#but I'm now too reluctant to figure out what is more correct

[carionto]

We fail alone, we excel together

Formations are a staple of effective drills, training, and practice in every military across the Galaxy. They are a showcase of unity, leadership, trust, and loyalty. And fancy outfits. Gotta go for a style victory when actual wars are quite uncommon.

Humans are pretty good at this sort of thing. Not the best, as there is always some inconsistency, somebody doing their own thing, or improvising a solution to a fumble. Honestly, theirs are one of the more interesting to watch. It takes a lot of effort for some to conform to a herd style behavior, and it shows.

One time, a soldier tripped and was about to drop their knife, but thinking quickly, they began to juggle it, along with an ammo magazine and a sidearm they quickly pulled out. Aside from surprising everyone with their juggling skills, the surrounding soldiers noticed immediately, and, without a word, began to juggle with the same items as well.

But it wasn't chaotic - first, once the first loop was done, the soldiers in front, behind and to the sides of the first one started juggling in sync, and with each completed loop it spread the same way, creating this beautiful expanding diamond effect.

Not everyone was equally skilled, of course, and some ripples started to appear. However, since they all knew how long until the current parade music ended, the soldier in the center of the formation, not the original one, stopped juggling, and with each loop the inner layers also stopped. When the final corner soldiers put all the items in their place, the song also came to an end and a new one took its place.

Afterwards, we heard the colonel of that battalion issued an official reprimand for not following the rehearsed performance. Unofficially he praised them, as he himself had been approached by a general about this "surprise addition" and admired his "unorthodox thinking" and "proactive decision making". The colonel obviously lied and gleefully (well, as gleeful as a gritty military veteran with lofty ambitions can get) accepted the praise and promised to deliver other surprises in the future when they would prove most effective.

Big nonsense exchange of words that simply meant the soldiers doing all the actual doings would now have to actually prepare some kind of new and impressive feat. If there is one thing you can rely on, is higher ups turning everything you do into more work...

[byghostface]

//long rambling

There is a vent in the last part (about pro ship:/+ wired shipping + block list) it's naturally negative so reading at your own risk.

So in the new Batman and Robin issue #7 Nika's sister making an appearance, got me thinking of other possibilities for sibling characters to come back.

Mostly I’m thinking about Respawn since he is Joshua Williamson's own character. And He made Respawn appeared in the last issue of Robin(2021), he also brought back Mara in that run too (just some appearance in the later issue).

And now Joshua Williamson is writing Batman and Robin, so naturally he can bring some characters back in this run. He had said in an interview that he might have figured out a way(try) to bring back Maya.

Throwback to 2022 of this old wip/art I made, is about what I think the emo teens of Lazarus squad dynamic would look like.

I imagine Nika and Respaw are irritated/tolerate with each other but would stay for Damian because Nika is Damian's girlfriend and they want to stick together. Meanwhile, Damian likes to include his half-brother in some fun activities (Respawn is acting reluctant bc of his own issues but he actually likes to have friends and feel include).

I haven’t finished this art bc I was going to add more wips (with other characters like Rose and Hawke) to make it a post. I didn't finish this art back then bc I was afraid Talia fans would be mad at me for drawing Respawn.

Trust me, I hate that Talia gets associated with Deathstroke like this, but I think Respawn is a confused/mistreated teen character and Damian (bless his heart and soul) still wants to be his brother regarding the whole mess. I will explain/talk more about my thoughts on Respawn as a character and his situations once I finish these drawings and get ready to post them.

Writing/typing words is harder than drawing for me personally. Drawing is like channeling my energy into a picture and forming an atmosphere and hopefully people will understand what thoughts and feelings I was trying to convey. Writing is using more brain powers to choose the correct and cohesive words, so people would not misunderstand what I'm talking about. Especially when English is not my first language, and even so I normally don't talk(write) much in my mother tongue either…(I'm not a quick thinker, it took me a longer time to think things through, writing literally exhausted me physically and mentally more than drawing.)

It doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing, it's just not my first choice to convey thoughts… but considering I can't draw everything I have in my mind and it takes even longer time to finish any art, I just need to write down things first from now on. Tumblr is the only place I can think of that has this longer text feature blog post and I'm more familiar with this platform format. So I will still be here posting my fan content.

.

(↓Vent, if you want to avoid being block by me then read down below.)

I must say I will forever hate respawn x flatline as ship, cus I know who started this ship and their reasons behind it—Don’t let the new character develop naturally as the story goes, let’s put them in made-up weird situations first so I can prop up my own ship!😍 And get both of the new characters out of the way, since no one would defend them so I can fanon the hell out of them by making them look bad all around!🤞 (What if I stone you first hand🪨🪨💥)

And I will continue to dislike/against any shipping Damian's sibling to Nika. I simply don't like the unnecessary sibling conflict just for romance tropes! So go away boooo I hate you‼️ Not to mention the ignoring of different age range multi-ship hide behind poly… that's straight up proshipping I hate you even more!!👎

Also for people who said Nika should be crush on Damian's mother instead of him… I hate you twisted proshipper rotten smooth brain‼️‼️ She dating a boy her age and has mutual connections with him, why would she crush on her boyfriend's mother instead?? Just because Nika is a big fan of Talia??? So you telling me young ppl can't idolize adults normally without being labeled as romantic nowadays huh??( Not saying you can't crush on adults, but why crush on your boyfriend's mom? ) Your weird ass mind is showing with this ass hc be fr. Again, why would you imagine that? You just wanted to push a fake narrative of Nika being wired so you could have an excuse to make Talia and Damian dislike her (which is not true), but in fact is YOU are the weird one projecting your twist thoughts/hate onto Nika‼️💥🪨🪨

I will start to block ppl who are shipping/liking respawn x flatline (+proshipper) and STILL interact with me, read the room!! My art is not for you weirdos‼️Go away BOOOO💥 🪨🪨🪨💥💥

Can't believe I need to type this all out cuz some of you weirdos will still do these things and think is okay to interact with me and my post/showing in my notifications BOOO👎🪨🪨💥🪳🪳🪳🩴🩴🩴

(sorry for venting about random weirdos/Nika haters again, and thanks for reading.)

[autistic-puffin]

AHSOKA SPOILERS AHEAD

(also, long post apparently)

i'm actually kind of obsessed with this latest tidbit from baylan. the fact that he decided to reframe the fall of the jedi both as something inevitable, a repeated pattern throughout history, and that they had coming due to their own weakness, instead of what it is (genocide).

we've all seen how different jedi responded, how some became inquisitors or otherwise turned to the dark side, how some turned their backs on the force entirely (like kanan tried to), how some stayed completely hidden and separate (yoda), how some ended up training new jedi (like kanan also did)

it's really interesting to me that baylan is aware of the other "wild" jedi (bokken jedi, apparently), and considers himself different and separate from them, but shin still associates herself with the bokken jedi. when they first appeared, given their red lightsabers, i figured they had to be more sith-aligned, though probably not outright sith. if they're gray enough for shin to still consider herself as jedi-trained before baylan corrects her, then that's super interesting to me also.

the other day i rewatched the first two episodes of rebels. the very first episode opens with darth vader telling the grand inquisitor to hunt down the force sensitive children - and any surviving jedi that could train them. i am beyond obsessed with the apparent inevitability that jedi will train new jedi, but moreso also with the different ways we see this play out.

there's kanan, who retains his jedi identity (obviously there were some bumps along the road with that) and has a proper padawan he trains/raises to be a jedi.

there's ahsoka "i am no jedi" tano, the "part-timer", who does also apparently take on a (basically not force sensitive) padawan and abandons her. we also see her refuse to train grogu.

and now there's baylan skoll, who trains a padawan to be "more" than a jedi, who seems (at least sometimes) reluctant to kill other jedi, who has semi-fond memories of the temple, whose padawan seems actually uncertain about their status as jedi or not.

both ahsoka and baylan definitely exist in the gray between jedi and sith, with ahsoka basically still being a jedi and baylan being much more dark side-adjacent.

it's just so fascinating to me that we've seen multiple jedi/former-jedi/jedi-adjacent people that are so bitter and disillusioned with the jedi order, so critical of their failures and shortcomings, that they seem to ignore the reality of what happened. they were massacred. their home and the center of their culture was burned, their children were murdered, they were shot down by their own troops in the field, they were chased and hunted down and killed. regardless of the very real flaws of the jedi order, they didn't deserve that. no one does.

i think baylan's reframing makes a lot of sense as a classic trauma response. "this bad thing that happened was actually for a reason beyond palpatine's agenda, the jedi were too weak." because if there were real reasons, then it's preventable. he also, though, views it as a continuing pattern in history. the key thing here is that he thinks (apparently) it's a pattern that he can stop. he seems to both think it was the fault of the jedi for their weakness but also an inevitable pattern of history. he addresses both by raising his apprentice to be "more" than a jedi and by this mysterious plan to stop the cycle of history from repeating itself.

this is the longest post i've written about star wars in a minute and i'm not entirely sure my thoughts have made sense (definitely doubtful they'll be read). i also haven't looked at what people have been saying for this week's episode, so it'll be hilarious if someone else has already spoken on this. it's turning around in circles in my brain. i just think the post-order 66 jedi are really really interesting and i think about them a lot

[yellowkitkieran]

Meet the Family (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Kieran is reluctant to meet your family when he flies home from Spain to spend Christmas with you.

“You… want me to come meet your family. Over Christmas. You're sure?”

Kieran has dreaded this day for weeks now. During each of your facetime calls, he expects you to suggest it moments before hanging up. He's surprised you've waited this long to bring it up, actually, but now that you have, he knows he will spend the next few weeks agonizing over it nonstop.

“Of course I'm sure Kieran!” The high pitch of your voice distorts over the phone. Kieran tries not to grimace and keeps his face neutral- he doesn't want to upset you, but he's terrified of putting a foot out of place. “My mum is so excited to finally meet you. You know she's watched your last couple games with me? She might be a Chelsea fan but she loves you, that's for sure. Wishes you weren't in Spain so she could come watch a match at the Emirates, believe it or not.”

“Yeah but your brother sure won't,” Kieran mumbles. From day one you've preached about how protective your brother is over you. Not having a father figure whilst growing up meant that your older brother has stepped in to fill that role, and while Kieran is massively grateful for that, he is also petrified of finally meeting him. You've made it clear that your brother's opinion is important to you. Kieran doesn't want to start any family drama by forcing a wedge between the two of you. 

“Ohhhh he won't hold the fact that you're technically an Arsenal player against you. He won't! I swear,” you add when Kieran shoots you a look like ‘yeah right he probably wants to snap my ankles’. Which is an exaggeration, sure, but he knows his team allegiance is already one strike against him. Two more and he'd be out of luck. 

Being sent to Real Sociedad in Spain meant Kieran could avoid meeting your family for a few more months. He was confident that your relationship would endure the distance despite it only being a few months old; his gut was correct. In fact, he feels it has thrived. You have a schedule hanging on your fridge that is used to plan out fifteen minute windows for facetime calls like this one. Rarely does a day go by where you don't see each other's faces, nor does a week pass that you don't exchange some sort of gift or letter in the post. Kieran loves when you spray a touch of your perfume on the paper- he keeps those by his bedside so he can faintly smell it and pretend you're beside him when he sleeps. 

“I miss you,” Kieran admits rather randomly. His train of thought has led him here, down the same path as always. Call him a simple, call him what you wish, but being apart from you for so long is a curse. His heart aches for a single kiss from you, one touch of your soft, strawberry flavored lips to his own. 

“You'll be home soon. And you better dress sharp on the plane- my brother is going to want to pick you up!”

*********

Kieran adjusts the collar of his white shirt until it lays perfectly. Does he add the sweater over the top, or does he not? Does it feel too posh, too luxurious? In the end, Kieran wrangles himself into the warm wool, fighting to make it work and not knock his elbows into the tiny airplane mirror.  

God, in twenty minutes he'll be on the ground in London. When he returns to his seat in business class, Kieran peers out the window and imagines he can see you through the clouds. A mixture of excitement and nerves sours his stomach until he fears he may be sick. 

But then the wheels are on the ground and he's up and out of his steat before anyone else, grabbing his carryon and nearly sprinting down the ramp to find you. He navigates the terminal maze, following signs to arrivals whilst scanning every bench as if he might spot you waiting for him. And when he finally sets eyes on you- 

Kieran is dimly aware of the man yelling at you to stand behind the line when you jump into his arms, but he doesn't care. Your legs wrap around his waist, his hand lands on your bum to support you whilst the other drags his luggage behind him as he carries you to safety. Once the yelling subsides, Kieran tucks his face into your neck and inhales, letting the floral scent of you remove every particle of homesickness from his aching body. 

He could cry for how perfectly you fit against him. He could laugh for how you pour a month's worth of affection into the kisses you scatter across his shoulder, unwilling to allow the foot of space between your bodies that kissing his lips would require. Kieran could fall to his knees, overcome with the relief that threatens to topple him over. You're here, you're real, and you're his. 

“You can put me down,” you say, though it sounds more like ‘youcabpufmedow’ thanks to how tightly your face is pressed to his neck. It's only when Kieran sets you on your feet and takes your face in his hands to kiss you- with tongue, rather unfortunately- that he realizes your mum and brother stand a few paces away. 

Perfect first impression. 

Kieran is eternally grateful for his mother's near constant reminders to tuck in his shirttails whilst growing up. Your brother is  physically fit, tall by London standards, and Kieran is fairly certain the assessing eye he rakes over him notes every bit of fuzz on his jeans. 

Kieran's left arm is occupied by your voce grip on his bicep, so he extends his right hand for your brother to shake. “Lovely to finally meet you, Luca. I swear, she never stops talking about you.”

“I could say the same about you.” Kieran laughs, hoping to break the tension. Luca's stare remains firm, relaying a millions words without speaking a single one. 

Hurt her and you're dead. 

Good thing Kieran has no intention of doing that. 

“Oh stop it Luca,” your mum swats Luca's arm and pushes him aside in favor of wrapping Kieran in a hug. “It's about time we met you! I swear, Tulip is always on the phone with you.” 

“Mum, what did I say about calling me that?” You'd warned Kieran ahead of time about the childhood nickname that your mum was attached to. It stems from the time she found you in the garden when you were two, covered in dirt and singing to the flower buds in hopes that they would bloom early. 

“It's cute, my love,” Kieran assures you, sealing it off with a kiss to your temple. He's fully aware that Luca might knock him out right here in the center of the airport for showing so much affection towards you, but Kieran doesn't care. He's dreamed of this moment, literally, and he's missed you far too much to force himself to pretend to behave. 

“Car is this way.” Luca spins on his heel and forces the three of you to follow. At one point you pull him to a stop simply to steal another kiss, which Kieran gladly accepts. 

Once home, you insist on giving Kieran the grand tour. You lead him through the kitchen, past the years of family photos lining the hall, and right towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Luca has no problem reminding the pair of you to “keep the door open,” as if you're insatiable teenagers on spring break and not adults who have the decency to wait until everyone else is sleeping. 

“He hates me,” Kieran murmurs once you've shown him the safety of your room- and promptly closed the door. He flops onto your double bed with a heavy sigh, half hoping the mattress will swallow him whole. “I cannae even make an impression because he's already decided he doesn't like me. I knew I should've worn blue and not red!” 

“Kieran don't be so dramatic. He doesn't hate you!” You straddle his thighs and lean forward to wrap your arms around his ribs. “He just loves me and wants to make sure you're not gonna hurt me, that's all. That's how older siblings work. Luca is just more protective cause of everything that's happened. He's gonna like you, just give him a little time for him to realize you're serious.”

Kieran cups the back of your knees and bends your legs until your full weight is resting on him. He does his best to ignore the fact that your hips are pressed against his and the thoughts that arise because of it and focuses on your breathing instead. “Well, he should know that I'm serious about you. I don't come home to meet just anyone's family.”

You smile and softly kiss Kieran's lips, which he gladly allows. He waits all of two heartbeats before he slides his tongue over your lips to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth and rediscovering your sweet taste. Bursts of you coat his tongue, mingling with your strawberry flavored lip gloss. 

“I love you,” Kieran sighs when you pull away. When you swipe your thumb over his lips to erase the shine, he nips at you playfully. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Your fingers trail down Kieran’s throat. Goosebumps rise in your wake, evidence of the effect that even your simple touch has on him. It's like magic, the way you can boggle his brain with a well placed brush of your hand. 

When you kiss the underside of Kieran's jaw, black dots float in his vision. You've been apart for so long that he's nearly forgotten how well you know his body, having memorized the spots that drive him crazy early on in your relationship. “And don't do that. He could burst in at any moment, and then he really would hate me.”

Your mouth trails down Kieran's neck, which really isn't fair at all. He can't resist you when you lick that spot just there at the hollow of his throat- 

“I missed you so much, Key. You have no idea how much I've missed you. Missed these lips…” You kiss him properly, eliciting a soft groan from Kieran before you pull away as quickly as you appeared. Your fingers intertwine with his, pinning his hands to the mattress, “missed these hands, your fingers too… thought about them a lot. About how they feel inside me… they're so much better than my own.” 

“Come on love, your family is right downstairs.” Where Kieran finds the willpower to protest when you're on top of him like this he has no idea. “Don't get me in more trouble than… than I'm… already in…” Kieran swears under his breath when you rock your hips over him. He clearly needs you as much as you need him. What's worse, his resolve crumbles with each roll of your hips over him.

“So? You can be quiet, can't you?” 

God help him, Kieran nods. And though you're quick to undo his belt and sink down on him without a second thought, Kieran has to pour every ounce of focus into not making a sound. He grits his teeth and breathes through his nose while you ride him, unceremoniously chasing your high with the goal of speed in mind rather than maximizing pleasure. Time is of the essence, you both know that- and when you push his sweater up to rake your nails down his abdomen he has to bite down on his lip to contain himself. Kieran prides himself on his silence as he comes, not releasing anything more than a soft sigh when he watches himself drip out of you. 

“That's the definition of a quickie,” you pant, grabbing the damp towel off your nightstand that Kieran hadn't clocked when he came in. You note his surprise and grin, “yes baby, I was prepared. You feel much better now though, don't you?”

Kieran's release has also done away with the tension in his shoulders and the wayward thoughts clouding his head. “It's amazing how well you know me sometimes, you know that?” Kieran steals a kiss and cleans himself up when you pass him the towel. “I really do feel ten times better.” Then he grabs your hand and pulls you in for a kiss, letting his hand snake under your skirt, “just don't wear this to dinner tonight or I won't be able to help myself.”

*********

Dinner is… awkward. Luca glares at Kieran the entire time, despite the Scotsman being a perfect gentleman. Kieran makes polite small talk with your mother, though Luca avoids speaking as much as possible. And honestly, it has Kieran on edge. So he turns to what he knows best: football. 

“So Luca, you're a Chelsea fan too- what do you think about James potentially being out for the rest of the season again? You class that as an injury crisis?”

When you suck in a breath through your teeth, Kieran knows he's fucked up. That's not to mention the way Luca's fork pauses midway to his mouth. 

“I think he's my captain and I back him all the way,” Luca murmurs dangerously. Something about quiet anger is always more terrifying than loud anger. Screaming in his face is something Kieran can handle any day of the week. This, though? Kieran would rather avoid at all costs. 

“Right! Yeah of course, I'd be the same if it was Martin constantly hurt- that's not to say that's a bad thing! It's great that he's got the support of the fan base… proper Chels and all that!” 

“Oh, Key…” 

“Yeah- I think that's enough out of me for now.” Kieran laughs, stinted and awkward. He's blown it all to bits then. You warned him earlier to keep away from football talk, but what else was he meant to say? 

Your hand lands on Kieran's thigh as a silent form of support. Your touch reminds Kieran to breathe. It keeps him grounded, helping ease his mind a hair. Even if he bungles things massively, he knows you will back him. 

“Whyyyy don't we play a game? Or you boys play something- FIFA? Mum and I can do the dishes-”

“Absolutely not,” Luca says at the same time Kieran says, “I don't think that's smart.” 

You purse your lips and nod, sharing a look with your mum. “That's settled then- mum tell them!”

“You two lads sit down on that sofa and play that silly game or so help me you're both taking the canoe out on the river tomorrow!” Kieran's head whips to you, though you only shrug. What sort of medieval punishment is this…

“Mum, don't be ridiculous,” Luca says. “We can help with the dishes and then we can all play a game or something later.”

“No! You two need to get along- give him a chance, Luca. Kieran is a lovely lad-” that bit makes Kieran's cheeks go hot, “and he hasn't put a foot wrong. Not that warrants your behavior,” she adds sternly when Luca opens his mouth. “He means a lot to your sister. Play nicely.”

After plenty of grumbling and time wasting from both sides (including a very quick peck for good luck), Kieran finds himself sat on the well-worn sofa with an Xbox controller in his hands. Luca sits as far away as possible, perched on the edge with his elbows resting on his knees. 

“I'm not gonna take it easy on you just because you're dating my sister.”

Kieran clears his throat and flashes his best smile. “I wouldn't expect you to- I'm used to Playstation anyway so you'll have the advantage.”

Luca chooses Chelsea and Kieran picks Arsenal, which surprises no one. What does surprise Kieran is how bloody good your brother is at FIFA- Kieran fights tooth and nail to try and gain a goal, but Luca is simply too experienced. Luca laughs- actually laughs- after one of Kieran's attempts. 

“No wonder you're not a striker. You miss sitters like that all the time or just on the game?” 

Banter is a language Kieran is fluent in. He falls into it easily, like he and Luca are best mates and have been for years, “you always so shite at defending that you leave the goal wide open? Maybe you need a better left back.”

“You suggesting yourself for that slot?” 

Kieran shrugs, and a few seconds later, finally finds the net with his own character. “Maybe. And I'll have you know I score a screamer now and again. You should see my Celtic highlights-” 

“I have. That goal against what was it- Kilmarnock? That was impressive, I'll give you that.”

Kieran blinks, the game momentarily forgotten. “Sorry was that- was that something positive? That you said about me? Babe- babe get in here! Luca said-”

Luca punches Kieran's arm and chuckles. “Don't get ahead of yourself mate, I'm just being friendly cause of Tulip… doesn't mean I like you.” 

“Ah, here I was thinking I was getting somewhere… hey! Oi you cheat! I wasn't paying attention!”

“Do you always make excuses, or only when you're losing?”

Kieran laughs quietly and zeroes in on the game. From then on he makes Luca's life hell, until the match ends in a well fought draw. Luca offers Kieran his hand, “good match. I'd play you again. At least you give me more of a challenge than my sister does.”

“Oi I'm half decent!” Kieran laughs when you whack the back of Luca's head. Then Kieran tips his head back to smile at you, admiring the grin stretched across your face. God he's missed your smile- he swears you didn't even smile that wide when he got off the plane. If getting along with your brother is what makes you this happy, then Kieran will make it his mission to be Luca's very best mate by the end of the weekend. 

“Soooo Lucaaaaa do you think Kieran is tolerable now? Are you going to stop glaring at him from across the dinner table?” 

Kieran allows Luca to assess him once again. None of his previous nerves resurface; Kieran is confident now that your brother no longer completely hates his guts. If he had known something as simple as a round of FIFA would do the trick, he would've brought his Playstation in his carry on to play it on the car ride home from the airport. 

“He's alright.” 

You cheer and pump your fist in the air. It's so adorable that Kieran has to laugh. It's how his love manifests when it grows too large for his body, he can't help it. He then yelps when your arms wind around his shoulders and nearly squeeze the life out of him. “Finally! God I was wondering how long it would take- I told you that you would love him!”

Luca holds up his hands though his smile betrays him, “I didn't say I love him yet-”

“You said he's alright! That's practically a declaration of adoration!”

“It's true,” your mum adds from the doorway. “Luca's praise is hard to come by. But praise for an Arsenal man?” She shakes her head and comes over to kiss the top of Luca's head. “My son doesn't have a good word to say about Arsenal, ever. Though I think you might just change his opinion on that.”

“Okay mum, don't get ahead of yourself.”

“Give me until Sunday- I'll have you cheering for us on boxing day.”

[sentientgopro]

Whether or not this part of my identity remains post transition, being Aroace feels like its been really valuable as experience and preparation. This is gonna sound odd, and I do not in any way mean this as downplaying Aspec identities, but figuring out being Aroace almost feels like a tutorial for figuring out all this crazy shit. When I was dealing with the possibility of Being Aroace, it was hard, and it was long to figure it out and accept it. I used flat out incorrect preconceptions of what Aspec is to explain why I couldn't be. I'm doing the same now but recognising it, and truly figuring out if those preconceptions are correct.

Not to mention the fact that, idk if Im explaining it right, but realising youre trans requires more action. Like, accepting I was Aroace was "cool, Im this. This is good to know and understand." whereas accepting Im trans means something is wrong and needs fixing.

I'd like to think I'm handling this well so far. I've covered alot of ground and dug alot of things up, figured out exactly how long Ive been noticeably having these kinds of feelings, but also, uncovering aspects of dysphoria I didnt realise before. It makes me a little reluctant to keep persuing more information for now because I dont want to uncover shitloads of dysphoria that Im currently blissfully unaware of especially when Im so far from actually being able to transition. But thats not how my brain works, Im digging deeper and deeper into this rapidly whether i like it or not.

On a bit of a different note, something I'm seeing I need to start working on is separating interests from gender. This is so hard baked into the way I see things and I need to stop because now I'm sat here going "But I play Airsoft!!!! But I like CODZombies!!!!! But I play Counterstrike!!!!!" when I know all of that is Gender Sterotype bullshit.

I honestly can't help but be a little proud of myself. 3 days after cracking, and I've figured out a pretty decent amount of things, while not feeling too turbulent. I've come a long way since before joining r/196, when I was absolutely not open to this kind of thing and pretty much borderline fascist.

I don't think I have anything else to add, I should probably go to sleep now.

[kalicofox]

Heyyy, friendo! I recognise some of those fics (*winces at The Spare*) so how's about In the Interest of Change and/or Returners, for this ask game? (Good luck with all the WIPs, by the way. I feel that in my *soul*.)

Oh jesus... Um... okay, so In the Interest of Change was a PokemonxHarry Potter crossover, wherein everybody in the world ended up becoming half pokemon. I had ideas for it including every horcrux of Voldemort's ending up getting their own ghost-type form and body, and all of them fighting amongst themselves to determine who was The One True Voldemort. It was hilarious, and then JKR did... well. What JKR does, apparently, and I kinda just. Stopped. This was also right about the time I was being harrassed through reviews on FF.net, and ended up nuking my account there, so there's no surviving copy of the story online anymore, afaik, and honestly that's probably a good thing.

Returners, on the other hand, is a cool story that I like a lot. It's an original work that jumps on the whole 'Gates to a different world letting monsters into this one' bandwagon, with a side of reluctant hero, and a lot of OP main cast. I love it so much, and I want to work more on it, but I'm working on Footsteps almost obsessively right now, so it'll have to wait.

Here's a snippet, though!

There was, Irina noticed to her private dismay, a bulging duffel bag behind the girl’s feet.

“It’s not Jo’s fault.” The newbie- Cee, apparently, said as firmly as she could with her face as white as a sheet. “I should have tried harder, I—”

“Is this why you were here early?” Irina interrupted her, “To help her hide?”

“No!” The girl, Jo, cried. “Cee didn’t know I was here! I don’t even know how she found me!”

“I was looking for Jo.” ‘Cee’ said. “I was going to try to get her out of here before the gate opened, but then you found me, and then the gate opened, and I couldn’t find her anywhere until I figured out how to echolocate and saw her here, and then I saw the monster and I had to get it before it got her, and then I was here and I was gonna try to get her out of the way until the gate was shut and—”

“Enough!” Irina cut off the stream of distressed babbling with a sharp motion of her hand. “So you knew there was going to be a civilian present, and instead of informing anyone who might have been able to help locate her, you kept it a secret and tried to handle it yourself. On your first Gate. When you’ve been licensed as a Hunter for three days.”

‘Cee’ trembled. “Yes?”

“You’re a moron.” Irina said bluntly, and turned her attention onto the younger girl. “And you. Let me guess. Your home life is some shade of unbearable, so you decided to risk your life to try to Awaken so that the Centers would keep you from having to go home again, correct?”

Jo’s eyes went huge, and she looked down, nodding silently.

“You are also a moron.” Irina announced. “But in your case it is understandable. This happens often enough that there are protocols in place. You will accompany one of the Hunters here back to the closest Awakened Center, and you will stay there for two weeks. Your parents will be notified of your location. If you Awaken in that time period, then there are further steps that will be taken accordingly. If you do not, then there will be an investigation into your home life and you may or may not have to return. Do you understand?”

Jo looked up at Irina, hope dawning in her eyes, and nodded. “I understand.”

“As for you!” Irina turned on ‘Cee’, who had been looking far too relaxed for her liking. “Give me your registration card. I’m sending you back to your Center and if I see you at a Gate before you’ve taken the full set of training courses, I will have you removed from the registry as an active Hunter, do you understand?”

Big pink eyes blinked at Irina, and ‘Cee’ ducked her head, then nodded.

“I understand.”

“Good.” Irina said sharply. “Card.”

It only took the woman a moment to pull out her wallet and retrieve the plastic card, and Irina took it impatiently, carelessly glancing down at it as she built up the magic that Mateo had designed for the Eight to be able to interact with the cards in her fingertips.

She froze.

She’d been expecting the blue of an A rank hunter, or the green of a B.

But the card in her hand was neither of those. Nor was it the gold of an S rank hunter.

No.

This was worse.

Far, far worse.

[multifandomwritings]

can i request 12 for the kiss prompt with Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker? Thank you! 💓

Of course! I hope you like it :) It's a little basic but I hope it's okay! (And more of a drabble. I'm *trying* to make these actually short instead of oneshots lol) This is my first attempt at this version of Peter (I think??) so I hope it's okay! I actually had an idea for a kind of self-indulgent longer fic of him. Idk if it will ever be done, but 😂

50 Types of Kisses Prompt List (requests are open for these, btw)

Peter Parker | Prompt: 12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss

Your relationship with Peter was new. You were friends first. Slowly but surely, however, you became more. He was reluctant to start anything new, keeping you at arm's length, until finally he couldn't help himself, letting his walls down just enough to let you in.

And now, both of your long repressed feelings could hardly be controlled. You stood inches away from each other as you talked. The room was crowded and loud, people chattering and laughing during a party you were both in attendance of. Yet, you both spoke in hushed voices, close enough to hear the other, to feel the other's breath against each other.

You grew impatient, tired of the party and wanting all the prying eyes away from you so you could have him to yourself. Peter's lips twisted into a surprised grin as you took him by his hand, setting off through the room and pulling him to goodness knows where. He hadn't the slightest idea what you were planning but for whatever reason, he had a feeling he wouldn't have any complaints.

And his instincts proved correct when you pulled him into a dead end of a secluded hallway, your hands not leaving him as you led him into as hidden a corner as you could find. His figured loomed awkwardly, shifting weight between his feet as he watched you with curious eyes, entirely leaving whatever happened next up to you.

Butterflies spread through your stomach at the sight of him eyeing you with his big doe-like eyes, entirely enamored with you and waiting hopefully. He shuddered as quietly as he could as your hands brushed up his chest, rising beneath your touch. Your hands ended up near his jaws, face hot against your skin. He gave you a nervous smile, before your lips finally met his.

His lips were perfect against your own, soft and tentative. One hand hesitantly found its way to your waist. His other pressed against your cheek, warm and gentle against your skin. His thumb stroked your cheek, lips melting into yours as you moved closer to him. You kissed him with urgency, with desperation. There was never enough time to make up for all the time you'd both wasted dancing around each other, neither of you admitting how you felt. There always managed to be too much space between you, no matter how close you tried to get.

You could have melted from the heat of his lips, the soft noise that came from him as you moved backward, leading him along until you were sandwiched between him and wall. He was devastatingly restrained and gentle, lips moving against yours in such a way that you knew he held himself back, hands so still and firm against you that you knew he resisted the urge to move them. You wished he'd let himself loose, that he'd relax. But people began passing in the distant hall, and you knew he was right to restrain himself. It wouldn't be long until prying eyes found you.

So with as much self control as you could manage, you pulled your lips away from his, grinning as he let out a little protesting noise you weren't sure was voluntary. His eyes burned into yours, pinkened face still inches away from yours. He smiled knowingly as your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, glancing toward the slowly crowding hall and wondering if you could get away with another minute or two of keeping him to yourself.

[rallamajoop]

I recently watched the first Hammer Horror Dracula, and I noticed that Dracula just wants Johnathan to index his library, like you mentioned in your hammer Horror Dracula post. My question is, how do you think Dracula would want his library organized? And what are his favorite books? Would he eventually just eat Johnathan? I have questions.

Oh, I know, right? It’s the kind of question that could launch a thousand fanfics.

The "correct", Doylist answer is presumably that the writers realised Jonathan's original reason for visiting Dracula didn't make sense with the rest of their changes to Stoker’s story, so "Dracula hired him to reorganise his library" was patched in without much thought. I'd guess we're supposed to take it that Dracula was always going to eat him (eventually, if not immediately), and that we're not supposed to ask follow-up questions like, "Isn't this a lot of trouble to go to for what amounts to ordering takeout?" or "So if he was always going to eat Jonathan, why go through the whole charade of showing him to his room?" (yeah, like anything in the first act was ever meant to pass for character-driven narrative, rather than just a thinly-written series of set-ups and reveals for suitable horror-movie effect*).

Basically, "Does Dracula even have a library?" is the kind of question I doubt you're even supposed to ask, so naturally I'm 100% here for all the pointless fannish speculation.

Anyway, amused as I am by the possibility that Dracula really had no ill-intentions and Jonathan is the asshole in this situation for fully intending to murder his host, it's pretty hard to square that with the rest of the movie. So, have some less cracked possibilities (under the cut for length).

The simple answer: After centuries of collecting books, keeping track of what's where and what he hasn't actually read yet has gotten beyond Dracula, so he's called in a professional. (He may also sort of just want to show off his awesome book collection to someone qualified to appreciate it properly.) Later, once Jonathan's done (or asks too many awkward questions), maybe he'll get eaten.  

The overly complicated answer (in which everyone is playing 4D chess): Jonathan knows perfectly well that Dracula's a vampire, and Dracula knows (or at least suspects) that Jonathan's working with Van Helsing, and hiring him "as a librarian" is actually just a way to get him into the building so Dracula can figure out what's really going on. This is also pretty hard to square with much else Dracula does in the film, but still sorta feels like the logical continuation of the whole "ACTUALLY Jonathan's really there to kill him"-premise we started from.  

This is just how Dracula meets people: Hiring Jonathan is mostly just a pretext to get him into the house for a while, so Dracula can get to know him and decide if he's worth turning into a vampire. This is mostly just option 1 again with a slight tweak to Jonathan's long-term prospects, because Dracula is mostly looking for some intellectual company and/or a new "bride".  

Dracula has a burning research question: It's hard to ignore the possibility Dracula had something more specific he's looking for in all those books, but what is a very open question (especially given how reluctant this series is to credit Dracula with any real motivation beyond hunger or revenge). Useful information for the traveller planning a move to England? Details of some hideous demonic ritual? Ways to circumvent the more-annoying vampiric weaknesses? A particular poem he swears he read back in 1488 and now can't find again? Advice on how to stop his bride from eating all their guests? The possibilities are endless.  

It's all just a game: Dracula wants to see how long it'll take a reasonably educated man to figure out what his host really is. This is just the sort of game he plays occasionally to amuse himself (eventual lunch/companionship/well-sorted library a bonus).

Note that all of these do depend on Dracula at least having a library that is not already organised, which bodes well for Jonathan's medium-term survival prospects (or at least in a world where the bride doesn’t jump him at the first opportunity).

Now, if you ask me which of these I personally prefer, I’m afraid the answer is probably going to be something like “whichever one most conveniently leads to Dracula macking on Van Helsing,” because I’m that kind of fangirl. FWIW, let’s say option 5 is probably about the most consistent with what the original Jonathan goes through in the early chapters of Stoker’s novel, and so probably the one I'd lean towards ‒ but there’s no wrong answer to a question like this. (Further theories very much welcome!)

* I mean, if we start asking that sort of question of our horror movies, we might as well ask, "Why the hell would Jonathan show Dracula a photo of his fiancee, knowing full well he's really a murderous vampire?" or "Does Dracula's 'bride' try to eat all their guests?" or even, "Are we to take it that she stole the key from Dracula, unlocked Jonathan's door, then snuck back downstairs to wait for him?" Seriously, the question of whatever the hell is going on between Dracula and his bride(s) in that castle is the kind of tangent I’d better terminate right here or I’ll never get back again.

[sunnetrolls]

Hey taz! How go the letters? Do you have any favorites in terms of word choice?

"Ahah! About that. You all were correct when you claimed I had new penpals-- I'm not certain how, but that is beyond my figuring."

"I suppose I can just describe some of the... Surprise letters, so to speak, that I have received as of late."

"The first I received that I didn't recognize was actually from someone that I saw once very briefly quite a while ago. I doubt that he remembers me-- not everyone has my memory, of course. You never know, certainly, but judging by his letter he seemed to not recognize my name. Besides, he was a friend of a friend of a friend, ahah, so it's not like we had properly met."

"Anyways! The letter! I mistook it at first for one of Gordon's, but it was a delightful surprise when Nocyon corrected me that it was instead from one Muiren Neille. How he came to know of my existence and especially my address is beyond me, but there are much worse trolls who could stumble upon that knowledge, certainly. I can trust a friend of Thanat's to use that knowledge wisely."

"The envelope and stationery was not the exact same as Gordon's, of course, but it had the same feel-- I'm just not familiar enough with different types of paper to dictate it properly, ahah. High quality, though! I appreciate someone who puts the care into a letter like that. Wax sealed, but with no symbol or other emblem; I can guess why. And, for once, Nocyon wasn't reluctant to read for me-- apparently his handwriting is quite pleasant and easy to read."

"It is nice to get to meet him after so many sweeps. He has a very intriguing reputation, you know."

"But I have other letters to talk about rather than spilling the poor man's history. It's not mine to tell. I recently received a letter from a much more out of the blue individual-- made poor Nocie do a double take when he read the name, ahah! Her Beloved Annihilation himself. I'm not all too familiar with the higher-ups in the Fleet, but Nocyon served and Planhz was with Kallia for however long that was, so I can recognize a few names. But Nocyon was shocked to say the least."

"I haven't heard him that wordy about a letter I've received since Kitevh sent him a sewn plush of his own.

By what I could tell, the letter itself wasn’t particularly special, but-- I’ll call him Monark for clarity, he didn’t offer a first name-- he apparently has excellent handwriting, if a bit messy, but much more readable than some of the other letters he has to read. Oh--! The paper he used did have gold detailing. I could feel the trim. Expected from the Empress’ personal bodyguard, I’d think. And sealed with my hue, which was… A little unnerving, sure, but it’s not like that information isn’t easy to find.” 

“He seems delightful for someone so close to the Empire. A pleasant surprise.” 

“Now, the last letter. This one really tricked me, ahah! I was convinced I’d recieved a letter from Nehl until I realized it wasn’t sealed with a sticker. Nocyon, who so wisely forgot I can’t see, corrected me like it was obvious that the envelope wasn’t even the typical soft green. As if that was something I could figure… He tires me sometimes. Both of them use envelopes with this specific sort of recycled paper-- it’s almost soft to the touch, or, as soft as paper can be.” 

“Regardless. The letter was from another troll I have heard plenty of, but never met. Ariele Pricit-Kenshe, the Mapmaker-- matesprit to one of Planhz’s good friends, Ofelia. I haven’t heard much of her, but Planhz always only had good things to say, and now I see why. Nocyon as well was delighted to read another letter from someone with easily legible handwriting. 

“That’s all the new letters I’ve recieved lately. But I’ve been in good contact with several others, of course! I wrote back to Mollie and convinced her to handwrite a letter this time, which arrived not too long ago. And that archivist fellow Abbris finally got back to me-- I’ve actually been in the process of writing out something for him! It’s taken a while as I have absolutely no shortage of detail for recollections, ahah. But on the other hand… Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from Redivi in some time, which is… Unlike him. He’s usually a spectacularly cordial correspondent, so that’s a tad concerning… Well, he is a busy man. I’ll worry about it in another month.” 

“I hope that all wasn’t too boring! I can get a bit carried away, my apologies.”

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?”

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.

[jafndaegur]

Things Said and Unsaid

Jumin Han x MC

Mystic Messenger

a/n: now that the zine is long past, here is my story from the Garden of Eden Zine:) Enjoy!

Jumin twisted the flower stem between his fingers as he reclined further against the chair. Waxy pink petals mocked him in a way that he did not appreciate and the bright bloom weighed heavily, leaning forward in his careless grasp. He rested his chin on the back of his free hand, temple twitching at the not-quite perfect amount of wine for a buzz but enough for a headache. 

MC's voice still floated in the air as if she'd just called about her final report for the RFA event.

"All of the flower arrangements are ready for the party," her voice was stilted over the phone even as she tried to be chipper.

Jumin wondered if she felt uncomfortable around him with everything said and done. "They'll look beautiful I'm sure." He reassured. 

The pause and silence between them felt unnatural and constricting.

"What did you pick? For the bouquets." He finally peeped out, his voice rocking with concern. Had they always struggled with communicating? The memory of being able to freely converse with her, speaking of any little trivial thing that came to mind an easy and amusing way for him to pass the time. Surely he hadn’t ruined things so thoroughly during the time she had spent at the penthouse.

MC’s airy and pitched laugh reached his ears in a painful display of her discomfort. "That'd ruin the surprise."

And what a surprise it'd been.

Jumin had been eager, and even anxious, in awaiting her arrival to the party. Afterall they all owed its renewed existence to her. And he himself owed so much to her too. When they had parted the night before, V rightfully helping her return to the apartment, it had been with a tender apology. She'd embraced him—held him close and promised things would work out the way they should.

He wasn’t sure if it had been a lie or her convincing herself. Perhaps some odd adherration of both to her conviction.

The day of the party came, but MC did not.

It was obvious that Seven had hesitated his journey before finally making the reluctant trek to Jumin with a piece of paper in one hand and a tied bouquet of flowers in the other.

The pink camellia had seemed so bright and vibrant in the light of the ballroom. And even now in Jumin's hand, standing stark and vibrant, the bloom dazzled against the rest of his muted parlor decor. It smiled and flourished, and yet here he sat more dejected and more confused than ever.

Somehow, he managed his way back to the kitchen, where the rest of his  bouquet lay abandoned on his dining room table—scattered petals and bulbs strewn across the wood top due to his careless toss of the bunch. He had been angry and frustrated at the time, but now he felt guilt tugging at the span of his ribs when he thought of the disregard he gave to her last gift to him. The note lay innocently next to it, as if trying to appease him with the gentle slope of MC's handwriting.

I've meant everything Jumin. Said and unsaid. I don't regret anything and I hope you won't either. But we both need this to move forward, I think this is what's right...I hope you'll see that. I've left you the best.

-MC

Among the flowers, pink carnations were the easiest to pick out. The petals crimped and wavy, and the blossoms themselves the most commonplace and plain. And yet MC had made sure the flowers had stayed nestled close amongst bushels of goldenrod. Another odd pick for a formal party. His eye for detail made things easy to recognize that beautiful hardworking and problem-solving touch MC made with every  deliberate and precise choice. He knew that much. From the sorrel that warmly held everything together, to the pink camellias blushing prettily at the center wrapped in forget-me-nots.

In times such as these Jumin realized he had one consultant he could count on, a source where information passed easily from itself to him. Where he could learn unhindered and without bias about the best that MC left behind for him. Because surely, she did not simply mean the best flowers from the bunch. She was too clever for that.

He found himself at a library, in the area with the farmer's almanacs and horticulture how-tos. It was an aisle he frequented when seeking answers to inquiries about his vineyard. 

Heavy and cumbersome, he found an encyclopedic tome titled Whispers from the Flowers. It was an odd name but upon opening it he found satisfaction knowing that his assumption on its topic had been correct. The flower language. Something not in a million years he imagined himself researching. But for MC, he would do anything. And his beloved left behind one very, very important clue. "Things said and unsaid." And he hoped it was more than a mere sentimental way of saying she left him behind regardless of whether or not she was able to relay all she wished to. 

Jumin found the index at the back of the book, searching for sorrel first. MC had meticulously ensured that the green and stringy plant entwined itself around the main bouquet like a cradle. It was hardly a flower and yet the vibrancy of it added life and color outside of the thematic pink hues of the other blooms. Affection. Sorrel is the gateway to confessions and the key to unlocking the heart—it lays bare the raw and pure emotion of those who offer it. His fingers danced over the words, tracing the letters with the faintest of smiles. MC's disappearance seemed like a rather large lack of said-affection, but he knew there had to be further explanation. And all answers resided within the little puzzle she had set aside just for him.

Because she knew and understood he had every capability to solve it. He hoped.

Encouragement. Good fortune. Goldenrod offers the same blade with two edges. One of well wishes and the other of outstretched hands. It is an easy flower to convey both farewells and prosperity. 

Jumin’s breath curled within his chest and his fingers hovered. “Farewells.” It was a mutter, something that he dare not speak more than a whisper.  MC left behind hide nor hair of her existence. The memory of her laugh and gilded eyes were the only proof he could offer. Yet somewhere amongst the agonizing pull in his chest as he read the summary over and over again, he feared that she had truly meant her goodbye hidden within these flowers. 

He knew his own faults had greatly weighed upon her decision to leave with Jihyun that day. But had he really ruined things so much that she chose never to see any of them again to escape him? Were all affections between them nullified because of his shortcomings.

Breath hitched and his fists clenched the book. Memories of true love. Forget-me-nots are the staple flower of sweet love. Anyone gifting their sweetheart with these iconic blooms know every moment spent with their true love will be cherished and treasured. Jumin’s brow furrowed. Contradictory. This was all so illogical and contradictory. If he had not just recently gone through a week-long anxiety attack and now the loss of the woman he had planned to propose to, he’d chalk these meanings up to happenstance and throw the book into the closest recycling bin. But everything said had been meant. And everything unsaid had been meant. He needed for his own sanity and for his own comprehension to know if these flowers truly enveloped MC’s feelings for him. Or if he was just a fool trying to pry into a love that was never his to keep.

“I’ll never forget you.” 

A shudder. The words flowed past his lips as he read the phrase mechanically. “I’ll never forget you.” Each utterance a tremor to his heart as the walls constricted and shook.

I’ll never forget you. Pink carnations are easily the most misused and the most misunderstood. Believed to be a simpleton’s flower, the meaning behind this bloom is often lost due to being handed out of context. It’s beautiful and pastel color can often be misleading. It is a mournful flower, often handed at the cusp of goodbye. A beautiful tendril to remember a fleeting yet vibrant romance. 

The search through the index for the last flower was a trembling one.  Jumin’s fingers skimmed the crisp paper gentle against his skin as he tried to account his increasing pulse to apprehension or suspense. He was approaching the last piece of MC’s riddle and good or bad—real or not—he had been able to come to some conclusion about their parting. About their romance. About them. 

His vision blurred and he felt the world spin.

A note had been tucked away close to the spine where the pages parted. It was a small envelope, no bigger than an index card. “Jumin” had been scripted neatly on the front, and on the back, there was a little flower drawn over the edge of the opening flap. He recognized MC’s handwriting anywhere. Impulse struck a chord with his nerves and he plucked the note quickly before forcing himself to slow down. He wanted to finish this mission. 

Pink camellias. Longing for you.

No more waiting. Jumin dropped the book and tore the envelope open. His heart pitter-pattered and he double took the gentle slope of that oh-so familiar handwriting. The gentle sweep and slant of her penmanship was obvious the moment he gazed upon the ink. There before him, tiny and hopeful, was a phone number. He'd arrived at the end of her puzzle with a growing smile, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. His finger brushed the new note.

"You can be greedy, you know," he whispered reverently. "Around me don't worry. Whatever fears or struggles we may have to face, we'll figure them out together. You don't have to hold back for my sake or for yours."

He pulled two business cards from his wallet, placing one in the forget-me-knots section and the other in the section about pink camellias. Satisfied, he closed the book and walked to the front desk where the head librarian sat typing away on the computer. Noticing his approach, they gave him a warm smile. Holding out their hand, the librarian inclined their head.

"Got everything you need?"

Jumin nodded and handed the book over. "I will soon enough. In the meantime, could you place this on hold? A friend is going to pick it up."

"Of course," the librarian nodded. "Name and number."

"Han MC," Jumin decided with a touch of humor, a welcomed break to his multi-day anxiety high, before reciting the number from the note.

The person assured him that MC would be notified and that the book would be on hold for the next twenty-four hours. He bowed his head slightly and graciously thanked them before heading to the car where Driver Kim awaited. There was so little time to get ready but he wanted to make the most of this anticipation that clung to his lungs with baited breath.

[shysneeze]

missed smiles (draco malfoy x reader)

missed smiles (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

request: could you do a Draco imagine where the reader gets injured somehow (like falls down the stairs) after a fight (angst) and then he gets all protective (fluff)? tysm!

Warnings: kind hints towards depression but it’s minor.  half blood prince level draco angst because I'm in one of those moods mentions of war,  family pressures etc, fighting and injury. 

Authors note: I skimped so hard on the fluff this is basically just angst pls forgive me. 

..

The late November snow crunches aggressively underfoot as (Y/N) storms back towards the castle, Draco's footsteps echoing her own not far behind her as he calls after her. She lets out a harsh breath, not daring to look back in case her anger slips into something else and the tightness in her throat gives way to the sob she's been holding back.

"(Y/N), please." He pleads. "Let me explain."

She comes to a stop, breath shaking as it leaves her lips and forming wispy streams of condensation as it meets the cool air. She knows she needs to turn around, but she can't look at him right now, she can't look at him without seeing it again on his arm, the inky mark of the wizarding world's dark past and looming future.

It was revealed after what was a perfect date. She was so happy to see him smiling, that grin that was becoming so rare these days, she was sure it was the start of better things for this school year. Then she saw it, seeping through a wet patch on his shirt when he peeled off his coat to layer on top of her own due to the aftermath of an impromptu snowball fight. Ominous and taunting, the dark mark stared back at her.

Now, she finds herself turning slowly to face him, glad momentarily to find he's covered the incriminating tattoo, that she can't see it directly, with all its cruel implications. However, the knowledge of it has engraved itself in the centre of her thoughts, torturous and vile.

"How do you even begin to explain that, Draco?" She demands through gritted teeth. "How?"

He gulps under her harsh look despite knowing it's a quickly crumbling façade, watching her bottom lip tremble and her eyes well with reluctant tears. Words tumble out so quickly he's not even sure they make sense, a panicked onslaught of barely coherent apologies as he steps closer.

"No, Draco." She whimpers, stepping back. "No."

Her eyes clench shut and forces the escape of reluctant tears that she lifts her shaking hand to hide. The logical bit of her, the bit that tells her he doesn't want this, that knows him well enough to know his hand must have been forced in the matter, is hidden behind the bitterly betrayed part of her conscience.

"I can't do this right now." She exhales shakily.

His jaw slackens in defeat, explanations left hanging on the tip of his tongue while he watches her leave, ascending the steps to the castle. The weight of it all settles once again on his chest as it has all year, heavy on his lungs until he's forced to breathe manually under the pressure. He watches her go, convinced that's it, that his one perfect thing is gone for good.

His eyes cast downwards with shame and he's about to turn to walk away himself, to find somewhere to think everything through when he hears her yelp. He's too late in turning to help, instead staring wide-eyed and her crumbled figure at the bottom of the icy steps.

"(Y/N)!"

.

(Y/N) groans softly as she struggles to open her eyes, frown fixing itself on her face at the her unfamiliar surroundings. She doesn't register herself as being in the hospital wing until she hears the gentle tut of Madam Pomfrey from the foot of her bed.

"Miss (Y/L/N)." She greets. "Finally awake I see."

"Finally?"

Her voice is hoarse and quiet, forcing her to wonder just how long she's been out for. Madam Pomfrey gives her an understanding look and gives her a sympathetic smile. The older woman steps around her bed to (Y/N)'s side and gently pushes her into an upright position in order to manoeuvre the pillows in her aid.

"You had quite a tumble down the stairs, my dear." She informs. "Quite the concussion I'm afraid, so don't worry if it takes a moment to remember- I'm sure Mr Malfoy will be able to help once he wakes up too."

The nurse gesture with a slight smirk towards the head of blonde hair resting face down on the edge of the mattress, just by (Y/N)'s legs. The sight of him is enough to have the memories flooding back, heart aching at the memory.

"I'll be back to check on you in a few." Madam Pomfrey informs.

"Thanks." (Y/N) gulps.

Once the older woman is gone, footsteps placing her well in the distance, (Y/N) turns back to the sleeping boy by her side. He looks small here, curled by her side, so sweet it's hard to believe what he's hiding underneath his cool façade and long sleeves. She finds herself reaching a hand out tiredly for his hair, curling her fingers in it gently and watching him stir.

He wakes as groggily as she did, with the same confused frown. Then, eyes meeting hers, they widen and a sigh of sheer relief escapes his lips. He looks exhausted, with ashy grey circles hanging under his eyes, although she's sure they've been like that for months now.

"Thank goodness you're awake, (Y/N)." He exhales. "God, I was so worried."

"How long?"

"About a day." He informs. "You hit you're head really hard-"

"Not that." She corrects in a whisper. "How long have you had t-the mark?"

The light brought to his face from her recovery dies at the question, eyes dropping instantly. She almost feels bad, but she needs to know, she needs to understand this all before she can allow herself to look at him the same.

"The summer." He admits. "Just before the start of term."

She inhales loudly, sharply as she take it in. She pulls her hand back from where he'd clutched it in relief when he first woke. The betrayal bites bitterly at her heart and tugs her brows into a disbelieving frown.

"I know." He whispers.  

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs aloud, causing him to shift guiltily. The logical part of her is back, reminding her that she knows him, knows this is not something he would do if given the option not to.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her words throw him off and he stares at her in disbelief. Where he expects the furrowed brows of an angry glare, he finds her expression full of concern. His confusion over her reaction manifest itself as a frown.

"I'm a- a deatheater, (Y/N)."

His voice is hushed, cautious of the fact only the thin layer of the curtain around her bed shields them from the rest of the hospital wing, from listening ears. She lets out a sigh, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head in response.

"No you're not." She sighs, an almost desperate edge to her voice, as if she's trying to convince herself. "You're not, Draco."

"I took the mark, (Y/N)." He corrects. "I'm sorry."

"There's no way you wanted this." She argues. "This has your father written all over it. I know this isn't you-"

"How do you always do that?"

She can see him trying to keep himself together, fists clenched so tightly they shake and his eyes brimming with tears he's begging to stay put. He lets out a sharp sigh, turning away from her to hide how his mask is crumbling, how he's so quickly beginning to come undone.

"What?"

"What do you see that no one else does?"

His voice cracks. Red rimmed eyes meet (Y/N)'s, so full of raw emotion that she finds herself letting out the smallest of sniffles as her fingers reach out for his closed fists, loosening them enough to grasp his hand in hers.

"I see my boyfriend frowning more than he smiles." She begins, voice trembling. "I see him losing all motivation for his hobbies, I see him sneaking off when he thinks I'm not looking and telling me he's fine when he's not."

She squeezes his hand, begging him to understand, to understand that she's worried, she so worried for him that it hurts. She worried when his smile didn't meet his eyes on the train, and when he asked to stay curled together in his dorm room the day of the first Hogsmeade trip when they would usually go to Honeydukes together. She’s worried all year.

"I was so relieved yesterday to see you smile." She continues. "I miss your smiles so much, Draco."

He lets out an inaudible apology, fixing his tear filled eyes on their joined hands, gasping under the pressure to keep himself together. It's like she's pulled out the last thread, the one that was keeping him in one piece and as if any sudden movement will rip him apart now.

"I know you're a good person." She concludes. "I know you don't want this."

"I don't." He admits through a raspy, quiet sob. "I don't want this but I had to- I had to for my family."

"Your dad?" She asks sadly.

"Father made a mistake, but it's H-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who chose me, to amend my family's names in his eyes." He shakes his head. "It was the only decision that could be made."

"Draco..."

"You know what he did to Cedric Diggory." He explains. "I have to do this to keep us safe."

"You're just a kid, Draco." (Y/N) whimpers. "We're just kid and this isn't supposed to be our battle... I'm so sorry that it's ended up yours"

"Don't apologise to me." He pleads. "Don't., (Y/N)"

"Someone needs to, Draco." She argue. "This isn't fair on you."

Her voice finally cracks and tears rolls down her cheeks. She sighs in frustration when he looks up in concern. She's supposed to the pillar of support right now, hospital bed or not. The tears plough downward regardless though.

"Don't upset yourself." He begs.

"I'm angry, Draco!" She exclaims. "No at you- at this whole thing."

"(Y/N) please, you shouldn't stress yourself after the fall." He gulps. "You'll still have a concussion."

She's almost forgotten where they are, and why they're here in the first place. She lifts her free hand to the newly thumping pain in her head and grimaces. He shuffles closer, lifting a hand to tilt her head for inspection when she swats it away.

"No, I'm the patient so you have to listen to me."

She gives him a stubborn frown that has him sinking back like a scolded child to listen to her. She extends her bandaged arm out and pokes a finger against his chest sternly, his eyes widening at the serious look in her watery eyes.

"We're going to fix this." She states firmly. "We're going to fix this together and you and your family are going to be safe again."

"H-how?"

"I don't know but we will."

She drops her hand to find his once again, squeezing his fingers with a sigh. He stares at her in silence for so long she's worried he's angry, but then his lips twitch into the slightest of smiles and a breathless chuckles falls from his lips.

"Thought I was supposed to be looking after you." He explains softly.

"I only fell, Draco." She assures. "I'm fine."

"(Y/N), you have no idea how terrifying it was so see you on the ground like that." He shakes his head. "Not moving, not waking up, and all I could think was I drove you away and you hurt yourself."

"Draco..." She sighs. "I was surprised, I didn't know what to do when I saw that thing on your arm and  ran when I shouldn't have."

"This isn't your fault."

"It isn't yours either."

He lets out another laugh behind a poorly disguised sob, shaking his head again in surprise, perplexed again by her reactions. Always seeing the good in him, even when everyone is convinced it's not, when he himself has lost hold of it.

"I love you." He exhales.

"I love you too." She smiles sadly. "We're going to work this out, I promise."

He lift's the linked hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles gently. He believes her, something in his heart clinging to the assurance in her voice and the hope in her eyes. She's pulled that last thread, allowed him to fall apart at the seams in order to sew him back together again, gently and patiently, starting with the first stitch.

"I'm going to see that smile again."

.

Authors notes: like to think madam pomfrey is just sat outside the curtains like  👁👄👁 

[colorfulbard]

Showtime

Summary: Housewives in a small town truly have nothing else better to do.

Pairing: Lifeguard!Eren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Small themes of NSFW

Words: 1.6K

A/N: I saw an ask that I think was from @sleepysnk blog and I couldn't help myself. This one-shot was based on this video. Sorry in advance to her for not asking permission, but I really wanted to write this. I hope you like it!

~~~~~

Summer was a time for new beginnings in a young kid's life. School was out which meant three whole months full of time to make self-improvements. Or to just goof off with friends. During this time of experiencing the blazing sun, the first thing to come to any kid's mind is to be the first to hit the pool.

Not that it mattered who came first. In the small town of Shiganshina, eventually, the community pool would be full of family's trying to cool off from the summer heat. Whether some of the families were there by choice didn't fully matter. Mothers from all over town were dragged by their children regardless of what errands needed to be done.

In the past five summers, that's how it was. Mothers had no reason to come to the pool by choice ever since their eye-candy had left to college out of state. This summer, however, the housewives in-town were less reluctant to the idea of a day at the pool. As kids ran around the pool, ignoring the lifeguard's whistle, and whacked each other with pool noodles. Housewives found other ways to enjoy their time under the hot sun.

Amongst the loud splashing and laughter, a familiar ringtone chimed. This particular ringtone, however, was only familiar to every housewife that had been to the pool since the beginning of summer. The phone the ring was coming from lit up, an alarm displayed on the screen labeled as 'showtime'.

Practically every woman who had been to the pool since summer began had a Pavlovian response when that alarm rang. They all immediately sat up in their chairs, grabbed mirrors to fix their makeup or hair, and relaxed back into whatever sexy stance they could think of.

Out of all the women who waited for the show to start. None of them were nearly as excited as Debbie, whose phone alarm was still ringing. There wasn't much a housewife in Shiganshina had to look forward to. Especially during the summer.

Debbie truly detested summer with a passion as fiery as the sun. School was no more which meant her alone time was over. Three kids were now constantly on her ass with her husband either at work or napping.

She almost bristled at the mere thought of having to deal with them later in the afternoon but maintained her composure. She couldn't afford a single hair out of place. It'd taken her two hours to perfect the look she was going for. The amount of effort couldn't go to waste. Not when she had to compete with seven other housewives for his attention.

"Look alive, ladies," proclaimed Debbie as she readjusted her boobs and put down her sunglasses. "The show is about to begin." She smirked as the current lifeguard began to step down from her tower to switch.

Debbie felt time slow down at the sight of a door opening at the other end of a pool. She was sure the other housewives were feeling it too as they all began to tense in anticipation. If any of their kids were drowning at the moment, none of them would notice. It's not like it mattered considering Mikasa was still watching anyway.

Even if one of them did drown, it wouldn't hurt to watch them being saved by the notorious Eren Yeager. He was the one that currently had every housewife on the edge of their seat. The man was an Adonis in the eyes of every housewife in Shiganshina. The absolute perfect man of their dreams.

When that door fully opened, they all felt the air leave their lungs. His silky brown hair was tied back into a bun with the right amount of fringe framing his face. Abs chiseled to perfection glistened in the sunlight. To top it all of, with a flick of a wrist, he took off his sunglasses to reveal the most gorgeous eyes that suck any woman in.

Debbie could go on and on about Eren. She even bit her lip at the thought of them, together. Having invited him over for dinner as thank you for saving one of her kids from drowning. They would be all alone after she forced the kids into bed early. Her husband would be working late, so, who knows? Anything could happen.

None of the housewives' eyes left him for even a second as he walked to relieve Mikasa of her shift. Some could barely manage to remain composed as he offered a nod and greeted them with a "ladies".

Debbie put on her best sexy pout the moment his eyes were on her. She waited for the inevitable nod and compliment on her new sunglasses only to receive a nod. No compliment.

Her eyes widened and she cast a glance at the other wives. It seems they were suffering from the same thing. It was like that ever since he came back from college out of state.

Debbie's perplexed expression turned to a sneer when she remembered why. Turns out after coming back home to visit his mother, a college education wasn't the only thing he came back home with.

"Eren!"

Speak of the devil and they shall appear. Debbie scoffed under her breath at the sight. You weren't much of a looker in her opinion. Everything about you screamed basic in Debbie's eyes. From your hair to your outfit. But that didn't stop Eren's eyes from lighting up whenever he saw you.

~

You had to be honest, at first, summer in the small town of Shiganshina was boring. The only reason why you were even here was due to Eren's insistent begging. That boredom lasted until he mentioned he had gotten a side job as a lifeguard. The same job he had the summer before he left college. He had mentioned it to you before in passing, but you'd never forget the stories Armin told you of all those housewives who drooled at the sight of him.

The moment the job began you gave him time to settle before you came to ruin it all. The time you spent waiting was worth it. Every housewives' eyes were on you as you confidently strode up to Eren on his lifeguard chair and asked for a kiss. Their faces were to die for, you wished you'd taken a picture. Especially Debbie's.

You knew for a fact she hated your guts. It wasn't like she tried to hide it anyway. She glared at you every chance she got. Which is why you were at the pool visiting Eren again today. You giggled as you glanced back at her while leaning against Eren's lifeguard chair.

"What are you laughing at?"

You looked up to the object of your affections and shook your head. "Nothing," you said innocently while rubbing his knee.

Eren rose a brow, not believing your tone for a second, and followed your previous line of sight. He rolled his eyes when he spotted Debbie waving at him just moments after she finished glaring at you. "Do you have to cause trouble with every housewife you meet?" He teased, shoving your hand away.

You placed a hand on your chest and gasped in mock disbelief. "Me? Cause trouble?" You asked rhetorically, "I would never." You crossed your arms and frowned.

Eren leaned back in his chair, "yeah, okay," he said sarcastically with a scoff.

You scoffed back at him and smacked his thigh, "okay, come on. You have to admit it's pretty funny." You barely held in a laugh at the sight of a whole row of housewives glaring daggers at you.

"Not gonna be funny when they finally poison you," Eren joked while stroking his abused thigh.

You gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, because I'm dying to eat Debbie's casserole," you said sarcastically. Those housewives had been sending casserole after casserole to Carla's house ever since he came home. You hadn't bothered to eat a single bite of any of them. Neither had Carla.

Eren gave a small wave to Debbie, who was still watching the two of you. "What's with you and Mrs. Carter anyway?" He asked with a raised brow.

"More like what's with Debbie," you corrected, "she's hated me since she figured out I'm your girlfriend."

Eren smirked and leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "Can't blame her, I am a catch." He winked down at you.

You rolled your eyes, "whatever you say, Casanova." You stepped away from the chair. "I'm gonna get going, don't wanna keep distracting you considering they're not gonna save their kids anyway." You gestured to the housewives who had their eyes glued on Eren.

He rose a brow but soon nodded after glancing at the housewives. "You have a point, get outta here." He leaned down to swat your ass.

You punched his leg in response. "Oi, watch your hands, Yeager!" You scolded.

"You know I can't control myself." He smirked and tried to rest his hands on your waist.

You hummed and laughed to yourself. Eren rose a brow at your laugh but said nothing as you stood on your tiptoes to grab him by his whistle. He was frozen as he waited for your next move and spellbound the same way those housewives were with him.

The tips of his ears were hot, you could feel it on your lips as they gently grazed his ear. "Let's hope you'll be able to control yourself until after your shift." You gave his ear a small kiss before pulling away and quickly walking away before he could recover.

You gave him one last look over your shoulder and giggled at the sight of his flushed cheeks. You also gave Debbie a passing glance and waved at her. "Hot day isn't it, Mrs. Carter?" You asked.

You didn't miss the way she attempted to murder you with one look. "Immensely," she said through gritted teeth.

Yeah, summer was a fun time.

[sleptwithinthesun]

Can I request a prompt? Maybe Bucky having the sneeziest cold while training (either just with Sam or maybe the other avengers?) and he’s reluctant to admit he’s sick. Thanks and I love your writing!

aww, of course!! thank you so much for the kind words, you've been super welcoming to me since i started posting stories and i really appreciate that. here's ~1.5K words of fic for you, i hope you like it :D

a/n: i'm (surprise!) not right-handed. please don't yell at me if anything is incorrect in regards to orientation/positioning.

"So you're telling me," Sam says, hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised, "that you've never kickboxed before?"

Bucky shakes his head. "It wasn't around when I was being... trained. Even though it started in Japan in the late 50s, American kickboxing was popularized in 1974, during the PKA's first World Championships. My first mission was in the early 60s, and from there, HYDRA didn't teach me anything new, only expanded on the training I already had." He winces at the half-faded memories swirling around in his mind, trying not to recall the screams of horror and disbelief.

"Nerd." Sam grins at him, pulling Bucky out of his head, and then effortlessly slips into his stance, right leg back, hands up at his face. "Come on, it'll be fun. Plus, I promise to go easy on you."

Bucky scoffs, stepping back with his right foot as he clumsily attempts to mimic the way Sam's standing. He's been feeling strangely off these past couple of days, tired and lead-limbed. If he had to guess, he'd say that he's getting sick, but he's a supersoldier. That's not something he does. "Yeah, right. Once I figure this out, you'll be asking me to go easy on you."

"We'll see," Sam murmurs, already stepping towards Bucky to correct him. "Put your back foot closer to a forty-five degree angle; that'll give you a wider range of motion. It also prevents you from staying square while you're fighting, obviously, and it helps with balance. Stand a little taller, too. Usually, your first instinct is going to be to crouch down for more stability, but you have to trust yourself. Use your height to your advantage and stay tall— but not too tall —when you're kickboxing." He moves in closer, adjusting Bucky's fists so that they're right in front of his face, the first around eye level and the second farther out but not much lower. "There."

"How long have you been kickboxing?" Bucky asks, watching Sam as he slides fluidly into position again, although his hands are slightly lower than Bucky's are.

Sam shrugs, eyes skirting to the side and away from Bucky's face. "Only a couple of years, maybe five or six? I joined a gym after my tours, needed a place to blow off some steam." He readjusts, bringing his hands up a little higher and curling them into loose fists. "Alright, let's just start with a jab. You're going to use your rear hand— for both of us, that's the left hand —and just punch forward. Imagine you're aiming at your opponent's face. Keep your chin down and eyes up." He demonstrates the jab a couple times, the motion quick and simple. "All you're doing is throwing a punch."

"Simple enough," Bucky says. His arm clicks as he copies Sam, quiet enough that no one else besides him can hear it. He's not sure if he should remind Sam that he was a boxing champion in his school days (and fuck, don't those seem like they were a century ago) and that he probably already knows most of what he's being shown now, or if he should just let it be. It's true that while he doesn't actually know the specifics of kickboxing, he was trained in Muay Thai. The two fighting styles are similar, though Muay Thai incorporates elbows and knees where kickboxing doesn't, at least not as much.

Sam nods. "Pretty good," he comments, winking when Bucky glares. "You're fine, man. Try a cross and then a hook, and then I'll show you a sequence, if that's alright. After that, we can go through a couple kicks and drills and then start sparring tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Bucky says, nodding, then punches the air in front of him. Sam whistles, low and long, and Bucky looks up to see him smiling with admiration in his eyes. "What?"

He shakes his head, brushing Bucky's question off. "Nothing, man. It's just nice to see you back in the groove, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Bucky looks down at the ground, avoiding making eye contact, then goes back to the jab-cross-hook sequence. It's easier than trying to sort out everything that's happened between them, what with the way both their feelings have seemed to be changing since Sam accepted the role of Captain America.

-

Immediately after Bucky opens his eyes the next morning, everything is awful.

Correction: He feels awful. The previous ache has truly settled into his bones by now and there's a headache throbbing right behind his eyes, making the world swoop around him the moment he tries to sit upright. The worst of it all, however, is the sudden and relentless itch that runs around his nose and buzzes right next to his septum, quickly triggering a handful of sneezes that do nothing to quell it. "h'shhiew! heh'SHUH! ESSHh!"

Yeah. Today's going to be great.

He's never been so happy that Sam likes to wake up an hour before dawn to go for a run. It'll give him time to figure out how to hide his symptoms and make sure that Sam doesn't find out about any of this. The only real problem he sees is that he'll have to take a truckload of medicine to even make a dent in whatever this illness is, enough that Sam'll notice and be suspicious. Plus, judging by the time, he's probably going to be back soon, meaning he won't be able to go out and get anything for himself. Bucky's just going to have to push through.

"h'SHHuh! hih'ESHyew!" He sniffs and wipes at his nose after, checking himself in the mirror to make sure it's not noticeably red. Thankfully, it seems like he'll be able to pass for a little while longer, but that's pretty much dependent on if this tickle goes away or not. And from the looks of it, it's going to be a long day.

-

Sam puts in his mouthguard and straps his headgear on, smiling at Bucky as best he can. "Are you ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Bucky responds, doing his best to seem alert and energetic. In reality, he would pass out right now if he could, but he promised Sam that he'd spar with him. Kickboxing really isn't that hard for him, considering his background and if he didn't feel so awful, Bucky would definitely be excited about their training.

"Alright," Sam says, holding his gloved fists up. Bucky matches his stance and puts his chin down, meeting Sam's eyes a second before he throws the first punch, a restrained jab, considering that it's his left hand.

After that, the fight is relatively quick. They're not trying to hurt each other, but it's not like they're just standing around waiting to either hit or defend. Sam's a fierce fighter, and his new training regime has made him a lot stronger. Bucky's a supersoldier, though, so he'd naturally be hitting harder than his training partner, it's just...

Whatever the hell is tearing through his system right now is really doing a number on him. Sam keeps landing hit after hit, and Bucky's just managing to defend himself. The damn tickle in his nose is so distracting he's barely able to concentrate on the sparring match for needing to sneeze.

"Fuck," he wheezes as Sam lands a solid rear-kick to his ribs. "Hey, Sam, do you mind if we—"

"—take a break? I thought you might ask that soon," Sam finishes, frowning at him. "Come here for a second?"

"Yeah, just... h'hih'SHHUH! uh'SHIEWW! Sorry," he mutters, wiping at his nose with the part of his forearm right above where the glove is. Before he can move towards Sam, there's a wrapped hand landing on his cheek. "I'm not sick."

Sam rolls his eyes, although he does pull his hand back. "Sure, Buck. You're not sick."

"I'm not," he insists, ducking into his elbow again. "h'ESSHH!"

"Bless, man," Sam tells him, patting him gently on the back while he gears up for yet another sneeze. "Bless. Are you sure?"

Bucky scoffs. "I'm a supersoldier. I don't get sick."

"The current evidence says otherwise," Sam points out. "You're not feverish, I don't think, so it's probably just a cold. And before you try to tell me again that you 'don't get sick', you've also been in some pretty extenuating circumstances. That's sure to mess with your immune system."

"I guess," Bucky admits, sniffling as he pulls his gloves off, and then his wraps. Sam undoes his wraps as well, his own gloves already tucked under his arm.

"Come on," he says gently, starting back towards the house and pausing when Bucky holds a finger up. "Bless," he says in advance, grinning through his mouthguard when Bucky glares at him.

"hh... hih'SHIIEW! huh'ISH'uh! htt'SHYEWW!"

Sam rubs a hand over Bucky's back as he catches his breath, eyes softening. "You alright?"

Bucky shrugs. "I'll live."

"Of course you will."

[seacottons]

— uni with atz pt. two

notes: swearing, fluff, mildly suggestive dialogue. tags: @latte-fairytaekwoon

seonghwa — [ early edu. + developmental psych. ]

extremely organized in all aspects of his life

your bookshelf at home consists of books on developmental studies in children.

if he isn't in class or volunteering, he's either cuddling with you or reading.

stressed 24/7.

takes very pretty and neat notes.

randomly spits out facts throughout the day.

sometimes, you join him during his volunteer hours at various daycares and schools.

is all the children's favorite teacher.

extremely patient and soft-spoken when it comes to working with even the most difficult child.

also loves being called 'teacher hwa'.

"i don't know, if i were you, i would make the students call me king san."

"they'll probably end up bullying you," seonghwa replies back.

you don't know how he has the patience for the amount of children he has to take care of.

takes you picture-book shopping with him for his students.

finds himself singing nursery rhymes while cooking or cleaning.

has polaroids of you two stuck on the fridge.

brings lint rollers to work.

gets worked up in public if a parent seems too neglectful in any way.

"y/n!" he tugs at your elbow and points with his jaw to the right, "look! his kid is just spilled all that paint on the floor, and he didn't even bat an eyelash!?"

"don't intervene again, please."

"okay, but-"

the whining of metal and steel cut him off, and the two of you jump in fright at the sound of a shelf falling apart.

"some people really shouldn't have kids."

whines when he comes back home that the paint stain and glitter just won't come off his clothes no matter how many times he rubs the spots with warm water.

or how he has mulch stuck in his socks and shoes from taking the kids outdoors to play.

you somehow always end up finding a googly eye or specks of glitter under the couch.

sometimes brings home finger-paintings with numerous colorful hearts and two stick figures in the middle.

"today's assignment was to paint what makes you happy."

you also help him stitch up little felt and cotton dolls for the kids to keep.

often gets sick from working with children.

and passes it onto you by accident.

you know he's had a bad day when you ask him how it went, and his face scrunches up in pain.

stormed into your shared apartment one day and made a beeline to the bathroom.

forty minutes later, he comes out, towel wrapped around his hips, face and chest flushed, and explains that a child accidentally peed on him.

gets flustered when you laugh at his demise.

sometimes uses his teacher voice when scolding you or your mutual friends.

and you all end up teasing him more anyway.

"do you use that tone in bed too, hwa?" yeosang asks one day. mingi and yunho splutter out in disbelief, followed by loud laughter.

you choked on your bite of cake at the sudden remark.

"what did i ever do to deserve this slander," seonghwa grumbles whilst patting your back.

he often stays up late making lesson plans for both his classes and ones to implement at work as well.

takes full advantage of his teacher's discount at shops and restaurants.

sometimes brags about it to his friends to get under their skin.

"you have it easy. just watching kids and getting free food," san says one day in the middle of their game of jenga.

"it's not easy at all," you hear seonghwa reprimand the younger, and laughter rings out from the other four guests.

"you're learning about children! what's so hard-"

you had a hunch that seonghwa purposely tilted the wooden tower to tumble over an unsuspecting san.

"y/n! your boyfriend is trying to murder me!"

seonghwa paces in circles around your apartment whilst studying for an upcoming exam.

asks you to quiz him on certain materials.

"correct! okay, can you define the preoperational stag-"

"how many kids do you want to have in the future?"

"..what?"

"kids. how many do you want to have with me?" he presses further, eyes trained on your face rather intently.

"can't this conversation wait until you finish studying?"

"no. i'm too curious," he licks at his chapped lips and leans in to poke your forehead, "i need to know. this is important information. please."

yeosang — [ biology pre-med ]

met you through your mutual friend, wooyoung, who invited him to live in your shared dorm.

"you didn't tell me you have a dog?" yeosang turns to wooyoung, brow quirked up whilst pointing to the 'beware of dog' sign on one of the bedroom doors.

"oh, i don't. i just put that up to mess with y/n," wooyoung dismissively explained while making a sandwich.

is the reason why you and wooyoung haven't killed each other yet.

asked you out after five months of moving with you and wooyoung.

designated one of the kitchen's shelves as a medical supply closet.

"because wooyoung always ends up hurting himself without doing anything."

"i do not."

stress is his middle name.

constantly contemplates his life decisions.

"wooyoung! shut up! i can't finish my essay with you blabbering every damn second!"

you had to get used to the sight of a full sized anatomical skeleton in his room.

"okay, but i'm not letting you fuck me with that thing in here."

later that night, wooyoung's heart nearly burst in his chest from fright.

"yeosang! why the fuck is your skeleton in my room!?"

some nights, during dinner, yeosang slams his obnoxiously large textbooks onto the table, and insists for the two of you to quiet down while he skims over the pages a few times.

"can't you just enjoy your meal for five-"

"no. now hush."

not only does he have labs, presentations, and essays to worry about, but he also got accepted for a pre-med internship at a local hospital.

hardly goes out anymore during his free time.

most dates include cuddling on the couch or baking something in the kitchen.

stays up late at night to complete assignments.

towers of thick books decorate his nightstand.

"no, yeosang. i really don't want to see you dissecting a cat," you grimace, turning quickly and shielding your eyes from his phone.

"why not?" yeosang whines softly, hand tugging the hem of your shirt with a frown, "it's not that bad, i promise-"

he's cut off when wooyoung snatches the phone from him with a loud cry, "gross! y/n, you're letting him touch you after he touched that?! and fuck- what is that smell?"

"that's formaldehyde. now give me back my phone before i dissect you next."

you join him at the lab when he has extra work piled up.

"you look so cute with a white coat and goggles."

you prod and poke him repeatedly, asking him numerous questions about the specimens in the lab.

"y/n! don't touch that!"

one day, wooyoung comes home sick.

you insist on taking him to see a doctor, only for him to emit a haughty laugh at you.

"why would i waste my time and money when i have yeosang here?"

"but woo, he didn't even get into med-school yet-"

wooyoung insists he doesn't need to see a professional, "yeosang is practically our live-in doctor! why do you think i begged him to move in?"

you roll your eyes, calling for yeosang to persuade the younger male.

"alright, tell me your symptoms," your boyfriend sighs, plopping down onto the couch beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

after wooyoung explains everything and takes his own temperature, he peers at yeosang for an answer, "well?"

"you're dying," yeosang nods simply.

wooyoung's visage pales, and he scrambles to sit up on the couch with a disturbed expression.

"what?"

yeosang is always studying.

always.

studying.

you insist for him to take a break sometimes.

"i can't. i have lab tomorrow. oh, and a paper."

"but you always say that!"

you attempt to tug him out of his seat.

"come on! just for an hour, and we'll be back. promise."

he's always reluctant at first, but finds himself agreeing later anyway.

enjoys the small dates at the nearby lake probably more than you do.

mingi — [ accounting ]

a gifted genius when it comes to numbers.

is your very own math tutor.

jokingly asks you to pay him back.

he accepts kisses and hugs. baked pastries are also a bonus.

"y/n? are you okay?" a hand waves in front of your face.

you blink at him wordlessly, mind fogged from the bombardment of information you just received, "sorry- you lost me. can you repeat the process again?"

he playfully smacks your shoulder with the ruler and stomps his bare feet onto the tiled floor, "this is the third time!"

"i'm sorry! you know how i am with math!"

he begs you to take classes with him as electives.

"sorry, baby. i love you, but there's no way i'll ever take statistics."

"okay, what about economics?"

"no."

"management? business administration!?"

"no and no."

"but y/n! it'll be fun! you'll be with me!"

always whines about how much he hates having to take 'stupid management classes' and the group projects that come along with them.

"they never take the assignments seriously!"

said group visits your apartment to work on projects with mingi.

"aren't you supposed to be working on that project?"

you watch as mingi and his friends suddenly erupt in an explosive argument about the game they were currently playing.

"yeosang! what the fuck!?"

"it's y/n's fault mingi was distracted!"

you let out an indignant squawk and glare at yeosang.

"that round didn't count."

"stop being a sore loser, san!"

"so.. i take it you didn't even start?" you grimace, peering over to the untouched books and papers on the coffee table.

"it's just management class. no big deal," san explains quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand before nudging your boyfriend with a glare, "you better not make us lose this time, or i'll kidnap y/n."

stays up late to finish other work that's due.

loves to wear big spectacles when studying.

it 'helps him focus'.

writes notes on his calculator and slides it towards you while you're both home studying.

'n-3^07-!'

"mingi, what is that?"

"read it upside down, you bum."

has a coffee mug with 'i love π' in big, bold, red letters.

refuses to throw it away even though the rim is chipped.

always bugs you about how you should have a budget plan.

insists on teaching you how to make spreadsheets on excel.

"i can't do this, mingi. too much numbers give me a headache."

"do you want my lucky glasses?"

rambles on about things related to his field, and you can only nod in confusion every time.

"how does your brain keep up with all of this?"

"easy. just be one with the numbers."

"that was a bad pun.."

"you're supposed to laugh!"

mingi was that typical student who complained about studying, but is always the one acing everything with the highest score.

"i should just quit university and become a stripper."

"you say that every exam week, and yet, you always pass with the highest grades," you mumble from the other side of the couch, absentmindedly highlighting a few sentences in your book.

"yeah, but studying is a pain in the ass," he exhaled with a loud groan, head thrown back against the back of the couch, "why me, y/n?"

you roll your eyes while reaching over to pat the side of his face in comfort.

"everything will work out just fine."

later that week, he joyfully bounces into your apartment with a large grin plastered on his face, "guess what?"

you snort in amusement.

"let me take a wild guess. you aced your exam."

"and guess who has the highest score?" he tugged you forward by your cheeks with a bright grin.

"yeosang?" the cheery expression on his features suddenly vanished, causing you to laugh, "i'm kidding."

likes to study while attached to your side, wearing comfortable pajamas and warm socks.

sulks whenever his stock investments drop further than he expects.

and is always in a good mood whenever the prices spike back up.

always has a horrible math pun up his sleeve.

sends you accounting memes and becomes a gloomy mess when you don't laugh or understand the joke.

"what if i propose to you with a math problem? and we have pie instead of cake?"

"please don't bring math into our love life."

yunho — [ broadcasting journalism ]

roommates with you, hongjoong, and jongho.

is called 'newspaper boy' by hongjoong.

is well-known around campus for being one of the student journalists for the university's newspaper.

you have the very first published paper, with his full name printed on the front, framed in the hallway of your dorm.

has the prettiest hands.

and longest fingers you've ever seen.

can put them to good use.

especially when typing out essays. they're practically blurred from how swift he is.

likes to ramble about current international events to jongho early in the morning. the latter pretends to understand, giving the other false hope.

jongho always sends you a pleading look to save you from your lover.

always carries a notebook.

article deadlines = stressed yunho.

complains that his friends are 'uncultured'.

helps you with your essays.

if he has enough time, he'll actually re-write it for you.

"was it really that bad?"

"it's okay, baby. you're good at other things."

"how come you don't re-write my papers?" jongho huffs from across the living room.

"you're not y/n."

interviews you and your other roommates for his projects.

you smile from behind him as he zooms in obnoxiously close to hongjoong's disgruntled expression.

"he zoomed in on my nose again, didn't he?" the blue haired male asks you.

"sorry, but that tomato sauce stain is really distracting me."

hongjoong nearly drops his fork.

"what stain!?" he furiously rubs his face with the back of his hand, "see! i told you that you always interview us at the most inconvenient time!"

is constantly writing.

can be very unorganized.

"who took my ap stylebook!?"

"can you stop shouting? it's 6 a.m., yunho!" hongjoong growls from his bedroom.

mingi and seonghwa often visit your dorm because they're usually partnered with yunho for an assignment.

it somehow always winds up with mingi and yunho fooling around, whilst seonghwa struggles to persuade them to help him with the work.

sometimes, you tag along to help film his public social experiment projects.

is a social-bug, so people are instantly drawn to him.

likes to cuddle with you while watching the films for his assignments.

you think most of them are pretty boring, but being in his lap and tucked against his chest makes up for it.

you like to add glittery stickers onto his video camera and tripod.

is very much infatuated with you, so he doesn't mind one bit.

applied for a paid broadcasting radio station/tv internship over the summer and was quickly accepted.

asks you to help him style his hair for his first day at work.

"but it's just a radio station. no one's going to see you?" jongho questions with a perplexed expression.

"i still need to look presentable!"

and later that day you quickly hush the two males beside you once the clock strikes 2 p.m.

"quiet! yunho should be on any second now!"

"i was just breathing?" hongjoong whispers weakly.

over dinner, jongho often mimics yunho's reporting voice.

"y/n, do i really sound like that?" yunho pouts as you and hongjoong burst into fits of laughter.

"aw, don't be sad. i love your reporter voice, baby."

will wake everyone up early the next morning by yelling at the top of his lungs with his reporter voice just to get back at you three for laughing at him.

[makeste]

this is pretty random and you don't need to answer it, haha, but could you share your personal hcs regarding platonic todobaku with me??? 🥺🥺🥺 i'm in need, LOL, and your takes on characterization and relationships on bnha are always so spot on, so... i hope you're having a good day/night!!!!!!!💖💖💖

thank you so much! sorry it took a while to gather all of these; my TodoBaku headcanons weren’t as immediately forthcoming as my general Baku headcanons were. but here goes. the first half of these ended up being more just my general thoughts about their relationship than actual headcanons, but I eventually steered myself back on track.

first of all, this is important to note: when Katsuki says in ch. 241 that “there’s no correlation between time spent [together] and friendship”, it’s not purely out of denial. this is something he genuinely believes, having learned it the hard way growing up. for someone who seemingly led a pretty charmed life for most of his childhood, Katsuki hasn’t actually had a particularly sunshiny experience when it comes to his friendships. all of his closest childhood friends eventually left him (Tsubasa), turned on him (Deku -- from his perspective lol. obviously this wasn’t actually the case at all, but it’s how he interpreted it, and it definitely had a big impact on him emotionally), or abandoned him (that long-fingered kid, who notably fled and never looked back when the sludge monster tried to eat Katsuki back in chapter one. like, thanks for nothing, my dude).

so it’s not surprising that all of these experiences would have a profound impact on Katsuki’s ability to trust other people and accept them as real, genuine friends. in its own way his childhood was almost as isolating as Deku and Shouto’s. it’s only since coming to U.A. that he’s started to make real friends again for the first time since kindergarten. and even then, in the case of Kirishima and Kaminari and Sero, even though I think he does consider them friends, he still isn’t very open with them. because he’s learned the hard way that that can lead to hurt, and I think he’s very hesitant to ever let himself be vulnerable to that again.

but having said all that, Shouto is still absolutely correct when he says that they’re friends. and the thing is Katsuki knows it too, but he’s just reluctant to admit it. partly because the part of his brain that processes everything as rivalry isn’t sure whether Being Friends With Shouto = Losing To Shouto (IS THIS A TRAP??), and partly because of everything else I just explained above. even though by this point he knows Shouto pretty well, well enough to be reasonably sure he’s not just gonna be another fakeass groupie who turns tail at the first sign of trouble, there’s still a part of him that’s hesitant to admit that connection is there, because doing so opens him up to potentially being hurt again at some point. goddammit. why is this shit so complicated.

meanwhile on Shouto’s side of things, this poor lil bubba never had any friends growing up to begin with, so he’s not nearly as paranoid or prickly as Katsuki is. instead, he’s still discovering for himself just what friendship is all about. the interesting thing about Shouto is that since he never had any childhood friendships, in a way, the friendships that he’s making now at U.A. are his childhood friendships. and so they tend to be straightforward and uncomplicated in much the same way that very young children’s friendships are uncomplicated. “I like this person; I am going to make them my friend.” boom. done. friendship is mad easy yo.

and he does like Katsuki! sure, his personality is a bit unconventional, but there’s a lot to admire about him even so, and they actually have a lot in common! they’re both rather introverted. they’re both very serious, and I think this is something that Shouto particularly appreciates, because jokes and idioms and playful insincerity sometimes fly over his head just because he doesn’t have a lot of experience dealing with other people. but Katsuki NEVER jokes around, and he is never insincere. he says what he means, with the exception of insults, which are 90% more bark than bite. and so once Shouto figured that out, it became very easy to figure out how to interact with him. aside from that, they’re both close with Shouto’s Other Best Friend Midoriya, they both have incendiary quirks, and they both tend towards the quiet side (yes, even Katsuki) with the occasional burst of hotheadedness (maybe a bit more than “occasional” when it comes to Katsuki’s end).

and like I said, there’s a lot that Shouto admires about Katsuki as well. he really respects how determined Katsuki is, because he himself lacked any sort of clear goals for quite a while growing up. all he knew was that he didn’t want to end up being like his dad. but Katsuki is someone who has always known what he wants, and he goes after it with a singlemindedness that Shouto is almost envious of. he’s also very intelligent and quick-thinking, and Shouto knows he can rely on him in a tight spot. he’s also honest, and surprisingly principled, and while he’s definitely not the nicest guy around, I think Shouto can recognize to some degree those same types of walls that he once spent so much time building up around himself. and so he knows that to a certain extent, Katsuki’s hostility is just a front. and I think he’s both intrigued by that, and drawn to it. because every so often when Katsuki’s guard does drop and his better self briefly shines through, Shouto can see that he’s someone worth getting to know.

anyways, but enough of my rambling about their relationship, and on to the actual headcanons. first of all, I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that at some point during all of those mentally and physically taxing weekends spent training for their provisional exam, they have each fallen asleep on the other’s shoulder during the ride home. Katsuki was actually the first to do it, and it was only for a couple of minutes, but when he woke up he was absolutely mortified. but much to his relief, Shouto never said another word about it. (and if Shouto still remembers the warm, cozy feeling in his chest during those few brief minutes when Katsuki was dead to the world, with his face smoothed out and completely trusting and his breathing strangely in rhythm with the movement of the car, and if doing so brings him a sense of calm that’s hard to describe, well then, that’s no one’s business but his own.)

anyway, so because life is Just Like That, eventually of course the reverse happened. and with anyone else, Katsuki would have violently shoved them aside without a second thought, and he was almost gonna do the same here, but then he remembered he owed him (because he really did keep his mouth shut about the earlier incident, thank fuck), and so he didn’t. for almost two whole minutes, anyway. whatever. that’s more than generous, really. meanwhile no one else knows about this except for Aizawa, who was chaperoning them that day, and took mild notice at first on account of it being unusual behavior on Katsuki’s part, but then immediately forgot about it afterwards. he was proud of them both for upping their napping game, though. he respects naps.

both Shouto and Katsuki were actually scared shitless during the test of courage at the forest training camp, and if Katsuki hadn’t been kidnapped and everything had instead gone on as normal, they would have both had trouble getting to sleep that night. Katsuki actually can’t stand scary movies or ghost stories (fyi this is canon according to the third light novel, and EXCUSE HIM FOR HAVING A HEALTHY RESPECT FOR THE SUPERNATURAL. you wanna go and get your own dumb ass cursed or dragged to hell or whatever, BE HIS GUEST). whereas Shouto has next to no experience with them and doesn’t really see what’s so scary about ghosts because GHOSTS AREN’T REAL DUH, but even he feels a little unsettled when an undead swamp girl suddenly rises from the depths and crabwalks towards them in the middle of the woods.

Katsuki has on rare occasions been so drained by provisional lessons that he goes into autopilot and forgets to pretend not to be friends with Shouto, which can result in them having completely normal conversations for minutes at a time before he eventually regains enough of his senses to realize he’s fraternizing with the enemy. this is how Shouto learned about things like Katsuki’s favorite foods, and his love of hiking. the latter is actually one subject that Katsuki can go on and on about if you get him started, and Shouto very much enjoys hearing about it and never tries to stop him.

by contrast, Katsuki never intentionally seeks to gain any new knowledge about Shouto because he feels like he already knows way more than he ever wanted to. however, this doesn’t stop him from absorbing knowledge against his will by simple osmosis, and then discovering to his dismay that he’s retained the information afterward. this is why he also knows Shouto’s favorite food in return (although to be fair, I think everyone in Japan knows Shouto’s favorite food), as well as other tidbits like the fact that he likes strawberry-flavored things (because he always gets the same brand of strawberry milk from the vending machine during their lunch breaks). he hates himself a little for both noticing and remembering these stupid little details, and would rather be kidnapped again than ever admit to Shouto that he does.

Katsuki thinks of Shouto as “Todoroki” in his head rather than “IcyHot” or “Half n’ Half”, and has to make a conscious effort to use the nicknames whenever he addresses him out loud. more and more often he finds himself forgetting to do so nowadays, much to his dismay. Shouto was pleasantly surprised the first few times it happened, but quickly stopped taking notice of it, as he’s come to realize that the way Katsuki addresses people carries very little meaning regardless, since something like 75% of his actual feelings are conveyed through his actions rather than his words.

Katsuki does wish that Shouto had had the decency to choose his surname as his hero alias rather than his given name, though. he lives in fear that one of these days he’ll be required to call him “Shouto” while on duty. number one hero or not, there’s a good chance he would resign from his internship at the Endeavor Hero Agency before he ever willingly agreed to that.

and last but not least, the number one thing that Katsuki would rather jump in a freezing lake than admit to Shouto or even himself is that he actually cares about him too. and has even mostly forgiven him for wussing out at the last minute during the sports festival. he still doesn’t fully understand why he did it, but he gets that Shouto was Going Through Some Stuff, and okay yeah, he can admit that his family situation is pretty fucked up, so whatever. there’s an uncomfortable feeling he gets whenever he’s reminded of this; sort of a weird, squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever the subject of Endeavor comes up, or whenever he sees Shouto talking to the man himself. it makes him feel restless and on edge, and he never knows what to say or do afterwards, especially if Shouto goes all quiet and sullen and reflective. he wants to scream at him, or slap him on the back of the head, or grab him by the shoulders and shake him; whatever it takes to snap him out of it and ease the tension. but he knows that’s not the right way to handle it. and more to the point, he knows that he’s not the right person to handle it. and sometimes, if he’s not quick enough to squash the feeling when he senses it coming, he wonders how Shouto would react if he ever found out what Katsuki used to be like back in elementary and middle school. and he wonders whether Shouto would still be so dead-set insistent on calling them friends. and then he does squash out the thought, as viciously as he possibly can.

anyway so that turned weirdly angsty towards the end whoops. not even sure what happened there, since this is supposed to be my cute and funny ship, while BakuDeku greedily hogs all the angst for itself! lol my bad. but don’t worry, they still love each other, and Shouto is still fond and soft and equipped with bullshit-radar, and Katsuki is still rabid and in denial and a dumbass.