfully shoot a pigeon with a bow, and they would have that bird for lunch. He taught her how to climb trees and distinguish poisonous berries from edible ones. 

One time, after they had finish catching fishes in the river to roast, he shyly handed her the necklace, telling the princess that it was a price from defeating a beast of the forest. In her state of happiness, she tackled the young boy into the hug and unknown to her, it was the first time he had felt affection.

She had no idea what was going on in the palace. She was busy finding food for the poor families she had recently talked to. A knight from the castle rushed to her, scaring the animals away.

“Why would you make so much racket in the middle of our hunt?! This better new you have better be worthwhile or I’ll have you running laps around the town!” the princess complained. 

“I am truly sorry, your highness but his majesty has summoned you in the throne room right this instant so we better get a move on and not let the king wait.” the knight swiftly said.

-- 

“My daughter, I have some important news for you. For all of our sakes and for our people’s sake, you are to be given as the token of our loyalty to the Barbarians.” the king stated with no emotions.

You scoffed at this. “Why me? You have tons of gold and brilliant stones! I do not get why it must be me that is given. How about what I want?! How about my say in all of this?!” 

“You will obey your father whether you like it or not! For once be useful to this family you ungrateful child! You will be given to King Bakugou and you will be taken as his wife. Resistance is futile because I have already sent the signed papers” the king stated, more aggressively this time.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Is my freedom and happiness too much to ask from you? A loveless marriage for the sake of who, yourselves?! I doubt this is for the sake of the people. I’d rather die!” her voice started to shake.

“You will do no such thing as to kill yourself. Your wedding to King Bakugou is absolute and I will hear no further complains. Please my loyal men, escort the princess out of here.” 

“You fucking old man! Mark my words I will come back for you, not in joy, but to have you punished!” She screeched. 

--

The night was quiet for the sulking princess and no other thing could lift her spirits up other than to visit Prince Shouto. She snuk out of the castle once more and was warmly greeted by the guards in the Endeavor Palace. 

The ruler there, Enji, took care of business outside the town so only the princes and princess Fuyumi were in the castle. 

She was quickly escorted to Prince Shouto’s headquarters and she flung the door open and hugged the prince, finally letting the tears fall. “Shouto I am getting married to a man I don’t love! My father is the worst I fucking hate him. He is always against me!” 

Shouto understood the feeling of resent towards their father. That was the thing they both strongly had in common, dealing with the fathers they wish weren’t theirs. 

“It cant be that bad (Y/n)” Shouto said while trying to wipe her tears away. He cupped her face and asked “To whom are you to be wed anyway?”

The prince’s world stopped when he heard her answer. 

[bjornthorsson20]

All I Do Is For You

"Just one drink."

Ron Weasley was not having the evening he had planned out. He had gotten home earlier today, surprising his wife Hermione, excited to deliver her the news of his recent resignation from the Auror Corps. With his wife now pregnant, Ron thought it would be good to settle down into a less life-threatening job, so he had asked George if the offer to come work with him still stood. George had told him he could start as soon as the month was over, which left Ron at least two more weeks to resign from his post in the Auror office and meet up with his brother at the shop to discuss business.

Harry had, of course, expressed his sadness over the news, no longer having his friend as his partner, but he understood Ron's reasons entirely and reassured him of his support, wishing Ron luck in whatever new endeavors he decided to pursue in this new chapter of his life. Leaving Harry had been the toughest part of this decision, but Ron was absolutely sure of what he wanted, and that was a future with Hermione and their kids with a stable job to provide for them without worrying them sick if he was going to get back home everyday.

He arrived home with the biggest grin plastered on his face, almost bursting into the living room to wrap Hermione into a hug and twirl her around as he told her of his plans. The grin fell off his face as soon as he started rambling excitedly, and realized she wasn't grinning back. Instead, she was frowning deeper and deeper as he went on, looking at him disapprovingly, which Ron had to admit hurt a bit; he felt like he was back at Hogwarts, having told her he forgot to finish his essay with that sheepish smile he knew would get her to help him out.

But the words that came out of her mouth were even worse.

"You can't do that, Ron!" she exclaimed heatedly in that familiar bossy tone.

Ron was not expecting this reaction at all, and it took a moment to register what she had just said, but when he did, all he felt was confusion. It didn't help that his temper had started to rise.

"And why is that?" his voice already had a dangerous edge to it, as he tried reigning in his growing anger he knew would cause a massive blow up.

"You shouldn't make a decision like that just because of me!" she shrieked louder, clearly not trying to control her own temper. Ron knew it wouldn't be good for her or the baby if this situation got too heated, so he needed to try and calm her down.

"What do you mean?" he attempted to keep his voice neutral, only succeeding in hiding his irritation a little bit, but it didn't matter because Hermione seemed to be making no effort to avoid rowing with him.

"You should've consulted me first!" her words pierced him deep, and not just in volume, but the weight of their implication.

You should've consulted me first. Why? He was a grown man, capable of making his own damn decisions! Clearly, she didn't think so, if she thought he had to go to her every time he wanted to take a new step in his life. He thought she had seen him maturing, had seen the responsible individual he had become in all of their years since Hogwarts. They had been married for nearly six years now for Merlin's sake, and he was still being treated like a stupid toddler! All he wanted was to surprise her with a bit of news that should've sent her over the moon in elation; he was doing this for her and their baby. She should've been proud, not hacked off, snapping at him.

He couldn't take this anymore, he needed to get away before he said something he'd really regret.

"Consulted you first? Hermione, I-" he cut himself off before blowing out a large breath, rubbing his hair and his face in exasperation.

"I just th-"

He didn't let her finish. Instead, he quickly turned towards the entrance and told her hurriedly that he needed to be alone for a bit and promised her he would come back before their usual bedtime.

And that's how he now found himself in a little muggle pub in London, a distance away from the Leaky Cauldron. He knew Hermione wouldn't think to look for him here, and since she was pregnant, fast wizarding travel wouldn't be an option, so it would be a while before he was found. All the more time for him to blow off steam and sort out his emotions to confront her in a more level-headed way later.

He was finally served his drink, and was about to down it when a voice from behind made his body tense up.

"Ron?"

He slowly put the glass down before sighing, finally turning towards the source of the voice he'd recognize anywhere.

"Hey." His tone indicated he was still holding on to his previous irritation. But then he noticed her puffy red eyes, which meant she had been crying for a while now, and immediately all of his previous anger and annoyance melted away as he took two long strides, engulfing her in a comforting hug, She continued to sob on his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, love." He attempted to soothe her by caressing her hair and back in that practiced manner he got from years of unwinding her. No matter how hacked off he may have been with her before, he never wanted to see her cry, especially if he was the cause, which was just ten times worse.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, darling." She started to calm down a bit, her sobs subsiding, but she still struggled to get the words out through her hiccups.

"Love, it's okay, really."

"No, Ron, it's not okay, please don't downplay this now just because I'm a sobbing mess. I'm sorry for how I handled all of this. You have to know that I'm very very proud of you, and I'm happy beyond words for your decision, truly, I totally support you." He could tell she was trying to keep her voice steady, though it still came out a little shaky.

He gulped, knowing that there was a "but" in somewhere in there. "I believe you. I do," he breathed in and closed his eyes, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. "So why did you react like that, then?" Ron tried not to let the hurt resurface, but he couldn't help it.

"Because…" He felt her pull away to lift her head from his chest, and he opened his eyes meeting her gaze. "Because I didn't want to feel like I was forcing you to make a decision you didn't want to just to make me happy." Her lower lip trembled and another tear escaped, trailing down her left cheek as Ron raised his right thumb to wipe it away before cupping her cheeks, which just made Hermione tear up more.

"Hermione, I'd never do such a thing, I can promise you that. I won't ever feel pressured into doing anything I'm not comfortable with. This decision came to me because I want to start a safer job for our family." As he said this, he moved one hand to her belly. “One that won't leave you and our kids worrying for me every day. It had nothing to do with me feeling forced to resign so you would be happier."

She was speaking very shyly now, as if she was embarrassed for being so emotional before. "It's just that you always said you wanted to be a part of the Aurors and you seemed so content with that, so I felt guilty for wanting you to have a less risking job. When you came home earlier so excited about it, I felt so overwhelmed by everything that it just came out all wrong when I tried explaining myself. I take back everything I said. You shouldn't have had to consult me for that. You're not a child, you're completely responsible for decisions such as this and I totally understand that."

"And you know I already forgave you," he offered her a smile that she returned. "I'm sorry, too, for leaving like I did, I shouldn't have done that." He looked away and tried not to think back to that time — he had already let that guilt go and both Hermione and Harry had forgiven him long before that.

She nudged his face to look back at her before speaking in a soft tone, "You don't need to be sorry for that. You did the right thing. Sometimes it gets to be too much and you need to step away and let your mind cool down a bit before you end up saying or doing something you'll regret. As long as you come back, I won't ever hold it against you."

Fuck, he loved this woman. She always knew just when to say the right thing to make him feel instantly better. He lowered his lips gently to hers as he tried to convey just how much he felt for her even after all their years together; he knew those feelings would never change.

She reluctantly pulled away as she whispered, "Let's go home," her voice laced with want.

He nodded, before remembering what he meant to ask her from the beginning, "How did you find me, by the way?"

She blushed then, like a kid caught with their hand on the cookie jar, before muttering, "I knew you wouldn't be in any places I was already familiar with, so I flooed George to ask if he knew where you might've gone, and he told me you came in here with him shortly after the war to talk about Fred. I jotted down the address and headed to Diagon Alley so I could get here through the Leaky and then took a taxi."

She was brilliant, and he told her so for only the umpteenth time, watching as she smiled in that way she did after a compliment to her intellect.

"Let's head home then, so we can dance to those Beedles you love playing on the radio." He gave her his trademarked lopsided grin that he knew left her feeling all hot and bothered.

"The Beatles, Ronald, honestly!" she exclaimed in a tone of mock indignation, but couldn't help cracking a small smile from the corner of her mouth.

"You know I love to rile you up." He winked to convey to her he knew exactly what the correct name was.

"Oh, yeah? Well, two can play that game," she bit her lip while grinning, something she knew very well left him wanting her immediately.

"Hermione…" He all but groaned her name, his body already responding to her.

"Yes, darling?" Her seductive tone paired with that endearment she knew drove him crazy was making it very hard for him to control himself out in the streets.

"C'mere," He growled, already stepping closer to her.

She shook her head and started backing away still biting her lip and giggling, clearly having way too much fun torturing him like that.

He wasn't having it, though. He grabbed her, making sure to be gentle, and started carrying her bridal style.

"Ronald! Put me down this instant! You're going in the wrong direction!" She tried sounding reprimanding through her fit of laughter but all it did was make him walk faster.

"Nope, we are heading to an inn nearby, because I'm not waiting to get home to have you. You've been very naughty, Mrs. Weasley." He knew she loved when he did his version of the "McGonagall voice."

"Oh, is that so? Then I suppose you will hand me a punishment?" She slid into the role of innocent student very well, even now.

He dipped his head to whisper in her ear, "It ain't a punishment if you enjoy it, huh?" Feeling her shiver at his tone made him want her even more urgently.

Before they entered the inn, he said, "You were actually right about one thing, love."

"Oh?"

"I was content with being an Auror. But I'm truly happy just being with you, no matter what my career might be. All I do is for you."

And he meant every word.

As Hermione beamed at him, already tearing up once again, she captured his lips in a heated kiss. Ron considered how incredibly lucky he was. He had survived a bloody war, went through so much heartbreak and grief, but now had a whole new journey ahead of him about to begin with the love of his life by his side for the whole ride. Because it never truly ends until it's all over.

[kiriluvbot]

pros of shipping rare pairs: you have to make your own content, creative freedom, less ship wars

cons: you have to make your own content

so here i am, making my own content. also, manga spoilers ahead.

—

seroroki, post war arc, in the hospital

—

nothing felt real.

not the uncomfortable plastic seat beneath him, not the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, not the ticking clock on the wall. most certainly not the school uniform clinging almost too tightly to his skin.

he was aware of every loose string of thread, of the sickly scent of sterilizer in the air, of the voices humming in tune with the lights. a door slammed to his left and he flinched.

“we can’t reach them, i don't know what’s going on—“

the battle against all for one and shigaraki ended only a few days ago, but it felt like no time at all and all the time in the world had passed. the number one hero, endeavor, had nearly been killed. half of hanta’s classmates were in hospital beds, unconscious or barely able to speak.

“endeavor, he—he’s down!”

the world had been turned upside down. hero society as everyone knew it was falling apart of the seams. heroes were dead. civilians. classmates. dead. cities were flattened, disintegrated or on fire. the very earth seemed to be crumbling.

“that—that thing. it’s coming this way. we have to move. sero—“

hanta sero wanted to be a hero. hanta wanted to be a hero dammit, but when the time came, what could he do? what could his quirk do? he was not strong enough, not fast enough, not smart enough. he applied to the best hero school in the world and trained until he felt like he was going to die and it was not enough.

the whole thing had felt like some terrible nightmare. the worst nightmare, worst case scenario, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. not as shigaraki during a whole city to dust, not as giantomachia flattened an entire forest, not as endeavor was knocked clear out of the sky. not as their friends lay on the ground dead or dying, not as civilians cried out for help under rubble, not as the bad guys slipped away like they were in no hurry at all.

“just—be careful out there, hanta. please.”

“sero, bub, come on.”

“come back to me in one piece. okay, shoto? promise me.”

a hand rests gently on sero’s shoulder. it makes him jump, immediately turning to search for the source. sero finds it’s just smiling kirishima, red hair down and framing his tired eyes. his heart races as another door shuts a little too hard.

“is it time?” sero’s voice sounds dry and foreign to himself.

“yeah,” kirishima replies. “let’s go see todoroki.”

the name alone is nearly enough to send sero buckling to the floor.

“shoto—where is he? why can’t i see him?”

“you need to calm down, kid. we’ve got everything under control.”

“tell me he’s going to be okay. tell me!”

sero is hardly aware of his own footsteps as a nurse leads them through a maze of blinding white halls. he’s numb and hyper aware all at the same time and it’s awful.

as soon as they’d gotten word that todoroki was awake, a small group consisting of sero, kirishima, satou, momo, and jirou left immediately to go see him. no word on bakugo yet, or midoriya. the three idiots dived head first into the worst of the battle. sero hadn’t known until hours later. he briefly recalls the dull look in kirishima’s eyes, how he merely clammed up and went silent. sero hadn't reacted quite the same. he only remembers falling to his knees, begging for answers.

not much comes to mind after that.

sero wishes now that he could see todoroki alone, that he could scoop him up and run away to some imaginary land where villains and heroes didn’t exist. where they could be safe.

he also considers turning tail and running back to his dorm and never leaving again. sero wasn’t sure how he could stand seeing todoroki in whatever state he was in—

“i am touya todoroki, the eldest son of endeavor.”

the flames, the smell of burnt—

the nurse leading them says, “his voice isn’t completely back yet, but he’s awake and doing well. just be careful, please.”

then the door opens. kirishima leads the way and sero finds he’s okay with that, because he’s quickly realizing that he’s not at all prepared. not even close.

shoto todoroki is leaned up on his bed, wrapped almost entirely in bandages. his baby blue hospital gown is too big for him; it dips off one shoulder. nearly his entire face is bandaged, his right arm, his chest too, it seems. what skin can be seen is dull, but his eyes are not. they shine with unshed tears that sero can see even from this distance.

“todoroki,” kirishima starts. “so glad to see you, man.”

the others chime in, smiling softly and hiding their hands behind their back, keeping a vice like grip on their self control. sero finds, for the first time ever, he can’t say a damn thing.

todoroki opens his mouth. the sound that comes out is horrible and broken, but he rasps out a simple hey, guys.

“you’re gonna need a full time translator,” kirishima jokes, and sero’s lip quirks despite the heaviness in the air.

and after a while, one by one, this little group dissipates. kirishima and sero are left, and then kirishima goes, too. his hand finds sero’s shoulder once more, and he shoots a see you later at todoroki before exiting.

and then it’s just them. sero and todoroki.

just like it’d been before this whole shit show started.

legs tangled, fingers entwined, promises made, confessions unsaid.

“hanta—“ that voice comes out again, raspy and shattered. “i—“

“you came back to us in one piece,” sero says, interrupting. “please don’t start to apologize.”

what he doesn’t say is: i didn't tell you before we left—i didn’t tell you because i was scared. and for a bit i thought i’d never see you again. for a bit i thought i was going to die. i thought you were going to—

sero sits on the bed, todoroki’s legs just barely a ghost behind him. this lighting makes him look paler than usual, makes his scar stand out, makes his hair look like fresh—

stop.

todoroki doesn’t even know where to start. he was sure he was going to die on the battlefield. he was sure he was going to die in dabi’s—no, touya’s arms. he was sure his brother was going to kill him.

when todoroki woke, all he could remember was the sheer terror he felt on that hill, his supposedly dead brother right in front of him, dancing like a mad man, laughing hysterically. it was like everything had been ripped out from underneath todoroki. he had become very unsure of everything he knew about himself, about his father, about his whole family at that moment. even more unsure than he’d been previously.

as much as todoroki wanted to deny it, wanted to scream that dabi was nothing but a meddling lunatic, the sensible part of him knew it was true.

endeavor may be number one hero but he had not succeeded at a single thing except making a monster out of his first born. the rest, well—you know how the story goes.

the truth made todoroki feel tainted, stained. it made him feel contaimniated and heavy and like maybe—maybe he should’ve let dabi finish the job. maybe, by killing shoto, touya would finally be free of whatever he had weighing on him. get rid of the thing that replaced him.

it had been on todoroki’s mind since he woke up. the truth would rage through the world like wildfire. endeavor would be scorned. shoto would forever been stuck in the shadow of his failures. he’d never be free—never—

sero grabs his hand.

sero watches as todoroki grimaces, turns his face away. he watches as todoroki starts to guard himself, starts to clam up—

todoroki pulls his hand free.

“sho—“

“you should go,” todoroki hisses. even as he speaks them, he regrets every word. it all comes out wrong and harsh, rough around the edges.

what he doesn’t say is: you’re too good for me, hanta. why can’t you see that? why can’t you see i’ll only ever weigh you down? my family’s a disaster, i’m a mess, and you’re—you’re you.

there’s a pause. the air is heavy. sero’s hand is cold. he watches as todoroki avoids his gaze, as more tears well in his eyes. nothing feels real.

“you—what?”

“hanta,” todoroki whispers. “go. please.”

and it’s like the world is ending, all over again. if he hadn’t been sitting, sero might have collapsed at the knees again. he wonders briefly if his ears need to get checked, if he heard him correctly, if the world really is ending.

and to make it so much worse, todoroki says, “you deserve better, dammit.” his voice barely raises a single octave. “don't want you getting dragged down because of me. ‘cause of my family.”

he says me like it’s poison on his tongue.

todoroki pulls into himself completely, pulling entirely out of sero’s orbit, leaving the room icy and feeling nearly empty. sero isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows it must be something close to anger. his brows knit together as he tries to keep a tight leash on his emotions, but sometimes even hanta sero loses control.

sero stands so fast his vision blurs for half a second. todoroki looks meek and small beneath him, hands clamped together, eyes dull and face wrapped up. sero’s heart beats all the way down to his toes, the room closing in on him slowly. it’s iciness seeps into his bones, fear and anger and confusion simmering in his veins.

“you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think i’m gonna let you shove me away so easily,” sero cuts out, ignoring the bewildered look on todoroki’s face. “i know you’re hurting, shoto. and i know you're strong, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” sero unclenches his fists but god, his chest feels tight. “we’re just kids, dammit! you don’t have to carry all this weight, just let me help you. let me be here for you!”

“hanta—“

“i’m here because i—“ you know, sho, i really— “because i care about you.”

the room seemed to shrink in that very short time period, sero’s chest heaving with all the things he didn’t say, all the things he wanted to say, all the things he wanted to do. he’d spent nearly every single day in the past year-ish by todoroki’s side, training, laughing, sharing manga. he’d grown close to someone who seemed so untouchable when he first met him. sero got to be there as todoroki brought down his own walls, came out of his own shell, became someone todoroki himself could be proud of.

and now this idiot wanted to push sero away? because he deserves better? because todoroki didn’t want sero to see the ugly truth of his family history? because todoroki thought he himself was too much for sero?

“just trying to protect you,” todoroki mutters, not daring to look away from sero’s face. not yet. “i’ll only—“

“don’t—“ sero snaps. “don’t say it. you know it’s not true. you know it isn’t.”

todoroki finally breaks eye contact, gaze dropping to his hands. his shoulders heave as he takes a shaky breath. if he could just get it into hanta’s thick skull that he hung the stars, that he was a god send, an angel on earth, that todoroki was unworthy and undeserving of someone like him—

todoroki doesn’t have time to reel in the tears as they start to fall. slowly at first, then all at once like the dam had finally broken. sero is at his side in an instant, like todoroki hadn’t just told him to leave, like todoroki didn't just try to make it obvious he’s undeserving of someone as kind and caring as sero. and here sero is, further proving that point as he sits carefully on the bed and gently takes todoroki’s face in his hands, fingers ghosting over bandages. the touch is searing and unbearable and not enough all at once.

“‘m sorry,” todoroki chokes out. “sorry, sorry. hanta—“

sero lifts todoroki’s face ever so slowly, and todoroki finally sees the redness of his dark eyes, the bottom lashes clumped together from a cry that might have happened just before he got here. todoroki can’t seem to get a handle on his own tears, can’t seem to reel in his uneven breathing, can’t seem to stamp out the shaking nerves dancing up his arms. grief rages inside him, grief and guilty and that same achy breaky loneliness todoroki hadn’t felt in so many months.

“please, shoto,” sero whispers, so close todoroki can’t even breathe. “everything is a mess right now but please. let me stay by your side. don't—“ his throat catches, “—don't shut me out, okay?”

“someday you’re gonna realize you don’t have to carry the weight of the universe all on your own, todoroki.”

“sero—“

sunset colors begin to pour in through cracked curtains, washing them in gentle warmth. sero’s gaze doesn’t waver, his touch doesn’t disappear. he’s light and he’s holy—pure and too kind. todoroki wraps hesitant hands around sero’s wrists, trying his hardest to reign in his tears. he lets their foreheads press together slowly, carefully.

promises are made, confessions stay unspoken. todoroki doesn’t let go, not again, not ever.

—

[citrus-himmel]

                Breakfast Endeavors ;;;

Nami finds the perfect opportunity to get Law back for something he'd done in the past and she enjoys every second of it...

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,162

Nami entered into the galley with a yawn, arms stretching high above her head. It was still fairly early, but the entire crew was up by this point, causing their typical ruckus. She normally liked sleeping in, but even with the women's sleeping quarters on the opposite side of the lawn deck, the noise her crew made had woke her up, much to her displeasure.

With a sigh and some strategic manoeuvring so she didn't get hit with food flung around by her Captain, she plopped down into her designated seat. Law was in his usual seat to her right, picking at his plate of breakfast. She gave him a small smile while she reached for the pitcher of orange juice and poured herself a glass. He returned it with a grunt, mouth currently full of food and eyes wandering around to make sure his breakfast was still safe from thieving, rubbery hands.

Chopper, Bepo and Robin were the only three not currently cramped within the galley, Nami noted. She'd seen Bepo on the lawn deck with Robin when she made her way over, enjoying her morning cup of tea. It was a smart place to be, much more peaceful than the chaos unfolding in front of her. Chopper was more than likely in the infirmary, one of the only other spots Sanji would allow him to eat, and he wouldn't let the little reindeer go hungry, no matter what.

Honestly, it was the perfect scenario for the plan she had cooked up while laying in bed the night before. With both residents who had an enhanced sense of smell out of the equation, Nami knew she had a higher chance of succeeding in her little revenge plot. A mischievous smirk unknowingly spread across her lips as she continued to pile her plate with food, excitement sparking at the prospect of what she was about to do.

It had been about a week since the shopping trip Nami had gone on where Law unexpectedly fucked her in the changing room and then left her to carry on like nothing happened. She could vividly remember the strange look she got from the shopkeeper when she emerged from behind the curtain—no doubt looking disheveled and flushed—and that was when she vowed she'd get revenge on the bastard. That revenge was just about to come to fruition, too.

Stabbing her fork into the pile of scrambled eggs on her plate, Nami tilted her head enough to watch Law's face, and when she caught his attention she quickly schooled her features into an expression of utter innocence. It instantly had Law on edge, she could see, golden eyes narrowing a fraction in suspicion.

❝ Yes, Nami-ya? ❞ he tightly asked after swallowing down the mouthful of rice he'd been chewing, one hand reaching forward for his mug of coffee.

Nami hummed at his question, focusing on meticulously chewing her eggs as she twirled her fork around in the air.

❝ Oh, nothing. ❞

Law's brow furrowed, but instead of questioning her further he simply shrugged and went about taking a drink of coffee, completely unaware of Nami's hand that had snuck under the table. He jerked when it landed on his thigh and she gave it a gentle, falsely reassuring squeeze. The gesture almost had him spilling his drink, only just managing to catch himself at the last second before the scalding liquid could slosh over the mug's rim. Wide eyes turned back in her direction, which she simply gave him her best shit eating grin, eyes glittering with mischief.

Serves you right, asshole.

Fingers gently traced along the muscles Nami could feel tensing up under the thick denim of Law's jeans, stopping at his knee before she curled her nails in and dragged. Even from where she was sitting she could hear the hitch in his throat. Good, maybe this was going to be a little easier than she'd first thought. Nami did a quick sweep of the table to make sure no one had caught on to what was going on between them. Of course not, Luffy currently the center of attention and hopefully he would be continue to keep that attention on him until she was done.

Focus back on her meal, Nami made sure to look as nonchalant as possible despite how she was now massaging the inside of Law's thigh, the underside of her wrist brushing up against his crotch every now and then from the angle. Maybe she was being a little meaner than necessary with the way she wrapped her lips around her fork, eyes darting over to watch Law's reactions every once in a while. She could feel how tense he was under her hand. Despite that, he was doing just as good of a job keeping a straight face, even if there was a slight twitch to his eyebrow, jaw a little too tight to be conveyed as a completely neutral expression.

If one looked close enough, or knew Law’s tells as well as she did, you could see the smoldering in those golden irises, promising punishment when this was all over. It had a thrill shooting up Nami's spine. Sure, this was payback for what he'd done to her, but this was their back and forth; always seeking to one-up the other whenever possible. Nami always looked forward to seeing exactly what Law would come up with next, even if at the time she would be annoyed with him, and she was sure he did the same.

Finally, Nami took a little pity on her lover—was it pity, really?—and firmly ground the heel of her palm against his slowly hardening cock, knowing the harsh line of his zipper would probably hurt a little bit, but she also knew that he liked the slight bite of pain. She watched in silence out of the corner of her eye as Law bit into his lip, muffling the barely there groan. His hips lifted from the chair to try and get more friction from her grinding, but she removed her hand quickly, tutting softly under her breath.

On the guise that she was just leaning in to say something to Law over the din of breakfast, Nami allowed her fork to drop to her plate. She pressed a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin just below the lobe of his ear, hair shielding the action from prying eyes. The temptation to take those gleaming gold hoops into her mouth was strong, but she managed to fight it off.

❝ Better be quiet, Torao. Don't want to catch the attention of my Captain, hm? ❞ Nami murmured against his skin, punctuating her statement with a firm squeeze of his cock through his jeans, relishing in the way he bucked forward with a growl.

The strain she was putting on him was clear on his face when she leaned away to sit back in her chair. He was openly glaring at her now, golden hues darkened with lust. Lips were pressed into a firm line and the tendons in his neck were a little more prominent than usual. It had pride swelling in her chest to be able to bring the Surgeon of Death to this state with just a few touches. Hopefully no one else noticed his struggle.

With a soft hum, Nami brought her hand up a little further to give a firm tug on his belt, making quick work of unbuckling and pulling the leather open, which was a feat in and of itself with only using one hand. The other had returned to grabbing her fork and shovelling more food into her mouth to keep their current activity as inconspicuous as possible.

As discreetly as she could manage, she continued undoing his pants, a grin coming to her lips at the sigh of relief that Law let out, his body visibly relaxing for a few seconds. It tensed right back up once she slipped her hand into his briefs and curled delicate fingers around his now fully hard erection, pulling it free from its confines. Lips parted on a wordless retort at being exposed to the cooler air of the galley, and before he could say anything that would reveal what was happening beneath the table, he quickly shoved another mouthful of onigiri in his mouth.

Giving his entire length a few experimental strokes, Nami soon got a decent rhythm going, wrist flicking just right when she got to the head of his cock, thumb swirling in the beads of precum that were already welling up from the slit. He was really enjoying this, wasn't he? Was the thought of being caught turning him on as much as it was her? If his bodily reactions were anything to go by, she could only assume so.

With every upstroke, she could feel his hips lifting from the chair to try and follow her hand, which he would quickly retreat back when she gave a threatening squeeze. She could just barely hear the strained noises emitting from his throat every time she rubbed at a particularly sensitive spot on his cock with her thumb, taking her time with tracing the prominent vein along the underside.

At one point he dropped one of his own hands under the table to encircle her's to try and speed things up, closing her fist more around his length to add more pressure. Nami complied for the most part, increasing her speed, and gripping his cock a little tighter when she passed over the base. She really wished she could use both hands, or her mouth to get him off. It would only add to his torture and that was exactly what she was going for. But if she was missing from the table at breakfast, suspicions would instantly arise. So this was going to have to do.

A rather audible groan had her tilting her head enough to really take Law in. He was clearly struggling with keeping himself under control now. Teeth were sunk deeply into his bottom lip, food completely forgotten on the plate in front of him, and his free hand was balled into a tight fist beside his coffee mug. He even had his eyes closed at this point, head tilted forward just enough to hide the upper portion of his face with his unruly hair. Must be close, then.

Checking to make sure they still hadn't drawn anyone's attention, Nami continued jerking him off, making it a point to squeeze where she knew he liked, and once again leaned forward to whisper in his ear. This time she indulged herself a little bit and nibbled on his earlobe just above where his earrings sat.

❝ Come on, Law. Let go for me, ❞ Nami whispered, following it up with a quiet, breathy groan of her own.

That was all it took. In the next moment Law's thighs tensed up, body visibly shuddering as his hips jerked wildly from his release. Feeling him come undone under her ministrations was exhilarating. His thick cum coating her fingers and dripping down onto his pants almost threw her over the edge as well and Nami hadn't even touched herself through this entire thing beyond clenching her thighs together. That was the type of hold he had on her and her body.

She sighed softly against the side of his neck before she leaned back, eyes fixating on the way his chest was heaving with his labored breaths. If anyone was paying attention now, they would no doubt have an idea of what just happened.

Law's face was flushed, sweat beading up along his forehead and sticking some strands of dark hair to his skin. He honestly looked fucked out, satisfied, and Nami loved it.

When he finally seemed to calm down, he opened his eyes and sent a dirty look in her direction, which she simply stuck her tongue out at him. Releasing his softening cock from her grip, she let him set himself straight as she wiped her hand off along the thigh of his jeans, much to Law's disgust. To really bring it home, Nami made sure to keep eye contact as she brought her hand up to lick off the remnants of his release from her index finger with a hum of approval, delighted to see that despite being spent, his pupils still dilated a fraction. She knew he had quite a bit of stamina, needed to with his Devil Fruit, so she could imagine he was already thinking of ways to get her back for this.

Quite satisfied with herself, Nami deliberately took her time with finishing up her meal. She washed it all down with a few long drinks of her juice before she finally stood up and walked away without another word, a smug expression crossing her features.

Little did they know, someone had caught on to what they'd just done, they just couldn't make an expression to show they had.

[weshsam]

BECOMING A SUCCESSFUL STUDENT

Journey from childhood till adulthood

When one is young till the age of 18 they are fed and taken care of by parents and thereafter one is considered to start thinking of their future. As a wise student one should;

Start walking with disciplined people.

Find a part time job to do so as get some pocket money to buy yourself something not always asking your parents to buy you something hence it will show maturity.

Seeking advice and guidance from your leaders and role models especially those that play a big role in your future .Hence you may gain knowledge on some important things.

Avoid getting idle ,as the adage goes' an idle mind is the devils workshop' hence when your busy you avoid sinning.

Focus too on your studies and aim for the best grade their is in order to get a distinction in your final results

Always have a vision of your future and let that drive you to your everyday life.

Always seek Gods interventions and guidance from Him .

Exercise virtues always in all your endeavors. These virtues include kindness, humility, patience amongst others.

After doing all this and ensuring you stick to your lane your future is almost assured of success, though there it might be hard but having virtues like perseverance and patience you ill eventually get to your final destination.I will go through point by point of what I've written.

1. Start walking with disciplined people.

They say show me your friend and I'll tell you who you are.Also birds of the same feather flock together.If you look this adages well you'll see that the people you walk with or who became your company contribute to almost 90% of who you are meaning if you walk with thieves there is a 90% chance you'll become a thief.If you walk in the council of the disciplined you become disciplined it you walk with bad company you become bad hence if you walk with the good side you'll do what is good that means ensuring your future is bright.lastly whatever your sow you will reap it eventually.There is no shortcut to this life.

https://youtu.be/7TSNzuOAIoU

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2. Find a part time job to do

https://youtu.be/S1-t9Fb-9H0

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3. Seeking advice and guidance

Well seeking advice and guidance is really a good thing in the modern days.It helps one n avoid mistakes in ones life.As you know you can't seek advice from anyone ,we can seek advice from elders,parents,teachers and even our role models.

Elders are people who are older and have more experience in this life hence seeking advice from the is right they will guide you on how you can do better since they relate from their past experiences.A person like your grandparents are your elders.

Parents too are key while seeking advice , they will always want the best for you in all your stages of life.Thats why you will find children when they get to adolescent ,the boys go to their fathers and tell them their experiences and the girls the same to their mother who will help in them pass the stage well and understand better.Parents are a crucial aspect in terms of guidance and advice since they know you better and only want what's best for you.

Teachers to are good for advices ...apart from teaching they too are tasked with becoming second parents to children and spent most of the time with children hence they've learnt alot and do give good advices on matters both on education and outside.

Lastly role models are a key factor to every Individual.Each person has their own role model. A role model is someone you look upto to be when you grow up or even people who have succeeded in the field you want to be in life or work in the future. Following up on their stories from where they began to now is a good thing.

As long as we want to become successful we all ought to agree we are not perfect and we can't reach there easily that's why we need guidance on stages we might fail and also get guidance on how to become better.

4.Have a vision

https://open.spotify.com/show/12FvtYm9nJQi04cordN0EY

5. Always seek Gods interventions

https://youtu.be/yqVPOBiT_wo

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6.Exercise virtues

Virtues are good deeds we do.This virtues including humility, kindness, goodness,patience and self control.These virtues play a big role in helping you become a successful student.One person said all that "all that goes around comes around goes around well" this adage really revolves around this subtopic. Well lemmi talk on humility. This is the act where you are not proud nomatter the state you are whether rich or poor, great or small. Humility is a really good virtue that is recognized by many .For example in school or company when you are humble often you'll hear those people are elevated to another stature by their bosses or leaders since they were humble.Well if you didn't know humility is a really big character in a leader that should be potrayed. Remember to always practice this virtues in your day to day life and you'll see how fast you'll grow successfully.The bible to strongly asks us to be humble in all our endeavours and excercise other virtues too.

[immoralraigan]

Been thinking a little more about what an FFIX Verse would be like for Farus. This is what’s been stewing in my head:

I would much rather keep all Farus’ personality traits and motivations intact, as well as the unfiltered,  half-psionic nature of his magic. Without all that he lacks the intrigue that endeared me into writing him and building on those things in the first place. But in requiring this, I’m basically raising the difficulty in translating him into an FFIX verse.

At the very least, the nature of Gaia AND Terra’s history is vague enough so one can fill in the gaps as they so choose. Genome is indeed a fitting species for Farus, not only because he’s blonde, but because of his connection to being created artificially for some Great Purpose.

In Lennus 2, Farus was created to play the role of a living “switch” to activate the union of two satellite worlds to become a single demon-star, “Soa”. My headcanon there goes a bit farther than that, that he and Granada were created as part of this grand ultimatum concerning planet Raiga’s future. He, being the only Acti-Raigan left, would be needed to set off a final switch found within planet Raiga itself. But after defeating Granada and traveling to Raiga, Farus learned something about the overall intent of planet Raiga that he morally disagreed with, abandoned his duty and fled.

Now, let’s imagine that Raiga was actually Terra, and maybe Farus didn’t succeed in fleeing. 

I would have to change the context of his reason for wanting to run quite a bit, but even with how it goes for Terra it would still be enough to render Farus cynical, fearful and chaotic in the end. Either way, Terra is/was known to gobble planets in attempt to keep its crystal alive and allow its circulation of souls to continue. Garland’s Genomes actually game many centuries after that whole process started out, but maybe-- just maybe there was a “proto-Genome” of sorts created to kick off the process and, oh I dunno, act as a living battery for the planet.

Maybe Farus was that “proto-Genome”. Maybe he had been forced into a suspended sleep for over 5000 years after succeeding in the mission he was unwittingly forced through, acting as a battery for Terra’s selfish assimilation endeavors until the final failed (or semi-successful) attempt with Gaia finally pulled him out of his centuries-long slumber and freed him. Maybe what he awakened to was all the more disheartening and embittering. Maybe he would have set out into Gaia to not only learn about this world, but what happened to finally stop Terra from assimilating planets and maybe find a way to prevent letting something like that ever happen again.

OR...

Maybe it would be just as good to keep Farus’ origin planet as a separate entity entirely. My headcanon for Planet Raiga’s intent, its ultimate goal which has Farus so rattled and fearful and angry, is a really juicy one that I frequently enjoy ruminating over, and there are some FFIX characters that I feel would certainly have a word to say and be choosing sides on the subject if they knew.

It’s just REALLY hard to sacrifice the plot device that there is an entire planet, imbued with self-awareness and that likely used to be a mortal human being of sorts, that wishes to grant all things-- every single organic in the entire universe-- immortality similar to that of Raigans. The caveats to this planet’s wish are many, and the ethical, moral dilemma behind this endeavor is mind-bending.

So uhhh yeah I’m kind of struggling to decide which I really wish for, if I want to even have an FFIX verse. I could combine the two, though... Should I combine the two? Should I plant an extra deep-dive headcanon that Terra would be seeking out a long-term goal of some day granting all living things immortality? Hmm...

Very tough decision to make. I might not bother.

[the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl]

Flufftober Day 10- Pillow Fight

“Shoto,” Izuku said, stopping just outside the classroom door to wait for him as they headed to lunch. “Can I talk to you? Somewhere private?” Shoto nodded and followed him to an empty and- judging by the dust coating nearly every flat surface in it- unused classroom. 

“What is it, Midoriya?” he asked. When the other boy frowned, he corrected himself “Sorry, Izuku.” Calling Midoriya by his given name out loud instead of just inside his head was something he was still getting used to, and he still slipped up sometimes.

“Winter break is coming up,” Izuku said, unnecessarily, in Shoto’s opinion. He’d been watching the date of the end of term on the calendar approaching far faster than he would have liked, and dreading the weeks he would have to spend with his father before classes resumed again.

“I’m aware,” he said, knowing that Izuku no doubt expected a response. He did his best to keep his voice in its usual flat, carefully emotionless tone, not wanting to give his friend any reason to worry about him, but judging by the crease between Izuku’s eyebrows, he hadn’t succeeded. “What about it?”

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to stay with me over the break instead of going home to your father,” Izuku said. “I already asked my mom, and she said she’d love to have you.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell her why, did you?” Shoto asked, feeling sudden apprehension flood through him.

“Of course not,” Izuku replied. “I just told her that your dad works a lot and isn’t home very often and I didn’t want you to be lonely over the break.” Shoto found himself breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn’t technically a lie- Endeavor was often working and out of the house, which was the only thing that had made the thought of going home for break even slightly bearable.

“I’d like that very much,’ he said. “I’ll have to ask my sister, but I doubt she’ll say no.” The advantage to Endeavor leaving so much of the day to day management of the household and the care of her younger brothers to Fuyumi was that she had final say in most matters concerning them, and Endeavor, however much he might hate it, could do nothing about it.

“Great!” Izuku replied, bright with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait! We’re going to have so much fun!” With that, he grabbed Shoto’s hand before he could react and ran down the halls to the cafeteria with him in tow, glancing behind him every so often to flash Shoto a smile over his shoulder.

The start of winter break found Shoto following Izuku through the door of the Midoriya’s small apartment, taking it all in as if he were seeing it for the first time. Everywhere he looked, he could see signs of inhabitance, the inevitable mess and clutter that was a part of life. Unlike the house he’d grown up in, this place felt lived in. It felt like a home.

Once they’d gotten settled and everything set up, Izuku declared that the rest of the first night of winter break would be filled with what he said were “required sleepover activities”- playing silly games, stuffing themselves with junk food, and staying up way too late goofing around and watching movies- for make up for a childhood’s worth of sleepovers Shoto had missed, the memories with friends that he’d never had a chance to make. He was only too happy to oblige his friend, and as the night progressed he knew he would treasure these new memories he was making with Izuku forever, would hold them close as a balm against the suffering he must surely endure every time he was forced to return home.

Later, they were sitting on the couch watching a movie- Shoto had already forgotten which one, tired as he was by the lateness of the hour and just how much they’d done that day- when a throw pillow hit him in the face, waking him up in an instant.

“What was that for?” he demanded, shoving the throw pillow away from himself and glaring at Izuku, the only person it could have come from.

“A pillow fight!” he exclaimed. “No sleepover is complete without a pillow fight!” Shoto had no idea what a pillow fight was, but when Izuku tossed him another throw pillow before diving across the room to retrieve the one he’d thrown before and charging at him with a cry of “Have at thee!”, his eyes bright with laughter, he got the gist pretty quick. And in hindsight, the memory of his very first pillow fight was his favorite one from that winter break.

[charlessmithhasmyheart]

Title: Hunting Hijinks

Genre: Romance

Type: Charles x Reader

Triggers: None

A/N: Hey hey hey! This is a gift for the lovely @fangirl-ramblings. When I got the message that I was your secret santa, I was super excited! You are defs one of the people who I would consider to be my biggest supporter throughout this blog endeavor. Seriously! I would like to apologize for how long this took, but I wanted to make sure I was happy with everything before posting.

I know you had requested something about several people, so I chose Charles! Hope this is to your liking.

Here ya go! :)

____________________________

The sun was slowly sinking, the fire in front of you easily becoming your only source of light. The camp and it’s residents had been in the process of setting down for the night. Everyone but you. You were sitting on a log lost in thought, head resting in your hands as you stared into the flames; the object of your contemplation being none other than the mysterious Charles Smith.

Of course, this was of no surprise to you. It had been happening quite frequently. Charles was on your mind a lot. Especially since you had officially become a member of the Van Der Linde Gang.

A small smile began to tug at your lips as you recalled your first encounter with the illustrious group of outlaws.

You had been a bounty hunter then. Well, you hadn’t really been a true bounty hunter. You were just taking odd jobs from the wanted posters around Valentine and Saint Denis. It wasn’t the best work, but it paid well when you succeeded. And you did.

Believe it or not, you had actually met them during one of your jobs. You had been tracking a particularly elusive criminal for a few days. He had held up the general store and robbed a few of the townsfolk. Killed some too. The sheriff was adamant that he was brought back; alive or dead, it didn’t matter.

You were on the trail, the tracks very fresh when suddenly gunfire broke out ahead of you. Intrigued, you spurred your mount on only to come face to face with a shoot out. The target in question was crouched behind an over turned wagon, his own horse dead, as bullets from his attackers, three of them, soared through the air.

Determined to be the one to bring him to justice, you pulled your own gun from its holster and spurred your mount on again. Unfortunately the criminal, in what you can only assume to be a moment of stupidity, peaked from around the wagon, pistol loaded, only to receive a bullet to the face. With him now dead, the attacker’s switched their attention to you, guns still drawn. A curse slipped from your lips as you brought your horse to an abrupt stop.

“You take one step closer miss, and I cannot promise you’ll get away unharmed.” Warned their leader, who you later on learned to be Dutch.

When you made no move to speak he continued.

“Now I suggest you lower your weapon and we can talk this out. I see no reason for any more blood-shed.” He spoke, lowering his own weapon and signaling for the others in his group to do the same.

It took a moment, but you complied and re-holstered your weapon. Then came the conversation that would change your life. You had explained how you were a bounty hunter, making money to survive on your own after your family had died. Dutch responded in kind; giving you the run down of his gang, and, when he was finished, offered you a place to stay. After all, a woman of your abilities would be beneficial to their cause. Seeing as you had no better options, you accepted.

When you had arrived at their campsite at Horseshoe Overlook, you were introduced to many people who, despite being outlaws, were some of the most kind and hardworking people you had ever met. You fit right in, quickly developed relationships with many of the gang members, and the rest was history.

But despite all that, there was one member that you still hadn’t been able to understand.

When you had first been introduced to Charles, he barely mumbled a greeting or looked in your direction before heading of to complete some chore. You had brushed it off in the beginning, assuming you would find time to get to know him later. Now, it was later, and you knew next to nothing other than you had developed feelings for him.

It was all so odd. How could you develop feelings for someone who wouldn’t speak to you, let alone even look at you in the eyes? Sure, you had admired his silent nature, his penchant for taking on the difficult or unappealing jobs and his kindness with the other gang members from afar. Not to mention, he himself wasn’t unappealing to look at. But it still frustrated you to no end because you knew that he wouldn’t feel the same way. Charles had made it perfectly clear, without speaking, how he felt about you.

Stifling a groan, you rubbed a hand over your face, your frustration beginning to build to unhealthy levels.

“Something the matter [Y/N]? You’ve been sitting there an awfully long time.”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice and turned to see Hosea strolling towards you, a curious look on his face.

“I’m fine, Hosea.” You replied as he eased into a chair on the other side of the fire. “Just tired is all.”

“I may be old,” he started. “But not so that I can’t recognize when someone’s troubled. What’s bothering you my dear?”

You shifted your gaze from the fire to Hosea. He was leaning back in the chair, arms folded in his lap, with his eyes fixed on you. There was nothing but concern and a honest want to help you in them. He had always been like that. When you were struggling to learn the ways of the outlaw life, Hosea had been with you every step of the way. Making sure you knew the best hunting spots, helping you tend to your chores, and keeping your spirits up whenever you got discouraged. But, expressing your thoughts of Charles out loud? That was different. You didn’t know if you could.

“I don’t really know, if I’m bein’ honest.” You responded finally. “I’m just trying to sort out my feelings.”

And you were. Trying and failing, but you were trying. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince yourself to forget.

“Your feelings for Charles?” He stated matter-of-factly.

You snapped your head up, heat beginning to rise in your face as you tried to stammer out a response.

“How did you know— I mean. I never said—”

Hosea chuckled and splayed his hands out in a calming gesture.

“Like I said. I may be old, but I still know a thing or two. And the way you look at the man when you think no one is paying attention? I’d say you were smitten.” He teased, winking at you.

You stared, dumbfounded and unsure of what to say. If Hosea knew, surely others in the camp knew. And if they knew, did that mean Charles knew as well? And if Charles knew then... No. You weren’t even going to consider the thought.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You stated, pushing yourself off the log and heading towards your tent, refusing to look at Hosea anymore lest you get sucked into a full blown confession.

“You know,” He called after you. “It’ll just get worse the longer you keep it to yourself.”

You gave a half-hearted flick of you hand, the only indication that you had heard his words as you continued to walk through the camp.

——————————

The next morning proved to be no better. The minute you had opened your eyes, your thoughts immediately went to Charles. And Hosea’s advice. When you had finally settled into bed last night, you had pondered what he had said. Maybe it would be in your best interest to talk to him, but the fear of his first words to you being full of hate was too much, and you had drifted off late into the night.

Groaning, you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to distract yourself with the days work. You grabbed your hat from where it had fallen on the floor during sleep and stepped out of your tent. The morning sun shone through the campsite and the warmth felt good on your face. A cup of coffee sounded like a good way to start your day so you headed towards the communal pot; Abigail and Pearson already there with cups in hand.

“Morning [Y/N].” Pearson called out. “Any specific plans for your day yet?”

“Other then my daily chores? No.” You responded, pouring the dark liquid into your tin mug. “Why?”

“Well,” he began. “We’re getting low on food supplies and I can’t remember the last time anyone went hunting. Think you’re up for the task?”

“Sure,” you replied between sips. “I’ll head out right now.”

Pearson grunted his thanks and returned to his own mug. It felt good to finally have some sense of normalcy thrust upon you, so you were more than happy to comply. Nodding your head at Abigail, you finished your coffee; the warmth of the liquid reaching and energizing every part of your body before heading towards the horses.

Hunting hadn’t always been a skill that you particularly excelled at, but when you had expressed your unease with the chore during your first weeks with the gang, Hosea had wasted no time with setting up lessons with Arthur. Originally he would have asked Charles to do it, but every time he had mysteriously disappeared, leaving you wondering what accursed thing you had done to receive the cold shoulder. And hunting with Arthur wasn’t so bad. Of course, he was a little moody at times and his patience wasn’t always there, but you learned. You considered yourself to be quite the hunter nowadays.

Having now reached your horse, you ran your fingers through her mane and cooed soft encouragements before swinging yourself into the saddle. Grabbing the reins, you clicked your tongue and eased her towards he camp entrance.

“[Y/N], hold up!”

You brought your horse to a halt, startled, and turned in the saddle. You were surprised and a bit worried as Hosea sped up towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Are you going out?” He inquired, an odd look that you couldn’t quite place etched on his face.

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly. “Pearson asked me to. Why?”

“Why don’t you take Charles with you, huh? He’s quite the hunter himself.” Without waiting for a reply he called out to Charles who was sharpening a knife. “Hey Charles! You up for some hunting? [Y/N], here could use some assistance.”

It was in that moment that your heart beat began to quicken; from anger and from nervousness at the thought of thee Charles Smith hunting with you. Alone. In the woods. With no one around for miles. Oh, would Hosea be getting an ear-full once you returned. Well, maybe you’d say if. The possibility of you running away forever from sheer embarrassment was entirely plausible.

“There now,” Hosea continued, clapping Charles on the shoulder with his hand. “I’m sure the two of you can scrounge up some food for the lot of us. And don’t come back until you do.”

You shot Hosea a burning look as he sauntered away, whistling a tune the whole while. Charles barely glanced at you as he pulled himself onto his own mount, Taima, and encouraged her towards the edge of camp. You followed suite without a word.

————————

You gripped the bow tightly in your hands, trying to rack your brain for anything to say as Charles walked beside you. The silence between the two of you was uncomfortable. At least, that’s how you felt about it, and, frankly, you couldn’t deal with the fact that the man you had pined for months over was finally capable of staying close to you. Deciding you’ve had enough, you lowered your weapon and turned to face him.

“Why do you hate me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you hate me?” You repeated, crossing your arms.

Charles’ eyes widened as he took in your words, and a strange look crossed his face. You started to feel guilty as you waited for a response. You had come across as a bit rude. It wasn’t what you were going for, but the words just came out without any thought. But, now that you were in this predicament, you decided you were going to keep going.

“I don’t hate you,” Charles finally spoke.

“Well, then have I done something to upset you? I’ve been with the gang for months now and you’ve said all of six words to me.”

Another long moment of silence ensued. Finally deciding you’ve had enough, you tightened the grip on your bow and turned to leave, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Before you could reach your horse, however, you felt a hand grasp your arm and you found yourself twisted around and a pair of lips locking with yours’. You tensed for barely a second as your mind tried to register what was happening. You were kissing Charles. Or, rather, he was kissing you. And it felt like you had always imagined it to be. When he broke away, you stared, dumbfounded.

“I don’t hate you, [Y/N],” He said, reaching out to take your hand his large calloused one. “I never have. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Charles,” You uttered, barely a whisper.

“Ever since the first day you stepped into camp, I knew there was something special about you. I was just too afraid to say anything.” Charles confessed. “I didn’t know how to say anything, because I didn’t know how you would feel.”

His dark eyes locked with yours and you could see the sincerity and fear swirling around in them. A small smile tugged at your lips. There was only one way you felt you could express your true feelings. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and pulled him into another kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your heart beat just as quick as you pressed your lips against his in a gentle fashion. His strong fingers brushed tentatively against the back of your neck while your own hand tangled amongst his dark locks. You placed your other hand against his chest and grasped at the loose fabric of his shirt, feeling a hunger your had never felt welling up inside you. Charles, sensing this, slipped a hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush to him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like years before you finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard and a shine in his eyes that you no doubt mirrored.

“Do you know how I feel now?” You teased.

“Yes, I think so.” Charles chuckled, entwining his fingers with your own. You smiled warmly at him.

“Maybe we should get back to hunting then?” You inquired. “There’s a certain someone I need to have a chat with when we get back. And then, maybe we can have a chat of our own, hmm?”

Charles suppressed another laugh, placed a kiss on your cheek before resuming the hold on his own bow, and traipsed deeper into the woods. The memory of that kiss would reside in your mind as you finished the hunt and it would carry on until later in the evening when you and Charles had another moment alone.

[kali-writes-meta]

Go Oft Awry: The Goals, Expectations, and Plans of Volume 8

The best-laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry -- Robert Burns

The first two chapters of Volume 8 were full of characters stating what they're going to do or what they expect to happen far more so than any other two consecutive episodes in RWBY have before. This is exciting from two different angles. It's exciting for the viewer who's just watching the series, and even more exciting from a writer's perspective. Y'all up for some scriptwriting theory?

There's a rule in scriptwriting that when it comes to the plot you NEVER repeat yourself. In practice this means that whenever a plan is spelled out in advance, it's not going to happen.

The classic example is the bride dreaming of walking down the aisle at her wedding. Anytime you see that, you know her wedding is going to be interrupted.

There are two exceptions to this rule. One is when the plan is being spelled out as a voiceover to scenes of the plan going down. Then it's okay, because the audience is still only experiencing it ONCE, not twice. We saw a bit of this technique used for the first time in RWBY in "Divide". The other exception is for an information-gathering plan when the new information distracts the audience, which we saw back in Volume 2 "Painting the Town".

What does this have to do with RWBY Volume 8? A lot, because we're hearing nothing but goals, expectations, and plans.

First, let's define the terms. A "goal" is what you're planning to do, not how you plan to do it. An infamous example from RWBY occurs in "The Argus Limited" when the Grimm attack the train.

Blake: What's the plan, Ruby?

Ruby: Don't let anyone else die!

Ruby, sweetie, I love you, but that's a goal, not a plan.

Confusion over goals and plans has only intensified since Volume 7 came out. Ironwood's GOAL of turning Amity into a communication satellite is brilliant, but his PLAN to do so by depriving Mantle's defenses was a disaster, and would have been a disaster even if what he thought was true about Salem really was the truth.

In stories, goals may be reachable -- but any expectation or plan that's spelled out in detail to the audience isn't going to happen exactly the way it's supposed to.

An "expectation" is what the character thinks is going to happen. In a story, if an expectation is stated out loud in detail, it's not going to happen exactly that way. A great example from RWBY is the introduction of Team FNKI.

Yang: You're from Atlas. What could we expect?

Weiss: Well, seeing as their Kingdom, academy and armed forces are all merged as one, I think we can expect strict, militant fighters with advanced technology and carefully rehearsed strategies.

At that very moment, a rainbow zooms past the two surprised Huntresses-in-training.

Weiss: ... Or whatever they are.

A "plan" is a detailed proposal for how to meet a goal. It's optimal for characters to have plans, but spelling a plan out in advance in detail to the audience is the kiss of doom. At that point you know they may reach their goal SOMEHOW, but it won't be by following that plan.

RWBY is full of concealed plans that work and revealed plans that fail. The best examples are probably the attacks on Beacon and Haven. Cinder's plan to attack Beacon was concealed from the audience and went off almost perfectly. Cinder's, Raven's, and Adam's separate plans for the Haven attack are all spelled out in detail to the audience, and all fail to go exactly as planned.

In "Divide" we start with the villains. Cinder has a goal to strip Penny of the Maiden power, but is thwarted by Salem. Salem already has a plan in motion and doesn't want Cinder's last-minute changes messing it up like happened at Haven. What's more worrying, Salem doesn't share her plan with the audience, so a large chunk of it just might work.

In Mantle, the Happy Huntresses have a goal to get everyone into the crater. We don't hear their plan spelled out in detail, although what we do hear in the background is a fairly standard evacuation model that's evolving to deal with changing circumstances, as such plans do. From a storytelling perspective, that's vague enough to the audience that it should mostly work. (The "mostly" comes not from any audience signalling that the writers are doing, but from the shear size of their endeavor.)

Ruby and Pietro have a goal to launch Amity via the military base command terminal. Not many details were spelled out in advance on camera, and much use was made of voiceover with action scenes, so we know at least part of the plan to get into the base will work.

Penny voices a naive goal to give Salem what she wants so she will go away, which is quickly shot down. The audience and most of the characters realize this would be a disaster, but does Penny?

Yang's team has a plan to help with the evacuation by doing what the emergency workers tell them to do. This is both a good plan for anyone assisting in an emergency, and from a storytelling perspective flexible enough to succeed.

Ironwood -- hoo boy. At this point it looks like he has a goal but nobody knows what it is, beyond "shoot anyone who says the F word." He's not jinxing any plans by sharing them. He's pretty free with his expectation that Mantle is doomed, but he doesn't go into enough detail to jinx that one.

Salem begins giving orders, but doesn't jinx it by telling us the whole plan.

Jacques spells out his expectation that Whitley will get Jacques' lawyers to free him. That means it won't happen exactly like that. (Personally I think Whitley is cooperating fully with the General and having the lawyers draw up divorce papers for Willow that remove Jacques from any custody considerations. It's the sort of thing that Whitley watched Jacques do.)

Ironwood has a plan for Watts, but we don't find out what it is.

Qrow states his goal to kill Ironwood, but doesn't spell out a plan.

Joanna steals a reporter's mic and announces the plan to retreat to the crater to the public. As this scene is intercut with scenes of people following that plan, it has a good chance of succeeding.

Ozpin spells out his expectation in detail for how the merge with Oscar will happen. That's been said often enough now that we know it won't happen exactly like that. He also states a goal to bring people together, but is candid about not knowing how. This is a goal in need of a plan, hopefully a plan that will be spelled out over scenes of it successfully happening.

May states an expectation that "between our secret weapon and my Semblance, you all couldn't be in safer hands." While this may be technically true, it also falls under the category of Famous Last Words. If we didn't know something was going to go wrong before, we do now.

Weiss states in detail a plan to get into the base which promptly goes sideways, as does Weiss herself. Hopefully that's all the jinxing that plan gets.

Fiona's evacuation plan is being adapted and carried out in real time, which saves it from narrative jinxing. Whether it will work against Salem is another matter. Getting everyone to the crater definitely qualifies as "the best bad plan we've got".

And we see one of Salem's unrevealed plans start to unfold with brutal, terrifying efficiency.

Finally, there's Ruby's nightmarish visions from the opening. Since these haven't been stated aloud, they also haven't been jinxed. There's no telling right now if these nightmares are prophetic visions or just bad dreams.

[nissakii]

How similar are Kageyama and Todoroki?

Despite the many differences between Kageyama and Todoroki, those two are as well much more similar than you think.

We already covered Bakugo and Oikawa, Deku and Hinata and now follow up with our icy-type characters.

Nissa already wrote about both characters shortly in her BNHA Analysts Shuffle and Haikyuu Sentinel Shuffle, but this will not be about their personality types but a general overview about their similarities, Nissa did a full personality analysis on Kageyama and sometime soon one on Todoroki will follow as well.

To not make you wait any longer let’s get started with our favourite stoic boys and what connects them!

Dense

When we take a look at both Kageyama and Todoroki the first thing that someone would guess is that compared to their abilities that both of them are pretty quick-witted.

Sadly, this is not the case…

Academically speaking Kageyama is not a student that succeeded in it, showing that he wasn’t able to get into Shiratorizawa due to his bad grades unlike Todoroki who is ranked 5th in his class. Yet this is not the aspect showing how dense or quick-witted someone is since grades are not an indicator of what a person is really capable of.

Both Kageyama and Todoroki are unaware of the things happening around them, as they do not realize how the other party might feel when they do or say something. Both are shown to be very observant and have a quick decision-making mind when it comes to their speciality, but everything out of that area is just beyond their understanding.

For example we have Kageyama who often says what is in his mind or how he perceives things not thinking about what the other person might feel about it, which later backlashes at him and even surprises him in a way why that person would be possibly mad.

One case would be that he is not aware of the fact that he hit Oikawa’s soft spots and continued to aggravate and hurt him until Oikawa had lashed out on him, which made him think that Oikawa has a bad personality yet he was the one unintentionally pushing his buttons due to his dense demeanor and inconsiderate way of handling someone else’s emotions, another example would be at the beginning with Hinata.

In Todoroki’s case this applies too, where he doesn’t understand what a person really might feel due to his actions or words. His examples would be firstly Bakugo, who he obviously and indirectly looked down upon by not giving him the fight he demanded and due to him taking everything literally while Bakugo tries to get his attention Todoroki does not react the way others want him to since he is not aware of their emotional state.

Secondly, Yaoyorozu  and the practical exam towards the end of season two. While she had a lot of self-doubts after losing miserably in the sport festival arc, she still had a lot on her mind and wanted to help Todoroki as much as she could yet he didn’t really understand the fact that she needed confirmation from someone she respected, here Todoroki.

Very late when they were about to fail the exam and saw the obvious fear and anxiety that Yaoyorozu held he thought back on her behaviour and understood that she had something to say.

Geniuses

We have them in every medium and in our real world too, the kind of people who have overwhelming abilities that only get even more overwhelming the further they rise.

And today we have two of them, the volleyball prodigy and the one who wields two powerful quirks effortlessly.

As shown it doesn’t take them a lot of time to improve vehemently when they actually focus and put their mind on a certain goal. Unlike their peers they set their life for that very goal, making it the only thing that matters to them when it’s endangered in a way.

Todoroki is easier to spot in that category, as the son of the number two hero Endeavor who got into UA through recommendations, all eyes are fixed on him as soon as he enters the stage. Being able to use both ice and fire quirks that he inherited from his parents makes him one of the most watched students that people expect a lot from.

Yet his quirk are not the only thing that makes him a genius since it’s something he inherited but his way of using it in all kinds of ways, continuously over a large period of time and on top of that he moves while planning out a strategy in his mind are the assets that make Todoroki so astonishing. It’s not that he sits down and is amazing just like that, he puts much effort mentally and physically to improve and those that in a speed that is unmatched to his other peers, as he started to use his fire quirk very late he still was able to control it in a short period of time and even started adjusting it for special moves.

On the other hand we have Kageyama, the one known for his eerily accurate tosses that he can adjust and calculate so quickly that other people just can’t believe that especially someone at his age could do such a hard thing.

Iwaizumi Hajime, his former senior in Kitagawa Daiichi who used to play in the same team as him, described Kageyama as a prodigy that surfaced and that his sense for things was overwhelmingly spectacular in Chapter 60.

Even Oikawa mentioned to Iwaizumi at the end of the practice match in season one episode six that when it comes to tosses he cannot match Tobio, which means the best setter of the prefecture sees much more potential in his junior that he is sure that someday he will surpass him, even early that is.

Many others have commended that Kageyama would also be the only one who could pull off the freak duo quick attack that is only possible due to his perfect timing and pin-pointing, he is also able to apply new techniques he sees very quickly as seen when he replicated Oikawa’s dump. Aoba Johsai’s coach as well explained that he wanted Kageyama to join their school to have him in his team but also see many flaws in him, yet he said that at some point Kageyama’s natural abilities are simply unmatched.

Socially inept

Now let’s come to the part where it’s about their social skills and the relationships they have started with.

Which let’s say… is not as astonishing as their ability because if you take both of them only in view on that aspect they surely lack a lot of it, one could also call them socially inept.

Both Kageyama and Todoroki are High Schoolers in their first year, despite their worlds being completely different and also their backgrounds there are many comparable aspects that makes you wonder how they could have survived in society if not for their skills?

Why would I proclaim such a thing you might ask?

Well, Kageyama and Todoroki may seem like well-liked and popular characters among the fandom yet in the anime they are a part of a big society in which they are seen like every other person. We on the other hand watch both their journeys as a third person or a bystander.

Watching them closely and especially how they interact with the people around them gives the most insight into how socially capable those two are separated from their usual role they have to play as either setter or the son of number two hero Endeavor.

First of all both of them seem to have bad relationships with other people before they actually started to develop through other characters, for example Hinata and Oikawa, or Deku and Inasa. One big indicator would be the nickname Kageyama was given since middle school King.

While others think that such a nickname might honor him in a way, or like Oikawa described in chapter 53 he thought it was an esteemed nickname, it turned out that as he went to watch one of his matches he saw the real meaning behind it.

And also the strengths that are also his weaknesses, the solitary king who rules the court by himself wanting everyone to match his pace instead of considering to match theirs, others even called him dictator.

In the end he even was left-behind by his team just to toss… to nobody behind him since his pressuring and egotistical behaviour concluded that after a long time of trying to keep up with it since he is so skilled they finally gave up after becoming fed up with his worsening dictatorship on them.

Which is also seen as he entered Karasuno High and told Hinata he will only toss to people he thinks worthy and important in order to win, making a lot of enemies from the get-go in his new fresh High School start.

In some of the matches it’s seen that he and Tsukishima are not on good terms either since the former is someone who doesn’t like to be bossed around and the latter gets easily provoked by him. He doesn’t understand simple social cues either and takes most of the things as either insults or ignores them since he doesn’t understand them until his seniors have to explain to him how he should work out things and what he does need to improve, not skill-wise but in his communication and interactions.

On the other hand we have Todoroki who is just like Kageyama but not as worse as him in that aspect. He simply didn’t care about the people around him as he focussed on himself rather than social interactions and playing friends as he called it in the school festival arc.

Not being able to recognize other people’s feelings as he turned away from the people around him and rather was stuck in his own world he tried to fight in.

Yet even later when he had a new fresh start after the sport festival arc, it’s seen that Todoroki is still socially inept in many ways, he doesn’t understand social cues as well sometimes he wonders what he said to others which could have made them angry.

He takes most of the things people say to him literally as he even misunderstood Midoriya and Lida when they were together at the hospital, blaming himself and wondering if he is cursed already wanting to distance himself from them after they joke around about their arms.

But thankfully they found the right people to make them develop more into people who try to understand those around them.

Narrow-minded alike

Pride and a narrow-mind connects those two as well.

Ever saw a person so stubborn and lost in their own world and goals that they do not even realize where they are heading to or what is happening around them?

Two examples of exactly two people who match that description, Kageyama Tobio and Todoroki Shoto.

In that both of them really don’t differ in any way beside the implementation of how it is presented.

Especially towards the beginning of both serieses that character-trait is depicted heavily, as we see both of them fixated on winning, surpassing others and becoming better over a short period of time making them even trample over other people’s feelings directly and indirectly.

They live in their own world where they have to solve their problems all by themselves and see everyone else as either a stepping stone or obstruction.

Stubbornness can be good in some situations but in their case it’s a critical condition that is criticised by close people and strangers, since they start to lose themselves in their bad habits as they recklessly do as they think is the right way to proceed.

Kageyama would be a prime example as he even says those words harshly to his peers that if he could, he would set, toss, spike and receive the ball all by himself. He also criticises others and deems them as slackers or not being serious just because they cannot match his skills instead of trying to widen his perspective on matters.

There is also his strong sense of pride that doesn’t let things go so simply one example would be that he immediately tried to replicate Oikawa when he scored a point in a way that would humiliate him, in his eyes.

Another  scene was when Hinata proposed to try to hit the ball by himself and learn to spike on his own instead of relying on Kageyama only, which made him irritated as he rejected the idea instantly, telling him their former way of handling the quick attack was efficient enough.

Todoroki as mentioned doesn’t really differ as he is fixated on beating his father by becoming the best hero with only his ice quirks, rendering him to only see revenge and rage in everything he does considering his quirks. It leaves him to forget the wonderful things that his mother told him and also made him lose the sense of himself. Until Deku had to wake him up and tell him the most obvious thing which he couldn’t see in front of him.

But that’s not the only scene where we could see that trait clearly, another one would be at the Provisional Hero License Exam. Inasa who is someone Todoroki couldn’t understand at all and disliked due to him comparing Shoto to Endeavor made him lose himself in his former habits of showing him that he isn’t like his father at all. It concluded into him not getting his license as he lost his senses and even caused the people around him to be in danger due to his reckless behaviour.

Silence before storm

Connected to the former paragraph, the seemingly silent pair has their own storm going on if you push the right buttons.

Despite being usually very calm and silent about certain things they can become easily aggravated in other situations.

Just like mentioned before Todoroki only needs to hear his father’s name to become a bit louder or even erupt into either a statue of ice or an inferno of flames like seen in season two and three.

Which goes as well when he is excited and in adrenaline he can sound much louder and aggressive in comparison to his usual self.

For Kageyama this goes as soon as Hinata pushes his buttons, he immediately shoots some moron or dumbass when he is around and does anything close to messing up or provoking him. Tsukishima on the other hand is very smart in how he provokes Kageyama, mostly leaving him only angry or boiling inside instead.

Another person who would be able to accomplish that would be Oikawa when they are competing, showing a much more childish side as he has little fights with his senior, as seen in season two as both of them fought over the ball that has fallen to the ground, yet Oikawa is rather someone who challenges him and scratches on his pride and ego.

Secret sleeper and in-between eater

There is always that one character you watch in the background, because while everyone in the panel or scene is doing something much more interesting, you will find that character doing irrelevant stuff that seems unlikely for his/her character.

And our pair for today are two of those characters, that when there is nothing to do for them in the main scene they are doing their own business not caring what others might think of them.

Both of them are very serious characters, who seem cold and stoic on the outside even aggressive sometimes but as soon as the attention of the events is derived from  them or there is a little pause in-between scenes you can spot their little dorky and cute sides, that shows yes those boys are still young and innocent highschoolers.

While they share their love for food, secretly snacking in the background or even having a full lunch in the midst of a serious talk between other characters, those two don’t even blink an eye turning away from the attention.

Kageyama just eats an Onigiri after a really serious scene where Oikawa had a panic attack in middle school, the scene obviously revolves more on Oikawa’s perception and fear explaining a bit the important role Iwaizumi has in his life as the person who brings him back on earth. Yet the other important person who caused the whole scene, Kageyama, moves to the background eating his snack casually as if nothing happened.

Same goes when Saeko, Tanaka’s sister, gives them a crazy drive to Tokyo.

We already saw in the early anime episodes that Kageyama sleeps most of the time in his classes or when nothing important is going on for him, but in Saeko’s car he just took the back rear for a midday nap and afterwards eats a snack half-asleep while she is drifting like crazy.

Since the focus was more on Saeko and Hinata talking about the little giant, Kageyama seemed to take the opportunity to move his out-of-character moments to the background.

Very similar to Todoroki Shoto, there is not much difference as he does basically the same as Kageyama. Even when he is only passively in the whole scene he just silently eats and watches his peers making most of the decisions like seen in their dorm lives and also sleeping on train or bus rides where most of his classmates are having fun meanwhile.

As seen when they made a plan to save Bakugo, Todoroki could easily enjoy a lunch and take a little nap in such dire situations.

In the manga it’s a running gag that when he is not much mentioned in the main events that you can spot him in a corner visibly or unconsciously doing one of those two things.

An adorable side-view of their usually serious and seemingly adult-like character.

Rival

Last but not least, the ever-repeating rival relationship essence for complex characters.

The difference here is that both of them are already better than their supposed rivals Deku (and later Bakugo), and Oikawa.

You might think that when your ability level is already top-notch you might not need to worry about your rivals who you can surpass any time needed, but that is wrong in both cases.

Kageyama and Todoroki work even harder and as they work harder they cannot unsee the other strengths of their rivals which makes them so different.

Ability is nice and good, but there are other factors that matter in both a Volleyball player and a soon-to-be Prohero, which they both lack and see clearly in their rivals.

Personality-wise and in the ways they handle things their rivals are still unmatched in their eyes.

For Todoroki, Deku is someone he cannot reach yet when it comes to the true essence of a hero and his problem-solving thoughts, as well as his overly caring side for others that he admires so much. Clearly Todoroki is stronger than Deku physically and he already defeated him in many ways but he still thinks that there is a lot to learn from him.

Later on he even sees qualities in Bakugo who does take his hero path seriously and respects any opponent that comes his way, treating them like a threat which is the biggest respect one can give. Todoroki himself never saw his opponents but only his father in front of him which leaded him to overlook his allies and enemies, and Bakugo who even took Ochako serious when everyone else didn’t and clearly told him he should look what’s in front of him became one of the other rivals he had set his eyes on.

Kageyama has his one and only rival Oikawa, which he looks up to since middle school and thinks of someone he cannot compare to. Despite Oikawa already stating that Tobio will surpass him one day and that it might be sooner than he would expect, Kageyama still fears his senior and thinks the exact opposite.

As stated before Kageyama is unmatched ability-wise and in season two he even won against Oikawa, but as he saw Ushijima that seemed a bit intimidating he clearly said that he not afraid of anyone beside Oikawa, which is a big indicator that he still thinks of Oikawa as a big threat and rival that should be feared.

Oikawa is the kind of setter Kageyama aspires to be, he has other traits that Kageyama watches closely and is amazed by, one would be his quick and astonishing adaptability as he mentioned he is like a ruler who rules over his army.

When Kageyama needed advice he turned to Oikawa despite his pride and ego, fully aware that Oikawa might drop comments that would make fun of him.

In Kageyama’s case his rival is in a complex way his mentor and senior at the same time, as well a former teammate and fellow setter which connects those two not by only rivalry how others might think but in many more ways.

What do you think?

Did you see any similarities that I might have missed out or do you think some might not apply in your opinion?

Drop it down in the comments, I would be eager to read them!

As again I might leave you this time, but I will return again with another tea,

vanishing Makii

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