#fandom first friday

[bluishfrog]

Inspired by "Relationships over the phone (Talking to your significant other all night long)" by Kore_Writes (@korogie)

Fic Art Friday - event tag - event description

[bazzleman]

some random little hatchetfield doodles

[vero-niche]

i still couldn't say with 100% certainty who the dad is

[kirisclangen]

Zelda

She/her, 65 moons, cis molly

[wiggy-worm]

For some reason I can’t send this to myself it just shows as a blank message so I took a picture of it from my iPad😭 but this is the updated badge for grub I wanted to lean more into his name and I gave him a beetle horn that I’ll attach with a magnet so I can change it with different accessories if I want too

[toncomtoncosh]

I know it's not much, but I finished my first fursuit after 9 months, and I hope to make many more

[thenameswinter99]

Hello, I'm Winter and finally I'm going to see live the Imagine Dragons for the very first time.

[le-ophanim]

why is it called the good friday when everything that happened was fucking awful for everyone involved. should be called fucking awful friday

[ddelline]

(I) fear (this wip is driving me insane) friday

blurb | since we're likely not getting a whole DvK3 (even though I am still hope-pilled and holding out for The Conversation) in the epilogue I am writing it myself. well I mean, this is something I wanted to write the second we got to the first ch of the post-epilogue epilogue, but now it seems more fitting than ever. anyway it's ch 2/2 of a wound gives off its own light. I had a bit of writer's block until tonight and now I've written 4k of this, so here. will hopefully have this edited & posted by the end of the weekend, alt early next week. short n sweet but I'd rather not give 2 much away

premise | izuku controlling his heart (to the point where he goes overboard abt it bc he's so Damn Extra *okamoto nobuhiko voice*) and a recently emotionally cognizant bakugō no kacchan attempting to pry some emotion out of him w a crowbar

It’s the ironic scenario to end all ironic scenarios that brings them to a head.

It’s a Wednesday evening much like any other. They’ve been reintegrated into the class since a few weeks; helping with the relief efforts, Katsuki and his chafing full length arm brace and guilt, Izuku and his fuckass placid expression and lack of OFA. They’d broken the sort of-curfew for Uraraka, dumb rushing after a green-crackling Izuku from the recently settled UA campus up the ruined streets and lilting hill to the now-defunct Fortress Troy.

They’d settled afterwards much like the world expects of them, but not like Katsuki wants them to. He wants a chemical reaction. The tension and the spark; the event and the catalyst.

It had been nothing and everything as they filed into the common room after a long, sweaty, lid hammered down on top of feelings-day of clean up and damage control. And then it had been something, at the very tail end of the day.

They’d scoured the perimenter of the days' assigned cleanup sector, and come to a sudden still at the fence that, despite everything, still preceded the shallow forest and river that Katsuki wishes didn’t mark such a significant portion of himself.

Izuku ducked for the drooping metal-stitched fence like it was nothing, gaze cutting clear and unbothered across the sunset burnished-trees ahead.

Katsuki experienced a blackout until the moment when he’d felt himself crushing bone and tendon in Deku’s forearm, fingers wound so tight he hazarded they’d snap right alongside what he was attempting to grind to dust.

“Izuku,” he chalked out, hoarse and horrible.

“Kacchan?” Izuku quizzed back.

“This—” he cut himself off. “The river. This is where we—”

Izuku waited patiently. Nodded a little. He looked far ahead again. “Yeah. I’m glad it’s still in one piece. We used to come here a lot, didn’t we?”

Katsuki reared back. He didn’t want it to be a visceral reaction. But. “You don’t remember?”

Izuku tilted his head quizzically. “Remember what?”

Are you hurt? Can you stand?

He remembered the bright gurgle of a creak; the slosh, slosh, slosh of someone breaking through rushing water. Birds tweeting overhead; midday sun beating down across the width of little Katsuki’s shoulders. Shit.

“You really don’t remember?”

Izuku tilted his head. “I remember a lot of things.” A non-answer to a burning question. “We used to chase butterflies and collect bugs. I remember once when you almost dislocated your knee jumping from the branch of a tree. I thought it was so cool. Still kinda do.” He laughed. It was restrained; a polite show of remembering, more than it was the affected reaction to a cherished memory. It made Katsuki’s breath hitch, stomach squirm. “Kacchan sure always was amazing.”

Here is the kicker: Bakugō Katsuki is a changed man.

Well, he’s an enlightened brat. Still, he’s got something to show for that, so when he sucked his teeth and said, “Whatever,” it wasn’t because he was a repressed loser asshole. It was because there’d been a viscerally vivid memory at the fore of his mind—a core memory that’s shaped who he goddamn is from the age of four up till today, age sixteen—and its lead actor had just brushed it off. Intentional or not, it made something coil tighter in his sternum.

“Right,” he muttered and pushed ahead, even as his brain had been swimming with technicolor recollection and nauseous guilt.

Cut to a few hours later: they’d collectively decided to not shy away from the aftermath of the war. Being coddled isn’t gonna serve anyone, and anyway it’s so difficult to as much as step foot outside of Heights Alliance without catching a whiff of post-war debates and LoV post-mortems. The TV in the common room had been on low volume since the past half hour, reiterating some or other Western movie from yesteryear about clear-cut, black-and-white heroes and villains. It made Katsuki snort and feel derisive, but for the most part he tuned it out.

It was sort of difficult, though. Not for the first time, but it was certainly the first time he’d felt it hit so close to home. The forest, the river—Izuku either not remembering or blocking the memory out; it hit harder than he expected. Slumping down in the couch, still towelling his damp hair with one arm, seeing the top right of the screen flash with an impending mini-documentary about the rise of All For One and the era of nu age-villainy—

It unearthed something murky in his guts.

Katsuki’d become intimately aware of the fact that Izuku was perched on the edge of the couch then, looking a little tight in the edges but overall none the worse for wear. He’d towelled his hair dry much the same, a white strip of terrycloth slung over uncovered shoulders and rubbing absently across his neck. The TV swapped from credits to a montage of bleakly edited footage of a young Shigar—Shimura Tenko—stepping out of Kurogiri’s warp gate into USJ. Subtitles told Katsuki the narrator was speedrunning through a brief introduction, elaborating on the subject of the documentary as well as its primary subject: ‘Shigaraki Tomura: Devastating Anomaly or Causal Nexus?’

“Oh, sh—” exclaimed Kirishima, God bless and curse him. “We can change the channel, it’s not—”

“It’s okay, Kirishima-kun,” said Izuku quickly, interrupting whereas before he would’ve waited the sentence out. “It’s really okay.”

In hindsight, Katsuki’s not sure why he decided that that was well enough. Why that was the last straw. But it was. He’d waited it out for a bit, kept rubbing from the back of his neck up to the crown of his scalp with the towel, eyes flicking across the screen but unseeing. More of a crowd started to amass at a certain point; Kirishima, Jirō, Yaomomo, Hagakure and a slew of others joined him on the couch. Katsuki kept his gaze trained on the TV. Unseeing but following.

At commercial break he’d pushed off and up. Most gazes followed him up, but silently. Katsuki slung his towel around his shoulders, twisted sideways and paced the length of the couch. At the end he stooped low, care levels hovering between little to no fucks, and murmured by Izuku’s ear: “We’re gonna do this the hard way, huh?”

Izuku, to his discredit, looked bewildered. “We’re—huh?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Ground Beta. After lights. Don’t be obvious. This isn’t a spectacle.”

Translation: this isn’t for the whole class.

He figured Izuku would understand.

He did.

[setokaibapetty]

5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: New Houses of ASOIAF

Well, March used to be the first month so in the theme of firsts: have some fics that include a newly established noble house in the ASOIAF/GOT universe. Plus, one house that got bumped up from noble to royal.

The Winter of Widows (SB) - "When she'd awoken to a new life in Westeros instead of dying a horrible death, Ursula Mires had almost done the sensible thing. Only a year away from being sworn to the Faith as a Septa and relative independence in a cloister, she had made peace with her life. What little she could remember of how the Dance went had been shared secretly with her father and kept him alive. House Mires survived the civil war and should have gone on happily without her, until at the start of winter tragedy struck. Now the only heir to a floundering House she wants nothing to do with, Ursula finds herself in a similar position to many ladies after the war. It is a season the maesters will call 'the winter of widows'."

Dread Our Wrath (SB) - "A man from modern times awakens as the heir of a newly arisen house in one of the more backwater regions the Stormlands. It is approximately a decade and a half before the Conquest of Dorne under Daeron I Targaryen, and all the dragons have died out. What will he do to not only survive but thrive in a brutal realm like Westeros? With the changes he will slowly but surely bring, just how great will this Westeros diverge from the one he knew as a work of fiction?"

Deeds, not Words (SB) - "A man from our world is trapped in the body of a Westerosi. Set in 50AC."

A Farmer's Tale (SB / AO3) - "A 30 year old American farmer is sent to the world of ASOIAF. Follow as he tries to create a life for himself."

Deep Wells, Deep Deeds (SB / AO3) - "Lord Stark called his banners, and the Wells sent their second son, Matrim. He always knew he'd have to do his duty in whatever form it came, but duty isn't such an easy thing to know when you march against your King in civil war. Half remembered dreams of another world don't help, but by the gods, he'll stand tall in defense of your Lord, no matter the odds."

Bonus: A Trident is Reforged (SB) - "Axel found me down in the cellar where House Tully kept all its wines."

[inamindfarfaraway]

Actually, everyone couldn’t have died at the end of Black Friday, because then Peanuts the Hatchetfield pocket squirrel would have died too as he was in Papa Ed’s pocket. Remember the sacred law: if there’s an apocalypse, he’ll survive it. Next you’ll tell me he doesn’t like to nibble around in your pocket. Heathens. 

[mintyfreshminh]

Happy Friday everyone! What are your plans for this weekend? 🥰

[coyotebrained]

Late night yote time yip yip! 🌙

[draconic-absurdism]

🦌💗 Sylvan the Reindeer Dog

Partial fursuit sold for Anthrocon 2022

[x3n0-has-moved]

HE CAUGHT THAT MFKIN FISH 🎣

Happy Friday the 13th everyone! Remember to not have sex near lakes, or just don’t have sex in general