#so they gotta do the same shitty stuff everyone else does to make new assholes wanna be here

[the-boy-branithar]

kinda hate that we all stuck around on this shitty site all these years BECAUSE it wasnt like any other site and now that new people are apparently coming here its like “time to make it like tiktok and twitter!!!!!!”

[cjsinkythoughts]

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve​’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.) 

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air. 

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe. 

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control. 

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too. 

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity. 

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

*****

*****

Personal Taglist:

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​ @the-larry-romance​ @abitofeverythinggg​

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[nanaosaki3940]

Enji Todoroki/Endeavor  - The Social Disaster

MHA’s one of the main subplots is the Todoroki family story which we all know it as ‘Keeping Up With The Todorokis’. This subplot is deliciously complicated and the root of these complications is none other than Endeavor or Enji Todoroki himself.

And I’m going to explain why I call him ‘The Social Disaster’.

After failing to surpass All Might, Endeavor started his stupid breeding experiment where he’ll create a child to use it as a weapon to surpass All Might and become the No. 1 hero and the first weapon he created was called Touya Todoroki. At the very beginning of the training sessions with his son, Endeavor filled Touya’s head with dreams of becoming No.1 hero, be greater than All Might, that he was the destined one to carry out his father’s legacy etc. And then one day Endeavor stopped everything and just gave up on Touya, saying – “No, you can’t. You’re worthless, you can’t do this one thing I told you that you’re gonna be able to do your whole life and so you need to just get the fuck out of my face. Stop doing it. Go be an accountant and just give up.”

From birth Touya was told –“You’re gonna be this great thing. You’re gonna be this Hero Hokage.” and then Endeavor’s like – “Oh sorry, you’re not going to be that Hero Hokage.” and we see that Endeavor’s spending the whole time telling his son like - “Go hang out with your friends and go be normal.” And Touya says – “Well, everyone at school wants to be a hero too.” To me, it’s kinda looping back into Deku’s situation in reverse, like where Deku wanted to become a hero but he was quirkless and Touya also wanted to be a hero, but he can’t tolerate his own flames.

And then Endeavor came up with this shitty idea like – “Oh, you know what will make him stop, if you get him a fucking replacement.” which is maybe the worst idea I’ve heard in my whole life of how to resolve a problem like this.

To me, Endeavor has seemingly no understanding of how people work beyond just – “Oh, this is how I solve criminal cases.”

During his engagement with Rei, he looks and talks like such an awkward idiot and I feel like the way he treats Touya and the way he tries to handle his situation, just proves that how bad he is in understanding what he is doing and how his intentions affects reality.

Even though he is a grown-ass adult and he should know, it's interesting to see that there is this sort of consistency because I believe the implication is that it is his social idiocy that also caused him the No. 1 spot that he could never really become the people's man like All Might because he just doesn't know how to be a man of the people like All Might. And this is how it infects all parts of his life.

He's telling Touya to stop out of concern for him like – “You need to stop this because it's just not good for you.”, which is a very sweet sentiment. But at the same time, we get the panel of where he says – “We got to have another kid to make him stop doing it because then he will give up.” And Rei says –“No, we're not going to do that.” And his response is –“No, we gotta do it because he is never gonna be the one to surpass All Might.”

Then they have Natsuo and we see Touya’s reaction to it and it’s obviously that he’s not taking it very well and then we just see Endeavor getting more and more angry and Rei is getting more and more sad and defeated by the whole situation and when they have baby Shoto, the faces of Endeavor, Rei and Touya physically upsets me. We get to see Endeavor looks really excited, Rei's just like –“I’m done, just stop.” And Touya is so devastated because he realizes that this is the one that's gonna be better than him.

Shoto got what they wanted out of him and we see Touya saying like –“I can still do it.” and the end result is just the dad saying like; it's not even like –“Let's do things together other than being heroes.”; it's more like –“You got to give up on being hero, go play with other kids, go to school and get the fuck out of my face. I gotta train this other hero child. I don’t have time for this shit.”

Endeavor has a line of logic within his brain where he's like –“I can’t fix Touya for what I have done to him cannot be undone because I don’t have the capabilities, so I will just move forward and hope that he copes up.”, which is a terrible and stupid idea, but it is nonetheless align of logic within him.

There’s a certain set of values, ideas and goals in him and he follows them through and they were all terrible and reprehensible. But it still shows that there was an internal logic to him that it makes him even more monstrous without taking that terrifying humanity away from him.

Endeavor is just a person who has done terrible things, with an actual logical line of thought behind it even if it is logic that only makes sense to him.

There’re a lot of obvious parallels we can make between Touya and Deku (they’re not subtle about it and it’s kind of in our faces). Well it's just interesting to me that like Endeavor his whole obsession is like –“I gotta be better than All Might.” And then even in situations like this where he has this protégé that he gives all this hopes and dreams to like –“You're gonna be great, you're gonna be a hero, you’re gonna be the greatest.” And then the child has this power that his body cannot handle and he can't do what the dad told him to do, Endeavor is just like –“Well then, you suck kid. Get a new job, idiot.”

On the other hand, even though All Might is far from perfect in a lot of ways of course when it comes to this but it’s the exact same thing but he understands that like having these aspirations and these dreams even in someone so young is so real. And we know that All Might feels bad about what happens to Deku, but at no point does he tell him like –“Okay, give it up kid. You still can’t do it more than 5% without breaking your arm. Give it up idiot. I’m gonna give it to somebody else.” Like at no point does that even cross his mind. Rather All Might tells Deku –“Look, you gotta work to do. You’re not up to that level yet but I’ll help you and I’ll do it with you.”

And that’s true that Touya wanted to be better than All Might which wasn’t realistic but he was also a child and rationality and setting realistic goals comes much later than being a fucking child. But Endeavor was so obsessed with his own shit that it was hard for him to get over his own hang ups and look through Touya’s problems. Touya could easily still be a hero if he accidentally singes his skin a little bit sometimes that’s not even close to the kind of damage that Deku does himself every time he fights anything. So, it’s not unrealistic to be like –“Okay, yeah I’ll help you and we’ll take it slow. We’ll help you get over your power and then when you get to school or whatever, you can get help from the tech department and make you a heat shield or whatever.”

There were many ways that he obviously could’ve worked around it but Endeavor didn’t give a shit about that because that wasn’t his goal. He’s goal wasn’t to nurture Touya rather his goal was to find a way to get past All Might. He didn’t give a shit about trying to take it slow or trying to help Touya to accomplish anything other than what he wanted and once Touya couldn’t do that, he’s like –“Get the fuck out of my face while I train this replacement child.”

Endeavor is a kind of a person who makes every single mistake it could have made, like starting right from the point where he buys a wife to the point where he tortures Shoto during training sessions. Like you all can tell that he almost like wanted to be a parent when he was like –“Oh, I need to protect Touya from his own power.” He vocalizes a sweet sentiment but also he’s the reason Touya is like this and he can’t just run away and that’s why I like what Rei says as well it’s like –“You just keep running away. You keep creating these problems and you just keep running forward to All Might but also you keep running away from what you have done.” And I am so happy with how Rei is characterized like she is so much more spunky and so much more like assertive than I thought. Like she actually talks back to Endeavor and even in the hospital scene, she has like a presence and says –“You know we will do this. You need to get yourself together and we need to atone together, but most of all you because you were a piece of shit.”

And I also like the little thing at the end where Shoto was like –“I talked with Mom before we came here and I told her that I was going to be the one to stop Touya, but no, we’ll stop him altogether.” To me it sounded like it was Rei’s idea where she was like –“No, you can’t let this piece of shit make this your problem.” I mean Endeavor was always running away. He ran away from Touya and all this stuff happened. He was ready to do it again in the hospital, saying that –“I can’t fight him, he’s my son and I can’t do it.” But Rei was like –“No, get up and take some fucking responsibility for your problems.”

And I love that it was Rei the one who came to that conclusion, because even Shoto was ready to be like –“Dad can’t do it. I’m destined to stop my brother.” And she was like –“No, it’s this asshole’s problem. He did this and yeah all of us could have done more but you can’t let him sit in a bed and wallow about being so pathetic. He needs to get up and he needs to solve this.” And there's no better character it could have been to have been the one that came to that conclusion.

And this is what I love about MHA that how sincere it is and what I mean by that is moments like these where it doesn’t really go out of its way to play into any specific tropes when it comes to this abuse storyline and instead just gives you hurt people moving past and making decisions that sounds reasonable. Like the fact that Shoto didn’t just go on the avenger mode but instead talked it over with his mother which usually doesn't happen in shounen manga/anime. When you decide on making a revenge plot in shounen, you just do it. You don’t go and talk to someone important in your life and seek emotional counsel in shounen. So yeah, I love that Horikoshi sensei is giving us mature and realistic contents like these.

Then in chapter 302 we see Rei asks Touya like –“It almost seems like you don’t want to really be a hero, like you don’t seem like you actually care about becoming a hero. It just seems like you’re obsessed and stuck because Endeavor is your dad and you feel like you have a legacy to live up to but he is abandoned you.” And of course Touya’s responses were like –“Fuck you, mom. I fucking hate you.” But she was right. If Endeavor just hadn’t been such a pig headed shit in dealing with the problem, Touya either would have grown up to the point where he realized it was not worth it or if he really wanted to be a hero, Endeavor could have actually helped foster him into one if his entire end goal wasn't dependent on Touya being the best one.

Did Touya need to be the greatest hero ever created?

No.

Because in their last real conversation, before Touya ran off to the mountain and got burned up, he said and acknowledged the fact that he wasn’t as good as Shoto right now, but he said –“One day, I might become great and you’ll be proud of me.” Touya wasn’t even there saying like –“Oh, I’m the greatest thing ever born. Look at my awesome fire. Oops I burned the mountain down.” It was just him being like –“Look, I’m still trying. Look at this cool thing I did. Acknowledge this one thing that I did.” And Endeavor’s only reaction is – “Shut the fuck up, kid. You fucking idiot. How many times I tell you not to do this?”

But when Touya does get burned up, it shows us Endeavor’s face in horror running to the mountain which again is so bizarre. Honestly I’m starting to wonder if we will get an Endeavor back story ‘cause his set of morals and values is so fucked up.

The issue is Endeavor does care, but he just doesn't understand how to care. Like on a base level, he has the positive emotion of caring about Touya’s well-being and that is about where it ends. Endeavor has no comprehension of what that means or how to do that in a good way.

Every idea he thinks of how to fix it is stupid and he's even obsessed with the notion of like –“When Touya uses too much of his fire, he burns himself. So, I guess he has to never ever use his power ever forever from now.” I mean this goes beyond ‘I'm socially awkward around ladies’.

I almost think Endeavor’s previous family was just nothing prior to him and he fucking hated that. This is probably edge dark turn for what they might end up doing but I’m going almost like the Hawks route like –“Dad was a drunk, mom didn’t give a shit and they fought all the time. I was the scared repressed kid, but then at school or whatever it turned out I was actually pretty awesome and I became popular to some extent by both like athletic and corporate events. I was cool for that aspect so I’m used to being around people but I have no understanding of how they work at all.” That’s my assumption.

Even when he keeps trying to apologize to his family it always comes off like –“Yeah, I’m a bad guy and you hate me, so I’m gonna buy you a house that I won’t live in.” I mean, you’re still not really trying are you? You’re just moving the problem ‘cause you just like –“Oh, they’ll just be happy without me. I just suck. I’m just going to go away.” But like, you’re not helping them heal up or whatever. You’re just like ‘I’m going to be nice now’ but that doesn’t make all the horrible shits you did go away.

Endeavor doesn’t have an understanding of how humans work just because of how he is, but now I’m really curious to see if there might be more behind that. I just want to see why he’s so obsessed with All Might, like where that came from.

The character he’s obviously a parallel to is Bakugo and with Bakugo, we do get to see that since his youth Bakugo equated being a hero and the triumph of being a hero with being as good as All Might. That is very light as far as his motivation goes but it’s a motivation nonetheless.

With Endeavor, we’ve only ever gotten as far as like –“He is strong and I’m weaker and that pisses me off.”

It's almost idolization in a different way where we’re like with Bakugo, it’s like –“That’s my goal. I want to be just like All Might.” Whereas with Endeavor, it's like –“That's my goal 'cause I’m pissed off that I’m not the best of the best.”

They both idolized him in similar ways and Bakugo obviously feels more socially adjusted than Endeavor. Even though Bakugo’s a dick, he’s aware of things and is surprisingly emotionally literate. Like the scene where him and Deku get in trouble after they fight in end of season 3, they're like cleaning the house or whatever and Bakugo makes that little reach out of like –“Hey, the fighting style you’re using is messed up for these reasons, so you should try doing this.”

Like that alone is way beyond anything I would ever expect that of Endeavor. Endeavor’s response when they were cleaning the house would have been like –“Don’t worry, I’ll move my room to a different floor, so we won’t have to talk anymore.”

Endeavor’s a fucking weirdo, I swear.

And also Endeavor’s like actual motivations of becoming No.1 hero are almost intentionally omitted from the whole Todoroki family subplot and it’s so uncanny. I’m really hoping that Horikoshi sensei actually does something with that cause I think it feels so shallow compared to how much time we've spent on it now exactly and I feel it’s intentional and we are going to get something more about Endeavor. It feels like one of those gaps that an author leaves specifically so you can question it until it fills you in.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating John Murphy

John Murphy x male!reader

warnings: knife/violence mentions

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Yay! I forgot to put my mushroom at the end of the ask asking if i could do two requests 😂, but for my first request I was wondering if you could do Headcanon on what itd be like for a Male Reader to date John Murphy? ~ 🍄”

first of all, murphy’s a bit protective and possessive

he’s already lost so much, he doesn’t wanna lose you either

“this is my goddamn boyfriend! if anyone touches him, me and them are gonna have a problem, do you understand?”

ride or die, babey

he’s always touching/holding onto you somewhere

arm, hood, hand, sleeve, shoulder, leg, whatever

murphy teases you all the time but if anyone else does they’re a dead man

he carved his and your initials into a tree

he carves his and your initials everywhere tbh

especially “date spots” where he takes you out to go sightseeing or just get away from all of the crazy

he also kisses you whenever he can

mainly discreetly, like cheek or neck or hand or shoulder

but sometimes murphy says “fuck it” and borderlines makeout session in front of everyone bc he doesn’t give a shit abt making ppl uncomfortable with pda

“you’re honestly perfect in every single way, y/n”

“and you’re getting soft, john murphy”

“cant help it, it’s your fault”

“it is? well i must be the worst then”

“oh, yeah. the worst. i don’t know how i even put up with you”

sarcast lil shit

aw but u love him all the same

murphy and you RARELY split up but oh boy, when you do it’s time for trouble

seriously you’re usually keeping him under control and when you cant it gets...worrisome

“i cant stay away from murphy for too long, guys”

“look, y/n, by now, he’s probably already committed a double homicide. let it go”

running into each other’s arms

sharing a tent

either one of you falls off the cot in the middle of the night and wakes up in the dirt

“murphy?”

“down here”

“oh, okay”

unspoken bond

tbh maybe you’d whittle a shitty comb out of a piece of wood in your free time and brush his hair out

he pretends he doesn’t like it but he’s always hinting he wants more

literally following each other to the ends of the earth

“will you stay with me?”

“that’s a dumb fucking question...yeah, i’ll always stay”

using murphy as a pillow

“y/n, you’re laying right on my bladder, i gotta piss”

“but im comfyyyyy”

going through a lot of scarring shit together but you guys lived to tell the tale and you lived it with each other so nice 👍

murphy always wipes your tears when you cry

“if you cry any more you’re gonna get dehydrated and die”

not always good at comfort but thats okay

after all the stressful shit youve gone through, you got a good 6 years in space without fighting for your life, you’ll always cherish that shit

sleeping in, doing semi-domestic shit, arguing over who’s turn it is to do a chore, dancing around to no music

“you really are the best boyfriend a guy could ask for”

“oh, well i already knew that”

“i’m sure you did, you cocky son of a bitch, now give me a kiss”

returning to the ground to find some unsavory occurrences

“ooooh boy, babe, can we go back to space now?”

“ask me again later”

squishing/poking his face

fighting side by side like a couple of badasses

flipping out when you got separated again bc like,,,,,he nearly died

“you asshole! i thought i was gonna lose you!”

“unfortunately for you, im still kicking it”

✨new planet, new you✨

only this one was kinda fucked

nvm mega fucked

but you’ve never met an obstacle that you and murphy couldn’t get past together

when he died for a moment, he changed his pov a bit, dragged you aside, and explained what happened

“im going to hell”

“huh?”

“y/n, i saw what’s in store for me and i cant die now, i cant handle what’s next, it’s fucking awful and i cant face it. i cant do it! i cant!”

having to calm him down once he gets overwhelmed by his thoughts

hushing him to sleep when hes upset

pretty much never leaving his side on this foreign planet bc you were afraid of what they may do to you or him

especially him, he kept himself latched onto you

but as all good things come to an end, so do that bad things

the reign of evil was over and the two of you were able to hunker down for a moment and take a much needed break, sometimes you wished you never left the ring

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @cullens-stuff // @johnmurphyisbisexual //

[koteosa]

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

[dallanebbia]

agape

fandom: bnha pariring: kacchako; bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako word count: 9.0k warnings: angst, mentions of panic attacks synopsis: ten ways to say ‘i love you’ – moments in the relationship between ochako and katuski. future fic, third year. notes: written for day 7 of kacchako week 2020, with the prompt ‘it was always you.’ this was the first fic i finished writing, and i threw a truck’s worth of tropes into this just because i could. i headcanon an empathetic, compassionate ochako and a soft, self-aware katsuki who grow and mature in their later years at u.a. ao3: [link]

agape – Ancient Greek, selfless, unconditional love

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

March: With a hand on their shoulder, a song on your lips, or a carton of their favorite ice cream in the freezer.

On move-in day of her third year at U.A., Ochako confesses to Deku. She can’t say that she’s surprised when he rejects her, but she hides her real feelings behind a practiced, wobbly smile. 

It feels like someone has just stomped all over her heart.

Within a few hours, the entirety of her class, along with Class 3-B, knows what happened. Nobody realizes that Ochako just doesn’t want to talk about it – people keep bringing it up to her, trying to be consoling, but it just makes her feel worse and worse. 

Finally, when she can’t take it anymore, she hides away on the roof of the dorms, trying to find a moment of peace. 

Ochako is alone, collapsed on the ground and crying when she hears the door to the roof scrape open. 

“Oi.” Her heart drops. Aside from Deku, Bakugou is the very last person she wants to see right now. 

“Leave me alone,” she croaks, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves. The fabric is damp, soaked through with her tears. It stopped being useful about ten minutes ago, but Ochako doesn’t really have the presence of mind to use anything else. 

“Tch.” Her blonde classmate scoffs. “You’re seriously crying over the dumb nerd?” 

“The last thing I need right now is your stupid gloating, Bakugou,” Ochako hisses, and glares at him. “Go. Away.” 

Not that she thinks he’d actually listen, but she’s caught off guard when he squats down in front of her, elbows resting on his knees. “Forget about stupid Deku, Round Face. He’s a fucking dumbass.” 

Her heart twinges, and a fresh round of tears fill her eyes. “You’re seriously not helping –”

“I thought you were better than this, Cheeks,” he says, and Ochako looks up to see Bakugou scowling. “So he doesn’t like you – tough shit. Pull up your big girl panties and move the fuck on. He’s a fuckstick who doesn’t deserve you anyways.”

She opens her mouth to retort, but pauses as the words register in her brain. 

When the news spread, everyone who came to comfort her all said the same things - that Deku would come around, that he’d change his mind if she proved that she was better off without him. She knows that her friends mean well, but all she can focus on is the fact that everyone assumes that Ochako is the one who has to change – like she somehow isn’t good enough. 

Bakugou – her occasional sparring partner, an acquaintance-turned-friend by virtue of exposure more than anything else – doesn’t even hesitate.

He doesn’t deserve you anyways.

“Don’t call him that,” she mutters, but there’s a tiny smile on her lips. Who would’ve guessed that the boy who had wanted to be King Explosion Murder would one day be comforting her? “You’re such an asshole.”

The blonde rolls his eyes. “I’m a fucking saint,” he snarks, and shoves a handkerchief into her trembling hands. “Stop crying already, you look ridiculous.”

Ochako glares at him again, but begrudgingly uses the black square of fabric to dab at her face. The heady smell of sugar and smoke fills her nose, and it’s the complete opposite of the clean soap scent she associates with Deku. It’s comforting, somehow.

“Move on, huh?” She laughs sadly. “You say that like it’s so easy.” 

He flicks her in the forehead, and she yelps in surprise. “Nothing worth doing is gonna be easy, Round Face. You know that just as well as I do.”

It’s her turn to roll her eyes, but the words resonate deeply and leave her feeling pensive. She folds the handkerchief neatly and tucks it into her blazer pocket. “I’ll wash it,” she promises, but Bakugou waves her off. 

“Keep it.” He stands, grabbing her wrist and hauling her to her feet. A familiar, challenging smirk that spreads across his face. “You’ll need it for when I beat your ass in the Sports Festival again this year.”

She scoffs, and even though she probably looks like a pathetic mess, she feels a little better. She can always count on Bakugou to not treat her like she’s spun glass. 

Ochako sticks her tongue out, some of her grief dissipating without her even realizing it. “In your dreams, Blasty.” 

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

April: Casually, as if you don’t mean it. Trying like hell not to mean it.

From the stove, Katsuki listens to Uraraka make up some excuse to skip out on going out with her shitty friends for ramen. He looks over his shoulder – she’s smiling in a way that doesn’t quite mask the tight line of her mouth, and it’s so obvious that Frogface and Four Eyes exchange wary glances. Uraraka heads back upstairs, and as she leaves, Deku seems to visibly deflate.  

“Maybe I should go talk to her,” he hears Deku mumble sadly, and Katsuki rolls his eyes before turning back to the pot of curry he has sitting on the stove. 

“She probably wants some space.” Somehow, Half-and-half is the only one of their little group left with any sense, and it's really fucking pathetic.

“But isn’t it better if –” Katsuki tunes out the shitty nerd’s voice as they pass the kitchen and head to the front door, focusing back on stirring. 

He tests the consistency, frowning as the curry comes out too thick, and turns up the heat a little as he adds some more stock. He’s usually pretty good about eyeballing the ingredients, but to be fair, the shitty nerd was jabbering away about something dumb with Icyhot. Usually, when things don’t go his way, it all leads back to Deku, one way or another. 

He grabs the jar of hot sauce, and is just about to dump the entire contents into the pot when he suddenly pauses and thinks of Uraraka again. 

Should he…?

Katsuki wages an internal war for about thirty seconds before slamming the jar onto the counter, grabbing a spare bowl. He doesn’t let himself think as he ladles a spoonful of curry onto a bed of rice, making sure that there’s a proper ratio of vegetables and meat to sauce, and places it off to the side as he dumps the hot sauce into the pot. He gives the curry a quick stir, turns the heat down low, and grabs a spoon before heading to the elevator with the bowl in hand. 

It smells good, and even though it’s missing the familiar red tinge that comes from the hot sauce he loves, he knows that it tastes good too. Still, he can’t help it when a flutter of nervousness blooms in his chest. 

There’s a stupid English proverb that comes to mind. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Never mind that he’s flipping the roles around; he just hopes that Uraraka will like it. 

Katsuki knocks on her door firmly, rapping his knuckles against the cheap wood. He can hear the shuffling of fabric, a low grunt, and then Uraraka is standing there. The frustrated look in her eyes fades at the sight of him, and he absolutely hates that his breath catches when she smiles at him.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” She sounds happy to see him, her tone totally different from earlier, and something in him glows in pleasure. Uraraka tilts her head to one side, before finally noticing the bowl of curry in his hands. Her eyes go round as dinner plates. 

“I… I made too much.” He thrusts it towards her with one hand, averting his eyes. “Since you’re not going out with those extras, I just –”

“Oh, wow,” she says softly. She takes the bowl carefully, and when the skin of her fingers touches his hand, he feels goosebumps crawl up his arms. “It smells so good, Bakugou! Thank you!” 

“Don’t mention it,” he grunts, and then shoves his hand into his pockets. She’s standing there, inhaling the savory aroma with a stupid smile on her face, and his nerves are frazzled as he blurts, “Well? Don’t just stand there, taste it!”

Uraraka blinks, looking at him with surprise. “Oh...  oh! Yeah, let me just –” She balances the bowl in her palm, scooping up a mix of sauce and rice and meat before raising the spoon at him in a weird little toast. “Itadakimasu!” 

She stuffs the entire spoon in her mouth, her eyes closing blissfully as she chews, and she does this ridiculous, adorable little wiggle that makes his heart thump pathetically in his chest. 

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” she moans, and his mouth drops open in stunned shock. The sound of her voice jolts down his spine like ice. “I could kiss you.” 

“W-what?? What the fuck, Uraraka?” he yelps, stumbling back a little. It’s not that he hasn’t imagined her saying things like that to him, but he isn’t exactly expecting to hear it right now.  

Uraraka’s eyes flutter open, and there’s a split second of dreamy contentment on her face before the realization hits. She squeaks, and nearly drops the bowl in mortification.

“Oh god, I didn’t  –  I didn’t mean that to  –” she stutters, her face turning red. “That came out wrong! I just meant that  –  I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I wasn’t having a good day because I was missing my parents, and then you made this and I’m just  –  I’m really happy, I’m sorry  –”

“Tch, it’s… it’s whatever, Cheeks,” Katsuki grumbles, heat crawling up the back of his neck. Uraraka’s words burn into his brain, cycling on repeat, and he suddenly, he feels like he could run a fucking marathon. He’s almost drunk on the feeling, and doesn’t even think as he blurts out, “Someone’s gotta keep you round.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and then it’s his turn to freeze. “Fuck. I didn’t mean … shit, not that you’re fat or whatever, you’re hot, okay? I wasn't talking about your ass… fuck, I mean, your face! Your face, I was talking about…motherfucker –”

God, he wants to go die in a hole. 

Uraraka stares at him as he snaps his mouth shut, hugging the bowl to her chest, and her face is a bright pink. “Um,” she squeaks. “Uh, I…” 

The awkward silence between them is physically painful, and Katsuki is too mortified to move for about three seconds before he bolts for the stairs. 

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

May: Through laughter, over a chorus of voices, knowing it’ll strike home anyway. It’s meant for everyone here, after all.

Aizawa gives them the day off before the Sports Festival, banning them from training. Most people take advantage of the free day to relax and destress, but a few people still sneak into Ground Zeta for extra training before being lugged back to the dorms by Aizawa’s capture weapon. 

Mina and Kaminari suggest a class bonding activity as everyone fixes their lunches. The slots for the impromptu Class 3-A Mario Kart tournament fill up quickly, but Ochako opts out to watch instead of participating. Most of the boys are quick to start the games, Bakugou included. 

She hasn’t spoken to him since the curry incident, but the memory of it is something Ochako thinks about often. His awkward stammering had been both embarrassing and endearing, and even now, remembering the fumbling compliments makes her blush. 

The most attractive boy in their class, and possibly in the entire school, thinks that Ochako is hot. It’s a surreal but amazing confidence booster, especially after the rough few weeks she’d had, and although Bakugou’s ears turn red whenever they make eye contact, he doesn’t suddenly ignore her and he doesn’t take it back. 

Instead, he returns her glances with intense stares, ones that sometimes make her turn away from embarrassment. Their spars gain a playful edge, teasing out an odd, thrilling tension that leaves her face flushed and her cheeks aching from smiling. 

It makes her heart beat a little faster every time she meets his gaze, and it’s different because she can see that it means something to Bakugou too. 

It’s nice. 

“Uh… is this seat taken?” Ochako snaps out of her thoughts to see Deku standing in front of her, looking sheepish. 

She realizes with a sinking heart that the only available spot in the room is on the loveseat by her side. Mina and Tooru aren’t being discreet in the way they’re whispering excitedly while staring in their direction, and everywhere she looks, people are casting them curious glances.

It makes her a little angry, but Ochako pastes a smile on and says, “Go ahead, Deku.” 

He lowers himself onto the cushion carefully, and she pulls her legs in so that she’s sitting in a ball, arms wrapped around her knees. She glances towards Bakugou, who’s staring at the TV screen and determinedly not looking in her direction, but somehow knowing that he’s there helps her relax a little. 

“I’m sorry,” Deku says quietly, and Ochako holds back her sigh. They’ve had this conversation multiple times since she confessed weeks ago, and it was starting to grate on her. She was training to be a fellow Pro Hero – does he really think that she can't take a rejection?

“I know, Deku.” She tries to smile reassuringly. “I’m okay with it.” 

“Still. I never wanted to hurt you, Uraraka.” Bakugou’s words come back to mind, and she has to bite back the tiny thread of resentment that sprouts in her chest. Deku said that before too. At this point, she wonders if the repeated apologies are for her benefit or his. 

“Deku.” The green-haired boy looks up at her, a little surprised by the firmness of her tone. “I understand that you’re trying to be considerate, but you keep bringing it up when I already told you. I’m fine.” 

“I just…” He trails off, frowning. “I just feel like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m frustrated,” she says candidly. “I’m trying to be mature about this, but you’re making it really hard for me to move on when you keep bringing up how sorry you are. Can we just agree to be friends and forget about it?”

“... are you okay with that?” He looks a little shocked, and so do some of her eavesdropping classmates. From the corner of her eye, she can tell that about half the room is listening to their conversation, but she doesn’t care. Ochako is sick and tired of people making offhand comments and references to her and Deku. She still has some feelings for him, but the combination of repeated apologies and continuous gossip have worn her down to where only frustration and exhaustion remain.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks. Deku stammers, but Ochako doesn’t waver. “I love you as a friend, first and foremost. That hasn’t changed. But my world isn’t going to end just because you don’t return my feelings.”

“… Oh,” he mumbles, looking a little ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” 

“Well, you did.” 

“I know you just said not to but... sorry,” he says quietly. “Last time, I promise.” 

Ochako unfurls herself to lean over and give Deku a side hug. “Thanks. Friends?” 

“Friends.” He smiles. “I love you too, Uraraka.” 

There’s something bittersweet about hearing those words, but it doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. She opens her mouth to reply, but a heavy weight suddenly throws itself on her back. 

“God, you guys are so manly,” Kirishima sniffs, leaning over the couch to wrap his beefy arms around the pair of them. “Bakubro, why don’t you ever tell me you love me?” 

The disgusted look on Bakugou’s face is so funny that Ochako can’t hold back the tiny snort that escapes. “I hate you,” he says flatly. 

“Love you too, bro!” Kirishima just calls back cheerfully, beaming despite the middle finger Bakugou aims in his direction. 

“What the hell, why is Bakubro the one who gets an ‘I love you?’ ” Kaminari appears from behind a different couch like a gopher, looking offended. 

Sero pops up right next to the electricity manipulator with a matching expression on his face. “Yeah, bro, what gives?” 

Kirishima yelps as the pair of them lock their arms around the redhead’s neck, pulling him off of her and Deku as they start wrestling in a pile on the floor. Ochako can’t quite keep track of things, but in the span of a few seconds, Mina has jumped into the fray, dragging Jirou and Momo and Tooru along with her. 

Aoyama leaps in too, somehow bringing Ojirou and Sato along for the ride, and Tokoyami’s protests are drowned out by Dark Shadow lifting him up and dumping him head first into the mass of bodies. The final addition comes as Todoroki nonchalantly tumbles into the chaos, dramatic declarations of love echoing above the music from Mario Kart playing in the background. 

Despite her earlier frustrations, Ochako can’t help but sit back and watch the growing dog pile with a fond smile.

“God, I love you guys,” Mina crows loudly, and Ochako can’t help but join the chorus of voices that echo the sentiment. Across the room, she sees Bakugou sneering at the display of affection, scanning over the room until his gaze meets hers. 

She smiles a little, raising her eyebrows at him in a silent question, and something she can’t quite name glows in her stomach when he rolls his eyes at her, the barest hint of a grin curled behind his hand. 

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

May: Slipped under your tongue, twisted into something else. “I trust you,” maybe. Trust them to figure it out.

The Sports Festival is bigger this year than it ever has been before. It’s everyone’s last chance to prove themselves, their final showcase before graduating, and nobody wants to go down without a fight.

Katsuki is pitted against Uraraka in the quarter-finals. The fight between them is an intense, heavy-fire version of tag that leaves him exhilarated, grinning wildly as they dodge and duck and weave around each other. Her quirk is leagues beyond where it was in first year, and it shows when Uraraka literally lifts the entire stadium floor out from under her feet before swatting him out of his Howitzer Impact like a fly. 

He wakes up in time to watch the final matchup between Uraraka and Deku, and proceeds to spend the next twenty minutes screaming at the infirmary television in frustrated rage. 

It’s painfully obvious that Deku goes easy on her. He pulls his punches, uses a fraction of One for All, and when he lets Uraraka push him out of the ring, Katsuki can see the incandescent, seething anger that emanates from her in literal waves. 

That night, he finds her on the roof again, after the award ceremonies are over. She’s crying, but this time, there’s resentment and bitterness and fury in place of the brokenhearted grief. Her gold medal is lying on the ground by her feet, discarded to the side. 

“You were right, you know,” she says, laughing hollowly. She doesn’t have to look to know that he’s there. “First place… it isn’t worth anything when you win it like this.” 

He doesn’t say anything – he knows exactly how she feels, and he knows better than anyone that empty platitudes will only make things worse. Instead, he leans against the railing at her side, back facing the horizon, and quietly waits as she uses the handkerchief he gave her weeks earlier to mop at her face. 

They stand there in silence, and at some point, Uraraka shuffles closer and closer until she’s leaning on him, head heavy against his arm. He slouches a little more so that she can rest against his shoulder, and watches her nuzzle against the sleeve of his gym uniform. 

“Is it always like this?” she whispers, so low that he almost misses the words. “Feeling like you can never catch up, like you’re always walking in someone’s shadow?” 

“Welcome to the club, Cheeks,” he says gruffly. Katsuki looks over at her, and she’s staring blankly into the setting sun, tear tracks shining on her cheeks and the bruise below her left eye a mottled green. “Membership includes being referenced in relation to the shitty nerd in every article you’re in for the rest of your life, toxic friendships, and a crippling inferiority complex.” 

Uraraka snorts. “Any way I can get my member status revoked?” 

“If you find out, let me know,” he mutters. “Been trying to get the hell out for as long as I can remember.”

She doesn’t answer, instead pressing the back of her hand against his wrist. Her skin is cool and dry, soothing against his perpetually warm body temperature, and Katsuki savors it. 

“God, I’m going to be the biggest joke in all of Japan tomorrow.” Uraraka laughs a little wetly. “After today, after everyone saw how he just let me win – nobody’s going to take me seriously.”

She says it like she isn’t amazing – like she’s just another worthless extra, like she didn’t just single handedly hand his ass to him only a few hours earlier. She says it like she’s giving up, and what Katsuki was planning to say – something quippy and grouchy and vaguely encouraging – is replaced by words that say everything, all at once.

“I do,” Katsuki says quietly, and she stills. “I always have.”

Slowly, she draws away, pulling back so she can turn and face him head on. He keeps his gaze steady, even as he wants to look away. 

Part of him hopes that she’ll take it at face value, take the words as encouragement and nothing else. Things would be easier if she did – he’d be able to take his feelings and hide them for days and months and years, like he’s done since she caught his eye back in their first year. He’d be safe for a little while longer, waiting for the perfect moment. 

At the same time, a larger part of him wills her to read between the lines, to see underneath the surface, because this is the closest thing to a confession he can manage. She knows him – she sees him the way Deku never could, and she’s able to read him in ways that took Eijirou years to pick up. 

She knows him, and when the realization crosses her eyes, he plucks the truth out and lays himself bare. 

There’s no going back.  

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

May: Over a nervous smile, biting back the just-this-side-of-desperate hope they’ll say it back.

Ochako doesn’t know when her feelings start to change. It might have been the curry incident. It might have been the spars. It might have been that moment on the roof, and it might have even been the Sports Festival, two years ago.  

What she does know is this: she’s in the middle of falling for Bakugou when she recognizes her feelings for what they really are, and what she feels is nothing like what she felt for Deku.

With Deku, she had felt like she was in freefall, somersaulting and trying to right herself when she didn’t know which way was up or down. It felt scary and frantic, and in some ways, she feels that she confused her fear with adrenaline and her admiration for love. 

With Bakugou, it feels familiar. It feels like she’s standing on the sparring mats in Gym Zeta, intimate and safe, with the spark of competition and plenty of passionate intensity to keep things alive. It feels like a dance – an equal push and pull, an ebb and flow that works in tandem rather than apart – and she doesn’t have to chase after anyone because he’s facing her instead of leaving her to watch his retreating back.

So when Bakugou says those five words, she pulls back a little so she can look him in the eye. He waits, patiently, as she studies him, and even though she can see the hope and love and fear in his steady gaze, he never looks away.

“Are you sure, Bakugou?” She has to make sure. 

He raises an eyebrow. “You really have to ask?” Yeah, I am.  

Ochako reaches out, grazing her hand against his, and she swallows when Bakugou slowly slides his fingers between hers. 

She stares at the sight of their entwined hands, and smiles a little when she feels him stroking her skin with his thumb. “Can I ask when you knew?”

“A while.” He’s quiet, watching their hands too. Red eyes flicker to meet hers, and he shrugs. “It’s always been you.” 

Her heart soars. She comes in closer, and as she tilts her head up to look at him, Bakugou leans down to press his forehead to hers. 

“I think I could fall in love with you,” she admits softly, her heartbeat pounding like drums in her ears. I think I’m already halfway there.

The words hang there, suspended in the space between them, and then he breathes in and smiles. 

“Way ahead of you, Cheeks,” he murmurs. “Hurry up, will you?” 

Something in her sings as he tugs her closer, and the touch of his lips to hers feels like coming home. 

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

June: Under your breath while the whole house sleeps, just before you have to leave for the day. More for yourself than for them.

When Ochako asks if he wants to tell people, Katsuki is torn. On one hand, he wants people to know – he wants to shout to the entire world that Uraraka Ochako is his, that she chose him in the end.

And yet, on the other, he’s selfish. He wants to keep her to himself for as long as he can, to learn everything about her on his own time, and when he makes his choice, Ochako agrees. 

Keeping it a secret is laughably easy. They do everything like they did before – they attend class, hang out with their respective friend groups, and occasionally meet up to spar after school. To their classmates and the rest of the world, nothing has changed. 

Behind closed doors, it’s a different story. 

He wakes to all-encompassing warmth, hair tickling his nose and a pliant body tucked tight to his chest. The curve of Ochako’s back under his hand is soft, and when he tightens his hold on her, she snuffles a little into her pillow before settling back into sleep. 

The light filtering through Uraraka’s cheap curtains is faint. He knows from experience that it’s probably around five in the morning, too early for any of his classmates or teachers to be awake. It’s the safest time for him to steal out of Ochako’s room and get back to the boy’s side of the dorms, but it’s harder and harder to leave each time he wakes up with his girlfriend gathered in his arms. 

His girlfriend. The thought sends a dopey, stupid smile stretching over his face. It’s been close to two months since that day on the roof after the Sports Festival, but part of him still can’t believe it. Uraraka Ochako is his girlfriend.  

Katsuki is pretty sure he’s the luckiest bastard alive.

He withdraws from her slowly, painstakingly peeling his body from hers. She whines a little at the loss of warmth, and he can’t help but melt a little when she gravitates towards the divot he left in the mattress, burrowing into the spot where his head lay on her pillow.

His clothes are in a crumpled pile by the foot of the bed, and he tugs on his pants carelessly, shoving his shirt over his messy hair. When he’s done, he rearranges the blankets around Ochako’s sleeping form, tucking them up to her chin. Her forehead peeks out from under her messy hair, and Katsuki brushes his lips against the little patch of skin, cupping the curve of her face as he does.

Here, staring down at his slumbering girlfriend, he’s struck by the familiar, sudden wave of affection that tempts him to stay.

“I love you,” he breathes, almost mouthing the words as he strokes her cheek gently. He watches as she nuzzles into his touch, smiling in her sleep, and tiptoes out of her room before he’s late for his morning run.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

August: With a soft sigh. Past exhaustion and frustration and despair, like it’s the only good thing left. Sometimes it is.

Neither she nor Katsuki are strangers to nightmares. They’re a given, at this point – most heroes suffer from them in one capacity or another, but it doesn’t make things any easier to deal with.

In some ways, Ochako is lucky – she’s used to working through the nightmares alone, and can still function around them. She doesn’t have to go to Katsuki for comfort unless it’s a particularly vivid dream, but the same couldn’t be said for her boyfriend.

Ochako wakes up to the low sound of her phone chiming. Her head is spinning from being woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle, but as she blearily squints in the darkness, she recognizes the ringtone as the one she set for Bakugou.

She picks up just before the call drops. “Hello?”

“Cheeks?” The whispered, raspy sound of Bakugou’s voice cracks in her ear, and she shakes off the last vestiges of sleep, concern shooting through her.

“Katuski? Are you okay?”

“M’outside,” he mumbles, and Ochako throws herself out of bed and nearly trips over the low tea table in her haste to get to the door. She throws it open, and Katsuki is leaning against her door frame. He’s shaking, bundled in a hoodie she recognizes as one he wears when the nightmares are especially bad. Worriedly, she cups a hand around his elbow and pulls him into her room.

She steers him to her bed, careful to avoid the table this time, and sits Katsuki on the edge. She gently pries his phone from his hand, ending the call and placing both of their phones on her desk, before she tugs at the hem of his hoodie.

With a slow, steady murmur of nonsensical words, she coaxes him out of his hoodie and sweats and shoes. Katsuki keeps his hands on her, seeking bare skin as she works, until he’s left only in his boxers. He makes a low, wounded sound when she briefly steps away to place his clothes on her desk chair, but he sighs as she returns into his arms, guiding him below her comforter. Ochako quickly sheds the large, oversized shirt she usually wears to sleep, leaving her in just her panties, and lets the rough, calloused hand on her thigh drag her into bed.

She lies on her back, sighing as her boyfriend settles his cheek against her left breast, ear pressed directly above her heart. He wraps his arms around her waist, miles of warm skin pressed against her body, and she carefully scratches across his scalp while he tries to lose himself in the sound of her heartbeat.

Fighting the lull of sleep, her other hand cradles his arm, using her thumb to rub back and forth soothingly. The trembling gradually stops, Katsuki’s panicked breathing evening out, and she hears a rough, heavy exhale before he rubs at her sternum with his nose.

“…Thanks.” He presses his mouth against the skin of her chest in a chaste kiss.

“Anytime.” Smoothing the spiky bangs away from his forehead, she leans forward to place a kiss of her own to his hairline. “You okay?”

She feels Katsuki swallow thickly, his weight falling on her more heavily. “Not really.” It’s the honest answer, and had it been anyone else asking, Ochako knows he would’ve lied.  “But I will be.”

She hums, eyelids slowly getting heavier as the hand carding through his spiky hair moves slower and slower. Faintly, as she’s just on the edge of consciousness, she feels the blonde shift above her.

“I love you.” Ochako tries to keep her eyes open, but she can’t quite fight it any longer. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“Love y’too,” she slurs, and the last thing she hears is a quiet huff of amusement as she drifts off, warm and safe.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

October: Wrapped up in a question. How’s your day been, have you eaten, you know you can tell me anything, right? You know you can tell them anything. Right?

One day, after class, All Might gathers everyone to make an announcement: two applicants have finally been chosen for the exclusive one-year work study in America. The program starts right after graduation, set up with All Might’s old hero agency, and Katsuki grins in anticipation.

The work study is something that he’s been working towards since coming into U.A. He had submitted the application at the end of second year, along with most of their class, but he figures that he has it in the bag. There are two spots, and while Deku is a given, Katsuki is the only one who can keep up with him when they’re really going all out.

He never thinks, in a million years, that Ochako would be the one to get it instead.

When he doesn’t hear his name, the feeling that falls over him is impossible to describe. On one hand, he’s so incredibly proud – of course Ochako deserves something like this. The program is notoriously competitive, notoriously selective, and for Ochako to be chosen means that they see the potential for her to be an international hero.

On the other hand, he’s so angry and hurt and frustrated, because that should’ve been him. He should’ve been the one to get the work-study, because now he’s getting left behind not just by Deku, but by Ochako too.

He pointedly avoids meeting her gaze, and when she tries to approach him after class, the mess of his feelings makes him blow up.

“Bakugou-kun?” He stiffens at the sound of her voice, but otherwise ignores her as he stomps towards the locker rooms. “Bakugou-kun, wait – ”

A hand lands on his forearm, and without thinking, he whirls around and yanks himself out of Ochako’s grasp. She looks stunned at his violent reaction, but he’s still reeling from All Might’s announcement in a way that makes all his filters disappear.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses venomously, and hurt blooms across those wide brown eyes. “I don’t want your fucking pity!”

Katsuki regrets it the moment he says it, but pride is what makes him turn his back on Ochako and keep walking. He rips his hero costume off and showers in record time, tossing on his clothes and sprinting back to the dorms to lock himself in his room.  

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Throwing himself on his bed, he buries his face in his pillow and lets himself go. All the bottled emotions explode out, and he’s sobbing and swearing and screaming for God knows how long until he physically can’t do anything but lie there, curled up into his pillow and hurting.

He’s so exhausted and so out of it that he doesn’t notice the door to his balcony sliding open. Still, when he feels the mattress shifting beneath him, he knows that she’s there.

Shame and guilt suddenly join the complex mess of feelings in his head, and part of him is frozen in fear. Why is she here? Is she here to pity him, like he told her not to? Is she here to yell at him for being an asshole?

Worse yet – is she here to tell him that she wants to end things?

Every nerve in his body is on alert, his brain still a jumbled muddle, and he physically can’t bring himself to move as the seconds tick by, agonizingly slow. The sound of his heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he can feel his lungs constrict as he waits for Ochako to speak.

Something desperate in him begs, please don’t go.

A hand settles onto his shoulder. The touch makes him flinch, his shoulders hunching on instinct, but the mattress moves momentarily before a familiar body molds itself to his back.

Ochako maneuvers herself into a big spoon position, curling her legs behind his and wiggling her arms around him so that she can hug him around the waist. He swallows as he feels her gently press a kiss between his shoulders. It’s patient and understanding and everything he feels like he doesn’t deserve.

 “… Sorry.” He swallows thickly, wincing at the rawness of his throat. The word is muffled, spoken into his pillow instead of towards the person behind him, but he feels Ochako bury her face into his shirt.

“Me too.” He closes his eyes at that, his bitterness returning in full force. She tightens her hold on him, as if sensing his mood. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Katsuki huffs, an acknowledgement but not an answer. Instead, he lets one hand fall to rest on the arms folded across his stomach, finding her hand and sliding his palm against hers.

They lay like that in silence. A few tears escape, leftover from the emotional torrent he’d released earlier, but all he feels now is emptiness.

“I declined the work-study.” His eyes snap open, and he sits up abruptly. The action startles Ochako, who doesn’t manage to let go of him in time, and she lands half-sprawled below him, arms still linked around his body.

“What the hell, Ochako,” he croaks, his voice still hoarse, and he glares down at her. “Why would you – ”

“I can barely afford to feed myself, Katsuki – how in the world am I going to find the money to spend a year in America?” She looks at him gently, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Besides – I applied because the others did. I never really wanted to go in the first place. Not like you.”

Old insecurities crawl out of the dark corners of his mind. “I don’t need your pity, Cheeks,” he says darkly, and she rolls her eyes.

“For God’s sake, it’s not pity,” she says exasperatedly, and folds her arms across her chest. Her expression softens. “I know how much you wanted this. How much you still want it.”

“They picked you, Ochako. Not me.” Saying it out loud stings, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t proud of her. “Not that they shouldn’t have. You deserve it.”  

“So do you, Katsuki.” She sits up, tucking her legs underneath her as she squares her shoulders, staring him directly in the eyes. “You know why I want to be a hero. Stuff like this – it’s not important to me, not like it is for you. You’re the first one on the waiting list – if I didn’t apply, it would’ve been you who got it.”

He scowls. “Why the fuck did you apply if you weren’t gonna do it?”

“Deku convinced me,” Ochako admits, looking apologetic. “I didn’t really expect anything; I knew I wasn’t going to be able to afford it regardless.”

And fuck, hearing her say that makes him feel even shittier. “… It’s whatever, Cheeks,” he says, trying to play things off. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.” The flat look she gives him is pointed. “You don’t get angry like this unless it’s something you really care about.”

“I didn’t… ugh, fuck.” He closes his eyes and scrubs a free hand over his face, following the line of his jaw until his palm sits at the nape of his neck. “I got pissed because I felt like I was gettin’ left behind again. Not just by the shitty nerd, but...”

“… by me, too,” she says, realization falling over her, and he feels like an asshole for even thinking it, let alone admitting it out loud. “I thought we were both in the same boat? The one where we’re trying not to compare ourselves to other people anymore?”

“Shit, I know that, I just…” He groans, rubbing his neck roughly. “I just… I’ve spent so fuckin’ long chasin’ after them. Fucking years, Cheeks. I can’t just… turn that off.”   

“I know.” And she does – maybe not to the same extent, but she does know, better than anyone else, exactly what he’s feeling. She felt it too, not long ago. “But you’re not Deku, Katsuki; you aren’t All Might either. Sometimes, I feel like you forget that.”

“S’not that I forget.” He lets his hands fall limp in his lap, looking down at them hollowly. “… They’re just… better. Better people, better heroes… trying to crawl out of their damn shadows feels like I’m fighting fuckin’ smoke.”

“Well, nothing worth doing is going to be easy,” she says, and part of him wants to laugh at the sheer fucking audacity of this girl, taking his words and throwing them right back at him. She grins a little, seeing the spark of amusement in his eyes. “You know that as well as I do.”

“You’re a goddamn comedian,” he snorts, and he can’t help but smile.

“The very best,” she agrees as she grabs his free hand, bringing it up to her lips. “So you’ll go, right?”

He studies her, trying to look for a single smidgeon of resentment, and can’t find anything other than genuine sincerity. “… yeah,” he sighs. “I’ll go.”

Ochako nods firmly. “Good.”

And that’s the end of it.

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

December: Instead of “thank you” or “see you soon” or “drive safe.” Because no matter what you say it’ll mean the same thing.

They’re able to keep things quiet for seven months. Living with eighteen other teenagers means almost no privacy, and it’s a goddamn miracle that nobody has found out yet. Katsuki is pretty sure Frogface has an idea – he’s caught her watching the two of them recently, a contemplative look on her face, but otherwise, there isn’t a peep.

When it does come out, it’s partially Ochako's fault, but mostly Katsuki’s. Sparring together always gets him hot and bothered, and while she might have been tempting fate a little by wearing just a sports bra while they’re grappling, he’s entirely to blame for how he slams her into the mats and starts kissing her in the middle of the crowded gym.

Katsuki is not happy to find that there’s a class-wide bet going on about them. He’s even less happy to find that Deku is the one who fucking wins the pot, but when people find out that they’ve been dating since May, Ochako starts hiding on the roof to avoid any more invasive questions about Katsuki’s dick.

By the time winter break rolls around, the fervor around their relationship has died down. There’s still some teasing, especially from people like Kirishima and Mina, but everyone’s focus is redirected as the winter internships offers are finally handed out.

For some, the decision is easy. She knows that Katsuki doesn’t even hesitate when he gets the offer to intern with Endeavor again, alongside Shouto. Ochako, on the other hand, is torn. Her original plan was to go with Ryuko for the third year in a row, but she knows that she’s gotten a little too comfortable there. It’s not challenging anymore, and as much as she loves working with the dragon hero, she knows that she needs to gain more experience somewhere else.

She wants to take Miruko’s offer. The woman is on a case in Sapporo, and she’s looking for a seasoned intern experienced in both rescue and combat to act as her support. It’s an amazing opportunity, especially when Ochako considers the fact that the rabbit hero is notorious for preferring to work alone – apparently the Sports Festival didn’t harm her reputation as much as she’d thought it would.

There’s only one problem.

She and Katsuki had been planning to spend a few days celebrating her birthday before heading out to their respective internships. Miruko’s offer, if Ochako accepts it, lasts the entire two-week winter break.

Not only would she not be able to visit home, she’d also have to cancel her plans with Katsuki.

When she tells him about the offer, something in her breaks a little at the excited, proud grin that spreads across his face. “You’re shitting me. Miruko? For real? That’s fuckin’ amazing, Cheeks.”

“… Yeah.” Ochako smiles back weakly.

He frowns. “Oi, what’s with that face? You aren’t interested or something?”

“It’s not that.” At his puzzled look, she says softly, “The internship lasts the whole break. It’s in Sapporo.”

She already checked online. It takes five hours to get from Sapporo to Tokyo; a one-way ticket costs around thirty thousand yen. There is no way she can afford to visit Katsuki, let alone her parents all the way down in Mie. And even if he could come to her, there is no way to guarantee that she’ll have the time.

“… oh.” She watches as he exhales slowly, the excitement fading in his eyes and replaced by disappointment. “Oh.”

Ochako bites her lip, eyes flickering towards the floor. “I – I don’t have to take the offer, Ryuko still has openings…”

It’s not that she doesn’t want to go. She does – desperately, actually, because it’s Miruko. Number five hero, badass bitch Miruko, who Ochako secretly idolizes for being strong and powerful and uncompromising in a culture where being those things as a woman can be career-ending more than career-making. It’s an opportunity she never dared to dream of – and now it’s being handed to her on a silver platter.

Katsuki knows this. He knows that Ochako wants to say yes, and he knows that for all that she’s offering to stay, she wants him to tell her to go.

And he does.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” he scowls, eyes narrowing. “Miruko asked you for a reason; you’re fucking going.” 

She knows that he won’t let her turn it down – Katsuki would never ask her to sacrifice her career for him – but hearing it still helps settle the guilt that had been festering since she first got the offer. He looks a little dejected still, and so Ochako steps forward until her face is pressed into his chest, arms coming up to wrap around his waist in a hug. “Katsuki, I –”

“I know.” Strong arms band across her back to tuck her more securely against his chest, and one hand cradles the back of her neck. “Just means we gotta make up for your birthday and New Years when you get back.”

“Deal.” She inhales, taking in the smell of smoke and sugar that never fails to make her feel safe and secure. It’s only two weeks, but she already knows that she’ll miss him terribly.

A hand sweeps across her back, settling on her neck. The warmth of his palm is soothing against the tight muscles, and she relaxes into him. “M’proud of you, Cheeks. You’re gonna fucking crush it.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” It’s a lie, but Katsuki doesn’t call her out on it. Instead, he presses his mouth to the crown of her head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, quietly. Come back to me. 

She pulls back, cradles his face between her palms, kisses him fervently in answer. I will.  

─── ･｡ﾟ❁ﾟ｡･ ───

January: Straightforward. Soft and heavy, like morning before the coffee’s started brewing. Like that’s all there is to say.

He gets the call two days before they’re supposed to get back to the dorms.

“There was an avalanche in Sapporo,” Frogface’s monotone voice sounds tinny over the phone, and Katsuki’s heart drops to his toes. “Ochako – she’s in the hospital.”

The story is broadcast over every news channel, trending on every social media site. The case in Sapporo was an investigation, following rumors about a sex-trafficking ring targeting young girls. Miruko and Uravity had tracked the ring leaders to an abandoned town, where they’d captured the offending criminals with little trouble. The police were on the way, and the heroes had been comforting the scared girls, but nobody knew that one of the criminals had a remote-detonation quirk until it was too late.

The dynamite that exploded wasn’t meant to destroy the town – it was meant to bury it.

The twenty girls and all the criminals make it out alive and unscathed– so do all twelve thousand residents of the neighboring town. According to the reports, Uravity had created an entirely new gravitational field to slow the avalanche, with her own body as the anchorpoint, and had stalled long enough for everyone to evacuate the area. When she finally passed out, Miruko darted in to drag her intern to safety, but they had both ended up getting caught in the crush of snow.

The rescue team, who’d been on standby, found them both quickly, but Uravity’s overuse of her quirk, combined with her injuries, meant that she was rushed immediately to Musutafu, where Recovery Girl kept her alive long enough to get into surgery.

Katsuki skips class to go to the hospital, leg bouncing and his heart breaking as every agonizing minute passes. Mid-way through the day, Aizawa comes to try and bring him back to U.A., accompanied by Midnight. He almost fights both teachers in the middle of the waiting room, until his parents come and formally withdraw him for the day so he can stay.

When he’s finally allowed to see her, she’s in a coma. She looks small, tucked below scratchy white sheets and surrounded by machines he can’t name. There’s a neck brace supporting her head, the breathing tube snaking from her mouth and nose, and all he can do is hold her hand and squeeze, praying for her to wake up.

He comes every day after classes. He sits in the plastic chair by her bedside and talks about his internship, the things they did in class, and the stupid antics their classmates got up to in the dorms.

Every day, before he leaves, Katsuki kisses her and says that he misses her. That he can’t wait for her to wake up.

At one point, Miruko comes by to visit, solemn-faced – she’s in an electric wheelchair, missing her prosthetic limbs, and lugging an IV drip behind her. Part of Katsuki wants to blame her for it all, for giving the offer to Ochako in the first place, but he recognizes the guilt hidden behind the rabbit hero’s stoic façade.  

“I told her not to overdo it.” The woman’s voice is low and throaty, weariness obvious even as she speaks. Katsuki spares a glance at the woman, who’s staring at Ochako’s still body in the bed. “Told her that the mountain was gonna come down one way or another. She didn’t fuckin’ listen – said she could keep going. That she had to.”

He’s seen the footage – it’s not something that he’ll ever forget. A towering wall of snow and ice and rock, a cresting wave over a ramshackle ruin, with a tiny pink form standing in front of the creeping, looming mass. He knows that Ochako’s quirk is more than just zero gravity, but seeing it in action, she looks like a goddess out of legend. Nobody who sees that video will ever call her weak again.

“Sounds like her,” he grunts, and neither of them say anything more.

Days later, he hears the rumor while waiting for shitty vending machine coffee and as he buys flowers at the flower shop on the hospital grounds. Apparently, Miruko called in a favor from one of the top healing quirk specialists to come and help Ochako.

He lugs an entire bushel of organic rainbow carrots to the woman’s hospital room as thanks, and scowls when Miruko points out that he should’ve sent them in an edible arrangement.

Three weeks after the accident, the neck brace and tubes are gone, the life support equipment removed, and all that’s left is to wait for Ochako to wake up. Katsuki is in the middle of complaining about some stupid training exercise he doesn’t really care about when the hand he’s holding squeezes.

“… Mm? Kat… ?” Ochako’s voice is low and gravelly, scratchy from disuse, and her heavy-lidded gaze settles on him tiredly. He stands abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor as the last remnants of fear and worry are replaced by sheer relief.

The hug he gives Ochako is careful and featherlight, but a strong hand pulls him tighter into her chest until he’s almost crushing her in his arms. Katsuki knows that he should be calling for a doctor, but he can’t help but take the moment to keep her for himself, just a little while longer.  

“Shit, Cheeks,” he breathes, basking in the familiar weight of Ochako’s head tucked into the curve between his shoulder and neck. “I was so fuckin’ worried.”

“M’okay.” Her nose feels cold against his pulse. “Sorry,” she says, slurring a little.

“Don’t be.” She had saved those girls, and she was the reason that over ten thousand people were still alive. There was nothing to be sorry about. “You’re okay now, s’all that matters.”

She hums, the warmth of her breath lingering over his skin. “Love you,” she whispers, hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

Katsuki exhales in a soft, slow sigh, and presses a kiss into her hair. “Love you too.”

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

I'm watching Beast Wars again for no reason and so you all have to hear me talk about it.

If I was personally given Rights I would first use them to erase Cheetors weird crush on Blackarachnia because it literally adds nothing to the plot or the characters. Instead I'd take full advantage of my personal headcanon and make Cheetor desperately want a big sister because I am always a slut for Found Family. Like, that scene with Una ?"Aw, she wants to be you!" Like c'mon viewing him reaching out to Blackarachnia because he desperately wants some semblance of a relationship is a lot more wholesome when it isn't romantically coded. Cheetor is Lonely, so horribly lonely, and so young seeming in comparison to the rest of the cast. He hasn't lost that love for the stars or spiraled into cynicism just yet, and I would much rather explore the ways he tries to reach out to his bitter, jaded teammates. And maybe he's left wanting, maybe he gets tired of being lonely, and maybe he fucks up trying to be like them because "he tried to prove himself." And maybe that scene where Optimus, Silverbolt, and Rattrap reach out to him has a little more weight because it isn’t just Cheetor trying to be an adult, but a Cheetor that tried to be them and post Feral Cheetor has real fucking consequences and isn't just a cool upgrade.

I want that episode where Rattrap finds out they spat on Dinobot’s memory by making him into a "dishonorable" clone and goes ballistic. I want him to find the memories Dinobot stowed away and be conflicted. Is it Dinobot without the spark? Could he live with only a shade? Would Dinobot even want that? I want him to try and fail and be utterly distraught over the whole damn thing. I want him to be angry every time he sees Dinobot 2. I want Rhinox to try and fail to comfort him. I want Cheetor to sit with him, neither speaking but both knowing they're in this fucked up mess together now. CONSEQUENCES. WHERE ARE THEY. GIVE THEM TO ME.

I also just really want Blackarachnia to have closer bonds with the team??? Idk, I'm vibin well enough with her and Silverbolt but tbh I'd really just like her to have an episode where she's hanging out with someone else and Isn’t A Complete Rude Person. I think that's something I actually really vibed with in Beast Machines (although my memory there is still pretty fuzzy, I'll probably have to rewatch that to say for sure) Blackarachnia could actually work with the team in a friendly and occasionally sweet way. She was capable of a blunt and angry sort of kindness. Should that happen right away? Nah of course not, she needs to get comfy with her shiny new Dumbfuck Teammates. But there’s no real Solid Connections there other than Silverbolt, which is purely romantic. (Once again I emphasize Cheetor and Found Family)

Rhinox just needs more in general. If I had to guess the reason he was made a villain in beast machines was because he is only Meh as a Developed character after Blackarachnia shows up and takes over tech wise, not to mention rattrap is also pretty damn techy when he wants to be.(it was also probably to increase tension since his whole deal is being diplomatic but that's a separate thing) Sort of an issue when you make them scientists but don't have them specialize in anything and, more importantly, have a weakness in anything. If your character is simply the backup scientist when the other one is out of commission u gotta problem. Rhinox is stagnant personality wise, I can’t honestly say anything about him changes in the whole series. He has functionally gained nothing from this perilous journey, no real trauma, no bonds he didn't already have with the team, not even an upgrade in form. Isn’t rattrap supposed to be his best friend???? SHOW ME MORE THEN. Seriously if this show had let me have Rights I’m not saying I wouldn’t have loved if we had actually Really Dug In to a character arc or something about Rattrap and the concept of Honor vs Loyalty but that’s exactly what I’m saying lets talk about that. Season One Rattrap they played with this a little (After the whole early on “I would not send someone to do something I would not do myself” and “double agent rattrap” WHICH NO ONE WOULD EVER BELIEVE IF THAT HAPPENED ANY LATER THAN IT DID SINCE RATTRAP IS SO ANTIPRED) and the whole Dinobot thing really wedged it in (”But at least you know where he stands”) AND THEN FROM MY SHODDY MEMORIES OF BEAST MACHINES ITS PLAYED WITH EVEN MORE WHEN HE FUCKING GOES TO MEGATRON BECAUSE EVERYONE WAS BEING A LITTLE BITCH TO HIM 

Where was I going with this? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh oh yeah LISTEN Rattrap and his morals are Very Fascinating and I really wished there was more about that. Like, he gives no shits about Doing What’s Right or Being A Good Person, but he rewards friendship and loyalty and not getting him killed by miles. And despite his Hatefest Dinobot he was actually really... shocked? Offended??? about Dinobot handing over the disc because you’re an asshole but you’re also our asshole what fuckery is this did all our arguments mean nothing to you. And then attempting to join Megatron in BM because he might be Evil and it might be Bad Moral Conduct but fuck morals his teammates were being shitty friends. Is that petty of him? Maybe, but if the maximals had been evil but still genuinely kind and caring towards Rattrap I don’t believe he would ever leave for a second, not for all the Morals or Its The Right Thing To Do in the world. And that’s why darkfics that still use Found Family are the best! The End.

All the characters would actually be the size of their animals because goddamit I want a tiny Rattrap that has to be carried around by the others while he screeches indignantly. Or at the very least make him just a little smaller. Just a bit. And maybe they all have a big Sleep Pile. I like physical affection and cuddling and things no I don't care if they're robots no I don’t take criticism. Dinobot would have feathers fight me.

Optimus has died, been tortured, and painfully grew to like 3 times his size why doesn’t he have ptsd someone give him a hug.

Could we have waited for Airrazor and Tigatron to get kidnapped???? We should have gotten more for them. Let me see them more often. LISTEN THEY’RE VERY CUTE I LOVE THEM SHUT UP. 

WHICH LMAO BRINGS ME RIGHT BACK TO CHEETOR BECAUSE HE CONSIDERED AIRRAZOR AND TIGATRON HIS BROTHER AND SISTER AND HE THINKS THEYRE GONE FOREVER AND THEN ITS NEVER REALLY BROUGHT UP AGAIN LIKE CHEETOR AND FOUND FAMILY REALLY SHOULD BE EXPLORED HERE

Silverbolt is fun, but suffers from the same problem as Blackarachnia where all you really remember about them Relationship wise is the one they have with each other. Who does Silverbolt like best among the maximals, who does he like the least? And if I'm erasing that weird Cheetor crush thing then their interactions probably have a lot less tension so... what else do they have.

Depth Charge is an unrepentant asshole and I love him. He is so hostile but it doesn’t stop him from begrudgingly helping out on occasion. He also gave Optimus some backstory??? Like not as much as my greedy Character Loving hands would have wanted but GIVE ME.

Other Stuff:

Nothing will ever be as funny as Optimus being like “Evacuate the base you’re all gonna die” and Rhinox grabbing his fucking plant

Blackarachnia Craves Power 

Cheetor suffer from Bad Bondage multiple times throughout the series, but specifically during the web I remember Tarantulas leaning over him and thinking “wow this is kind of... date gone wrong vibes??? What the fuck”

Rattrap and Dinobot: *Spot each other from any distance* Miracle Hatemance has entered the chat

Why is Megatron wearing roller skates. Who did this. Why.

“Spider/Bird dog is hetero nonsense” - everyone who has to bear witness to them ever, including me the viewer

Tarantulas is completely done with any attempts to seduce him. Ever.

Airrazor tries so hard to be cool and hip oh my god she is a complete dork i love her

“FOR THE ROYALTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY”

please be nice to Waspinator he’s trying his best

Rhinox: exists

Me: hello yes sir I love u wise mentor sir

Holy shit Dinobot’s death scene is a gut punch. Rattrap honestly is what makes this scene perfect. I have never seen him so respectful or emotional is a way that wasn’t meant for comedic relief.

That scene, man

Tigatron’s speech about bringing beast mode and robot mode together is like foreshadowing to beast machines. Or it isn’t. Idk. Would have been really nice if they, yknow,

bothered to bring up literally anything from the previous series to beast machines

 (yes its been awhile since I’ve seen Beast Machines, but I do remember that being my primary complaint.)

This series is so cheesy but Thundercats is still cheesier so its fine

Rattrap was canonically a miner at some point apparently.

He’s also super prejudiced and honestly that’s interesting. HONESTLY SOMETHING I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO SEE DISCUSSED IN BEAST MACHINES IS THE SUPER MEGA DIVIDE IN PREDS AND MAXIMALS BUT I GUESS WE WEREN’T GETTING THAT OH WELL

The ‘Everyone is blind’ episode was always one of my favorites and it never gets old

Upon rewatching the series I have concluded Cheetor is Babey. Which is weird because I didn’t think much of him from what I remember. Shift in perspective I suppose. They really made Rhinox farting the thing that saves the day, huh. What even was season one.

BITCH THAT IS A TERRIBLE WAY TO TRANSPORT MEGATRON NO WONDER HE FUCKING CONQUERED CYBERTRON Y’ALL DESERVED THIS HONESTLY

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh in conclusion:

Rattrap is my new religion apparently

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued. 

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

[buns-with-a-book]

Meeting Nero

Because I need to write Nero at some point and he’s by far my weakest character to write about in DMC. Gotta start somewhere though. This is set after DMC4 but before DMC5, so Nero’s starting to become more mellow but isn’t quite there yet.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Nero, Dante, OC Tags: @nimnox @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs

Summary: Nero drops by the shop for the first time since the events of Fortuna. Of course someone gets brawled.

“Dante!” Cassandra called, staring down at the fancy neon sign just sitting in the main room of Devil May Cry. It was still wrapped in it’s protective plastic wrapping but that unmistakable silhouette told her everything. “Dante, why do we have a new sign? The old one’s still kicking!” 

“It’s not for me!” Dante replied, walking down the stairs. He hoisted his coat on. “Nero’s coming on over.”

“Nero?” Cassandra turned on her heel, tilting her head at the older hunter. “The new kid you picked up?” 

“Yep.” He looked over to the clock. “Should be coming any minute now.” 

“You’re giving the new kid...a neon sign.” Cassandra repeated slowly. “No wonder you can’t pay the bills, you keep splurging on fancy neon signs!” 

“Hey!” He pouted. “Morrison’s the one who commissions them, I just put my seal of approval on the stuff I like.”

“It does not change the fact that they're expensive as tits.” She pointed out. “You’re lucky that you don’t owe Lady money anymore.” She paused. “Unless you did something else that got you in debt again.” 

“Not this time.” He grinned. “We got paid so well, we won’t need to worry about bills for a while.” 

“Was that before or after Lady’s cut?” 

“After.” Before Cassandra could ask more, the door opened. She turned to the door, watching as a young man walked in. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more: his silvery-white hair or the demonic right arm. She took a look to Dante, then back to the stranger.

“That’s Nero.” Dante said with a grin. 

“Dante, that boy looks like he hasn’t had a good meal in years.” Cassandra huffed, stepping forward. “Name’s Cassandra. Cassandra Sagefire.” She held out her right hand for him to shake. Nero stood there for a moment before shaking her hand back. 

“You’re a devil hunter too, right?” He asked.

“Yep.” Nero let go of her hand. 

“Why weren’t you at Fortuna then?”

“Because Dante’s a tit.” She replied simply, ignoring the playfully indignant ‘hey!’ from the older devil hunter. “And someone needs to make sure Red Grave City doesn’t get overrun by demons while Dante’s gone. Dude’s got a reputation.” She paused, glancing back to Dante. “And because he’s a tit.” 

“Ok, ok! I get it, I’m such a terrible big brother.” Dante ruffled her hair. “I was worried about you, ok Cass? Didn’t want you to get hurt in enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory is your middle name, Dante.” Cassandra threw off his hand, taking the moment to smooth out her hair. “But enough about you.” She refocused her attention onto Nero, who was just standing there watching the two banter. “Come on Nero. I’ll go make something for us because I’m not going to grill you for information while we’re standing in the doorway.” She pulled away, walking back to the kitchen. She heard footsteps behind her, presumably of the two devil hunters following her to the kitchen.  

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m doing it anyway Nero.” Cassandra interrupted him. “Didn’t you feed him anything Dante?”

“Well...we kinda had a couple scuffles.”

“Scuffles.” She shot Dante a glare. “Your definition of scuffles usually translates to ‘full on bar fights’ but Fortuna doesn’t strike me as a place with a pub.” She ducked into the refrigerator. “Any preference of meat Nero?”

“Wait what?”

“I’ll take that as none.” She pulled out a package of lamb. “Unless you’re vegetarian-” 

“No, that’s not it. I just had fish for the longest time.” Nero explained. She looked up, seeing the flustered look on his face. 

“Huh.” She threw the package onto the counter. “What else...what else…” She muttered, closing the fridge. She set the oven to preheat before making her way to the cabinet. “Why only fish?” She asked. 

“Only thing you could catch.” Cassandra paused at Nero’s explanation. 

“No cow? Lamb? Not even chickens?” She asked. 

“I mean, we had chickens. They just didn’t taste very good…”

“Oh you poor soul. No wonder you look like a stick.” She huffed, ignoring the ‘hey!’ she got in return. She rolled up her sleeves and reached up, grabbing an old cookbook. She flipped through the pages before settling on a savory spiced lamb recipe. She began to pull out spices from the cabinet, glancing from the book to the bottle to pick out the correct spices.

“Don’t worry kiddo, she’s always like this.” Dante said with a laugh. 

“Only because I believe that a certain someone shouldn’t gorge himself on pizzas and sundaes all the time.” She retorted, not even giving Dante a look. Satisfied with the selection of spices, she set the cookbook on a book rack. “You boys better sit, this is gonna take a while to cook and I want to hear all about the shit that went on in Fortuna.” 

“You’re never gonna let up on the fact that I didn’t take you, did I?” Dante groaned.

“You can bet on that.” She said, washing the lamb. 

“I mean, I did take out the target that I was asked to take out.” Dante started.

“By jumping in from the ceiling and shooting him point-blank, asshole.” Nero said flippantly. Cassandra let out a groan.

“I bet you learned quick that Dante never learned the meaning of the word subtlety.” She sighed as she set the washed lamb in a glass cooking tray. “What else?”

“Everything went to shit.” Dante and Nero said in unison. Cassandra rolled her eyes as she went back to the fridge for the butter.

“That’s the case in any mission Dante’s involved, to be honest.”

“Excuse you, it was organized chaos.” Dante corrected her. Cassandra chuckled at the correction as she rubbed butter on the lamb. 

“That’s still chaos, old man!” Nero snapped. As she finished buttering the lamb, she went to the sink to wash her hands. 

“Ok ok, before you two start ripping each other apart, tell me more about Fortuna. Sounds like an island nation if all you had to eat was fish and shitty chicken.” Cassandra shook the water off her hands before drying it with an old grey hand towel. 

“Well, they worshiped Sparda like a god.” Dante began. Cassandra hummed as she began to shake spices onto the lamb. “They were isolated from the world until Trish convinced me it was worth my time.” Cassandra snorted. That was quite the interesting way to say that Trish got him involved by going to Fortuna with the Devil Sword Sparda in hand. “So I went, took out some demons, and called it a day!”

“That’s not what happened and you know it.” Nero hissed. 

“Oh yeah, I met this kid.” 

“Dante!” 

“I will take your heads and slam them against each other like coconuts if you two keep hissing at each other like cats.” Cassandra reminded them, closing the bottles of spices. She took the glass pan and slid it into the oven, quickly setting the oven to cook for half an hour. She put the spices away into the cabinet. 

“Aww, Cass, I taught you better than that.” Dante teased, the kind of tease that she knew would just rile her up. 

“You know what Dante? You’re right.” Cassandra whipped around. “How about a spar, Nero?” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Dante picked you up for a reason, didn’t he?” Cassandra asked. “And the lamb’s gonna cook for half an hour, so we have time to spare for a friendly assessment of skill.” Nero looked to Dante.

“Does she do this with everyone?”

“Yep.” Dante grinned. “She did it with me.” 

“Sort of. We were hunting the same demon together when we first met and he offered me a place here. And Lady has a goddamn bazooka gun. I am not touching that with a ten foot pole because I will lose. But if it’s just sword versus sword, then I’ll go for it.” Cassandra explained. Nero stood up, taking the sword off his back. 

“You want a brawl, I’ll give you one.” 

“Oh, I think I’ll like you.” Cassandra led the way to the sparring room with Nero at her tail. “Hey Dante! You’re mediating if things get too rough!” She called. Dante laughed as they entered the sparring room. Astra snapped into her hand, she noted the lack of a response from Nero. As he took his spot on the other side of the room, he swung out his sword. 

“You ready?” Nero growled.

“Gotta lay down some ground rules. I might pride myself on my resilience but I know damn well I’m not a cambion like you or Dante, magic sword or otherwise.” Cassandra pointed out. “No guns, it’s just sword versus sword. Your…” She gestured to the sword in Nero’s hand.

“Red Queen.”

“Her against my Astra.” She gave her rapier a twirl to emphasize it. Nero focused on the rapier. 

“Doesn’t look like much.”

“Maybe, but it can pack a punch.” She glanced to Red Queen. “What about your sword? Certainly looks prettier than Rebellion, I’ll give her that.” She ignored the ‘hey!’ from Dante, who was leaning against the wall. “Unless she’s all show and no bite.” Nero scowled at that, slamming the tip of Red Queen into the ground. With a twist of his hand, the sword revved to life with flames encasing the blade. 

“You done talking shit?” He growled. Cassandra grinned. 

“This is gonna be fun. Let’s see why Dante picked you up!” With that, she sprinted forward. Nero swung Red Queen to his side, the two blades meeting. Cassandra strained to keep steady against Red Queen, the heat of flames encompassing the blade oppressive. Nero pushed her back, the tip of Red Queen slicing into her sleeve. She hissed from the cut but didn’t take long to focus on it. Nero charged forward, making her step to the side. He swung Red Queen to his back, once again hitting the rapier. She had to admit, Nero was skilled in fighting. She kicked against his back, using him as a jumping point to give herself distance between her and Nero. Ignoring the cheer from Dante, Nero twisted his hand against the handle of Red Queen to make the blade flare to life. 

“Hey Nero! Do you do parties, because that’s one hell of a party trick!” 

“Fuck off!” He rushed forward, Cassandra barely managing to dodge the swipe from Red Queen. She gave him a hard kick in the chest, earning a grunt from the younger hunter.

“Control your fire or you’ll get burned!” She yelled, just moments before Red Queen sliced forward again. Astra caught the blade a moment too late, sending the rapier flying out of her hands. Cassandra huffed, resummoning Astra to her side. She had to admit, he caught her off-guard with that maneuver. She held up Astra to block another swing, only for Nero to kick Astra out of her hands. She winced at the kick.

“You little shit…” She grumbled, holding her hand. “Alright, alright, I yield.” 

“Good job kid, you beat me and my sis.” Nero looked at Dante, then to Cassandra, and then back to Dante visibly confused.

“I kinda adopted him as the older brother I never had.” Cassandra quickly explained, Astra disappearing to silver light. “I still have pictures of us back when I first met him. He had no taste in fashion.” 

“And still doesn’t.” Nero mused, hooking Red Queen back onto his back. 

“Hey!” Dante pouted. 

“Look, nothing tops bad fashion by Dante then the time you only had the chest strap of your coat as a shirt.” Cassandra pointed out as she stood back up. “With that being said, I believe the lamb’s done cooking.” With that, casually ignoring the mock hurt on Dante’s face (and Nero’s own expression of disgust at the thought), Cassandra strode back to the kitchen to serve lunch. 

---

Cassandra watched as Nero walked away from Devil May Cry, the young man disappearing around the corner illuminated by the setting sun. Nero was a bit rough around the edges but she could tell, there was an admirable young man behind the roughness. 

An admirable young man that shared quite a few traits with Dante. 

It wasn’t something she missed during her interactions with him. Aside from physical traits (the white hair, blue eyes that looked particularly similar to Dante, the obvious sign of devil blood in his veins if that arm was anything to go by), it was the attitude she got from him. He was, relatively speaking, shyer than Dante but there were still moments where it shone through. 

As she closed the door, she looked to Dante. He was leaning against the desk, looking to the packed up neon sign that awaited to be delivered to Fortuna. 

“Alright Dante, who’s the mom?” Cassandra asked, crossing her arms. Dante didn’t respond. “Is it Lady? Lucia?” She glanced to the door. “...whose hand did you hold?” She asked, trying to get a joke in to get her answer. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Dante finally said, his gaze moving to the ground. Cassandra winced. She knew that tone, the tone that pretty much ended conversations where they stood. It was the kind of tone that Dante had when he went down memory lane, and it wasn’t the fun kind of lane either. Normally, Cassandra would end it at that, but not this time. 

“I think it does, since he walked right in and looked almost exactly like you.” She pointed out. “And there’s nobody else I know who has white hair and that specific shade of bright blue eyes.” Dante looked back up to her, the two hunters staring each other down. Finally, Dante let out a sigh of defeat.

“Ok, ok, fine.” He mumbled, walking around the desk. He flopped into his chair, staring at the portrait of Eva. “You already know I...had a brother, right?”

“I sang you to sleep many nights after your return from Mallet Island. You mentioned a Vergil and I figured he was someone important to you. It was only after I asked Lady about it that I got that he was your brother, but not much more than that.” Cassandra explained. Dante nodded but didn’t say much more. He didn’t need to. “Nero’s your nephew then.” Silence met her. “Look, Dante, I might not know much about your history or any scuffles with your kin, but hiding this from Nero...what’s your plan?”  

“Just...gotta wait for the right moment.” Dante said softly. 

“There will never be a ‘right moment’ to tell anyone anything.” Cassandra pointed out. “Look, I’m gonna keep my mouth shut because by the Earthmother, you just look miserable just talking about your brother.” She let out a sigh. “I am going to warn you that keeping this from Nero, it’s gonna bite ya in the ass one day.” The look on his face, she knew it well. It reminded her of the late nights after his return from the accursed island, when nightmares ripped him out of sleep. She wondered if the events of Mallet Island had made him more protective of her, the sibling he informally adopted. She strode across the room, sat on his lap, and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, sitting there in the stillness of the empty shop. 

“Cass…” She heard Dante murmur. 

“I know I’m harsh on you Dante.” She pressed her lips against his head. “But I love you. I don’t want to see you hurt any more than you already are.” 

“‘M just tired…” He mumbled. 

“Well, it is almost time for a nap.” She smiled a little before she began to hum, her hand moving to stroke his hair. She heard Dante’s breathing even out into quiet snores before closing her eyes, drifting off into slumber as well.

[sayitaintdoe]

grade8.

The thing I remember most about the eighth grade is white lights.  Doctors flashing them from one eye to the other, them obnoxiously beaming down at me from overhead in that godawful fluorescent way that only hospitals can master, the way everything behind my eyelids just sort of burst like fireworks before I hit the ground.  It’s a lot of white lights.  It’s the most present thing that comes to mind.

When I wake up in the hospital bed, my back hurts and my stomach feels violently angry – ripped up and raw and bearing its teeth.  I see my mom sitting by my bedside, flipping through a copy of People magazine and gnawing on her thumbnail in a way that’s very reminiscent of the way I do it.  I try to open my mouth, but I’m afraid that words won’t be able to come out.  The idea of speaking, of doing much of anything more than shifting my eyes one way or another, makes me ache.

She looks like she hasn’t slept in a few days, eyes dark under the rims and hair sticking out on  the sides, cheeks gaunt and lips chapped.  She looks absolutely nothing like the Glamazon she typically tries to put forth to the world, and for that, I feel responsible.  And yet, at the same time, I feel like a goblin for feeling honored that she would choose sitting by my bed over putting her face on.

“Mom?”

Her magazine falls, head raising and a soft, “Oh, mija,” slipping from her mouth as she nearly crawls out of her chair to get to me, to get her warm hands on my cheeks.  “Mija, you scared me,” she coos to my forehead, pressing her lips where she was just speaking.  I can feel her tears dampening my baby hairs, and I close my eyes and try not to start crying with her.  “How could you do something like this?”

By something like this, she means “stop eating,” and in my defense, it’s not like I did it on purpose.  If I wanted to be the asshole that I typically am, I could throw back at her that it only really started when her boyfriend of the season started reaching for my hand under the dinner table and making low comments on how “I’d sure grown up” over Christmas break.  I don’t say any of that, though.  Instead, I just shake my head back at her and breathe in a shaky breath, and I tell her, “I’m sorry,” because I am.

“They told me they’re going to…” Mom stops for a moment, putting herself together and pulling away.  I immediately feel our usual distance ever-so-slightly creeping its way back home.  “We have to put you in… in a treatment program, Dorinda.”

My mother is the only person that calls me Dorinda.  She is the only person who calls my brother, Sol, Solomon.  She claims that those are the names she gave us – for, you know, whatever reason – and that gives her the right to use them until she’s dead and buried.  I guess she’s technically right, but it doesn’t make me feel like any less of a ninety-year-old abuela.

“Can I have some ice?” I realize this isn’t the response she wants out of me by the way her eyebrow quirks at a nearly ninety-degree angle.

“You can have some food,” she replies curtly.  “Do you remember food?”

I do, as a matter of fact, but the idea of eating any is currently making my stomach churn all over again.  I look down at the sorry excuse for a blanket that’s draped over me, pushing myself up enough that I can sit.  “I’m not—”

“—I’m getting you food,” and she says it in a way that I know that I don’t get a rebuttal.  She grabs her purse from where it’s hanging over the back of her chair.  She looks grimly around the hospital room before looking almost pitifully back at me.  “Sorry excuse for a hospital.  Nobody’s even come to check in on you since noon.”  She reaches into the pocket of her purse, and when her hand returns, I see my enV staring back at me.  She hands it to me and I have to resist the urge to immediately flip it open.  “Don’t spend too much time on it.  You need you’re rest.”

She says this like I haven’t been in a borderline-coma for who knows how many days at this point.  I swallow down the cotton balls in my throat and nod back at her, waiting for her to retreat from the room with the click-clack of her heels on the tile floor before I’m flipping the phone open and staring at the notification staring back at me on the screen: NEW TEXT MESSAGES.

I don’t bother reading them.  If I see texts from my friends Teddy and Joy, I’ll just feel momentary guilt for not calling them first.  I immediately go to my speed dial, hitting the number two and waiting all of one and a half rings before my best friend’s familiar, cracking voice is filling my ears and sending tears springing to my eyes.

“Doe, holy crap, thank god.”  Preston doesn’t give me a chance to get a word in.  “I’m leaving for the hospital right now,” I hear his front door opening and shutting, the familiar scraping sound of him pulling his bike away from his front porch.  “I’m coming, okay?”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“I’m not going to break if you get closer, you know,” I say pointedly, because Preston Raimi is standing all the way across my room, pacing back and forth with his too long legs.

His head of curls is messier than normal – which is saying something – and I can tell that he’s trying to keep from shaking.  When he burst through the door four minutes ago, the first word out of his mouth was a nervous “hey,” and then he started laughing.  He tends to do that when he’s nervous or when he’s scared or when he doesn’t know how else to react.

“Not taking my chances,” he responds, waving a hand over at me.  “Besides, you look like a toothpick.  Who knows how fragile—”

“—oh, shut up, like you’re one to talk, noodle arms.”

He swallows, rocking back and forth unsteadily on his heels for a few seconds.

“Come here,” I change direction.  “Please?”

He can’t resist a good please, I know this for a fact.  I’ve known this for a fact since I was five and needed someone else to take the fall for breaking my mom’s Tiffany & Co. wine glass.  (Not that I knew what Tiffany & Co. was.  I just knew that it as “Mami’s very expensive cup.”)

And, of course, he listens.  He teeters forward, finally taking a seat on the edge of the bed before realizing it’s not quite good enough and curling all the way up, his head finding a home next to mine on the pillow.  His arm slings around my stomach, which is the most comfortable it has felt since they put me in this place, and his face is buried in my shoulder.

This is how we stay for a few minutes.  My eyes fall closed, already coming up with ways to convince my mom that Preston has to stay over.

We’re not, like, a thing or anything.  It’s not like that.  I mean, we did kiss over the summer.  And again, at Halloween.  And Christmas.  But it’s not like that.  He’s, like, my person.  Making him be anything other than that would just make everything confusing, and I think we both know that.  And anybody who actually starts dating in junior high is embarrassing themselves anyway, and yes, I’m including my own friends in that, because they know who they are.  But ever the same, even without us being a “thing” or whatever, this feels right.  This actually feels like the only good feeling I’ve had in a really long time, and I’m not ready to let that go.

“Did you tell your mom?”

And just like that, my eyes are open.

He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to.  Preston might not have known that all of this was going on with me, but he’s not an idiot, no matter what he leads you and everyone else to believe.  He hasn’t liked Ricky since the moment he met him at a neighborhood end-of-summer cookout, and that only worsened when I broke down in tears to him on New Year’s Eve about what had happened over the past few weeks between the two of us.  He can put two and two together better than most.

“No.”

“Doe—”

“No.”

“You can’t go home to him.”

“I’m not going home period,” I fire back, and that catches him off guard.  He stills from beside me, sitting up a little higher before I’m yanking him back down next to me, immediately missing the weight on my shoulder.  “I… I like, have to go to some stupid treatment facility.  I don’t know.  Mom didn’t get very into detail.  But it doesn’t sound like it’s just going to be some weekend thing or whatever, so… yeah.  I don’t think I’m going home any time soon.”

Preston’s quiet for a minute, and one minute turns to two.  “Then I’m not going home, either.”

I snort.  “Yeah, because that’s how that works.”

“No, shut up, I’m serious,” his voice cracks with the words, but only a little.  It’s still enough to make my heart stutter in my chest.  “You can’t just, like, freaking scare the crap out of me like that and then just expect me to be like, Okay, cool, well I gotta get back to class tomorrow so hope you get to feeling better.  I’m not doing that.  I already missed class ‘cause I wasn’t focusing and that’s not going to just magically get better now, so.  Whatever.  If you have to do some stupid treatment stuff then I guess we’re both doing some stupid treatment stuff.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t think that’s how it works.  All that’s floating around in my head right now is that I want to kiss him again, but that I don’t remember the last time I brushed my teeth, and I’m not that person.  I settle for placing my hand on top of the one that’s resting on my stomach, and I give it a little squeeze.  “You’re my dude, P.  You know that?”

“That’s why I have to keep an eye on you,” he says, and while I feel like a lot of people say that about me like it’s a chore, he says it like it’s a duty.  “Can’t have you disappearing on me, y’know?”

I rest my head on top of his own, letting my eyes close all over again.  I’m not thinking about my mom coming back in the room, I’m not thinking about her shitty boyfriend, I’m not thinking about calorie intake or passing out in the bathroom.  I’m not thinking about the white lights or the hospital wallpaper.  I’m just thinking about this moment, right here.  Me and my best friend.  

“I won’t,” I promise him.  And I mean it.

[myfandomrambles]

I Noticed, Harry Potter 1-shot

AO3 Link: I Noticed Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Characters: Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Past Child Abuse, Flashbacks, Healing, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Homophobic Language

Summary:

Harry has spent his whole life trying to hold it all together all by himself. But one stupid prank breaks the damn. But maybe his family can help him understand he doesn't have to do it alone.

Harry was extremely good at trying to act like he was significantly less fucked in the brain than he actually was. He could push everything down and do whatever it was he needed to do. If it was taking a test, play quidditch or stab a giant snake and almost get murdered by Voldemort 4 times in less than 15 years. 

But Cedric dying was starting to make that really hard. He was always angry and nervous. His brain did not know how to turn off and everything was aggravating. He wanted to be able to just fight and get this shit over but no one would let him in on what the hell was going on and Dumbledore didn’t even give him the time of day. Constant nightmares also added on to this shit because he was always tired. 

His ability to hold everything in came to an end while they were trying to clean Grimmauld Place on Ms Weasley’s orders. Harry was emptying out a cupboard then Fred and Geroge decided to shut the door, Harry heard the lock click. he was suddenly rushed with uncontrollable fear. Being trapped wigged him out, he couldn’t fight back but he just needed his wand. His fingers fumbled his wand he heard a light thud. 

His mind was scrambled throwing his mind for a loop. Harry swore he could hear uncle Vernon screaming which was new, but he figured the whole closet thing was different. He remembered being a kid and being tossed under the stairs. He banged on the door switching between felling 10 years old all over again or locked on a statue. Greenlight was running past his eyes as he slammed the door so hard the wood splintered on his hand. Harry clawed at the shards swearing he could hear his aunt. 

Ron’s angry voice slipped into his thoughts as he hit the wood again to get out. His mind was too full to process what Ron said. Harry fell out the door with a large thud as he tried to hit the door again.

 He stood up feeling really unsteady. He could tell his hands were shaking and his fingertips had small drops of blood. He was very aware his cheeks were wet, god he had been crying.

 “Harry mate you okay?” Ron said.  “You don’t look good. Wanna sit down?” Ginny asked.  Fred and George looked uncomfortable. Ginny looked sad and Ron was red like he was angry but was sadder like Ginny than really mad.  “I don’t. yeah, gotta go.” He mumbled leaving the room.

 His heart was pounding in his chest. He found an empty room and fell to the ground. He pulled his feet to his chest laying his arms on his knees head bowed to his forearms. The room was cold for the summer, but Grimmauld Place seemed to always be like that though. Something dark maybe left over from the previous inhabitants, like the screaming portraits and crepy house elf. Harry startled when a hand brushed his shoulder. Sirius was standing in front of him and Lupin was behind him. 

“Hi,” Harry said. Furiously wiping the tear streaks from his face. He was so embarrassed. 

Their concerned faces meant somebody had told them he had just freaked out about being a closet like he’d been tortured or something, though Cruciatus was more pain than fear so not exactly the same. The two men sat down in front of him.

 “Ron and Ginny told us what happened,” Sirius said.  “Yeah. I know it was stupid, I’ve just been kinda out of it lately, sorry.” He explained. “Harry, you don’t have to apologize. You’ve had a lot of really fucking traumatic crap happen, I think a panic attack is pretty normal.” Sirius said  “what?” Harry said, not really understanding what he meant.  “Panic attacks, or a flashback whatever I get them, so does Remus. It’s fine.” Sirius said.  “I don’t understand,” Harry mumbled he’d heard about that shit with soldiers or whatever on tv. But it just felt like he’d been stupid, but saying that would be a dick move if they freaked out too.  “Can you tell me, what you were feeling and thinking about when they locked you in?” Lupin asked.  “I felt like real scared, confused and trapped. Then I dropped my wan and kinda lost it. I kept thinking about how I couldn’t get away. And then about when my uncle used to lock me in the closet when he was angry. and like I could swear I heard him and then all I could see was the light from Avada Kedavra.” Harry explained, he was a bit surprised hed said all of it, and mentally cursed himself as his hands were shaking again.   and Remus glanced at each other with knowing looks.  “What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, not wanting to be ket out of the lop anymore.  Luping ran his hand over his chin and sighed, “I noticed back when you were 13. Something was, not right. You reminded me a lot of Sirius when we young.” He stopped  “What's wrong with being like Sirius?” Harry said incredulously.  “Harry he doesn’t mean wrong because he hates more or something, well at least now.” Sirius said with a light chuckle, “but thanks for sticking up for me”  “What I meant to say was. Sirius’s parents were abusive. And I saw a lot of the same signs with you, I should have done something but I didn’t” Remus looked guilty. Harry felt bad and confused for making him feel crappy.

“My mother would hit me, yell at me lock me in my room. Things like that. It’s why I ran away to live with your father. She pushed me too far, yelled at me for being a fag and blood traitor. It was a pretty impressive knock down drag out fight” He had a rueful smile, “ I mean she was right about most of it  but I was sixteen strangling me and kicking me out was a bit excessive.” 

Harry stared at his godfather and gulped. There was something wrong about him saying that shit out loud. It was the kind of stuff you kept quiet, you weren't supposed to tell anyone. He did sometimes say stuff that people found odd, but Harry knew better than to say stuff. He never had.  Harry thought about Vernon strangling him earlier that summer. His hand drifted unconsciously to his neck.

“Your aunt and uncle. They do shit like that don’t they?” Remus asked.  Harry was distracted that a teacher, even an ex-teacher cursing so casually. Then he registered the question. And he couldn’t think straight again. 

“You can tell us. We won’t go blabbing to everyone else. But I have to know, do your aunt and uncle. Do they hurt you, insult you, starve you anything like that.” Sirius said earnestly. “Yeah.” Harry said he stomach flopping as he said it, feeling like he was doing something wrong somehow, “All of it I guess. I don’t know, it’s just they can be assholes and stuff about things, get mean. It’s why I ran away in my 3rd year I thought he might literally kill me. But it’s just how it is I guess, family or whatever.” 

Sirius looked angry even though he was clearly trying to be calm. Squeezing his hands shut tight. 

 “I promise you, Harry, it’s not just how families are. Your a kid family should hit you, or lock you in closets or insult you or any of it. And I’m really sorry I didn’t do anything before. I noticed so I should have, you don’t deserve to be hurt” Lupin said his voice sounded pained. 

Harry was caught off guard when Sirius brought him into a tight hug. He pulled back, he held Harry's shoulders, and it didn't even hurt. “Listen to me, Harry. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you when i should have been.  No one ever should have put you through any of that. I’ve been a really shitty godfather. Your the strongest person I know for going through all of that on top of all the things with Voldemort. You survived and are such an amazingly good person. None of what you have been through has ever been your fault. ” 

Harry looked in his godfather's eyes and leaned forward into another hug. He finally had a family who didn't want to hurt him. God his breath shuddered as he felt arms encircle him. It was the craziest thing to him, people listening. Tears started to fall, he kept thinking "Someone noticed, and it wasn’t his fault." 

[softgrungeprophet]

it’s that time again. time for me to be annoyed/frustrated at the comics that came in the 20-teens that simultaneously responded directly to the 2000s, followed in the 2000s’ continuation, but completely glossed over and ignored the very serious topics that were brought up. and then we get the fucking 2018 run which does NEITHER and just seeks to make it worse for shock value without being even remotely thoughtful about anything it does! wow.

we could have had some really interesting growth for eddie and the symbiote’s relationship by honestly addressing things like eddie’s illness, hypocrisy as anti-venom, his status as a victim of abuse, and so on...

of course i know if i say “eddie is a victim” people will get hissy but like.... i’m not saying he’s an innocent blameless baby who was manipulated into being the weirdo he is... i’m just saying... he’s a victim of abuse. he’s been taken advantage of a lot. almost any help he’s received has required some kind of reciprocation.

he’s a shithead and he went off the deep-end after new ways to die because remender’s version of eddie fucking sucks, he’s smug and weird and violent, and also he’s been neglected and tortured and abused and experimented on and he needs therapy and blah blah blah

he’s also not some fuckin accidental drunk driver who was hit into thinking he’s innocent. that’s so fucking--jeez. everything about these retcons donny has been doing miss the point even more than the comics he says he loves so much. it’s wild. like i don’t like new ways to die OR new ways to live, remender’s run was okay but i hated the way he wrote eddie, marvel knights spider-man just sucks in general, the hunger 03 also sucks, but like they do feed into each other in a way that.... sort of makes sense....

i just wish there was a way any of the comics would have said, “hey look there are some ways in which eddie is a victim but there are also some ways in which he needs to take responsibility for his actions”

but that kind of nuanced take is impossible for the way these comics are put out and canceled and retconned and so on forever.. it’s so ... ugh.....

the hunger 03 sucks... it also influenced over a decades’ worth of Venom comics including costa’s in its own weird way.... and i just wish we could simultaneously be like, Yes the symbiote is not inherently evil or corrupting but Also it did abuse Eddie, and Yes Eddie has been treated poorly for a great deal of his life and Also is a motherfucker who needs to be held responsible for his actions.

Is this hypocritical to be like, “can we address the 2000s” while also saying “2018 run is not valid”

in my defense even the shitty 2000s were like a continuity and didn’t try to fully retcon every single aspect of venom lore that ever existed (tho it sure did plenty of retconning....) whereas the current run... is doing exactly that....

of course this goddamn run will probably also influence the following comics unless the next writers retcon the retcons or like, ignore it and it gets put into its own earth or something. idk. like no one really counts dark origin right? and that works cause it also had a negligible influence on the rest of the comics. but like, the bad hunger had a very lasting impact on the comics. so i guess we just hope that donny cates, despite currently selling super well, does not actually influence any of the comics that come after?

i don’t fuckin know. i just think it kind of sucks that like “eddie was abused” is something that gets used as either a “lol no that never happened and if you talk about it you hate the symbiote” or else an excuse to demonize the symbiote even after its own character growth arcs in the apparently supremely unpopular gotg and space knight stuff... lol

maybe if every fucking series from 2013 to 2016 (minus costa which is honestly more 2017) didn’t get canned we could have gotten more. like honestly, 2016′s Carnage--for all its flaws--seemed like it had something to say about Eddie as a character, about his flaws and so on, and I gotta wonder where that was going. It flat out says “Venom didn’t make Eddie Brock a bastard” so like? But then at the same time all of the symbiotes in that series were completely silent so? I don’t even know.

Cullen Bunn was clearly going somewhere too but I have no idea where other than “symbiote is alive but has trouble communicating” and “eddie is coming down from his murder spree as he realizes flash thompson is in fact helping people as agent venom”

the two fit together in a very strangely complementary way. sometimes i gotta wonder about a universe in which those two comics in particular ran concurrently to address venom, flash, toxin, and eddie’s many issues. but toxin’s probably gone... though in my heart they are with jubulile and her mom in south africa, learning what it’s like to be part of a loving family...

man. the resigned “Okay.” at the end of twav...... twav good imo.

anyway

i don’t even know what the point of this is. i’m all over the place in this post. it’s frustrating that donny has made it kinda impossible to bring up eddie’s victimhood without like... qualifying it to the ends of the earth to clarify that you don’t think he’s some kind of pure cinnamon roll who’s been dreadfully manipulated for 12 years....

I feel like I’m not making any sense!!! Words are hard.

I feel like I’ve kinda been avoiding writing about the symbiote though in part because it’s hard for me to balance that many characters and in part because of Donny’s stupid bullshit, which is dumb as fuck but I guess that’s what he wanted huh!!!! Need to read Lethal Protector to cleanse my palate but it’s taking forever to get it from the library because they only have one copy.

ugh

The symbiote is not an evil creature like he wants everyone to think... goddammit.... but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t carefully address both its and Eddie’s mistakes without fabricating new different mistakes to obscure the previous ones. Or whatever. Fuckin I don’t know lol the entirety of the continuity is just a bunch of bullshit. 80s-90s continuity largely separate from 2000-20...15ish continuity largely separate AGAIN from the 2016 continuity yet also directly tied to it, against completely separated from the 2018 continuity which is off saying “fuck you” to literally every venom writer to ever exist since Eddie’s conception, ironically including the guy who wrote the cursed hunger

What am I trying to say! I don’t know! i feel like a broken record. There’s a lot of empty space between Agent Venom and 2016 that was never filled! also between 2016 and 2018 lmfao.

Donny “everything went wrong and I’m not going to explain how other than ‘God’ and ‘Eddie lost his job cause screaming symbiote’“ Cates really pullin some shit. what do you mean eddie tends to work toward solving his own problems EVEN WHILE DYING. waid’s mini-story in NWTD showed that eddie, despite being sad and sick and exhausted was still like.... eddie, stubbornly searching out his own solutions and getting angry. ofc i’m not sure how well it succeeded at parts. the comics in those days were still pretty steeped in the weird symbiote hallucinations that it was never clear if they were meant to be caused by the symbiote or just eddie’s sick brain. like the Last Temptation. I have a love-hate relationship with those two issues... I think they’re pretty well-done but also something about them just rubs me the wrong way. 

Anyway back to Cates: it’s not like there wasn’t space for a spiral after FH or anything. You could have really dug into Eddie and the symbiote’s insecurities wrt family and parenting. but nah. let’s just make it so there’s a SECRET CHILD, and oh the pre-established sibling? we could have dug into her and made her a real character. but no, she doesn’t exist, women are either fake or dead or violated.

asshole.

but again like..... the 03 hunger, cursed and bad... like... it’s still workable. you can work with the corrupting forces, the addiction metaphor (on the SYMBIOTE’S part, with adrenaline) and the intense codependency, and still have them move on and into a healthier-by-comparison relationship.

but cates’ run is like... much harder to recover from if it has as lasting of an effect, because it leaves no part untouched, and goes beyond “normal” abuse into really weird unforgiveable territory... like the canon of that comic is the canon in which everything has been completely changed into something unrecognizable.

i joke about my AUs being unrecognizable because, visually at least, they WOULD be unrecognizable for most Venom fans, but the comics inform them as characters a lot in the stories i write in those AUs, from the 96 good hunger, to the 03 bad hunger, to space knight to venom inc, and so on. But donny cates really is out here essentially reverse-engineering retcons to justify his characterizations.

barely related: the way eddie was raised and the way he coped by overachieving and so on and so forth makes me think he would have--despite presumably gaining a great deal of confidence in college once out of his father’s home--been really vulnerable to being taken advantage of by like, other students or teachers, but idk how exactly to articulate what i mean like... uh... not even that he WAS taken advantage of but that his need for validation would have left him open to it... i guess??

that’s got pretty much nothing to do with this post though but kinda ties into what i’ve said before about how i think eddie was a withdrawn and isolated adolescent who only opened up in college. why i disagree with donny’s retcon for that reason in addition to other reasons--the way he’d been shown to be bullied as a kid in previous comics, as well as the lack of history of alcoholism, the clarification in lethal protector that carl wasn’t physical, so on and so forth.

again that’s not related to this post really... and it’s like, a good 50% headcanon, but it makes sense in my head as something that fits his history?? i guess?

[five-hour-anxiety]

depresssion vlog 😥😴👎💭🏳️ | The Theory Of Real Activity | thursday vlogs

Taglist: @zerogettie  @spacevirgil@tree4life25@thebiggestnaturaldisaster @pailettehazel@jordandobbertin@thecityofthefireflies @the-fabulous-kimball@azuranightsong@virmillion @erlenmeyertrash @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @the-sanders-sides @punch-you-with-friendship@captaincantatrice@clovenpinetree @jughead-is-canonically-aroace@aplaceinthevoid@that-random-fandom-girl @zennyo

Word Count: 4431

Warnings: depression and talks of anxiety

Pairings: platonic prinxiety, platonic logicality, platonic analogical

Summary: Virgil is in the middle of a spiral and the back to back bad days are making it hard to function. He texts a few friends for help, and this is the result.

Designated Nerd:  Virgil, it has been some time since I’ve heard from you. Are you feeling well?

Me:  i mean, am i ever fine

Designated Nerd:  Well that is indeed worrying. Is there anything I can do for you, or would you rather I contact our more… emotional friends? Do you need me to come visit?

Me:  no, i dont want anyone over right now. this is gonna sound so stupid but,,, could u tell me what u do when ur upset

Designated Nerd:  If it helps, of course. I tend to listen to stimulating music and take hot showers. Please try to brush your teeth sometime soon as well, as hygiene is something that we all tend to be lax with in these states.

Me:  i should have expected advice like that

Designated Nerd:  Is it not useful? I apologize.

Me:  o no, its good. thx lo

Designated Nerd:  Anytime Virgil. Do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything else.

 ***

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  hey panic at the everywhere, u still breathing

Me:  wow didnt kno u cared that much

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  of course i care u ass how u doing

Me:  i mean im not dead. thats a fucking victory dude can i get a hell yeah

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  hell fucking yeah bro im proud of u

Me:  hey while ur here,,,, how do u deal with ur bad days.

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  poorly

Me:  damn dude

Sir-Sing-A-Lot:  yeah well thats life but i also light candles and fucking moisturize. unlike u u heathen

Me: thanks u fucking prick

Sir-Sing-A-Lot: hate u too u asshole c u this weekend~

***

Pat-Dad:  hey kiddo!! haven’t heard a peep outta you lately, just wanna make sure you’re still okay!!

Me:  im not okay, actually. but im glad u texted bc i have a q for u

Pat-Dad: anything for you kiddo, tell me how i can help!! :)

Me: wat do u do on bad days. like, how do u deal with the shitty emotions

Pat-Dad:  language kiddo.

Me: hellcrab.png

Pat-Dad: i dont have the profanity manatee on me so just pretend i sent that. anyway! i like to watch a bunch of funny shows and sit around in my favorite clothes! gotta feel good somehow!! and like, a lot of pillows are involved.

Me:  is this permission to turn my living room into a pillow fort

Pat-Dad: absolutely!!! but make sure you eat something today kiddo,,, making food is gonna be better than takeout btw. Feels good to have made something, trick the brian into enjoying the food more.

Me:  brian

Pat-Dad:  *brain, oh hush up

Me:  thanks 4 the help. <3 u

Pat-Dad: anytime kiddo!!!! :) <3 love you more!!!!!

***

   “Welcome back to the Theory of Real Activity -- today’s vlog: not what you all signed up for.” Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As I’m sure a lot of you have noticed, or at least the twitter crew has, I haven’t been as active on the channel lately. And I’m sorry about that, but I think I’m ready to talk about why now.

   “As many of you know, I have depression and anxiety. No way around it, there’s the truth. Often, these diseases prevent me from functioning like a healthy person would. That’s what’s been happening to me for the last few months. I’ve had a hard time getting up and dragging myself anywhere, much less making new content for all of you. Talking to friends via text is really hard too, so Twitter is something I can’t deal with either.

   “And I know a lot of you out there are the same way -- heck, when I do use Twitter and the likes, I see messages like that all the time. And I’m happy I’m able to help you all through those days when I can. But I can’t always be around to make stuff like that, so today I’m gonna talk you guys through helping yourselves when the days get bad and the voices get loud, okay?

   “But don’t let the start of this video fool you -- this isn’t a ‘oh we’re all gonna be okay if we just believe!’ kinda thing. Because there’s a lot of those. Don’t get me wrong, those are all wonderful messages and I really appreciate them, but I don’t think we need another one right now. What’s the point in trying to be motivated when the energy just isn’t there? I don’t know about any of you, but I almost feel worse when I watch those because I know whoever is on the other side of the screen wants me to work for happiness and I just… can’t. I can’t do it when I’m that low. So, no, this is not one of those videos.

“This is something completely different, I really hope it clicks with a few of you.”

   The camera switches out of selfie mode to reveal a table full of shopping bags. Virgil laughs off-screen and there’s the sound of papers shuffling.

   “Ladies, Gents, and everyone beyond the binary welcome to ‘How to Kinda Cope with Shit Brains’, starring yours truly. Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

   “Logan, you didn’t tell me you were uploading a video today! What’s this one about?” Patton squealed, clicking on the notification. Logan peered over his shoulder, trying to make out the display behind layers of smudges and a few cracks.

   “I- I did not upload a video today as Thursdays are typically reserved for anything Virgil wishes to post. That’s why there have not been any midweek videos recently.” Logan pulled out his own phone, giving up on Patton’s, and quickly unlocked the screen. “There is no one else with access to the account, so who- oh never mind. That is clearly something of Virgil’s creation.”

   “My goodness, he sure loves emojis, huh?” Patton giggled, reaching into his pockets. Logan groaned something like ‘you have no idea’ and pulled out a screen cloth for Patton. The younger man took it and quickly cleaned off his screen before pulling out his earbuds

“Do you wanna watch it together?” He asked, dangling them in front of Logan. Logan stared at him, grimacing.

   “Do you know how unsanitary sharing earphones is, Patton? I have a split connector in my bag, allow me to retrieve it and we shall view it together.”

***

   “So, I have compiled a list of things my friends do when they’re having bad days, as well as a few activities of my own, and we’re gonna test them. I’ll take note of how I feel before I start, do the activities, and then I’ll rate them by how I feel afterward. And if that sounds complicated, it is! Kinda. Logan says it’s the proper way to test things, by having a starting point and an end point, so go ask him? I don’t know, he’s always talking about control groups and I don’t know about any of you but I don’t want to make myself have bad days back to back just so I can test a bunch of things ‘fairly’.

“Anyway, first up: Roman’s list. He- he actually didn’t have much to say, just “moisturize bitch’ so I just pulled ideas from what he normally does on off-days. Sorry, Ro, but you brought this upon yourself.”

   Virgil reaches into the bag marked “Bed, Bath, and Beyond” and fishes out a bottle of something pink, as well as a purple container of lotion and a green candle.

   “I know for a fact Roman prefers grapefruit face wash, so that’s what we got here,” he shakes the pink bottle, “so we can gift this to him when we’re done here. And we have a bottle of lavender-scented lotion to go with it. I read somewhere that lavender helps with anxiety or something, but like,” he points at the camera, “it just smells good, and I am not ashamed to admit to that. Don’t read too much into this.

   “I also bought a scented candle, because that’s the only other thing Roman offered advice-wise. I fact-checked this one, and apparently good scents are supposed to help you think more clearly? Or something. I don’t know, I read the article at four in the morning, there’s not much I can really remember about it. Four am Virgil is really bad at retaining information.”

   The camera jostles as Virgil picks it up and walks into his bathroom. “Uh, just for like, the starting point? The best way to describe this type of anxiety is the buzzing and tensing of your muscles and the tightness in your chest. There’s nothing I want more than to dive under my bed sheets and sleep until tomorrow and try again later.

   “But I’m going to do this, so wish me luck.” He mutters, turning the tap on and grabbing a washcloth. The screen cuts away to black as an upbeat nineties song plays, and the text on the screen reads ‘Roman’s results’.

   “So,” Virgil starts, his face covered in white foam, “this stuff kinda burns? Roman, what the hell is wrong with you, you like this stuff? Ugh. Also, just so everyone knows, the smell of artificial grapefruit and lavender do not mix. Like separate, they are really good smells but just… don’t mix them together. It’s a really bad idea. We may have to do my list next so I can let the house air out for a while. As it is, I didn’t even try to light the candle, we do not need to add spearmint to this stink bomb.

   “Beyond that? The face wash is definitely waking me up. I feel a little more ‘oh hey, I’m a person’ that I did before so, yeah. This wasn’t a total bust. And my skin is soft! I understand the appeal of moisturizing now! Roman, how dare you keep this a secret from me?” Virgil laughs, rubbing his hands together. “Holy shit I feel like a million bucks. I am keeping the lotion, you can take this demon face scrub.” Virgil reaches off screen and picks up the pink bottle, scanning the back panel of text.

   “So overall, I’d say Roman’s tactics work. You just gotta like, make sure you get complimentary smells so you don’t stink yourself out of your house,” He says, still reading the bottle, “And you should definitely read the instructions on the bottles because this,” He holds up the pink bottle, “says to wash off after a few minutes, and it’s been ten. I’m gonna go get this off my face now.”

***

   “Babe, you seriously didn’t read the instructions?” Roman howled, throwing his head back into the couch. He could hear Virgil scoff from the kitchen.

   “Excuse me, but I thought it was like one of those face masks you leave on for half an hour! How was I supposed to know!” He asked, walking back into the room and plopping down beside Roman. “They look the same when you put them on, and you have a few long-lasting ones that smell like grapefruit! I had no way of knowing!”

   “You could’ve called, man. I would have helped you!” Roman lifted his arm, inviting Virgil to crawl under it. He took it and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s chest. “You bought face scrub, which is definitely not the same thing. Both are good though! Just, not that same.”

   “Yeah, well, I know that now,” Virgil muttered, burying his head in Roman’s hoodie.

   “We can do actual face masks after this if you want.” Roman offered, picking his phone back up. “Your pores could really benefit from one.”

   “You’re a dick. Turn that thing off.”

   “Love you too, bastard, but there’s no way in hell I’m turning this off.”

***

   The camera cuts again, and this time Virgil is in his bedroom. The window is open, and the sound of passing cars is almost inaudible but still present. His peach walls are bathed in a warm glow of the setting sun, a light breeze pushing his bangs up every so often.

   “Okay so, next up is Patton’s list. As per my own ‘rules’, I’m feeling mentally exhausted and ready to check the fuck out right now. But despite this, I’m actually… really excited for this one? It involves food, there’s no way this can go poorly.”

   The video cuts to footage of Virgil screaming as food on the stove erupts into flame. The 1812 Overture is playing the background. Whatever was in the pan is no longer food, as the burnt sustenance is bubbling in an ominous manner. The oven mitt is no longer on Virgil’s hand and is instead in a smoky heap on the kitchen counter.

   “No way this can go poorly” Virgil’s voice echoes as he runs off camera screaming. He returns with a fire extinguisher, the lens becoming jammed with foam just before the video cuts back to Virgil in his room eating Chinese takeout.

   “Okay so. It turns out it can go poorly. Patton said that making sure you eat, like, actual food and not six servings of chocolate cake with a glass of cherry coke on the side is supposed to help with the depression thing but like. It definitely didn’t help with the anxiety. Something about the food you worked to make tasting better?

   “So, I cheated and ordered take out. But hey! This stuff has got a bunch of veggies in it, so I think I won this round. Moving on,” Virgil puts the food down and leans down to grab something off the floor, “Patton also recommended watching some shows that I know I enjoy, so let’s do that next.” Virgil puts on the purple headphones he had grabbed and pulled his laptop onto his lap. He clicks off the light on his desk and plunges the room into darkness with only his computer light illuminating his face.

   “We’re watching the entirety of the Brooklyn Nine-Nine Halloween episodes, so be prepared for a highlight reel of that while I stuff my face with rice.” He twirls his finger around in a ‘roll film’ motion and kicks his feet up on the desk.

   The camera cuts to a black screen once more, the same upbeat music playing in the background. The text now read’s “Patton’s results”.

   The next few minutes is a series of clips strung together, many of them consisting of Virgil mouthing the lines along with the characters, and screeching with laughter. The last one shows him crying into his takeout, mumbling about how much he loves the relationship between Jake and Amy. He had taken his feet down from the desk at some point, now curled into his chair and bundled in his hoodie almost entirely.

   The video cuts away to a slightly more composed Virgil, who is now cuddling a pillow and scraping the bottom of the takeout box. His eye makeup had run down his face over the last few hours and he looked unnaturally pale in the weird lighting.

   “Yeah that uh,” He coughs awkwardly, “that worked. Ten out of three Patton, way to go. Got my brain to shut up for like, I don’t know, two hours?” He takes a deep breath and puts the takeout container on the desk. “It’s late, I think I’m gonna just do Logan’s and I’s lists tomorrow.”

***

   “Should I be concerned that he set the kitchen on fire and didn’t call anyone?” Patton whispered, pausing the video. “Why didn’t he call anyone? Did he get burned?”

   “I do not think you speeding to his house would have done any good, Patton, as he got the fire out by himself. That being said,” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, “he is not allowed to cook for game night. Ever. What was he even trying to make?”

   “He can join me in the kitchen ban, then. The store-bought cookie club just gained a new member.”

   “God help us if you ever cook together. I’d have to take out a loan for a new apartment. I already cannot pay my student loans, I fear the possibility of adding to my life debt.” Logan shuddered, reaching over to unpause the video.

***

   “Okay, good morning internet. It’s buttcrack early outside, I don’t even think the sun is up yet? That’s good, actually, and I’ll get to why later.

“So, all that’s left is Logan and I’s lists, and to be honest? Logan may have already won the whole thing, looking at this on paper. He actually cares about like, not dying by germs or some shit.,I can guarantee his list will be practical. I gotta go set some stuff up for my list, so hang tight.” The screen cuts to a slightly more awake Virgil.

   He grins and gives a tiny wave before tapping the screen to switch the camera and show a hammock.

   “So, I’m next. I’m also gonna save Logan’s advice for the end of the video so you guys watch this whole thing. Give people an incentive for sticking around. Because I can see the stats on this, I know half of you like, exit the video halfway through. Stay for the whole thing, dammit, I need the ad money.” He laughs, gently putting the camera down. The screen shows a new sunrise, one full of soft purples and oranges. Above the sun and its halo are a few stars that have yet to go out for the day, barely visible behind the hazy clouds. Virgil picks the camera back up, the footage shaky.

   The camera stills to a shot of Virgil’s legs, the hammock swaying gently in the breeze. A few frogs can be heard singing in the background and Virgil hums a few notes. His voice is low as he speaks, still rough from sleep.

   “Again, to follow my own rules: I feel so awful I don’t even want to talk about it, guys. Sorry.” Virgil is quiet for a while longer, the occasional whispered lyric picked up by the microphone. Eventually, he speaks once more, a lighter tone to his voice.

   “Sure, this looks peaceful, but if you could all hear what kind of music I’m listening to right now, you’d be calling my therapist. Hey, Paul, I apologize my bro, but wow are you not gonna like me the next time I’m in.

   “So yeah, my list is just ‘get sun and get songs’. You Gucci fam, just stay out here until you either feel good or get cold. Probably gonna be the last one but, hey, you tried. Gold star. Bring a blanket if you wanna aim for the best possible outcome.”

   The camera cuts again, this time looking down from what is assumed to be a porch. The sky is dark once more, and the only source of light is a small candle.

   “Huh. What do you know, the candle works after all. Spearmint -- the poor man’s anti-anxiety. You know, I actually looked that up. Spearmint is supposed to be a good stress reliever and some kind of mood booster. The more you know, huh?”

***

   “Virgil, what the hell does that mean?” Roman chuckled, rubbing Virgil’s arm.

   “It means that when I’m panicking at work I just pop in a breath mint and BAM I am suddenly closer to reality than I was ten seconds ago.”

   “Do I wanna know how you discovered that?”

   “I had a hangry panic attack in high school and the only thing I had to eat in my bag were breath mints I was meaning to gift to you.”

   “Oh, that’s pretty- hey.”

   “You could still use some, man. Keep your nasty breath away from me.”

   Roman just hummed, looking at Virgil from the corner of his eyes. He smiled softly, his eyes sad and concerned. Pulling him closer, he unpaused the video and listened as he continued to hold his friend.

***

   “And last but certainly not least, is the list of the late, great Logan. He’s not dead. He’s just always late to dinner dates. Like a pretentious nerd, his excuses are ‘oh, I was studying’, ‘oh, I had an exam’, or ‘Patton set the kitchen on fire again, call 911’. What an ass.

   “Anyway. This list, which doesn’t have a cool name because Logan is against emojis and stuff, just has like, five items on it. In order that is: brush your teeth, put on some clean clothes, wash your hair, put on some socks, and the last one is a surprise. Because it really took me off guard and I need you all to be as surprised as I was.

   “And right now, I just feel apathetic. In case someone gets upset that I didn’t mention I felt going into this, I just feel apathetic.”

   The video cuts away to Virgil’s bathroom once more, and the leftover mess from the other day can be seen in the sink.

“Uh. Just, just ignore that mess. You know what it’s from, I don’t feel bad about that. Anyway, teeth brushing. Let me just find the toothpaste…

“You know, I can’t remember if I bought toothpaste at the store. Of all the crap I bought, don’t think toothpaste made it into the bin. So, let’s just see if I still have any of the travel samples from the dentist.”

Virgil riffles through his cabinets, pulling out items such as combs, hair dye, bleach, and a bottle of pills. He hums for a second, before crouching down to look under the sink.

   “I feel like, and I could be the only one who experiences this, I feel like anything that gets put under the sink will never see the light of day. So maybe I won’t be brushing my teeth today- wait. Wait! Oh gosh, thank you Jesus- there’s a- there is a bottle in the back there, but I can’t reach it. Outta my way, makeup kit, I got teeth to be cleaned!”

   Virgil pops back into view, holding up a half used mini bottle of toothpaste. It’s the kid’s kind, that tastes like berries and bubblegum. He uncaps it and starts to squeeze it out onto his toothbrush buts stops short.

   “Why the hell are there sparkles in this thing? That- isn’t that a, like, choking hazard or some shit? Okay, sorry Logan, teeth brushing is not happening in this video. I think you’d agree with me on this. When you get to this point in the video, feel free to add toothpaste to our shopping list.”

***

   “Jokes on you, Virgil, I added it yesterday when I spent the night and had to use that monstrosity.”

   “I use that stuff all the time, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with it! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine!”

   “That’s… that’s a, uh, great point Patton. Explains a lot.”

***

   “Okay, so next on the list was clean clothes. I’m doing that off camera, you nasties, so hang tight for a word from our sponsors.”

   The screen is black, with white text reading “crofters plz sponsor us logan is desperate.”

   Virgil reappears, in the same hoodie and shirt. He smirks, pointing at a pile of clothes on the floor.

   “Ha, I own two of these hoodies and three of these shirts. I am a cartoon character, y’all will never see me in a different outfit. You can dream, but my job is to crush those dreams.” He makes a fist as he says this, laughing through his teeth as he tries to appear tough.

   The camera cuts again, this time showing Virgil singing into a hairbrush while a towel is wrapped around his head. The scene doesn’t last long, as we are once again taken back to Virgil’s bedroom where he is set up with a laptop. This time he’s on his bed and the curtains are drawn.

   “It said to wash your hair, and you can’t wash hair without serenading the monsters living behind the shower curtains we all feared when we were little. Just because we aren’t afraid of them doesn’t mean they aren’t real!

   “Anyway, this is the last part of Logan’s list. It’s actually really sweet? Like, I am a grown ass man, and I am not ashamed to say I sobbed over this.” He continues, voice starting to tremor.

   Virgil spins his laptop around to show a YouTube video that’s about half an hour long. The title reads, ‘the best of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street’. Virgil sniffs real fast, raking a fist over his eyes.

   “He uh, he knew these guys were my heroes growing up. And he knew it would cheer me up. Guess w-hat man,” Virgil sniffs again, “It- it worked like a fu-fucking charm. I uh, I’m actually feeling things after going through your list, so like. Nice work, I guess, I owe you dinner. Like, dinner at a restaurant, not a cooking dinner because I don’t want to poison you.

   “Ahem. Anyway. That’s the best thing in this whole video, you win Logan. And that about wraps up the Thursday vlog. Thanks for listening everyone, here’s the obligatory ‘we’re gonna be okay’ message, because as corny as that is -- it’s true. Find yourself a Bert to go with your Ernie and it’ll be okay. Maybe throw in an Elmo or a Zoey if you wanna round out the group. And my metaphor is getting too complicated, so! Virgil out! See you this weekend for the next Theory of Real Activity -- Logan and I are joined by Patton this time and we get into wild shit this week, let me tell you.”

***

   “Well, what are we still waiting around here for?” Patton asked, turning his phone off. He disconnected the earbuds, stuffing his haphazardly into his front pocket. Logan winced at the sight, and quickly but carefully wound his up into their case.

   “I’ll text Virgil to make sure he knows to expect us. Patton, if you could text Roman?” Logan asks, standing up and smoothing out his shirt. Patton nods, already poking away at his phone.

Me: Greetings, Virgil. Patton and I are on our way over to your house if that is okay?

Virgil Jackson: cant tell you no, you practically live here

Me: Yes, well, that is true. Is there anything I should bring with us?

Virgil Jackson: would it be lame to say a hug

Me: Not at all. If there is anything this group is good for, it’s hugging and crying. The occasional yelling, but that could go either way.

Virgil Jackson: whatever nerd, get over here already

[damn-daemon]

Peanut Butter Nick Jakoby x Short Reader

The first of my requests is here! For @kittyxrenny-blog Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings - no smut, language, violence, peanut butter death

This was not one of your proudest moments.

Maybe if grocery stores took their customers into consideration instead of stacking their product higher and higher like a freaking metropolitan skyline, you wouldn’t have to lower yourself to such pathetic measures.

Or, in this unfortunate case, raise yourself.

It was your weekly case of ‘how many shelves do you have to climb in order to get your basic necessities?’ Because Heaven forbid anything you like be on the bottom shelves. Those were reserved for off-brand bulk, and if you really needed that many cheese balls in your life, reaching the top shelf was the least of your worries.

The record for shelf climbing was ten. You were sitting pretty at five, but this latest one was proving to be quite an undertaking.

Your local grocery store has one last jar of your favorite peanut butter, located on the top shelf, of course, and in your attempts to climb the shelves to it, your hand knocked the prize further away, just out of reach. So, here you are, standing on one shelf while hanging on to another, wondering how much weight these things can take before you knock down the entire condiments section.

But that little amount of pride you have that dictates short people can do things too won’t let you get down and ask for help.

So, you reach a little farther.

You swear your middle finger brushes something when someone clears their throat behind you. 

Half expecting one of the employees, you’re pleasantly surprised to see an orc standing next to you. He’s still taller than you, of course, because life won’t let you see eye to eye with anyone, even with vertical assistance.

He’s not dressed like most orcs you know. Baggy clothing is usually the attire of choice, but this orc is in just a black tee and jeans. It outlines a toned physique that you honestly can’t help but appreciate.

“Um…hi,” you say, trying your utmost to not sound embarrassed at being caught in the act.

You really don’t think it works. 

The orc eyeballs the shelf above you momentarily, before setting his gaze back on you. “Do you need some help?”

In one last, desperate push, you reach again. 

And manage to push the jar even further away. 

You sigh and hang your head, unable to look him in the eye. “Yeah, maybe.” 

He reaches up above you. Moments later, his hand produces that very jar you have been trying to reach for the past five minutes. 

You almost don’t want the damn thing anymore. 

“So,” he starts, looking the jar over. “Do you hang out around here often?”

Slowly, you climb down from the shelves, trying very hard not to roll your eyes. “You know, I was about to call you my hero, and then you had to go and ruin the moment.” 

He frowns. “Sorry. I get told my humor needs work sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes?” you ask, a smile on your face. You take the peanut butter from him, ignoring the way your fingers brush his. “Name’s (Y/N). You got one, tall stuff?”

He blinks; he probably doesn’t get called that much. For an orc, he isn’t terribly large. Doesn’t matter to you, though. Everyone’s tall in your book.

“It’s Nick. Nick Jakoby.”

“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Nick,” you say, starting to walk down the aisle again.

“Same,” he calls out.

You make it maybe five feet before you turn around, finding yourself unable to walk away from Nick. Maybe it’s his sweet disposition, or that slightly disappointed look in his eyes when you decided to leave. “You know, I happen to like a lot of stuff on the top shelves around here. If you don’t mind, I could probably use some help along the way.”

Nick grins, and honestly it’s the first time you notice his teeth are filed down. “Well, far be it from me to refuse a citizen in need.” 

Grocery shopping takes you half an hour, tops. Today, it takes nearly two hours as the two of you wander the aisles aimlessly, picking random boxes when your focus finally manages to stray from the conversation. He’s a cop with the LAPD, an impressive feat that you make known to him rather vocally, but he shrugs off your praise, slightly sheepish under the spotlight. A lot of people are cops. He shouldn’t be any different. 

Given most guys you knew would do anything for a compliment, you find his resistance to it appealing.

You talk about your job in retail. It’s not the best thing in the world and most days you’d rather burn the place to the ground, but it pays the bills. You’ll do something else one day, you tell him, once you figure out what.

“I always wanted to be a cop,” he says as you’re checking out. His stuff is behind yours in line, all organic, healthy. You wish you had that kind of commitment. “Ever since I was a kid.” 

“Must be nice, always knowing what you want to be.”

“I don’t know about that,” he shrugs. “If this didn’t work out, I’m not sure where I’d be. You’ve got options. The whole world is open to you.”

You never thought about it that way.

The two of you are still chatting when you enter the parking lot. You stand in front of your little sedan for what seems like ages, but the two of you eventually realize your food is going to spoil if you waste any more time.

That’s when a lowrider swerves into the parking lot, music blaring out the windows, bass so high you can feel it vibrate across your bones. These kids are sitting at the wheel, barely out of school, high on whatever youthful pride they have. They think they’re better than anyone who isn’t them, and need to say so in order to keep that ego of theirs in check.

And Nick makes an easy target.

“Hey guys, check out this pigskin over here. Look at the freak show. Hey, homie, where your teeth at?”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a familiar anger boiling somewhere deep inside.

“Nowhere you need to be concerned about,” Nick answers calmly. It almost sounds by the book, like he does this a lot 

He probably does.

“Oh shit,” says one of the passengers. “Hey, it’s that cop orc. The one from TV!”

“Shit, you’re right, bro. A pig that’s actually a pig.”

“Hey, why you wanna be a cop? You wanna get paid to shoot humans?”

Nick nods slowly, eyes closing in annoyance. “Alright, you’ve had your fun now, move along.”

You look at him, surprised. Why won’t he defend himself? 

“You hear this guy?” the driver asks his friends. “Look, pigskin, you ain’t in uniform. I ain’t gotta go anywhere.”

Nick leans down, looking in the window properly. “I’m asking you to leave nicely.”

“Nicely? Look man, why don’t you come over here and tell me to leave, or the LAPD take your dick along with your teeth?”

You slam your hand down on the hood of the vehicle and look in the window, fire in your eyes. “Hey, asshole, just cause you haven’t done anything with your shitty little life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on everyone else.”

Nick reaches for your arm. “(Y/N), you don’t need-”

“You hear this bitch? Who you think you are?”

“I’m the girl who’s gonna put a nice new dent in your head if you don’t step off.”

And you’d do it too. You grew up around here. Life taught you early on that you can’t take shit from anyone. Whatever they deal to you, you deal back twofold. People learned real quick not to mess with the short girl.

“(Y/N)-”

“You defending this freak? You his bitch or something?”

“Maybe I am,” you offer, ignoring Nick as he tries to keep you from doing something stupid. No one could ever stop you from doing that. Your conscience stopped trying a long time ago. “You got a problem with that?”

“Can’t stick with your own kind?” asks the kid in the passenger’s seat. “Gotta go hook up with some orc fuck that-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you throw the first thing that your hand grabs into the car.

The peanut butter jar smashes against the window right by his head.

“Jesus! This bitch is crazy!” the driver shouts as he puts the car in drive. The tires squeal as they flee the scene.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going!” you shout as Nick swiftly wraps his arm around your waist and picks you up off the ground with ease. You flail in his grip, your anger nowhere near done with the boys. “You can’t take it from a little girl, huh? How’d you think you’d do against an orc!”

“(Y/N)!” Nick shouts, setting you down. He puts his hands up to keep you from escaping around him in order to pursue the car. “(Y/N), enough!”

You quiet down, though you’re still panting, trying to find a way to let the anger go.

Nick lowers his arms. “You know I’m a cop, right? I could arrest you for something like that.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to stand there and let them talk to you like that. Someone has to defend you, if you won’t.”

He sighs. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just…I’ve got people watching me all the time. I do anything remotely out of line, that’s my career. Over. Done. I don’t have much choice.”

You stop and take a good, hard look at Nick. It never occurred to you that he would be in the position. But you remember all those news pieces on him. No one was a fan of an orc on the force. Of course they would be looking for a way to get rid of him.

“Well, I do,” you say, touching his arm so his eyes lock with yours. He doesn’t say it, but you can see the gratitude in his eyes. “And there’s no way I’ll ever let anyone speak to you like that.”

His lips part, surprised. He has never heard this from a human before. It’s so strange and…wonderful.

He watches you look in the direction the car disappeared. “Damn, I really wanted that peanut butter.”

This makes him laugh, hard. He can’t help it. The stress of the last couple minutes needs a release and there’s no better way than laughing until you can’t breathe in the parking lot of a grocery store.

“Laugh it up, tall stuff,” you say with a kind smile. You enjoy the laughter, despite sounding the opposite way. “Look, I gotta get to work, but maybe I’ll see you again some time, yeah?”

Nick nods, feeling disappointment well in his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I’ll just look for someone hanging off the shelves.”

“You know, I don’t have to like you.”

“No, you just have to defend my honor.”

You shrug as you get into your car. Waving goodbye to Nick, you drive away from the store, wondering if you’d just made a big mistake by not giving him your number.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Nick shows up at your store a couple hours later with a jar of peanut butter in hand.

[petals42]

I wish you would write a fic where... alicia and bob are very parenty toward jack. because I live for the zimmermanns.

set very early during Jack’s freshman year

Jack phones buzzes. Again. 

He glares at it until it stops. Then turns back to his eggs. 

Of course, then it starts up. Again.

That makes the fifth time this morning. And it’s only 10am. 

“Holy shit, Zimmermann,” Mark Winger says, unnecessarily loud. Mark Winger is always unnecessarily loud. And since he is sitting three seats down from Jack, the rest of the table goes silent. “Who the fuck is texting you?”

Jack feels his face heat up. It’s only the second week of practice and it’s weird because he doesn’t know these people but they all know him--or at least they know enough. They know he was good at hockey and then fucked it all up and they know who his dad is and his mom and they know because everyone knows and he...

He is not used to being the new guy. He doesn’t remember the last time he was the new guy. At least, not the new guy on a hockey team. And sure he’s good but also crazy and they know it and it just makes him feel tight and unsure and--

“No one,” Jack says when it becomes clear people actually expect him to answer. (God he wishes they wouldn’t do that. Just let him sit quietly. Play hockey. Not talk). 

His phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen. 

“Brah, no one has texted you like 18 thousand times,” Dave Cohen says. His tone is a bit nicer but the question still stands. 

“It’s just my parents,” Jack finally mumbles. He shovels a huge bite of eggs in his mouth to try and stave off any other questions. 

“Awww, does little Zimms need to check in with his mama and papa?” Winger says and the mood shifts. Jack sees some people frown but some of the other boys are annoyed that he is here, he knows it, and ribbing is pretty much a part of hockey culture so he should have some sort of come back to this and it’s somehow even more embarrassing that he is older than some of these boys but still a freshmen and a fuck-up and he doesn’t--

“Aw, shit man,” a voice comes and Jack glances to his left to see one of the walk-ons called Shitty sliding into the seat next to him. “You just wish Alicia Zimmermann was texting you on the regular. Dude, you must know you have no chance with that ugly fucking face of yours.”

The table howls with laughter-- probably more than the comment deserves but it’s a freshmen taking on a senior so there is backslapping and “fuck, he got you, Winger!” and the conversation turns. Something about Winger’s last girlfriend. Jack puts his head down and doesn’t listen. Instead he reaches for his phone. He’s got to text his parents and tell them to stop texting him every freaking minute.

He gets it. He knows they are nervous and that they want to hear from him but fuck it, he is not a goddamn teenager and he’s lived away from home for years before this and he doesn’t need his parents updating them on their breakfast foods. 

Guys, I’m fine, he types in, ignoring his dad’s question about whether he is eating ice cream for breakfast and his mom’s comment that she knows from experience the chocolate is better than vanilla. Stop texting me all the--

“Sorry to objectify your mom, brah,” the kid sitting next to him says. “But sometimes to get the assholes off your back, you gotta speak their language, you know?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says. If he still bothered getting upset about people objectifying his mom, he’d never get anything else done. “That’s okay.”

He goes to refocus on sending his message. 

“Dude, that kid is a fucking dick,” Shitty says. Jack is not entirely sure they’ve ever talked before. All he knows about Shitty is that his stick handling is alright but he has trouble sticking to plays and sometimes his attention wanders but he seems to really like hockey even when he gets yelled at. “Thank god we only have to put up with him for a year.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, looking up from his phone. He is not good at multitasking and it seems this kid is going to talk to him no matter what. And his mom had said he should try to... make friends. Whatever that means. 

“I just can’t stand jerks who are jerks for no reason, you know? Like... I think it’s fucking awesome your parents are texting you. That’s nice as fuck.”

“Uh... yeah,” Jack says again. He is not sure how much input Shitty actually requires from him. But at that moment, Shitty tries to stuff an entire slice of french toast into his mouth so there is a lull. “Erhm, have you heard from your parents?”

Shitty snorts a laugh and almost chokes. Jack pats him on the back. Cautiously. 

“Ah, fuck, nearly killed me. Nah, man, no way.”

Shitty is younger than him. Actually a freshmen. It has been two weeks. 

“Oh,” Jack says. It suddenly occurs to him that maybe Shitty’s parents are... dead? Sick? Gone?

“I’ve been in boarding school for forever,” Shitty says. “My dad is kinda... eh, you know. A lawyer. So he’ll check in to see what I’m doing for Thanksgiving? Around then. And my mom is a professor so it will be Fall break. We have it down to a science. What’s happening on your home front?”

“They’re telling me to eat ice cream for breakfast,” Jack says because it doesn’t occur to him to lie. “They’re just... you know, worried I think.”

“Dude, that machine is turned on this early?” Shitty says and then he’s standing. “That’s fucking awesome!”

Jack stares at him. 

“Well?” Shitty says. He looks like he’s waiting for something. Jack blinks. “Are you coming? Let’s try this shit!”

Jack opens his mouth to say that there is no nutritional value in ice cream and dairy right before lifting isn’t a great idea and--

“Come on!”

Shitty bounds off and he moves with the same reckless energy he has on the ice and Jack has no idea why but it feels like right now, Shitty is on his line and he’s on a break and it’s Jack’s job to follow.

So he does. He doesn’t manage to offer his mother’s advice that the chocolate is better (feels to awkward to say anything as he and Shitty move towards the machine) but Shitty gets that anyway and Jack decides on a mix so he can at least try the vanilla and, later, he deletes the text he was going to send and sends:

Got a mix. I liked the vanilla better actually.

It starts a debate that makes his phone buzz for a solid 45 minutes but... well, maybe that’s okay. 

Maybe that’s kind of nice.