#oh fuck it's a tangent now god dammit it happened again

[nureyevs-worst-alias]

Thinking back to this conversation with Vicky that Juno had back in Midnight Fox (1.12), can't help but think that maybe Juno remembered this. That maybe it stuck with him and he knew that no matter how many mistakes or faults or sacrifices that are self-proclaimed to be for the greater good, however many times Nureyev runs away... Juno knows that no matter what, he'll never find someone who loves him like that, and he believes truly that Nureyev knows that too.

Because no matter how many lies or broken promises, they still spent all this time knowing each other. He knows that Peter loves Slip. He's seen how Peter loves Slip. It takes a lot to love someone, but to truly know someone? That's entirely different. And they both know that. Truly.

#oh fuck it's a tangent now god dammit it happened again #anyways sorry for not posting on this blog since the Middle Ages I got busy on my secret evil malevolent blog that none of you know about #juno steel #the penumbra podcast #tpp #junoverse #the penumbra #the penumbra fandom #tpp juno #peter nureyev #tpp peter

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 316: We've Had One, Yes, But What About Second Explosion

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all “[powers up like whoa because it’s time to end the fight]”, and he saved Overhaul from getting not-shot, and then smashed up Nagant’s arm with the power of his new rechargeable super knees. Nagant was all “yoooo this kid is crazy strong whaaaat, it’s like he’s some kind of protagonist or something.” Deku was all “I AM A PROTAGONIST, ACTUALLY, DO YOU WANT TO JOIN FORCES AND FIGHT BAD GUYS WITH ME?” Nagant was all “ah shit why the hell no -- ” and then AFO was all “SURPRISE” and everyone was all “?!?!?!” and AFO was all “TIME TO EXPLODE NOW” and made Nagant explode because he’s an absolute fucking dick. And then Hawks showed up, because Horikoshi just wanted to stuff as many plot points as humanly possible into a single chapter I guess.

Today on BnHA: Hawks is all “good job giving motivational shounen redemption speeches Deku but I’ll take it from here” and screams very earnestly right in Nagant’s face until she finally wakes up. Nagant is all “oh hey it’s my successor, you seem surprisingly unfucked-up from your own HPSC tenure, how did you manage that?” Hawks is all “fandom is going to love hearing this one, but basically it’s because I’m very upbeat and also I had the world’s best role model Endeavor to look up to,” and I swear this man stirs the pot on purpose, but damn it I still love him so damn much. Overhaul is all “HELLO AGAIN, JUST A REMINDER THAT, THE BOSS!!” and Deku is all “MAYBE TAKE TWO SECONDS TO REFLECT ON HOW YOU TORTURED A LITTLE GIRL,” which, thank you, lol. Nagant is all “btw AFO’s hiding in a house in the woods”, and so Deku and the gang go to the house in the woods. Video recording!AFO is all “hi I’m AFO welcome to Jackass” and blows up the house. Sometimes I wonder if this manga is just a weird dream.

I am once again reading the Bean version because I think it was actually the best out of all three translations last week. and that is surprisingly including Viz’s. “faux” is not nearly as entertaining as “knockoff”, and also I have literally no idea why Caleb thought Deku was saying the Third’s lines lol

oh hey, Endeavor’s here too! not that you’d ever be able to tell from this first panel lmao

glad you received All Might’s call, mysterious unidentified glowing smudge

oh snap he says he’s weaker in the rain. is that why AFO told Nagant to attack then?? except that as we discussed the other day, I believe that AFO fully intended for Nagant to lose the fight, so him giving her info that would give her an advantage doesn’t really fit in with that. maybe he wanted Deku to be separated from Endeavor and the rest for maximum angst, though

btw Deku’s eyes are unsurprisingly back to the new normal here

alas, the angst continues. I say, pretending like I’m not totally eating it up each and every week and writing essay after essay about it lol

anyway so apparently Hawks can’t actually fly lmao. he was just yeeting himself with style

for some reason this is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen omfg. wave to Hawks, kids! say “bye, Hawks!”

j/k of course Deku is catching them. -- except???

wow so he was just running on fumes there at the end. well, good to know there is actually a limit to his shenanigans, particularly regarding this new “knockoff” 100% OFA. it will definitely not alleviate any of the discourse, but it’s good for my own peace of mind because it’s solid confirmation that he still needs his pals in order to win this thing

anyway, but on to the rest of this conversation, which is basically Deku deducing what we all deduced last week -- AFO implanted some sort of trap into Nagant when he gave her Air Walk. though I’d still like to get the actual details from AFO and/or Horikoshi, because this was particularly wild even by quirk standards lol

omgggggg

she still has a face after all!! so it’s confirmed, Horikoshi has no idea what “blowing up” actually means. we might have guessed, based on what happened to Toga in the MVA arc, and also based on everything Katsuki does ever, but shhh

so now Hawks is all “NAGANT PLEASE WAKE UP, IF I SHOUT MY NAME AT YOU WILL THAT DO THE TRICK”

this is actually kind of touching though because even though we all know (or most of us acknowledge at any rate) that Hawks is a pretty caring person, it’s rare to see him actually panic over someone’s welfare like this

oh shit Horikoshi is really doubling down on it

I wonder how much Hawks knew about what really happened between Nagant and the HPSC. regardless, he probably sees her as a kindred spirit of sorts, and I’m more than happy for Deku to pass the redemption torch onto him now that he’s on the scene. like no offense Deku but they actually know each other and stuff lol

DAMMIT NAGANT CAN’T YOU SEE HOW LOUD HE IS YELLING

apparently being freed from his HPSC shackles has finally given Hawks the space to embrace his own inner shounen protagonist. is there anything more shounen than trying to motivationally scream someone awake when they’re lying in your arms inches from death?? 100% guaranteed to work

!!! IS THIS NAGANT’S POV OMG

SO SHE IS ALIVE. THANK GOD. Horikoshi doesn’t want to meet with my emotional distress lawyer today after all

love how she’s all “just gonna stir up the weekly Hawks Discourse pot here by implying that he probably committed a lot of Atrocities just like I did, so now people can get all hopped up about that, even though there’s no evidence he’s ever killed anyone aside from that one horrible ‘damned-if-you-do...’ situation with Twice.” no one asked for your provocative speculation young lady!! trust me Nagant, our rabbles don’t need the rousing lol

but nice save there with the “so how are your eyes so untainted” well you see it’s because even when he was following the HPSC’s orders he always went to great lengths never to go against his own moral compass. which just to be clear was incredibly difficult, and led to a ton of pain and suffering on his part, because the life of a spy is basically just one impossible situation after another. but in spite of that he never stopped trying to do his best to help people. I don’t really know where this tangent came from or is leading to, lol, but anyway p.s.a. I love Hawks a lot and he’s a good kid dammit

oh shit??!?

how is the League always able to swing all these fancy forest mansions. where do they find them. how many do they have

so Deku’s dropping them -- very roughly, not sure if he was reacting to finally getting AFO’s location, or if his energy really is giving out -- and now Nagant’s saying that AFO hired other villains as well. well of course he did. gotta keep chipping away at OFA’s ninth successor little by little

now Nagant is asking Hawks how he’s able to keep making “that” face. I assume she’s again talking about the fact that he somehow didn’t let the HPSC wear down his spirit

oh my god???

thanks for stuffing this chapter to the brim with good nutritional Hawks Feels, Horikoshi. what a good. he just keeps on trudging forward undeterred no matter what bullshit comes his way. what a steadfast little guy. I WILL PROTECT YOU FROM DISCOURSE MY SWEET SUNSHINE

lmaoooo

“SPOTTED THIS DUDE JUST CHILLING OUT THERE ON THE ROOF WITH NO ARMS, SEEMED PRETTY SUS” good job Endeavor

anyway so you don’t really need me to tell you that Overhaul is immediately starting in with the “BUT THE BOSS WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE ME TO THE BOSS YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD TAKE ME TO THE BOSS” stuff again. but I will go ahead and tell you anyway. so yeah. he’s doing that

OMG YOU GUYS LOOK AT DEKU’S “of all the fucking assholes to just randomly drop in on my life once again why did it have to be you” FACE THOUGH, OMG

fun fact, if you go back to chapters 124 through 160, there was an entire story arc where Overhaul imprisoned and tortured a little girl. yeah, I know!! suuuuuuuuper evil. anyways just an interesting little anecdote for you all that’s somewhat relevant to the current situation

OMG, YES. FUCK YES, DEKU

THEN WHAT ABOUT SPARING ONE FOR HER!!! YES!!! EXACTLY!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SOMEONE GETS IT

HERE’S THE PANEL OF DEKU SAYING THE EXACT SAME THING I’M SAYING LOL

(ETA: so apparently there’s some discourse about this because some people are interpreting this as Deku saying “you should apologize to Eri”, which would obviously be a terrible idea even if Overhaul actually wanted to do that, because Eri shouldn’t ever have to see him again. however I just want to point out that there is a HUGE difference between saying “it would be nice if you could direct that feeling of regret/being sorry towards Eri as well”, vs saying “you should also apologize to her.” all Deku is doing is rightfully pointing out that Overhaul has hurt way more people than just his boss, and if he really is remorseful, then he should extend those feelings of remorse to Eri and the rest as well. it’s not a directive to take any specific action, and I’m 1000% sure no one at U.A. would let Overhaul within 100 miles of Eri ever again.

tl;dr “try feeling remorse sometime” =/= “do you want me to fly you over to U.A. right now to surprise the little girl you traumatized”, lol.)

[slings an arm around Deku’s shoulders] you’re a good kid. I like you. I don’t know if I tell you that enough, but it’s true

meanwhile here is Overhaul’s “spare... a thought... for Eri...???????” face sigh

the struggle is real y’all

(ETA: and that’s... the last we ever saw of Overhaul, I guess? well all right then. I assume Deku will make good on his promise, so we know he’ll get that little bit of closure before going back to jail or whatever, and I confess I’m more than fine with leaving the rest of it open-ended, especially given his character’s history. I think this was pretty generous all things considered.)

lmao holy shit

All Might what did you do to those tiki torch guys?? did you thrash them. did you give ‘em those hands. did you deliver their own asses to them complete with a sticker reminding them Amazon Prime Day is on June 21. we missed out goddammit

so Endeavor, who wasn’t the one he was asking, is telling him that they captured (well let’s be real, Deku captured, give the credit where it’s due) Nagant and Overhaul. and so I guess they’re going to take Nagant to the ER now

fire is no one’s weakness

-- oh my GOD I scrolled down and audibly gasped

[is politely but firmly approached and asked to remove my arm from Deku’s shoulder by the physical manifestation of all this Dekuangst] “we’re sorry, he’s not allowed to have visitors right now” oh shit, my bad. [goes to stand behind a police barricade]

lmao what. did you run out of room on the previous page

what an exaggerated fade to black lmao

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I actually can’t see what he’s reacting to so maybe I’m just seriously jumping the gun here lol, but THE HELL WITH IT. the next panel appears to be a cut to Haibori Forest, so I’m just gonna go ahead and declare that Deku ran off on his own all wounded to go have more Dekuangst, just like I manifested. now go call Katsuki goddammit

[scrolls three more inches down] oh

yeah so like I said, Deku is walking very slowly a few feet in front of Endeavor, who’s telling him to wait up. yep. we’ve all gotta be so careful to not just jump to conclusions. I know we’re excited but still

anyway, so! welcome back to Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods (ARE YOU GUYS DATING) and Edgeshot! have fun walking into this obvious trap lol

dammit Deku why are you so determined to tempt fate

[monkey puppet meme faces]

OH MY GOD THIS IS PURE GRADE-A CHEESY COMIC BOOK VILLAIN 101 SHIT AND I’M HERE FOR IT

that’s such a weird way of clapping who claps like that

unlike certain other people who shan’t be named, AFO doesn’t feel the need to inexplicably take his shirt off when recording sinister villain monologues. I think we’re all pretty grateful for that

high fives to everyone who called it!! yep yep

anyway so this whole scene has major booby-trap vibes, which I’m enjoying immensely even though I don’t think anything is really going to come of it lol. probably just another long-winded AFO Speech. but wouldn’t it be funny if like the ceiling started lowering down to try and squish Deku afterwards lol

(ETA: well the explosion was still pretty funny too ngl.)

ffff

[“Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies]

anyway so yeah. he’s just hitting up all of his usual villain talking points. we get it, you’re so smart and you see right through the thin veneers of society and people who don’t conform are left to fend for themselves and labeled as villains and history is written by the victors, and blah blah blah dude are you just jumping randomly from one soundbyte to another lol. literally what are you talking about. what does this have to do with you blowing up Nagant

-- holy shit??

[”Dekuangst is the trap” intensifies MORE?????]

LOL WHAT

BRO. WHAT IS WITH YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO LAY ANY OTHER KIND OF FUCKING TRAP GOOD LORD

“YOU’RE NEXT” THE CALLBACK?? THE PARALLELS?? THOUGH WHEN ALL MIGHT POINTED HE MADE IT LOOK WAY COOLER. AFO’S POINTING JUST LOOKS LIKE SMOKEY THE BEAR

HAS ANYONE CHECKED IN ON KAMUI WOODS I HEAR HE IS WEAK TO FIRE?? THE ONLY ONE WHO IS, APPARENTLY

r.i.p. to this particular forest mansion. don’t worry they have a ton of backups

remember last week when I said maybe AFO thinks explosions are gauche. well never mind. he fucking loves explosions

anyway so that’s the end of BnHA, everyone. hope you enjoyed. it was a good ride while it lasted. see you all, good luck in your travels

#bnha 316 #hawks #takami keigo #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #manifesting 317 opening with a slightly modified version of my previous fantasy scenario lmao #'WHADDYA MEAN THEY BLEW UP THE NERD' #that's *his* job #sorry lol I kid I kid

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

A World-- Certain

dabi / f.reader

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, romance, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out), longing/yearning (teehee)

warning(s): uhh, dabi hits a point where he’s determined to find a way back home or burn the city to the ground trying (is that a warning?), cursing, violence (or dabi punches one cop and sets another on fire- as he should), touya spoilers included? (like kinda minor ones, but you know, just in case), guns/dabi gets shot, sickly-sweet ending don’t worry, tiny mention of death

w.count: 9.8k 

synopsis:  the last thing he remembers, dabi had stepped in to join a rather nasty bar brawl that erupted at your pub one night. he along with a group of other villains who sided with you against a group of villains who weren’t exactly fans of your unground work. when he woke up, he wasn’t in the medical basement like he expected, nor was he at his apartment or yours.  he was in a room he hadn’t seen before. when he leaves to your pub to get some answers, you’re not there. in fact, the entire building was abandoned and rotting.  just what the fuck happened and where was he exactly, because this wasn’t exactly the city he knew anymore. 

a/n: this is the second part to my two parter series, A World--, so be sure to read the first part A World-- Unsure, or else this really won’t make sense LOL.  The concept can be kinda confusing already, but trust me- it’ll make sense aldfkasd. Enjoy! 

also! since @lildockel​ asked to be tagged when part two went up, here is it!!

After seeing his white hair,  and feeling how healthy the strands felt between his fingers, instead of the damaged, overly dyed black mess it all used to be, Dabi raced back into the bar.  Rushing up the steps into the abandoned apartment as he looked around.  Rushing to a mirror still hanging just barely on a nail, he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe it of dust and cobwebs before ripping off his jacket entirely and tossing it to his feet. 

He hadn’t realized it before since he never kept a habit of looking at his scarred and damaged body, but now as he stood in front of the mirror in the shirt he woke up in, he noticed the scars that he knew crawled over almost every inch of his body had changed.  

The scars didn’t run up his whole right arm and stopped just at his elbow. His entire left side wasn’t engulfed in purple and staples, but instead ran up his forearm and then just around his shoulder and a patch on his neck.  He reached up over his head and behind his shoulders to grab the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head and off to join his jacket on the floor before he looked at his chest.  The scars that wrapped around his chest before weren’t nearly as bad and turning around to his back, he could see more skin than scars now.  

He could feel the draft of the empty apartment on his skin, something he hadn’t been able to do in a long time. 

He knew that each time he over used his quirk he would cause himself harm.  His tolerance to the cold took a harsh toll on him since his quirk was heat based- he wasn’t built to handle heat as well as he should be with a quirk like his father’s.  

He brushed his hand through his hair again as he stumbled around, head spinning to keep up with what the hell could be happening.  The world was almost the same, but everything just felt different because of things that weren’t supposed to be.  He snatched his phone from the pocket of his discarded jacket, trying again to call your number.  It was there, clearly imputed with his information and call history, but just as before he was met with an automated message.

Your apartment wasn’t here, your bar wasn’t either and your phone number was nonexistent.  It was like you didn’t exist at all. 

Dabi moved back to sit against the wall that was across the room from the mirror, just so he could keep an eye on his reflection to help process exactly what was happening.  He was no fool, and he could figure out that the world he knew was different from this one.  

He sat on the ground as he thought.  His hand came to rest over his neck, thinking back to the dart that was shot into him back at the bar.  It was too convenient that he got shot with it then woke up in some weird- what he can only assume is- parallel world. A world exactly like the other, with just a few things altered. 

Rather, the longer he sat in thought, the longer he thought that maybe it wasn’t a parallel world he was in, but actually a dream.  The last thing he remembered was passing out covering you, so maybe the needle he was shot with put him into a dream. 

He tested out his quirk, letting his hand be engulfed in fire before diminishing it, finding it worked exactly like it had before; so, he was in a world where quirks still existed at the very least.  He wondered if the him he had become was still a villain, and if he was, then was he with the league? What was the actual year he woke up in? Was it parallel to the original timeline, or was it ahead? Delayed maybe?  

The date on his phone lined up to the next day after the bar fight, but his phone also still had your number in it that didn’t seem to exist, so he didn’t trust his phone as much as he wanted to be able to. 

Thumbing through his phone’s contacts, he wondered if he should try calling a different number.  There was always a league member, but which one.  He wouldn’t be caught dead calling Twice for answers and he didn’t really trust Toga’s tendency to go off on a tangent to get a straight answer out of her.  Spinner wouldn’t have been a bad idea since he kept shit short, but he didn’t answer his phone for fuck. Maybe Magne? Though, he didn’t really want to call her, felt like if he did, he’d be imposing on her ‘me’ time.  

By the end of his mental checklist, he was stuck between Shigaraki or Compress. He didn’t think Kurogiri even owned a phone, or else he’d dial him first. Sighing, he pushed his thumb against Compress’s contact.  He didn’t want to deal with Shigaraki if he could avoid it- at least not yet. 

The line rang out loud when Dabi put the phone on speaker and with a few more rings, the line picked up.  It was a strange wave of relief when he heard the man with a thing for theatrics address Dabi by name when he picked up. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed. There was an air of silence before Dabi spoke again, hearing Compress on the other line clear his throat in anticipation.  “Okay, this may sound like complete bullshit, but hear me out for a second.” 

Dabi unloaded the entire situation he suddenly found himself in to Compress as well as asked any questions he felt he needed to know the answers to, to get up to speed on exactly what kind of dream he ended up in. He was on the phone with the masked villain for almost an hour before the call ended with Dabi understanding things just a bit more. 

In this world, he was still indeed a villain, but his face was kept under wraps. Dabi wasn’t presumed dead as Touya Todoroki, but rather disregarded his birth name for the alias just because he wanted to.  His real name wasn’t a secret like it was in reality, that was why he didn’t have black hair- because if his identity wasn’t a secret, there was no point in dying it to stay hidden. But, he wasn’t as flashy a villain here, so no one really know who he was anyway.

In this dreamscape, Touya Todoroki never died, but ran from his home and betrayed his family after finally having enough of his father. Working now as a criminal, he stayed on the downlow side of society. 

Things were more or less still the same otherwise.  It was just his background and you that was truly different.  Dabi sat and stared at his reflection wondering if you really existed here- and if you didn’t he wondered if that was partially his fault. 

When he was at the bar, he had previously resolved himself into drifting away from you and the feelings you had towards him.  Was it his stubbornness to get away from you what caused you to not be here? Or were you here in this world, but as someone completely different than the Y/n he knew?  Could you exist with a whole different personality? Were you a hero? A villain? Or maybe still just a regular citizen?

Dabi immediately wanted to start looking for you, but with everything linked to you not even existing, he didn’t know where to start. Typing your name into his phone’s searching engine did nothing to help as nothing about you was listed anywhere.  Okay, so you weren’t famous, or infamous in any sense so you had to be just a regular, everyday person? Right?   

Sighing, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think. He could always ask one of his connections to start looking for you in his stead. Then, his eyes opened again as he scowled- once again growing irritated.  Why was he putting your whereabouts above trying to figure out how to get back- or wake up? He had unconsciously put you above how to get out of this dream.

Bringing a curled fist to rest against the side of his head, he hissed through his teeth.  

“God dammit.” 

-x-x-x-

It was Dabi’s second day in this dreamscape he started calling it.  It was a strange feeling, being inside of a dream yet still having the ability to fall asleep and wake up again.  He sat on his bed of his apartment he owned in this dreamscape and sighed.  It was a far cry from his place in reality, tucked and hidden away from main streets and curious eyes. This place was just off a busy street and when he hung out the window to smoke, people were walking two stories below- just minding their day.  

Puffing out a plume of cigarette smoke, he heard his phone ping from inside on the desk sat in the bedroom.  He would always mentally correct himself into saying ‘his’ instead of acting like this place was some random hole in the wall.  It was his- as far as he knew. He left his cigarette perched on the window sill, going to his phone and yanking it off the charger to see a text from Shigaraki. 

Compress had blabbed to the leader of this dream’s League of Villains about Dabi’s little breakdown of what he believed was a dream.  Seeing the text of ‘you still high, or you coming to work or not?’ made his lips twitch.  He wasn’t high and he hadn’t been high; then again, it wouldn’t be any version of Shigaraki unless he was mocking Dabi for something.  In this case, it was Dabi’s die hard claim of this dreamscape being a false reality. 

When Dabi stopped to think about it, he could understand where everyone was coming from.  For all he knew, this body- the body of Touya- was a completely different person in this reality and Dabi’s personality just manifested into it.  He ran his fingers through his white hair and groaned, annoyed at the situation. 

“Fucking parallel universes and their stupid ass rules.” 

He sent a reply back to the leader- well, it was just a middle finger emoji- and abandoned his phone to go finish his cigarette before it burned away on its own, unattended.  

Once he burned through the toxic stick, he snuffed it out on a glass ashtray he kept on the small balcony just outside the window and retreated back inside his room.  Reaching up and over his head behind him, he gripped the back of his shirt and tugged it off, shaking his already messy hair out before he started to change.  

It was odd seeing a full closet of clothes instead of like the five whole outfits he would interchange on a day-to-day basis before cleaning them and repeating the process.  In reality, he had no use for everyday clothes since he was always wearing his villain gear or lounging around in close to nothing at his apartment.  Though, he did remember that you had bought him clothes to keep at your place, so he did have more- just never wore them because he thought it was weird you were buying clothes for him. 

You claimed it was so he would stop walking around in nothing but boxers or tank tops in your house, but he didn’t buy that excuse. He saw it as something to intimate; too close to a bond he was too afraid to acknowledge. 

Pulling on a grey shirt and black pants- him being the most comfortable in his safe feeling monochromatic wardrobe- he tugged on a jacket and flipped the hood up.  At this point it was a habit to try and conceal himself now- even if he probably didn’t need to in this dreamscape reality. 

Leaving the room and soon the apartment, he was soon pulling his phone from his jacket pocket and seeing an incoming call from the hand-freak himself.  Groaning, he contemplated denying the call, but if this Shigaraki was anything like the one he knew, he'd just blow up his phone in retaliation.  So, reluctantly, he picked up. 

“What?” 

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Where are you?” His tone was impatient and gruff. “You need to get to the bar, we have work to do, dammit.” 

“I’m workin’ on it, calm the hell down.” The low murmurs of the daily street this early in the morning with people making their daily commute to wherever the hell they were on their way too was just enough to make Dabi’s scarred skin crawl.  He always tried to avoid crowded areas in the past for numerous reasons, not just for the sake of his identity.  

However, it was easy to navigate the streets since they were exactly the same as he remembered from his reality. The more he was here, the more he came to the realization that everything was the same besides him and you- or lack thereof. 

Hearing Shigaraki bitch and moan on the other end of the line, Dabi sighed and pulled the phone from his ear and promptly hung up the call before he shoved his phone back into his pocket- but not before putting it on ‘do not disturb’, so even if the annoyance he calls a boss calls him back, he wouldn’t know. 

Not too long later, the pyro was walking into the bar, seeing the leader annoyingly tapping his fingers on the bar one at a time in succession as he seemed to be calming down from a temper tantrum.  A temper tantrum that Dabi was most certainly the cause of. 

“It’s about time,” the leader hissed as Dabi promptly ignored him, only giving him a tut in response to his neediness. Flipping off his hood and messing around his hair to feel less matted from the hood’s previous pressure, he moved to the back of the bar and plopped himself down into a booth. “I said we need to get to work,” Shigaraki started complaining, “not take a breather because you couldn’t show up on time.” 

“Spare me the bitching, oh-so-fearsome-leader,” Dabi waved off lazily with his hand flopping back and forth on his wrist. If Shigaraki hadn’t had his father’s hand on his face, Dabi probably would have seen the scowl painted beneath it. 

It was silent for a beat, with the two of them and Kurogiri only being present in the bar at the moment.  

“Is your attitude still shitty because you’re convinced this is one big fever dream? Because, if you’re stoned or drunk, I’d really rather you not mess up our jobs and go away.” 

“If this is your form of concern, you’re shitty at it,” Dabi rebutted. “I already told you, I’m as sober as a rock, so hop off. If you were in my place, you wouldn’t be slap-happy either.” 

All day long, Dabi had to deal with orders being barked at him before he eventually went out on his own to look for possible new villains to recruit for the cause.  He was hardly being mindful, low-level thugs weren’t cut out to join the ranks and anyone else just annoyed him. When he finally had enough and called Shigaraki that he was finishing up for the day, he just hung up without getting a proper ‘okay’ and stared at himself in the reflection of a window in an alleyway. 

He raised his lip in annoyance as his reflection that he wasn’t familiar with anymore.  Who he was looking at wasn’t Dabi, but Touya. The Touya who was dead until he decided otherwise, the Touya who looked too much like his parents.  His previous red hair that faded to match his mother and his eyes that were copies of his fathers. 

On his way back to the apartment he stopped by a general store and picked up two boxes of hair dye.  That evening, when he finished showering, he ran his hand across the width of his steam fogged mirror and looked at his new reflection.  He let an awkward smile breach his face as he looked at his pitch-dyed hair. 

“That’s better,” he mused, walking out of the bathroom to just put on a pair of boxers, lay in bed and think. Think more about how he could leave this dreamscape all before he passed out, closing his eyes on his second day in a dream. Maybe he’d ask the league members to keep their eyes and ears out tomorrow for you, since the sooner he can figure out what’s happened with you in this place, the sooner he’ll be to a solution… probably? 

-x-x-x-

Day after day passed and Dabi found himself less and less sure of anything.  When he first came here, he was aware that everything was fabricated and fake- nothing was truly real since he distinctly remembered his life before all this happened.  

Now, a month has passed and everyday when he wakes up, he feels more fussy than the day before.  His mind and memories feel like their blurring and he started waking up and writing down small memos on post-it notes just to try and get a semblance of reality again.  He wondered if one day he’d wake up and see all his notes, just to throw them away because they would have no meaning to that ‘him’. 

The thought irked him. He was himself, Dabi knew that, but he felt like he was losing it. 

He had woken up today with his head pounding.  Leaning over the side of his bed, he held his forehead in his palms as he squeezed his eyes shut.  Pushing the heels of his palm into his eyes, he could see the splotches of darkness coat his closed eyes from the presssure. He groaned, head even more hazier than the day before.  

Dabi felt like he was forgetting something.  

Getting up, he threw on whatever was hanging on the back of his chair in his room and flipped on the hood of whatever jacket he grabbed and left.  He wasn’t called to the league just yet, so who knows if he even needed to go today, but maybe being at the bar would jog his memory.  Just maybe it would clear his mind- somehow. 

When he walked into the bar, he immediately made a beeline to the booth in the back as he laid down, sprawling out across the red velvet booth and covered his eyes with his forearm.  One of his legs propped up on the booth while the old hung lazily to the floor, his other arm rest on his chest, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath.  

If he just lay here long enough, something was bound to spark something in him, right? After all, he was in a bar.  

A bar? What does a bar have to do with anything? 

He grit his teeth when he heard the door to the bar open, someone walking in. Whoever it was, they had decided to waltz over to Dab and sit themselves on the short coffee table in front of the booth. 

“The fuck do you want?” He growled, a small whistle and the smell of smoke greeted him in the form of a hearty chuckle, one that made him irk. 

“My, someone’s grumpy today, isn’t he?” Hearing Giran’s smoke laden voice first thing after laying down really wasn’t how Dabi wanted to start his day.  Moving his arm just enough to peer over his arm with a glare, the villain broker raised his hands in mock surrender, a half smoked cigarette between his lips. “Easy there, I’m not looking for a scuffle this early in the morning.” 

“Yeah? Then leave me alone or else I’m going to set you on fire.” With another chuckle from the broker and no movement of him leaving his place on the table, Dabi groaned.  Moving his arm, he ran his hand over his face before he reluctantly sat up and rubbed the back of his head, his tangles of unbrushed black hair snagging between his fingers.  He glared at the tooth-gapped man with a smoking habit worse than his own.  “What?” He growled. 

Giran dug around in the inside pocket of his tacky blazer before he presented Dabi with a pocketbook.  The scarred pyro looked at the blank book before looking back up to Giran’s face, his brows turned up in questioning.  

“The fuck is that for?” 

“That, my dear Touya,” hearing the broker sing-song Dabi’s real name made him bark at him in warning to never do it again, one that Giran promptly ignored, “is everything I could dig up on that little lady you asked me about a couple weeks ago.” 

“Lady?” Dabi’s brows furrowed, his headache spiking again. 

“I gotta say, I’m not usually one for such slow work, but with the villain count spiking, I’m a busy man.  I got a lot on my plate, so I had to put your little search on the back burner.” Tossing the pocketbook onto Dabi’s lap, one of his scarred hands immediately held it to his leg to keep it from bouncing off his leg onto the floor.  Giran then stood, stuffing his hands into his equally tacky trousers.  “A man as busy as me has things to do, so I’ve gotta bounce.  Talk to me again if you need anything else.” Giran turned but stopped short, swiveling to look at Dabi once more. ”Oh and as for that woman’s whereabouts, don’t be so bummed when you read about it.” 

Dabi watched Giran leave the bar about as quickly as he came in, the smell of smoke the only lingering thing indicating that he was even there to begin with  Well, that and the pocketbook Dabi held in his hands.  He eyed it with narrow eyes and knit brows. 

“Lady? What lady was I-?” He cut himself off as he just shut his eyes and tossed the book onto the coffee table where Giran had previously sat. 

All morning, Dabi kept to himself on his booth, just lounging and laying around.  Every time someone went towards him he’d growl at them, not like it did anything to deter them away regardless. However, if someone even though about touching the pocketbook, he’d sit up and snatch it away and stuff it under his legs or his back or his head- just away from their grabby hands.  Whatever info was in there, they didn’t need to pry into his business.  

It was well into the afternoon when Dabi had his fill of the noise that only got louder over time in the bar and dismissed himself, leaving as he heard Toga calling out behind him before going back to whatever the hell she had been doing.  

The pocketbook was in his hands folded to rest against the inside of his wrist as he walked around the streets, not wanting to go home, but not wanting to be nowhere.  His desire to be somewhere, along with his annoyance accompanying that desire- but, not having any idea on where to be- unconsciously lead him down roads and through alleys to a run down, abandoned building. 

“A bar?” He questioned himself out loud, not knowing why this place seemed familiar to him.  He felt like he should know this place, but it felt like the way it was right now- run down and in shambles- was wrong.  His head ached and he found himself climbing through a busted window to get inside.  

Dust plumed under his boots when he landed inside the place.  He began to wander around, dragging his hands along walls, kicking rubble with the toes of his boots, scanning the falling apart shelves that barely hung on the walls. Moving to the back room past the vacant kitchen covered in dust and smelling like the inside of a mechanical pencil, he placed his hand on a wall next to a staircase that led upwards away from the other empty rooms.

“This wall,” his eyes narrowed in both pain from his pounding head and his fuzzy recollection, “shouldn’t be here. Isn’t there supposed to be a door?” His palm that was flat against the wall curled into a fist, his knuckles pushing against the cold stone.  “A door? Why would I-” 

Dabi silenced himself as he snatched his hand away from the wall as if the structure was suddenly covered in some sort of burning acid.  

“Fuck this,” he growled.  He turned his back to the wall, ready to leave and clear his head, but stopped as soon as he went to take a step out.  He glanced up the stairs before his feet started taking him up them, entering the would-be apartment through the rotting, crooked door. 

He stood in the middle of the space that would be a small living room, his headache dulling, but just faintly.  The feeling in the pit of his stomach clawed and deep in his head screamed that he was forgetting something; something important. 

He pushed the pad of his thumb into the crease of his forehead, between his furrowed brows. Something was missing, wrong, just not fucking right here.  Pushing his thumb harder against his skull, he tried blocking everything out and picking at every corner of his brain he could to think for a moment. 

‘You keep doing that, you’ll put a dent in your head’

Dabi’s eyes shot open, breath catching in his throat as he swallowed back a cough from the sudden intake of breath. His hands dropped from his head to hover in front of him, elbows tucked by his sides. His senses were alert as he whipped around, looking around the empty apartment space. 

“Who’s there?!” He shouted, his echoing voice bouncing back to him as he listened for any sounds to give away who he may have heard.  

He heard someone- a woman- as clear as day.  It seemed to echo- but given the empty room, it wouldn’t be shocking for voices to carry and bounce like that, after all his did.  Standing in silence, he heard absolutely nothing.  No breathing, no sounds of movement, no more voices.  Just silence surrounded him- and a slight ringing in his ears.  

The moment he started to settle down, thinking it was all in his head- which thrilled him- again, the same voice echoed around the room. 

‘Don’t just take up space you- actually, take up as much space as you want if you heat the place up. My heater just went out, so come on Space-Heater, hop to it’

He started to think a league member was toying with him. Did someone from the bar follow him? Was this a quirk to dick him around for a lark? Then, he remembered the pocketbook. 

It had been in his free hand the whole time, but he had forgotten about it. He quickly flipped it open and inside were small clippings and photos of a woman taped inside. Like some cryptid profile in a recluses dairy; much like Giran’s shady, handiwork to be expected. 

The more he flipped through the pages and read, the more his head pounded. 

‘Dabi’ 

The voice called him by name as he dropped the pocketbook. Spinning around with a waft of blue fire coming out of his arm in sheer instinct to protect himself from whatever may be around him.  The voice ignited his fight or flight and Dabi was never one to run, ever a fighter.  Fleeing wasn’t in his nature- not even when he was a child. 

‘Was it too trouble to keep remembering?’ 

“Who the fuck are you? Where are you hiding?!” 

‘You rejected me to this extent? That you forgot me entirely? Is this really your dream?’ 

… Dream? 

His eyes widened before he looked back down to the open pocketbook at his feet.  It lay pages facing up, open on a page he hadn’t yet read. His fire simmered and he starred down at the open spread. Slowly kneeling, he gently ran his fingers over the clippings and the single picture on the opposing page. 

It was a photo of a gravestone. 

The date of death wasn’t that far back; rather, it was pretty damn recent. This person, this woman, was dead? 

Dabi felt small flames lick at the scars under his eyes as he stared down unblinking. 

“Y/n?” 

It all hit him like a bus. The memories he had slowly forgotten about came back to him and it knocked the breath from his chest.  He stood to his feet and rushed downstairs, leaving the pocketbook in the empty apartment he finally remembered was supposed to be yours.  On the way down to the bar, he nearly tripped on the stairs before he stood behind the bar top and looked out into the room.  

Was it always this hard to breath? 

Was all this his fault? 

He remembered the emotions he used to push all the way down into his gut.  Did his want to put distance between the two of you kill you in this dreamscape? This fake reality?

For a time, he forgot about time itself as he sat on the floors of the once lively bar he remembered.  He ran you- your name, your face, your voice, your stupidly good heart, everything- on repeat in his head to ensure his memory wouldn’t slip away from him again.  He was just a breathing corpse, or so he felt like. He didn’t even feel like smoking for once, even if his stress was through the roof. 

His eyes flicked up when the rusted, busted doors of the trashed building opened to see two figures enter. The sun had long since set and the only light in the room now was two bright flashlights searching and finding his slouched body under the bar, facing the door.  

From the shadows casted by the flashlights and the figures outlines, he could see two policemen in front of him. His eyes traveled away from them down to his palms, irritation flooding his head at their intrudance to his safe space. 

“Hey!” One cop called to him, making their way towards his floor-slumped body, careful not to trip. 

Was it his fault? 

“This is private property.” 

Did you end up a dead stranger because he kept pushing you away? 

“Sir, you need to leave immediately.”

Why was this bothering him so fucking much? 

“Can you hear me?” 

He was brought out of his self pity when the cop who now stood next to him had gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet.  Dabi’s body was still slack, not putting in too much effort to keep himself upright.  He felt his back dig into the bar behind him, the only thing beside the cop tightly gripping his arm, holding him up. 

Had he ever felt his miserable before, beside back when-

“Sir!” Dabi winced when the cop damn near shouted in his ear.  He wasn’t some old man. He could hear perfectly fine.  His scarring on his ears hadn’t made him deaf. 

“-off me,” Dabi muttered.  The cop not hearing him, asked him to repeat himself.  Dabi’s lethargic face tensed in fury as he ripped his arm out of the policeman’s grasp and brought his other arm up to knock his fist into the cop’s jaw.  “Get the fuck off me!” He yelled.  

The cop dropped his flashlight as he fell to the ground, half out of it from the way Dabi punched his jaw- nearly knocking him completely out.  The other was quick to draw his gun and point it at the villain, but it wasn’t quick enough.  

Dabi was no fool.  The moment he knocked the first cop on his ass, he knew the second would act.  Grabbing the wrist of the second one as he tried pointing his gun towards him, Dabi twisted the policeman's wrist, disarming him and shoving his head through the small window in the front entrance. 

He didn’t need light to see that the cop he held against the door, head just barely through a window, was bleeding.  Dabi had turned him around, keeping one of his hands on one of the cop’s arms behind his back and the other on his head, keeping him uncomfortably pushed against the glass frame, nou doubt cutting up his skin further.

“You think you scumbags can just waltz in here and disrupt me? I happened to be in the middle of fuckin’ something.” 

“B-but,” the cop he held captive began to try and argue, “this is private property!” He gasped. 

Dabi’s eyes rolled in annoyance.  “I don’t give a shit,” he seethed before his palms ignited.  The policeman’s head was soon engulfed in blue fire as well as his wrist before his clothes ignited as well and the entire man was on the ground, a dead, burning mess.  

The smell was familiar to him- the first familiar thing he’s felt in a while.  He left the bar behind him, the space being intruded by law enforcement made it feel different.  It wasn’t his space anymore.  As he made his way down the street at the dead of night, he soon heard sirens and screeching of tires making their way down streets.  Looking behind him, in the dark, clouded night sky, he saw outlines of smoke and fire in the distance.  

“Looks like the building is gonna burn down,” he spoke to himself before he made his way further down the street.  Passing a random building he didn’t even know, he reached his hand out and ignited it, setting drapes and signs on fire.  

As he made his way down roads, he set building after building, house after house on fire.  Soon, he stood at the end of the main street, blue on either side of the road and screaming from inside the buildings.  People scrambling to get into the open, the panic of being in the middle of a blazing area with no idea on how the fire started. 

It was pure hysteria. 

People ran past him standing still on the sidewalk. Everyone was terrified and panicked as he didn’t seem at all bothered by anything happening. He stared blankly, uninterested with his hands in his pockets as he just gazed at his flames that ate everything it touched and spread like a plague.  

As he stared, losing track of time once more, he felt something push against the back of his neck.  He smiled, knowing the feel of a gun all too well.  

“I guess not knocking you out worked in your favor, huh?” He knew it was the cop he clocked in the jaw at your bar.  

By the time the firey lump of his coworker started eating the building, he probably regained enough sense to leave the building and chase him down.  Not in time to spare the buildings and homes being eaten alive by his fire, but in time to threaten him just when he was ready to start enjoying the show. 

“Sorry about your pal,” Dabi chided, “but he said a lot of shit that just pissed me off? I mean, private property? Come on.” The villain didn’t turn to look at the cop, just felt the man push the gun’s tip against his scarred neck further.  “Don’t tell me you’re gun shy? Come on, pull the trigger.” 

His self-destructive words were absolutely insane, urging the man with a gun at his neck to shoot him? It wasn’t like Dabi expected the cop to not have the balls, he knew cops and they didn’t care what they had to do to keep villains at bay.  Dabi had just set fire to everything, the entire world in his vision burning as he spoke- that only was enough proof to the cop he was indeed a villainous man. 

“It’s not my place to judge-” 

“The fuck it isn’t!” Dabi laughed, whirling around and taking hold of the front of the gun and pushing it against his chest. “Pull the trigger you pathetic excess of a protector of the public!” 

Maybe it was his words, his temptation to espcae this fake reality oozing out, his insane smile that pulled at the staples across his face or maybe it was just the policeman’s sudden decision- but the trigger was pulled and Dabi, felt for just a moment, a bullet tear through his chest. 

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s eyes cracked open, vision blurry as he stared at a ceiling.  His mind was fuzzy and his head pounded with a headache he immediately took to noticing, even if he had just opened his eyes moments ago.  

He felt something behind his head, something covering his body and heard noises of machines humming besides where he was laying.  Annoyed he was on his back, he groaned, but found his throat drier than desert sand and grumbled to clear it.  His body felt heavy and weak as he started to slowly move around on the bed he rested on. 

His knees lifted, feet moving as his heels dug into the mattress to push his weak feeling legs up and his arms moved to brace into the mattress to try and lever his body up.  After a bit of a fight with his own body, he managed to sit up and his eyes finally focused from their blurriness.  

He looked around seeing equipment attached to his arm and patches on his chest that linked to a machine that showed his heartbeat.  His chest was bare as he wasn’t wearing his normal jeans, but grey sweats that he didn’t remember actually owning before.  

He groaned, his hand coming to push against his head.  The headache combined with his confusion was making him feel nauseous.  What happened? Had he been somewhere before this? Where was he? 

Looking around the small room he was in by himself again, he started to slowly remember.  He remembered the dream- his dream- and the dream he had forgotten wasn’t actual reality. Dabi remembered being shot. His heartbeat started to quicken when he started to finally take in the familiarity of the room and it’s concrete walls.  

Pulling the patches off his chest, he fumbled with whatever was in his arm and took it out.  The scars he was familiar with ran across his body in large proportions and the bangs that hung in front of his eyes were a dark, dyed black.  

He felt around his staples on the back of his hands and felt around his stomach and chest, tracing the large scars he knew were the real ones.  He pushed his hand through his hair and felt the strands just as he truly remembered. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, moving to swing his legs over the bed and lean into his knees, hunching over as he brought his hands to his forehead- relieved. “I’m back.” 

He sat in his own silence and relief to be in a world that finally felt right as he tried regaining himself.  He remembered the dream he was stuck in and remembered the lack of your presence- your death in that place.  His eyes widened as he stared at the ground before he lifted his head up. 

You.

He stood to his feet quickly, but immediately teetered and fell to his ass on the floor.  He hissed, angry at how weak his legs felt.  He must’ve been sleeping for way too long if his damn legs didn’t want to work. 

Dabi growled as he used the bed to get back to his feet and took more cautious steps towards the door to leave the room he was in.  The open basement waiting area was empty and dim, not currently being in use. 

Using the wall, he ambled the perimeter of the room to come to the stairs that lead to the bar- the bar he was sure was there. The bar that he missed and that bar that didn’t exist in his previous dream without you. 

It took Dabi far longer than he’d like to admit to get his legs to climb the stairs, even if they were starting to gather more strength the longer he was awake and the longer he forced them to move and do as he commanded.  It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as hard as when he originally woke up. 

Getting up to the door, he unlocked it before he practically fell through the frame when it opened.  Stumbling in, he shut it behind him and leaned his back against it to catch his breath.  He stopped and stood still, seeing the doorway into the bar’s kitchen and beyond it.  He had to make sure, he had to confirm this was real. 

Ambling his way through the space he knew so well, he came out of the back and smirked when he leaned against the doorframe and looked out into your bar.  The tables were empty and polished, chairs pushed in neatly and booths clean.  He saw the rec room beyond its own doorway and sighed.  

“It’s here,” laughed weakly to himself. “It’s all back.” His legs felt tired as he moved around the bar to slide into the barstool he always sat in.  Letting his legs rest, he rested his elbow on the bar top and pushed one hand into his hair to hold his head and the other arm stayed on the bar.  He began to replay all the memories he had here that he almost completely forgot in his dream.  

What would happen if he let that dream consume him? What if he eventually accepted that dream as reality? Would he have forgotten about you like he almost did? would he had died or just slept until he was old and grey? He didn’t know and he didn’t honestly want to think about it. 

He missed the polished scent of your pub instead of the dusty, rotten one of the abandoned building in his dream.  He felt his shoulder tense when he heard the pub entrance open behind his back.  Swiveling just a bit to view the door under his hand that partially covered his vision and his black bangs, his eyes widened at seeing you enter. 

You were carrying bags in your arms, head down as you worked on shutting the door and relocking it.  You hadn’t even seen him yet, eyes focusing on other things and the task of shutting your door and relieving your arms of the weight of whatever you had just gone out and bought. 

He heard you sigh and he mimicked the sound silently.  It felt like it had been so long since he heard you.  You dropped the bags to your feet, rotating your shoulders to give your arms a break from how long you were carrying them. Dabi could tell from the way you stretched and rolled your neck that you were tired.  

His breath stuttered when you turned and your chin came up, eyes finally finding the body sitting at your bar.  It took you just a beat to realize that it wasn’t just some stranger who had broken into your closed pub in broad daylight. 

You were about as frozen as he was as your jaw dropped, making your mouth go slightly agape.  He couldn’t blame you, he guessed. He lifted his head from his hand and gave you a weak, tired smirk. 

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” 

You were soon tripping over your bags and rushing to his place at the bar, your hands grabbing his shoulders and pushing him from his slouched position into one that was straighter.  You twisted his stool and made him face you as you leaned him back to rest on the bar and inspected him. 

Dabi inspected you in the same manner.  

He watched as you silently, but frantically pushed your hands across his body.  His bare chest was warm and every touch of your fingers made him feel hot. it was like you were confirming that he was real and not some delusion you had made up from stress. He would do that same after the you-less dream he had been succumbed to for fuck-knows how long now, but your warm touch was too comforting- too real to be a just another dream. 

Dabi could see your eyes slick over as you just kept trying to silently convince yourself he was in front of you.  He furrowed his brows- you hadn’t looked at his face since you saw him and you weren’t saying anything.  It irritated him. 

The pyro snatched your roaming wrists in his hands as you jolted and went completely still.  

“Fuckin’ look at me,” he demanded, his impatience getting the best of him.  Slowly, your head lifted and you did.  He could see the tears brimming your eyes and he briefly wondered if you could even see him clearly with all those tears in the way of your vision. “Now, talk to me.” 

Your mouth fell open, but snapped shut again. Only small sounds coming out. What could you say? You had no idea how to form words in the given situation.  What should you say? Ask him how he feels, ask him how he woke up and if he was okay? Ask him why the hell the first thing he did was get up out of bed and come to the bar? 

“Let me make this easy,” he told you, a scowl still on his scarred face. He brought one of his hands up to the cup under your jaw, his thumb and fingers pushing your cheeks to make your lips purse , your chin rest in his palm.  “Can’t talk? Fine; then just say my name, it should be easy.” 

You swallowed. One word, just two short syllables long, that’s it.  It really should be easy.  Opening your mouth, you did your best to force your locked up voice out. 

“Dabi?” You questioned, your brows quirking up as he chuckled, smirking down at you. 

“Atta girl,” he whispered before he brought his lips down onto the ones he had pushed out so invitingly to himself.  You found your head spinning when Dabi’s hand that held your cheeks and under your jaw, pulled your mouth open so he could push his tongue inside to tangle around yours. 

The entire time he roamed your mouth, his eyes stayed open and on yours.  Your small huffs of shock dwindled as your wide eyes started to narrow and drop to a lid as your tense body finally slackened.  

This is what woke him up- what had him remember, not being shot.  His want to be around you, to taste you for the first time and to smell your scene again. Drawing his tongue out of your mouth, he peppered your flushed cheeks and the corner of your lips with small pecks, before greedily taking your lips again.  Every time you tried pulling away from him- to get some answers no doubt- he didn’t let you get far as he kept chasing after your lips. 

Your taste was so fuckin’ addicting, he almost growled. 

Lifting himself up from his barstool, he had forgotten that his legs were weak and he found himself immediately releasing your lips and losing his balance.  Grabbing your shoulder and arm to try and keep his balance, you squawked, not ready to hold his weight and you both tumbled to the tile. 

You groaned as the man lay on top of you, his arms laying outstretched on either side of your head with his chin next to your neck.  When he didn’t move, you brought one of your hands to his back and tapped him gently. 

“Uh, Dabi?” You felt his breathing against your own as he just hummed signally that he didn’t just pass out..  “Think you can get off me?” Your voice was weak and without even looking at you, Dabi could imagine the flush that most definitely painted your cheeks a vibrant red. 

“No, I don’t think I can,” he chuckled. He felt you fight under him, your arms pushing against his side before you lifted him just a bit before pushing him and sliding yourself out from under him.  He groaned. “Fuck, you should treat a patient with more care.” 

“Oh, sorry,” you panicked as you were soon grabbing his arm and throwing it over your shoulder and heaving him up.  You looked back to your bags of groceries before deeming Dabi’s overall health top priority. You were ready to take him back downstairs to the basement when he stopped you, his free hand shooting out to grab a door frame and keep you from proceeding.  

“No,” he denied.  “Upstairs. I want to be in your place instead.” 

“What? But, Dabi, you’re-”

“I’m fine,” he bit.  He couldn’t just outright say that he missed your apartment, especially right to your face.  “Just, take me up there instead.” In the end, that stupidly good heart of yours relented and obeyed his request.  

Dabi felt like he just reached nirvana when you helped sit him down on your couch.  His arms lifted to the back of the couch instinctive and he dropped his head back and shut his eyes, taking in the newfound comfort. He could feel you stand in front of him before he felt the cushion next to him dip, informing him that you had just sat next to him.  He could feel your concerned eyes burn into the side of his face. 

“You don’t need to stare.” 

“Well, you still need to answer some questions.” 

Dabi peeled his eyes open, as he tilted his head that still rested back on the cushions to look at you. “Ask away.” 

“Okay,” you breathed, not expecting him to be as cooperative. “Well, how do you feel?” 

“Better than ever,” your pointed look at his legs made him clear his throat with a chuckle. “Better than ever with a bit of a balance problem.” 

“And your neck? Does that hurt?” 

“Nope.” 

“What about your head, any headaches or eye strain?” 

“Had a headache when I woke up, pretty much gone now.” 

You ran him back and forth about questions of if he was in pain or any discomfort, and while he normally would have found the entire process annoying, he couldn't help but smile through it. Listening to you talk so much made him feel remarkably better. 

“Alright, now for unprofessional questions,” you told him. “Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to go up to the bar as soon as you woke up? I was gone no more than 20 minutes and you somehow climbed your way up there. What if you fell back down the stairs or something?” 

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but when I wake up in a basement, I’d like to get out of it,” he joked.  “I wanted to see the bar anyway.” 

“It’s the same as it’s always been.” 

“Not to me.” 

“What?” Your twisted face that had been chewing him out the past several minutes had softened at his tone.  His joking smirk fell as he looked back at the ceiling and his mouth pressed into a line.  Just remembering that awful dream really pissed him off.  

“What was the quirk I was under?” 

“You,” you started, “you knew you were under the effects of a quirk?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not stupid.” 

“Well, the guy with the needle fingertips is the one who got you in the neck during that brawl, remember?” Dabi nodded. “His needles contain a type of sedative that sends the affected body to sleep and their mind into a created reality of their dreams. I guess you had a dream, huh?” 

“Yeah. A fucking stupid dream where everything was the same expect the important stuff.” 

“Important stuff? Like what exactly?” 

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he decided not to tell you about his identity.  To you he was still just plain Dabi- the Dabi who took Stain’s words to heart and hated this hero-praised society. If he told you who he really was, what if you looked at him differently? So, he kept it to himself. 

“You weren’t there.” You were silent at his side, his gaze moving to focus back on the light fixtures that were turned off above him since the sun was bright enough through the windows to light the living room up.  “When I woke up in that dream, you weren’t there. The bar wasn’t there either, it was just some run down building owned by the city. You didn’t know me in that dream, and you died as a stranger to me in that dream too.”  His eyes lidded as a grim shadow cast over his face.  

“I died? But how-”

“I really don’t want to get into the details.” 

“Oh,” you pushed yourself.  “That makes sense. Sorry for prying.” It was silent for a beat. You looked away from Dabi, glancing around your living room as he watched you from the corner of his vision.  You had stood up from the couch, making him twitch. “I’m going to get you something to drink, you’re probably thirsty.  Since you’re recovering though, I’m gonna make you drink a lot of water.” 

He was content on letting you do what you wanted, but the thought of you leaving his sight for just a moment made his skin crawl.  If you went to the kitchen, you’d be going around a corner and behind a wall, he couldn’t see through walls.  

You got one step from the couch when he snatched your wrist and yanked you over.  Falling back on the cushions, your back was against Dabi’s side where he had snaked his arm around you, keeping you hostage.  

“What are you-?!” Your voice stopped when he dropped his forehead to your shoulder and squeezed you.  

“Don’t leave my sight yet.” 

“Did my disappearance in your dream really bother you that much?” He cursed you for being so perceptive on why he was suddenly so handsy with you. In the past, he tried to be as mindful of your feelings as possible.  He didn’t want to take advantage of your emotions back then, but now it wasn’t quite like before.  

“Yeah, it did.”  His honesty shocked you.  There was no joking undertone and no sound of a smirk on his lips.  It was sincere and it was sad. 

You relaxed against him, raising one of your hands to push through his hair that tickled your neck and cheek.  You wished you had a book or your phone to keep you busy at the very least, but you didn’t. You just traced the design of your apartment’s wallpaper with your eyes, sitting in silence for a while. 

“Hey,” you softly called after a while to test if he had fallen asleep.  You heard him hum behind you. “Is the reason you did what you did in the bar, because I didn’t exist in your dream?” 

Oh fuck. 

He had nearly forgotten that he practically shoved his tongue down your throat not that long ago.  In the past, maybe he would’ve felt bad about doing that; to you in particular- you being his best friend and the same friend who patched him up on the regular and the friend who got rejected by him. But now, he didn’t feel any regret looking back on the deed.  

In fact, the only regret he felt int his moment was the memory of his rejection. 

“Can I take it back?” 

“The kiss?” You croak? “Well, of course you can. I-”

“Not that, you idiot.” 

“What?” 

“That time I told you that I didn’t do relationships, when I rejected you. Can I take that back?” Your silence made his stomach churn.  God, this is why he hated relationships, why he hated fuckin’ feelings.  This is the sole reason he squashed what he felt towards you down into the pit of his stomach. Now it’s all coming back up to burn his throat like a case horrible heartburn. 

“Dabi, this isn’t a joke to me.” 

“I know, I’m not that much of a prick.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“Not to you, I’m not.” The moment you opened your mouth to argue against him again, he bit into your neck, making you squawk and kick your legs out before bopping the top of his head with your hand that had been previously brushing through his hair. Which didn’t help your case, since all it did was knock his teeth into your skin more before he unlatched from you. “Hey,” he spoke as he moved to push his cheek against the top of your head so there was no way you could even get a glance at his face.  “If you think you still like me, then I think I like you too.” 

Dabi felt you start laughing before he heard it.  He felt like he was going to burst into flames as you squirmed around in his arms, laughing like he just told the world's worst dad joke. He pinched into your sides, making you yelp between laughs. When you settled down, you just rested against him willingly and hummed. 

“That’s not how you ask a someone out, Dabi.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” 

“Neither is that.” 

“That’s it,” he finalized with himself as he planted his chin on top of your head with enough force to make you whine in dull pain. “Just for that, I’m not taking you on any good dates. It’s just concrete basements and empty fridges for you.” 

Yu gasp. “That is not how you treat your girlfriend!” 

“I don’t remember asking you to be that to me?” 

“You son of a-”

He pushed a hand over your mouth, muffling you as he felt you smile against his palm.  Tiling your head back to look up and back at him, he pulled his hand away from your lips and pushed a finger in front of his own, shushing you. 

“You sure you want me?” He asked. “Last chance to back out of it.” 

“Well,” you answered, “do really you want me?”

Dabi rolled his eyes. Like he would flake out after all this, you should know better than to ask him something like that.  He was meticulous, he wouldn’t be so certain of something like this if he hadn’t thought it over first.  He’s had his time without you and now he’s gonna make certain that it never happens again. 

“Oh, baby, I only want you.” Your face flushed and he kissed the end of your nose- since your lips were too far away from this angle to reach.  “Now turn around dammit, I want to kiss you properly.” 

That stupidly good heart of yours never fails to listen. 

-END- 

#dabi #bnha #mha #bnha dabi #nha dabi #boku no hero academia #boku no academia fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #dabi fanfiction #dabi fanfic #dabi fic #touya #touya todoroki #dabi au #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi series #dabi x reader #reader insert #x reader #female reader #dabi x y/n

[aknosde]

Okay, you know earlier this week when I dropped a paragraph of a fic? I actually finished it, and the end isn’t the best so I’m posting it here and not on AO3.

Loneliness - (featuring my HoH Percy and Clarisse head cannons)

TW for attempted self harm and a generally bad mental space

Percy’s never really had a mentor. When he was young he was put in a few organizations as a mentee. The type of organizations that are supposed to make things easier on kids like him, brown and black kids with “authority problems”. They never really clicked though, sometimes it was him, a lot of the time it was the supposed mentor. He had never cared much, it’s not like they could help him in a way that mattered.

Then there was Luke. Luke who was tall and strong and quick and really, really, really good with a sword. Maybe some of it was a crush, but he had never met someone who he was so encapsulated by. Luke was cool, intelligent, and good looking. He was everything Percy ever wanted and ever wanted to be.

Luke left a bitter taste in Percy’s mouth and a scar on his hand and a distaste for soda. Luke left Percy with an even quicker brain and a knot in his stomach that turned into a murder plot for his stepfather. He drew Percy in time and time again with a hatred that was laced with unrequited love and left Annabeth with blood stains on her dagger and both of them with salt stains on their cheeks and the taste of ash on their tongues.

After Luke was Beckendorf. Granted Percy had had a bit of a crush on him too. Beckendorf was pure, not in the way some white campers might call Hazel innocent. He was just kind, and genuine, and warm. Percy looked up at Beckendorf, big, strong, brave, caring, and he thought this, this is something I could do. I might not be able to be a big hero, but I can do this. I want this.

Beckendorf left Percy with no body for the shroud to cover. He left Percy with inside jokes that would never again be completed and a desire in his brain to constantly be in the forges and to keep as far away from them as possible. Beckendorf left a hole in Percy’s heart that was filled by blood and guilt. Percy looks at the acid scars on his foot with a longing for the time when Beckendorf was taken by giant ants.

And after Beckendorf there was no one. Suddenly Percy was one of the oldest campers. A war veteran. Supposedly the strongest demigod alive. He wasn’t just a counselor now, of his cabin that was solely him, he was a senior counselor. Jake Mason sat in Beck’s seat and Percy cried because suddenly he was alone.

He shouldn’t feel alone. When Annabeth holds his hand while they wait for breakfast he shouldn’t feel alone. When Grover makes enchiladas in the kitchen of the Big House and they eat them together in a field Percy shouldn’t feel alone. When Nico comes running into Percy’s cabin telling Percy that Mythomagic is apparently run by demigods and that they made a card of Nico he shouldn’t feel alone.

It only gets worse when he’s back at home. His mom goes through their normal post-quest routine. She gives him time and space and love. She takes him to the doctor’s. His old prescriptions get refilled, adderall, meperidine. Sally tries again to find a demigod therapist, to no avail. They don’t celebrate his birthday this year.

He’s at Goode without Rachel and he has no other friends. He’s never really been good at that, the whole friend thing, and now it’s practically impossible finding someone who isn’t uneasy around him. He sits in the back of his physics class and eats alone at lunch and sleeps in Paul’s office during breaks.

A teacher hands him back an essay and there’s a paperclip in the corner keeping all the pages together. There is a B+ on it with a smiley face, and Percy takes the paper clip and sharpens it and tries to scratch his skin. It doesn’t do anything. His skin still won’t break, there is just a faint redness. Only after scratching away mindlessly for weeks does he realize that he’s writing words. Last words. “Go!” “Don’t let it happen again.” “Tell him I’m sorry.”

He can fill up his schedule with school and homework and swim and skating and basketball. He can wake up in the morning and eat breakfast and take adderall and carry around the other small orange bottle waiting for his skin to revolt against him. He feels disgusting and empty. Like a demon in a suit of skin that used to be Percy. He misses two years ago when the war wasn’t looming over head, when he and Annabeth and Silena and Beck would all hang out, when he and Clarisse had weekly midnight basketball games.

Grover knows. Grover’s gotta know. For one thing, there’s the empathy link. And Grover is calling multiple times a week, and he always asks how Percy is, if he’s alright. Percy lies “I’m all good man, don’t worry. How’s work?” Then Grover goes off on a tangent about pollution or some shit he saw a human do and the way he purses his lips when he’s worried doesn’t come back until they’re hanging up.

He hates it, the lying. He’s only told lies to protect others, when he doesn’t have enough information yet, when he needs to save them. Now he is lying for himself. How fucking selfish does he have to be? But he’s so lonely, and he can’t bare to lose anyone else. It feels like the smallest step out of line will make his world crumble.

So he lies. He lies his ass off, and he doesn’t know if he’s good at it, but he could be. When Annabeth comes over one weekend, all the way from California, and she asks about the pill bottle rattling in his pocket he says that it’s adderall and she turns back to the tv. When his mom asks if he’s made new friends he says yes, and proceeds to tell a mortal version of something that he and Beck did last year.

One day Rachel comes into the city to visit her parents. They’re sitting on a bench in Central Park and he takes the paperclip out of his coat pocket and goes to work on his wrist while they talk. It’s habit by now. Rachel stops in the middle of her sentence and gently pries the paperclip from his hands and in its place she leaves a blue eyeliner pencil.

Soon his arms are covered in names and words and horrifically beautiful drawings. Blue pigment against brown skin and pink scars, all swirling together. The pencil runs out quickly, but a week later, just as he’s about to take the paperclip back out, an envelope arrives. Sitting in the bottom is a new pencil of blue eyeliner. Percy throws the paperclip in the trash.

By Thanksgiving break Percy isn’t feeling good exactly, he’s feeling mildly better. Loneliness still hits him, in pangs. He’ll be walking to lunch and he’ll have to jump in the canoe lake because he can’t handle it, and swimming is a good excuse for missing a meal.

He wakes up early in the morning and sits in Rachel’s cave waiting for her to wake up. She makes hot chocolate and points out drawings she particularly likes, and then he’ll wash his arms off ready to begin again.

Days are filled with meetings. Meetings with Chiron and meetings with other counselors, trying to make up for being away at school. When he’s not in meetings he trains. Sometimes himself, but a lot of newer or younger campers. The disarming technique he teaches throws him back to Luke and he gives the campers a five minute break hoping the feeling leaves.  

Evenings are being tossed between one person and another. Racing up the climbing wall with Annabeth and laughing at the top and sitting there for way too long. Stopping by the Aphrodite cabin where Drew will catch him up on everything he’s missed being away or being busy. He sits on the floor of the Hades cabin trying for the fifth time to understand Mythomagic.

Every night since he’s gotten back Clarisse raps on his door at two in the morning and they play one v. one on the basketball court until they end up on their backs under the stars. There’s rarely any talking. It’s dark outside and Clarisse has left her hearing aids in her cabin and he’s left his back in Manhattan. Not like he ever uses them in public.

He’s still lonely. 

Maybe Clarisse can read his mind because she taps his leg and they sit up facing each other. He can just barely see her fingers in the moonlight.

“Sometimes people can be lonely not because they are alone but because they miss someone. You have a lot of people to miss.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” He signs back.

“Oh be quiet punk.”

They both break into laughter then, before she continues.

“Miss them. As much as you fucking want. I was in love with Silena, and she died, and Drew is a bitch about it, but she has a right to be.”

Percy is struck again by how similar he and Clarisse are, their lives and their feelings and their actions. The only difference is that Clarisse grants herself the freedom to do what she wants, and he’s scared to death of doing that himself.

“But, and do not ever tell anybody I told you this, a lot of people would miss you. You can pull away and feel lonely but you can’t disappear. Annabeth needs you, Rachel needs you, Nico and Will and Drew need you. And gods fucking dammit, I need you.”

Clarisse stands and pulls him up behind her. They part ways, heading back to their cabins. Percy mulls her words over in his head as he finally drifts into sleep, his body completely and utterly exhausted. Suddenly there is a blue-gold light, and he remembers Annabeth, and then everything is dark and there’s the smell of pine.

#chart writes #percy jackson #pjo fic #clarisse la rue #max.txt #fic: loneliness

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 5

Title:  I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 5 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 8450 Warnings: Language, mental illness, internalized homophobia

AO3

Summary:  The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all.

Present

Despite having attended classes with these same thirtyish people for two semesters, Isak never actually went through the effort of learning their names. He’d thought that was going to be a reason for anxiety when their tutor read out who was supposed to be working together, but turns out he was wrong about that.

Because the guy who looks too much like he just rolled out of bed and doesn’t give a flying fuck has paired him up with Sana. He is paired up with Sana. He is going to be doing experiments, group projects and study sessions with Sana.

Who, Isak is sure, is a lovely – or at the very least a good – person. She just so happens to scare the shit out of all of their classmates.

Isak will deny it till the day he dies, but the stereotype about boys who are getting a science major not being able to talk to girls like they’re actual human beings applies to about half of the guys in this room – not something Isak can relate to, but he has his own reasons for that. The rest of the people in here either find her completely unapproachable, don’t want to be on the receiving end of a backstabbing, gut punching comment Sana has become known for after a guy wouldn’t take no for an answer at some party, or they throw out xenophobic and religious discriminatory comments like nobody’s business.

Isak spent about 97% of his first year not caring about anything that didn’t end up with him being drunk out of his mind, so he’s never actually spoken to her. The only reason he knows her is because Eva, Jonas’ sort-of-half-the-time-more-so-a-fuck-buddy girlfriend, is friends with her, and by proxy Isak has heard about her.

She doesn’t seem as scary when he’s heard an account of how fiercely she’ll protect her friends and of the lengths she’ll go to to cheer one of them up. Then again, she is currently sending him death glares that makes Isak dig his toes into the ground.

“You probably already know each other,” the tutor says, makes himself comfortable behind the screen of his laptop, “but go on and sit with your partners, introduce yourselves, make nice, all that jazz.”

Isak sighs as he gathers his coat, laptop and backpack. Dammit, he’d gotten the best seat in the room as well, the first seat of the row right by the door so he could be in and out within seconds. But Sana isn’t moving by the looks of it, so Isak’s just going to have to bite the bullet.

“Hey,” he greets, trying to plaster on a smile even as Sana glowers at him. “I’m –“

“I know who you are,” she interrupts.

Isak has to bite his cheek to keep from giving a retort back of his own. It won’t amount to anything good, and despite how shit this year’s kick off has been, he’s determined that this is his year, and Ev- someone’s sudden appearance and Sana’s bad mood will not be deterring him from completing his goal.

“Alright, then,” Isak slumps onto his seat.

It’s fine. He doesn’t need to make new friends. He has Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi and that’s more than fine, it’s pretty much more friends than he’s ever had before.

He looks up to see Sana glaring at him.

“What?” he snaps.

“You might be willing to slack off and practically waste away your life, but I’m here to get an education,” she bristles at him. Her eyes look darker with the heavy ring of eyeliner around them. “This is important to me and I will not be the only one doing all the work only for you to get credit as well, you got that?”

Isak’s mouth snaps shut after it had fallen open from the indignation of being spoken to like that.

It’s, he’s reluctant to admit fair enough that she believes this of him. His first year hadn’t exactly been productive, even if he had ended up passing he had spent way too long getting drunk and partying and trying to forget about everything. There hadn’t been room to focus on anything but, and that meant homework went unfinished if he even started on it, and he’s pretty sure he never actually spoke with his study group.

“I know I don’t have the best track record,” Isak hisses, magnanimously ignoring Sana’s amused huff, “but this is serious for me too. Okay?”

“’Okay’,” Sana imitates. It sounds more like a ‘prove it’ than an agreement.

Isak doesn’t call her out on it. So be it on her if she doesn’t believe him, or doesn’t want to believe him. Isak’s not going to let that hinder him from turning this year around.

They’re painfully silent and it’s only amplified by everyone else in class talking around them. It sounds a bit too cheerful and carefree for being about possible topics, but Isak isn’t bothered enough to start listening in on mindless chatter.

Still, he should probably say something to Sana. He’s going to be working with her for six months, and he isn’t going to let it bother him, but mutual animosity rarely rakes in the 6’s.

“So,” Isak clears his throat. Sana looks up at him, not in a glare, but not particularly friendly either. “Evolution and genetics. Is there… something in particular you like?”

Sana shrugs. Helpful, thy name is Sana.

“Depends,” she finally settles on when Isak is about to lose it – or he isn’t, because he isn’t bothered.

“On?”

Maybe he’s a little bit bothered.

“Well, we could always focus on evolutionary genetics,” Sana suggests. She opens up a blank document on her computer, “but I have a feeling most of the other groups are going to do that.”

Isak snorts. Understatement of the year. He might not know any of their names, but he can already tell just from looking that half of these people are just going to settle on a topic that’s a variation of the name of the class subject instead of examining all the other topics they have to review.

“Right,” Isak agrees. “So what’s left? We have genetic mutations, heritage, we could do something on evolutionary processes?”

“Maybe.” Another shrug. “I quite like topics like behavioral genetics, you know, the topics in that area.”

Isak’s heart skips a beat and bears his fingernail down on his the skin of his thumb to avoid just blurting out ‘No. No, no, no, absolutely not’.

He manages to utter a, “Cool,” instead, but it sounds too stiff and Sana picks up on it and raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him with a frown.

Isak winces. Fuck, so much for playing it cool.

“We don’t have to do that.”

“No, no, I know,” the tone feels foreign in his mouth. He’s not usually the one to placate somebody, that’s Jonas’ territory. “It’s a good idea. Write it down.”

Anything to get her to look away from him again. Behavioral genetics hits just a tiny bit too close to home, if Isak’s honest. Sure, he’s already done a ton of research on it in his spare time, even if it has been a couple of years by now, so they would have an advantage that wouldn’t go amiss.

Still, he isn’t sure if he can go through with it.

“We should consider some more evolution-heavy topics as well,” Isak suggest. He skims the table of contents in their main book. “Maybe something like patterns of human evolution or genetic databases. Those are quite alright as well.”

Sana nods as she dutifully types, but she doesn’t look enthused, so Isak tries to suggest something else closer to what she wanted to do.

“Maybe we could find some more within genetic heritage,”

“I’m hearing a lot of talking, yet not a whole lot about science!” A voice overpowers everyone in the room.

Isak’s and Sana’s heads snap to attention. Yeah, alright, they’ve only started brainstorming, surely he isn’t expecting them to have an outline ready just yet –

“I know it’s exciting to talk about whatever celebrity it is I can hear you talking about, but try to focus now!”

Wait – celebrity?

Please, let it be an actor, a singer, hell, a politician everyone is obsessed about and not –

“Honestly, it’s not like they don’t know Even Bech Næsheim is from Oslo,” Sana mutters as she turns back to her computer.

Oh, damn. This is not happening. This is not happening.

“You a fan then?” Isak’s tongue nearly trips over the words from how it feels like it’s glued to the roof of his mouth, but the garble of noises that comes out is at least intelligible enough that Sana answers.

With an infuriating shrug. “You’re not?”

No, Isak wants to bitterly snap, but he doesn’t.  Just shrugs back. “Don’t really care that much, to be honest. One of my roommates is crazy about him, though.”

That’s good, divert the attention away from himself. If only he could the topic away from Even at all.

He always feels like he’s being so goddamn obvious, like he’s practically screaming out ‘Even, Even, Even!’, always has felt like that no matter how hard he tried to make it stop. It’s stupid, because there’s no reason why anyone would even think about him and Even in any relation to each other, there’s no reason why he should be worried or suspicious, but every time his name mentioned, Isak’s mind goes off on a tangent of they know, they’ll find out, they’ll know.

“Oh, yeah – Magnus, right?”

Isak startles slightly, sliding down in his seat before he pushes against the edge of the table to stop it. God, that’s weird Sana knows that, but then again, Isak knew about Sana, so…

“Yeah,” he stutters. “Magnus.”

Sana doesn’t even look over at him, just writes down another topic and asks him what he thinks about that one.

OOOOO

It doesn’t get better the rest of the day.

Even during the lecture, people can’t seem to stop buzzing at the news. Every sentence either starts with ‘I was there’ or ‘my friend was there’ or ‘did you hear’ and Isak thinks all of it is not only overrated but entirely exaggerated because, sure, Even is famous, people love his movies and there aren’t a whole lot of people who haven’t at least heard of one of the titles, but still. He isn’t an actor, he’s a director, and Isak hasn’t really ever heard of any other director creating this sort of frantic commotion.

Just his luck, huh?

Yeah, alright, he gets it. Oslo isn’t LA, or New York, or, hell, even London. There aren’t a ton of celebrities just wandering around on the street, let alone showing up at a university party. It’s natural that some people would be talking about it. Not this amount, though.

Isak ends up slamming the door to the bathroom shut so harshly he can hear it echoing out in the hall, but he doesn’t stop moving until he’s locked up in a cubicle and has sat down on the closed toilet seat, ignoring the voice in his head talking about the amount of germs.

His skin feels too tight and he tries to alleviate the pressure by tugging harshly on chunks of his hair, grabbing onto one of the bigger curls to make it easier.

It doesn’t help. It just leaves him with a slight headache that was already too close to forming from stress and anxiety.

He turns on the sink too high. The water splatters onto the porcelain so forcefully it lands on his shirt. The cool water doesn’t even help, it just makes him too aware and he ends up dry heaving for a good ten minutes before he tries to take a sip of water and compose himself enough to go back to the world.

This wasn’t how he planned on his year starting out.

“What do you think he was doing there?” is the first thing he hears when he steps out of the bathroom.

Two girls are walking near the end of the hallway, but they’re talking loudly enough that he can still hear them.

“He used to go to UiO for film, didn’t he? Maybe he was just visiting some old friends.”

“Don’t think he was looking for a girlfriend, then?” the girl on the left playfully nudges her elbow into her friend’s side until she starts laughing and pushes her away.

“Pretty sure he already has a girlfriend.”

“Who, his PR or PA or management or whatever else she does? Sonja something?”

“Yeah, weren’t they –“

Isak runs to his right, away from the girl, and takes two steps up the staircase. If he doesn’t get away now, he’ll just have to go back into the bathroom until he really does throw up.

He can do this, he tries to convince himself even as he stumbles over the last step and nearly faceplants in front of a group of people. He ignores the snickering as he passes them and tries to focus on remembering the next auditorium he has to be in instead. He just has to focus on his coursework, on meticulously taking notes – more so than he already does, thank you very much – even when it’s boring or he’s already understood the subject.

He’s a good student, he knows that – has always been one apart from last year. Now he just needs to prove it to everyone else.

Isak sits through a lecture he doesn’t understand shit of. It doesn’t help that all the people around him are nodding and agreeing and acting like this is basic knowledge you should already know when applying for this program, and Isak is just sitting there, staring at the slides the professor runs through.

Everything being said goes in through one ear and out through the other, and Isak only manages to rile himself up even further at the thought of how many hours he’ll have to stay up tonight to read through the content until he understands it.

He tries to get out of the hall quickly, but he’s stuck behind a couple of stragglers blocking off his only exit, so he has to stand there awkwardly as they finish packing away their stuff. It’s just his luck that there’s a group two rows in front of him talking about Him, and then there are curious inquiries as to what is going on, what happened, who is it they’re talking about, and before Isak’s managed to get out of there, people are throwing around whatever bullshit they’ve heard.

Isak’s pushing his lips together in irritation to all the rumors as he bounds out of there, catching the tram right before it leaves. He’s winded and a bit sweaty, but the carriage is mostly empty, so he takes a seat the furthest away from the two teenage girls near the back.

He also shoves his ear buds in for good measure. The girls might be talking about some boy at their school right now, but before you know it, it’s all about the latest gossip and Isak can’t, he can’t handle hearing that stupid, goddamn name again today, he can’t.

Like that name hasn’t been floating around in his head for goddamn years, now it’s also being thrown at him from every single direction, and Isak feels like screaming. And crying. Isak feels like crying, can feel the lump in his throat grow so big he can’t breathe, can’t swallow his own spit, but much to his own surprise he doesn’t break down in tears. He doesn’t cry at all.

He feels so fucked up, so messed up and torn apart, like a tornado has gone through him, and it feels just as bad as when Even left in the first place, because back then he’d thought he’d gotten it right and he had finally started to think that again with his boys, that he could be someone’s friend and not fuck it all up, but he was wrong about Even and he’s apparently wrong about this as well, because he hasn’t gotten it right. Had he ever, or was this just something that had been waiting to happen?

He’s fucked up being a friend, has fucked things up with his boys, had nearly fucked up his entire first year of university, that’s two whole semesters worth of fucking up. The first one he’d spent most of simply black out drunk, and the next one he’d spent slightly more sober, but still unable to connect with anyone and not be a complete asshole. He hadn’t been able to focus on his classes at all, but had at least been able to spend his sleepless nights studying instead.

Jonas had tried so hard during their breakfast to pretend everything was normal, and Magnus and Mahdi had tried as well, but Mahdi had been more careful with his words than he has been since Isak first met him, and Magnus had constantly switched between not being able to stop staring at Isak like he’s never met him before and not being able to look at Isak at all.

It’s awkward and Isak feels awful about it even as he knows he shouldn’t. Or, partly, because part of it is his fault; he wouldn’t have worried them that badly if he hadn’t run off like that and stayed away for so long. He wouldn’t have been in this mess if he’d only –

Isak stops that thought by getting off the tram so quickly he nearly falls over when he trips over his feet going down the stairs.

The thing is, even though Isak hasn’t told them about – not even about Even, about himself – he considers those three guys his best friends. He doesn’t think he’s ever had friends as close as those three, not counting Eskild and Even, because Eskild had always been a bit of the older ‘guru’ despite only being four years older than him, and Even, well Even was just in an entirely different league of his own, so he shouldn’t, doesn’t, count either.

Isak hates how much he’s still like that fifteen, then sixteen, then seventeen, then eighteen, then nineteen year old who didn’t want to tell anyone that he doesn’t like girls. Sometimes it feels like he’s supposed to have had some type of character growth that the movies always make out to be so important, but he’s just been stuck for five years in the same mindset, with the same fears and worries, and he still doesn’t want to tell anyone.

There’s a small voice in the back of his head whispering to him how good it is that he hasn’t come out, because if he had, wouldn’t the boys have come to the conclusion that the reason Even knows him was because he ‘knows’ him? Isak tries to convince himself that he doesn’t hear that voice, even as it’s the only thing filling his head.

It’s not something he’s deliberately keeping away from them and only them, it’s everyone Isak doesn’t want to know that personal fact about him, and that’s fine. He’s allowed to not want to share everything, even if this is a bit bigger than taking the last bit of milk and forgetting to buy a new carton.

They had all moved in together because they wanted to move in together, the four of them, ‘Just how it should be,’ Magnus had crowed into their ears as he’d folded his arms over their shoulders and drawn them into a hug that smelled too much of beer and sweat to be as pleasant as it was in Isak’s memory.

But ‘just how it should be’ most certainly isn’t this. It isn’t Jonas biting his lips before saying something, it isn’t Magnus acting oddly around Isak, and it isn’t Mahdi being so goddamn reserved. It’s putting Isak on edge, more than he already is, which at this point is quite a lot, actually, and he shouldn’t be walking around feeling like this in his home.

He has tried so hard. He has been trying for so many years now, and for just a moment in time, he thought he had it. He had friends, he had a home, he had a home with his friends, and it had finally felt like life was turning around for him, and now he’s left with tension and more difficulties and Isak doesn’t know what to do.

There are pictures of them together scattered around the living room, originating back from when Eva had come around and scolded them and said this place needed to feel less like a pigsty and more like a home, that they were grown-ups and their house should ‘reflect that’.

The most grown-up things they���d been able to think of buying were pictures and sofa cushions, so now their grey sofa has yellow and orange cushions, and there are pictures hung up on the walls and scattered around on whatever flat surfaces were left. They’d gone to IKEA and gotten the frames and then printed the pictures off of their Instagrams on the university’s printer.

There are the stupid pictures of them fooling around, then there are the sweet group pictures where they’re all smiling. There’s one of Isak studying in their kitchen, the sun behind him, there’s one of Jonas and Mahdi shouting at the camera and holding up bottles of beer, and there’s one with Magnus smiling dopily at an out-of-frame Vilde. Isak’s picture is the only one with no smiles to be seen. Isak tries desperately not to reflect on that.

Just like how he doesn’t reflect on how in each of their individual rooms the others have put up pictures of their families, their current friends, the friends they don’t see as often because of life. Jonas has pictures of him and Eva and Eva alone, and Isak has nothing. Not a single picture.

He doesn’t think about the shoebox, whose contents feel forbidden, that he has hidden away in the top back of his closet, on the only shelf there. It’s stuffed underneath a pile of clothes and behind stacks of books from his previous semesters that he’ll probably never use ever again. It’s the perfect hiding place, because even if the boys decide to brave the contents of his closet, there’s no way they’d even think of going up there.

Isak’s doing a lot of that lately, of carefully strategizing, of hiding, of faking, of pretending – all of which he hates and has berated whoever was close enough to hear after a few too many drinks about, and here he is, doing the same shit as always.

It feels like he’s always doing it, never stopping. He never gets a reprieve and he hates that he desperately wants to blame Even for it, but he can’t. First of all, it’s not fair – this particular case excluded, because Even showing up in Oslo after having been away for so long has certainly been the catalyst in Isak’s rapidly declining wellbeing, but other than that, it’s all Isak’s doing.

That just makes him feel worse. The fact that it’s himself who is causing all of this pain makes Isak feel dizzy, his stomach swooping uncomfortably.

Stepping in through his front door makes his stomach curl in on itself instead. For a moment, Isak seriously contemplates just not walking in, just walking back out onto the street and never coming back. Would it be easier? Would it be better?

It wouldn’t. He can already tell himself that, at least. It wouldn’t be better, even if things are so incredibly shitty right now, leaving would do no good for Isak.

So he steps inside. His keys rattle in the lock, but not so loudly that the guys hear him before the door slams shut behind and he yells out the customary “Hello?” they always do to check who is home.

Fifteen minutes. He’d gotten a fifteen minute break between leaving the university and arriving home, and now he’s right back to pretending that everything is alright, that there isn’t a giant fucking pink tutu-wearing elephant dancing around in the room that Isak put there.

Isak’s pretending when he tries to smile at the boys. He’s pretending when he’s listening to them talking about their day, about whatever parties are coming up, about the girls they want to get with. He’s pretending when he’s in school and he’s pretending when he’s at home and he’s pretending with the people he’s supposed to call his closest friends, the people he considers his closest friends, even if they might not consider the same about him.

He’s pretending that the boys aren’t all pretending as well when they skirt around topics, when even Magnus refrains from talking about movies or his coursework, because media studies and Even might be too closely related to each other for Isak not to freak out again.

He only stops pretending when he closes his bedroom door behind him quietly, but only so much that he isn’t putting on a fake smile for everyone, because in truth he never really stops pretending, even around himself. He pretends, because maybe if he keeps on doing it for long enough, it’ll be so engrained in him it’ll be the truth, the only truth.

He slumps down against his door, sliding all the way down until his bum hits the ground with a too loud bump. He puts his head in his hands.

He still can’t breathe.

 Past

Moving into the Kollektiv goes surprisingly seamlessly.

Isak can chalk it up to how everything leading up to it, how it’s been his dad leaving, the tirades of religious zeal, his mom being sick enough to being moved into a facility care, the constant worries and self-destructive behaviors Isak has picked up on over time, has been so much more difficult than anything Isak has ever experienced before, that the process of moving that everyone usually complains about just doesn’t really compare.

A lot of it is also because of Even – lovely, lovely Even who is spread out on his bed, laptop open on his stomach as he’s typing away. Isak doesn’t know whether it’s homework or ideas or an actual script, but they’re nearing midterms and Even is a senior, so Isak hopes it’s homework he’s working on.

Isak doubts it, but there’s a first for everything.

He can’t tell if it is schoolwork or not Even’s working on. They don’t attend the same high school and they don’t follow the same study line. Even goes to Bakka while Isak goes to Nissen, because he for sure won’t be going to any of those pretentious-ass schools – he’s not an obnoxious hipster and he isn’t rolling in wealth. Still, he’s looked over Even’s shoulder enough that at this point, he probably knows enough to be able to do Even’s program at Bakka, but beyond Even, Isak’s not interested in movies or media in the slightest, so Nissen will have to do.

It also helps that Elias and his crew of tormentors don’t go there, so it not only physically but also mentally felt like a new beginning, a fresh start.

Isak chances a look at Even’s screen, but Even’s flying through documents and tabs and browsers and videos faster than Isak manages to grasp. Honestly, Even can’t possibly be taking any of it in, either. Then he’s back to a document, typing away for a second before he repeats the process.

It’s… quite a bit more than what Even usually is, but Isak has only been living in the Kollektiv for nearly a week now, everything is still new and a bit exciting, so it’s understandable why Even is more wired than Isak has previously seen. It’s not like it’s a lot, just more in some way.

Plus, there’s also the extra added factor of nervousness at Eskild catching Even in his room. They already have a cover in case it happens – friends from school – but that excuse doesn’t really work if Eskild catches them during the night and asks why they’re cuddled up to each other half-naked.

Not exactly what ‘just friends’ do.

“What are you working on?” Isak asks as he turns off the lamp at his desk. His Norwegian essay can wait until tomorrow.

The joints in his back pop when he stretches back to look at Even, who is already watching him, smiling coyly as he lets his eyes linger over the length of his torso, his arms. Isak flushes, which only makes Even’s grin widen, but he lets it lie and looks back at his computer instead.

“Hmm?” Isak tries again when Even still hasn’t answered.

Isak’s twisted around on his desk chair – or, Noora’s desk chair. It still feels weird that he’s essentially using someone else’s furniture, someone else’s belongings, but Noora hadn’t been able to bring anything with her to Spain, and it’s not like Isak had a lot of his own that he wanted to bring instead – so he can look at Even, his arms resting over the back on the dark blue padding.

“Is it a secret?”

Even’s smile takes over his face, like that in itself is a much better story than whatever he’s working on. Isak can see the thoughts flying around in his head as his mind comes up with endless possibilities, but Isak isn’t really interested in all of those for a change.

It’s causality; Even smiles so Isak smiles, no question of correlation here. It makes something in Isak’s stomach twirl happily as he rests his cheek on his folded up arms.

Even hums noncommittally. “The most secret of secrets.”

The sun is hanging low on the sky, just barely shining in through Isak’s windows. It makes the white walls look golden with white patches in the shape of the window frame. Gold and red leaves frame the glass and all of it is positioned just so perfectly that the sun shines directly on Even while his face is blocked off. It makes his hair a lot more golden than it really is and Isak thinks he looks ethereal.

“So not your homework, then,” Isak teases and hides his smile in his arms when Even leans his head back up against the wall and groans dramatically.

“What are you, my mother?” Even groans.

No, Isak thinks to himself as he gets up off of his chair. I’m your boyfriend.

It’s not as difficult to say in his mind anymore, but actually saying the words out loud? Yeah, that’s not going to happen, no thank you.

It’s like Even hears him anyway, because his eyes go soft and he gets that look on his face Isak always endlessly teases him about, even if it means Even gets to tease him right back for the similar look Isak gets whenever he sees Even.

Isak vehemently denies he looks at Even with anything that could be described as ‘fondness’. He is a rock, a cold, hard rock – none of that mushy stuff for him.

Isak pads across the distance between the desk and the bed on socked feet until he can knee his way up the mattress, up over Even’s body. Even accommodates him by pushing the laptop off of his stomach and onto the bed. His breath leaves his body in a harsh ‘umph’ when Isak drops his torso onto Even’s legs so his face is pressed into Even’s stomach.

“You comfy?” Even wheezes, but Isak can feel him breathing so he knows it’s pretend.

Isak hums and nuzzles his face into Even’s stomach, following the flat planes and the dip of his bellybutton. Even’s hand reaches into his hair, twirls around a few strands to tug. It makes Isak’s toes curl and he looks up to smile shyly at Even.

Who looks at Isak like he’s pretty sure he’s actually a mirage. And then reaches over and starts typing something onto his computer.

“Sudden inspiration?” Isak teases. He presses a kiss on Even’s stomach through his t-shirt. The click-clacks of the keyboard pause for a second before Even continues.

It’s been less than five hours since Even had poured out a soliloquy about why he was showing up right now, because Isak seemed to be his muse and it was of utmost importance he was around him to work properly. He’d promised Isak he would dedicate odes to his entire being, to which Isak had reminded him he wrote manuscripts, he wasn’t a poet. Even had tutted at him and talked about artists and working in different art forms, and Isak had silenced him by kissing him until Even started talking about what he’d come over to do.

Honestly, it was more down to luck than knowledge that Even had showed up exactly when he did. Usually, they work off of precise time schedules that calculate when Eskild will be either a) busy – doing what, Isak does not care nor does he particularly want to know – or b) out of the building entirely and Linn is a) out or b) asleep so that Isak can get Even in and out without either of them noticing Isak has someone over to visit.

“Absolutely,” Even agrees, typing some more. “So if you could just stay there and be absolutely adorable, that’d be a real help, dear.”

Isak’s nose scrunches up in disdain. “’Adorable’,” he huffs, sinks his teeth into Even’s shirt just hard enough Even will be able to feel the scrape on his skin. “Piss off. I’m not adorable in the slightest.”

Even’s hum tries to be placating, but Isak isn’t fooled into believing him for even a second, so he presses another bite further up on Even’s ribs.

“Hey,” Even shudders, reaches out to grab onto Isak’s hair again. He tugs once a bit harshly, but he doesn’t direct Isak’s head away from his torso. “Menace.” And then he launches into a ramble about plot points and key elements and Isak doesn’t actually know which story he’s working on, so it all flies over his head.

Even’s also talking so quickly it’s difficult to keep up with, even if Isak had known the thoughts and theories behind it.

Isak grins as he rolls off of Even to land heavily on the free bit of mattress along Even’s side. It’s cool to the touch and it feels nice again his cheek, but it’s quite like the same temperature as the rest of the room in general. Isak should really get to asking Eskild about the heating situation before it’s dire or he’s already gotten ill for the first time this season.

Still, it feels nicer when Even curls his arm around Isak’s shoulder and pulls him in close until he’s more so lying on Even than on the bed.

It’s so easy to let his body relax completely, something Isak rarely lets himself do. It’s so easy to just close his eyes and breathe, because Even is warm underneath him and is happily rambling at him and it just feels so easy.

It’s definitely easy enough that he’s about to fall asleep.

Even must be able to feel it, some type of extra heaviness on his chest from Isak, can probably feel his breathing evening out to these deep in- and exhalations.

He doesn’t let him, though. Instead, Even sits up, forcing Isak to sit up along with him, and he doesn’t stop no matter how much Isak groans and tries to shuffle his nose into the crook of Even’s neck, right against his collarbone. Even just presses a kiss to his forehead and starts tugging at Isak’s sweatshirt, helping him get his arms in order so he can pull it off of him.

With enough persuasion, Even gets Isak to stumble onto his feet and go to the bathroom and brush his teeth for the night. The tiles in the shower are still wet, so either Eskild just left or Linn is home and probably asleep by now. Either way, they’re not going to be disturbed.

When he gets back to his room, Even is still lying on the bed, gazing out of the window like there’s something more important out there, something that should have his focus other than Isak, and Isak obviously can’t allow that, so he flops face-first sideways onto the bed. His stomach ends up over Even’s thighs, and he more so knocks out his own breath than amounts to have any impact on Even.

Even just laughs and scoots up the bed until he can pull his legs free and roll Isak over onto his back.

Isak’s limbs already feel sleep heavy, despite the brief pause to the bathroom that usually would’ve had his brain and body awake and ready to go again for at least two hours. He’s lethargic when Even pulls him up to sit so he can slide his t-shirt off of him in a similar manner as he’d done with the hoodie.

Next goes his jeans, once Isak has flopped back onto the bed, bouncing twice before he settles. Even presses a kiss to his bare stomach, right above the hem of Isak’s jeans. It feels nice, so Isak make sure to hum his appreciation as he scratches his nails along the nape of Even’s neck.

The bed is still warm underneath him from where they’d just been lying and where Even has been for the past couple of hours. That makes it so much easier to just sink into it, even as Even starts tutting at him to cooperate.

Isak doesn’t do much more than lie there, but Even still manages to work his jeans down his legs and discard them. The button clangs slightly against the floor, but Isak only just hears it over Even getting him to shuffle up to the pillows and under the covers.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Even cards his hand through Isak’s hair. It feels nice and Isak is quite fond of this bubble that’s seemingly formed around the two of them where they’re safely tucked away in his room.

“Lay down next to me, then,” Isak counters.

Even rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling and complies with Isak’s wishes without a single protest.

Isak falls asleep to the feeling of Even getting up again.

There are times where Isak wants to shout out that he likes Even, that Even likes him back, that Even is his boyfriend, and just as quickly as the impulse comes, it dissipates and Isak is left with the urge to huddle up in his room with Even behind closed doors.

He doesn’t know if that makes him a coward or if it makes him smart. There’s no one around for him to ask, no one to get a second opinion from, and that’s fine, really, it is. For every second that Isak gets the urge to just say it, he has hours and days where he’s so inexplicably relieved that no one knows yet he still gets to go home and be with Even.

It’s a system that works for them. It’s no one’s business but their own, anyway.

Isak falls in and out of consciousness for the couple of hours the night lasts. He wakes up whenever Even starts moving around, going from the bed to the floor to the desk, whenever Even gets so excited about whatever his mind has managed to conjure up that he can’t keep the laughter in or he just has to say that line out loud.

When he wakes up for longer than just a few seconds, the sun has started to peek in, and Isak can feel that it is way too early to be up, even if it wasn’t the weekend.

Isak stretches lazily as he turns over on his side so he can look over at Even who is sitting by the desk, laptop open and fingers flying over the keys. There’s nothing that tells him Even knows he’s awake.

“Even,” Isak whines, pushes his bottom lip out a bit in a pout to exaggerate but also entice. “Come and lie with me.”

Even twists around on the desk chair and Isak can see it forming on his lips, the rejection, the explanation that he just has to finish this next bit, Isak, and Isak’s already bracing himself for it.

But then, when Even really looks at him, it’s like something in his eyes softens and he kind of slumps a bit in his seat. Exhaustion is probably catching up to him, Isak thinks, and he stretches backwards to scoot his body further back, leaving a warm spot on the bed open for Even to curl up next to him in.

“Alright,” Even agrees – he’s rolling his eyes at Isak’s theatrics when Isak can’t help but grin widely at having gotten his way, but Isak has gotten his way, so he doesn’t feel the need to call him out on it. “I’ll lie with you until you fall asleep.”

Isak’s pout returns. He knows Even hasn’t slept the entire night, but there is something about him, some restless energy buzzing around in him that just won’t settle.

Even raises his arm so Isak can curl in close up against him, his own left arm curls around Even’s chest as his head comes to rest on Even’s shoulder. Isak’s still sleep warm and Even’s slightly cooler temperature feels nice against him, like a fresh change that makes his eyelids fall heavy as it becomes a struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Noooo,” Isak sighs, nuzzles his face against the hard line of Even’s shoulder. “Tell me about what you’re writing.”

Isak doesn’t have to be looking at Even to know how he looks right now; that fond look that simultaneously makes Isak both want to curl up in bed with him and look around nervously to see if anyone’s paying attention to them. Still, it makes him feel warm and safe and Isak might, might, be falling too hard too fast.

“I’m not telling you if you’re going to fall asleep halfway through,” Even pushes gently at Isak’s body, making him rock back and forth a couple times before he settles again.

“I won’t,” Isak protests, but he knows he will. He’s already struggling to stay awake, and having Even’s voice almost narrating what’s going on in his head will set him off even quicker.

“You will,” Even tells him matter of factly, but he still launches into the story he’s working on.

Isak stays awake halfway through. He gets out a murmur of, “You still owe me a beach story,” before he’s out like a light.

He wakes up again in the middle of the day. Even’s still being a busy bee, but now it’s from beside Isak on the bed and he’s scribbling something on a notepad so he wouldn’t have to move to get the laptop still perched open, screen dark from inactivity or maybe lack of battery, on the desk.

It’s so late that Isak can hear both Eskild and Linn bumbling around in the flat, and it makes his heart pick up a beat too fast. Even notices he’s awake.

“Yeah,” Even says in lieu of a good morning. He does bend down to press a kiss to the top of Isak’s head. “Didn’t want to wake you up before them. You’re too beautiful when you sleep.”

It’s risky doing this – any of it, really, but not getting up before Eskild and Linn are stumbling around the flat is almost like asking to be caught. Isak knows this, Even knows this, and Isak can feel his stomach starting to twist up in anxiety already. Any thoughts he’d had yesterday about his room being a bubble for just the two of them has popped at the prospect of other people’s proximity to them.

Isak doesn’t tell him it’s fine, because he isn’t sure if it is. It’s Sunday, probably around midday judging by the light, and Isak knows Even has plans with his parents this afternoon. Plus, it’s not like they’re able to just hide Even away in Isak’s room for an entire day, as nice as the thought is.

Isak does tilt his head back until Even appeasingly bends down to press a lazy kiss to his lips.

As uncomfortable that Isak is that Even has stayed, he’s also incredibly pleased that he got to wake up to this.

Even presses another kiss to his forehead and then turns back to whatever he was doodling on the pad of paper. When Isak turns to look at it he can see it’s some type of storyboard, but it’s too doodle-y for him to see what the story is actually about. It could be aliens, it could be penguins, Isak can’t tell.

He can the leftover strips of ripped papers see by the edge of the pad, revealing just how large an amount of papers that have hastily been torn out while Isak was sleeping.

Glancing over his room, it’s quite easy to see that Even hasn’t been sleeping next to him this entire time.

It looks a little bit like a very small hurricane has swept through while Isak was asleep. There are scrunched up paper balls littered all over the ground, discarded ideas of Even’s, but some of them look like they’ve deliberately been placed there, with Isak’s school books set up like walls of a mini-set, and every single blue article of clothing Isak owns strewn out on the middle of the floor in something that could vaguely resemble waves.

Isak doesn’t really know what to do with any of this.

“Did you get some sleep?” Isak asks even as he’s 100% certain of the answer being negative.

Even doesn’t even give him a proper answer. He grins like he’s just let Isak in on a funny secret and kisses him until he has to go.

The next ten minutes pass with Even humming theme music for spy movies under his breath, grinning whenever Isak hisses for him to stay quiet as he goes into the hallway to figure out where Eskild and Linn are in the guise of going to the bathroom.

They’re both in the kitchen which means Isak hasn’t got a chance of sneaking Even out of the front door or the backdoor. Shit.

“Alright,” Isak whispers when he ducks back into his room. His hear is pounding and he tries to convince himself it’s just from Even and nothing else in order to calm down. “I’ll have to go keep their attention on me. Then you can sneak out the front door.”

“Proper Romeo and Juliet, don’t you think?” Even kisses Isak again before Isak can protest that now may not be the time to do anything but focus on getting out without bringing attention onto themselves.

Still, it works and Isak feels his body slump down a bit in relief of being so near Even. They can do this, they have to.

Isak sneaks out into the hallway, but he has to pause before he enters the kitchen to suck in a deep breath. He can do this.

“Hey.”

Eskild jumps from where he’d had his back to Isak, one hand flying out to clutch the kitchen counter, the other to grab onto his chest over his heart like the dramatic ass he is.

“Jesus,” Eskild whines. “You’re going to end up giving me a heart attack! Make some noise when you enter a room, why don’t you?”

Isak snorts and doesn’t apologize as he goes over to get a cup of water. His heart is pounding as he simultaneously tries to think of something to say and to listen out for if he can hear Even get out safely.

“Don’t need to when you make enough noise for two,” Isak teases, chugs the water and opens the fridge to see if they have any juice as well. God, does this count as a tell that he’s hiding something? Drinking a lot?

Linn snorts, but she turns away from the sink to look over at Isak, finally facing away from the entrance to the kitchen. “Fucking hypocrite, you are. What, have you been redecorating your room? You look a bit too well-rested to have spent all of it awake.”

Isak tilts his head to the side in confusion. What on earth is she talking about?

“Oh,” Isak breathes out. Shit, had Even been making so much noise? Not enough that Isak woke up from it, but enough that Linn would? “Shit, sorry.”

He should probably tell her to come knock on his door the next time it happens, so he won’t keep her up again – he probably would’ve had it only been him in his room. The problem is it’s not just Isak in his room.

Linn huffs loudly enough the sound of the front door closing isn’t audible.

Isak’s heart doesn’t stop pounding until he has finished grabbing a bite to eat with his housemates and has checked the entire apartment for Even, just in case.

OOOOO

Two days later, Even shows up at Isak’s front door.

It’s too early. Isak knows Even’s class only finished ten minutes ago and the tram doesn’t leave for another five minutes after that. He looks at him questioningly, but Even doesn’t say anything, even as he probably knows that Isak’s realized he has played hooky.

Even’s swaddled in a winter coat that looks too warm for the just chilly air outside, and he looks tired.

He still smiles sweetly at Isak and kisses him hello, but afterwards he falls into bed and sleeps for eleven hours straight, barely tossing and turning like usual. Four times, Isak curls in close to him for no other reason than to check he’s still breathing.

When he wakes up the next morning, Isak jokes that he must’ve been tired, teasing him that he shouldn’t spend so many nights awake just so he can write. Even gets a distant look in his eyes at that and his smile seems more like he’s putting on a mask.

Isak can’t help but feel like he’s missed something, a bigger part of the story, the clue that foreshadows the climax, exactly what Even always berates him about needing to be the most advanced and difficult thing to write, to perfect.

Isak bites his tongue, looks at Even sleeping in his bed and reminds himself that his life isn’t a movie and that he shouldn’t think of it as plot points that perfectly fits into the Narrative Arc.

Next part

#Something Great #Evak #SKAM #SKAM Norway #Dutten-does-the-fanfic #Evak fanfiction #Skam fanfiction

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which it keeps happening

Dave: Go online and view sites indicative of your interests.

Oh this should be good.

Oh no more content related to Gamebro and their unholy ilk.

“Grand Snack Fuckyeah”...GTA....I love that it’s not even trying to make a clever pun. You know those “there was an attempt” stickers? This isn’t even an attempt.

Also is that review written by Dave? I want to learn how to write like Dave. That Moses comparison gave me life and took it away at the same time.

“Will popular beverages play a role? And how critical will they be in your quest to attain absolute sweetness?” I HATE that Death Stranding has made that actually not a joke. Just....God fucking dammit. DS is great by the way. ....I just realized Dave Strider and Death Stranding share the same innitials when I typed that. Why does it all fit? This is a weird ass tangent.

Seems every kid has their own browser after all.

You open the HEPHAESTUS web browser and direct it to your ironically maintained blog where you post monthly satirical reviews of GAMEBRO MAGAZINE. Your latest post is a review of the MARCH ISSUE. You've been meaning to write a review for the latest issue too, but you've been sort of dogging it. Something about the game they're reviewing just doesn't strike you as ripe for satirical purposes.

Don’t be a coward Dave! A true artist doesn’t blame his tools! You can make the greatest shitpost ever, I believe in you.

Excuse me what in the fuck

In a new tab you open another one of your sites, a webcomic ironically maintained through a satirical cipher vaguely similar to that of your blog. It's called SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF. You have legions of devoted fans, most of whom are totally convinced of your creative persona's sincerity. Which is just how you like it.

...

Is that a real site?

Oh god it’s real

Oh god what the fuck is this

This....This actually takes effort to do. Like, the fucking title is a low res looking JPEG piece of fucking shit, but it’s a finely curated piece of fucking shit.

I just touched one of the buttons and it changed page.

it changed page.

there are more pages.

what

is this another comic entirely??

What...What do I do with this??

Do I liveblog it?? IS this still homestuck?? What is going on????

Okay I asked what the fuck this was, and all you guys answered me with was cryptic warnings and hushed expectations for my suffering and/or ascension. Like this was some sort of cursed chthonian text that would kill my sense of sanity.

Seems about right.

I don’t know why it posted two times I think I might have clicked it twice.

I’m not fixing my mistake cause I think it goes perfectly well with the spirit of the work.

Speaking of the work.

Nani the fuck

So one of these two duders is going to play some games of the video....and he encounter stairs....and he falls down said escaleras.....over and over again....in an endlessly recurring loop........while the other guy just fucking LMAOs at him saying “I told you about the fucking stairs, dumbfuck!” and he keeps falling...and falling...and falling...

Also I have heard “It keeps happening” before as an internet phrase. I’ve used it before What the fuck, it came from here?? From this.... thing??

This....

This is so perfectly and intentionally shitty, the whole comic is way too far to the left even. There’s a huge empty space on the right side.

Is the font fucking comic sans??

OH MY GOD THERE ARE 46 OF THESE.

You know those things that make you go “there isn’t a god”??

THIS IS NOT ONE OF THEM.

This is proof for the existence of a god.

A talented and artful god

who fucking hates you

I’m gonna move on with the actual comic and you guys tell me if I should continue with this thing and when.

I’ll just leave you with this

Dave: Check the latest page of the Midnight Crew.

OH EXCUSE ME FUCKING WHAT

OH WELL SURE LET’S FUCKING GO LET’S JUST OPEN MSPAINTADVENTURES INSIDE THE COMIC ITSELF

IS THE MIDNIGHT CREW THE IN-UNIVERSE VERSION OF THE PROBLEM SLEUTH CAST?? IS THIS WHAT PS IS INSIDE THE COMIC??

You figure as long as you're chilling at your computer you might as well see how that new MSPA story is going. You haven't looked at it in a while.

How meta can we go in this comic?

We’re already way to fucking deep and I don’t know how to swim.

Let’s go back to the shallow end of the pool please.

Midnight Crew.

Oh so we’re actually doing this. Oh.

What is this liveblog session?

Why is there a sword stabbing that map?

"You are members of a sinister gang called the Midnight Crew. Your nefarious plots are serpentine in complexity. Your schemes, convoluted. You are planning a heist in your underground hideout. What will you do?"

I just checked and this is a pararell to “Compensation, adequate” oh my god

It really is Parallel Problem Sleuth

Use Occam's Razor on plans and schemes.

OH MY GOD AN ACTUAL INVENTORY

BUT IT’S REVERSED.

THERE ARE 5 WEAPONS AND ONE ITEM THIS TIME

AND THE WEAPONS ARE ALL HAND-TO-HAND INSTEAD OF GUNS.

Also Occam’s Razor is fucking brilliant name for a Scalpel/Knife.

The right solution to a problem is usually the simplest one.

"Spades Slick uses OCCAM'S RAZOR to carve a circular hole into the HEIST PLANS, freeing it from the knife. You wonder what moron would jam the knife so hard into the table in the first place."

Probably one of you.

Probably all of you.

I know how everyone in these comics is.

SS: Climb ladder and exit hideout. Implement nefarious plots

Oh my god no

They are stuck in their hideouts aren’t they?

I can just feel his anger at this unbelievable bullshit

"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it. A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage. It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."

Spades Slick seems like a hair away from murdering everyone else in that room. And somehow he’s the most relatable one in there.

Dave: Skip ahead a hundred pages or so.

Wait, that’s illegal

What is going on.

Why is everyone beating the shit out of each other?

Why is there a blender in there?

What is that antler thing and why is it coming out from a door?

Who is that guy on that picture?

You don't remember where you last left off, so you jump way ahead. You always forget to save your place in the story. It looks like tempers have become short in this pressure cooker already. You speculate that the tipping point may have been an ill-advised motion for a game of 52 PICKUP.

Jumping ahead in these comics looks like a fine way to get really confused.

Dave: Save your place, read it later.

Hey now that’s familiar

Even though the adventure began recently, it's already over 3000 pages long. You just don't have time for this bullshit. You'll catch up later. Besides, it looks like someone's pestering you. You're pretty sure you know who it is.

How long is homestuck by the way? I know it’s ungodly long but I just want to know the full extent of my road ahead on this foolish endeavor.

Also imma leave it here for today as I try to figure out what the fuck this was

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#homestuck liveblog #homestuck #act 2 #mspaintadventures #dave strider #Sweet bro and hella jeff #midnight crew #what #mspaintadventures liveblog

[sasshole-for-rent]

(Talesfromthefade) (Disembodied) Chorus of indistinct murmurs, for the DWC?

For @dadrunkwriting

Faeven should have known that her knee jerk of a decision was sure to bite her in the ass sometime, but she didn't expect the voices. Maybe she should have listened to Mel's rumplefuck of an ex, and then again, maybe she should have kicked him in the bits for how much pain he put her sister through. However, she supposed the creepy voices that appeared inside her head and sometimes out of it, more specifically, out of her own mouth, were the bigger problem.

The first time it happened it was the night after the wilds and that temple which had everyone under some weird life altering spell that made no lick of sense to Faeven. Sure, she believed in the gods. They were real. They were her gods, but why was everyone so held up by drinking the sacred pond water? oh sorry...well of sorrows, and her grandmother would come out of her grave and give her that disappointed sigh, if she let some condensending shem who was so adamant on drinking her people's sorrows, do just that. "Do you know who Mythal is?" Pfft. If this Morrigan knew who Mythal was, she would know exactly whose vallaslin was adorning damn near every inch of Faeven's skin. Who was this woman anyhow and why did she want to start a fight so bad? Hm...Maybe. Just maybe it was Faeven that wanted to fight. Her knuckles did itch something fierce for her knives and she couldn't unclench her jaw for the life of her because the energy of everyone was so damn off. Yeah, You're right. It was. So Faeven did as she has always done, act without giving more than one thought. They were running out of time anyway, right? Much to everyone's horror, especially the shem's, and worried Gordon half to death as she took a big gulp of that slimy water, puked her guts out, and passed the fuck out.

...

Well, back to the point, those consequences manifested at the most inopportune time. After their particularly stupid spat that consisted of his stupid stern eyebrows, and his stupid lovely mouth saying things like: 'be more careful,' 'I don't want to lose you,' and 'I love you.' Of course, Faeven melted and apologized with her stupid mouth enjoying his stupid mouth, and somehow she ended up on top of him, full of hot lovely feelings, straw poking at her knees. It was during this that they almost forgot about the tension temple and the old ass pond water right up until a swarm of voices poured into her head. Faeven did have abnormal thoughts when they would go at it, but that had always been normal for her. These were very much not. She didn't think in old elvhen and even though her thoughts sometimes were overwhelming, they had always shared a singular voice: hers. This was not some trailing sex thought. No. These were plainly not her thoughts at all.

She halted her hips. He blinked at her, and she popped off of him and sprung out of bed.

"Faeven, are you alright?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have drank that..." Then it wasn't her voice, none of them were, that bursted forth in a particularly loud and very elvhen tangent. Faeven could only understand bits of it. They talked of betrayal, ruination, and what she thought was apples? No. Not apples.

Blackwall sat there, his frown and brows doing that very him thing they did, when the voices stopped squatting on her tongue.

"You should probably..."

"I know, dammit! think before I act. Well, if I didn't we would still be there playing pebble, parchment, clippers and Ol' Corphallus would have our asses, now wouldn't we?"

His brows got even more scrunched if that was possible... "If you had let me finish, I was going to say that you should probably talk to Solas."

#for dwc #for dadrunkwriting #dadrunkwriting #sasshole's oc: faeven lavellan #faeven lavellan #faeven #faewall #gordon blackwall #faeven x blackwall #blackwall #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #their relationship is wack don't @ me

[waitineedaname]

sofa smooches

me @ myself: pleas work on your other wips I’m begging you

my hell brain: hhhhhh soft davekat kisses

also on ao3

Like most days on the meteor, Dave and Karkat were spending the evening on the couch in the TV room. The shitty rom-com Karkat had picked out had long since ended; they’d watched all the way through the credits, like they always did, no matter how many times Dave told him there wasn’t going to be anything new at the end, like watching it for the seventeenth time would somehow unlock a secret ending where those background characters do end up together and go on their own cliched adventure. But. Karkat was stubborn and insistent, as always.

It was kinda cute.

It was not the first time that thought had occurred to Dave, but it had yet to be less startling.

Dave put his phone down, having beat Peggle for the twentieth time, and looked up at Karkat from where he was draped across his lap. He’d laid himself there about a third of the way through the movie, and Karkat hadn’t complained. In fact, neither of them seemed to want to be the one to disturb the little cuddle sesh, and they’d silently agreed to occupy themselves with whatever wouldn’t disturb the other. Hence, Dave’s Peggle endeavors and Karkat’s shitty romance novel. He was holding it with one hand, propping it up on Dave’s legs, because his other hand was resting on top of Dave’s free hand, only lifting away to turn a page every now and then, always returning to gently curl around Dave’s hand. Sometimes he’d absentmindedly rub his thumb along Dave’s knuckles, drawing circles and tracing the scars and freckles that littered his skin, and it. It was nice.

Dave wasn’t sure if he was in the right headspace to think about how touchstarved they both were, or how just those little comforting brushes of affection seemed to comfort an ache in his soul he’d never really paid attention to, or how Karkat’s touches when they cuddled like this were so much more gentle than he ever expected from someone who yelled himself hoarse and threatened bodily harm on the daily.

Dave didn’t think about any of that. He just thought about how nice it was to have his hand held, and how the perpetual pinch in Karkat’s brow was softer from this angle, and how he really wanted to kiss him.

Huh. That was a thought.

“Hey.”

Karkat ignored him.

“Hey.” Dave snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

Karkat smacked his hand away and turned the page.

“Hey.” Dave reached back up and flicked Karkat’s nose. Karkat, predictably, overreacted and reeled back, his whole face scrunching up.

“Ow! Fucker!” He yelled, covering his nose.

“Oh, come on. That did not hurt.”

“Fuck you! Maybe it did! You don’t know, maybe trolls have especially weak noses! For all you know, that could’ve been a built in insta-kill button! You could’ve killed me, Dave, and then how the fuck would you feel?”

“Pretty shitty, but then I’d let your ghost punch me in the face in the next dream bubble we fly through, so we’d be even.”

“What the fuck ever, you wish I’d punch your stupid face.” Karkat rolled his eyes, but he closed his book so Dave counted that as a win for Strider. “What was so important that you had to almost kill me anyway?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Karkat blinked down at him blankly and well shit, that’s all Dave needed to take off on the rambling train, next stop: off the rails and straight into embarrassment territory. “Forget it, I could totally be misreading this whole cuddle thing, for all I know this might be a normal thing in troll culture, just snuggling between bros, like I could maybe expect it with your whole moirail thing except I’m pretty sure we’re not moirails? I’d probably know if that was what was happening-”

“Yeah, you can kiss me.”

“-especially since I don’t think either of us are like keeping the other from succumbing to homicidal tendencies or whatever because you can do whatever the fuck you want and I’m just chilling-” Dave paused mid-tangent, suddenly processing what Karkat had just said. “Wait. What’d you say?”

“I said you could kiss me, dumbass.”

“Oh. Cool. Great.” Dave found himself frozen for a second, realizing all that meant, and he slowly sat up, sliding off Karkat’s lap and turning to face him. This close, he could see Karkat swallow thickly, and he realized this was just as big of a deal for Karkat as it was for him.

Okay. He could do this.

Dave put his hand on Karkat’s cheek because that seemed like the right thing to do, and before he could second guess himself again, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Karkat’s.

It was really nice. It was clear they both didn’t really know what they were doing - they’d spent most of puberty on a meteor with the same tiny group of people, of course they were inexperienced - but it was still nice. The feeling of Karkat’s weirdly warm lips against his, the feeling of sharp teeth pressed up just behind them when they parted the slightest bit.

It didn’t last very long. Probably just a few seconds, but it felt like forever. Dammit, he was a god of time or whatever, he should probably have a better grasp of its passage, but Karkat seemed to knock out what little sense he had in the first place.

To be perfectly fair, Karkat seemed just as dazed as he did. When Dave finally pulled away, he curled his fingers into Dave’s sleeve to keep him from going too far and hey, when’d his hand end up on his upper arm? Not like Dave was complaining.

They both stared at each other for a second, two annoyingly talkative people on most days suddenly stunned silent.

“Thanks.” Dave finally said, and Karkat snorted, the moment broken.

“Thanks? Do you thank everyone you kiss, just to make up for having to deal with your stink breath?” There wasn’t any bite to the insult since they were definitely still close enough for Karkat to be smelling his supposedly stinky breath, and he didn’t seem to plan on moving away any time soon.

“Yep. Just a courtesy. You know how goddamn polite I am, got etiquette seeping out my damn pores. Gonna get pimples that’re sayin’ please and thank you with how clogged my pores are with all these manners.” He leaned in and bonked their foreheads together gently. Karkat looked like he was having a very hard time not snickering.

“Right. Maybe it’s your human etiquette that’s stinking the place up since you’re apparently drenched in it.”

“Oh, yeah. Good manners are notoriously noxious. They have to wear gas masks in Canada because of the permanent politeness stink.”

“You should know by now I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Karkat let go of his arm to tuck a piece of blond hair behind Dave’s ear and the gesture was so soft that Dave’s heart almost stopped. He definitely didn’t lean into the touch a little bit. Nope. Not at all. Shut up and mind your business.

“So. My lips as impudent as you thought?” Dave said to distract himself from how fluttery he was feeling. Karkat gave him a blank look, then grimaced as he suddenly remembered.

“Oh my fucking god. You cannot still remember that.”

“Of course I fucking remember that. You were hitting on me and John at the same damn time. You hadn’t even met us yet. Horny idiot.” Dave said, accenting his point by poking one of Karkat’s nubby horns.

“Shut up! I still think it’s offensive that humans use that phrase like that.”

“What, horny? Dude, we started using that word way before y’all ever even appeared on our radar.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“You think I’d invent an expression just to poke fun at you? Wait, don’t answer that, I definitely would.”

“Exactly. Dick.” Karkat huffed, then took Dave by surprise by leaning in to kiss him again. They shared a few more gentle kisses, a couple of them ruined by smiles from either of them and what was definitely not a giggle or two, and then Karkat lifted his head a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of Dave’s nose. Dave was pretty sure he was gonna explode from the tenderness. Pirouette off the fucking handle or whatever but in the best possible way. Here lies Dave Strider, he died because his alien boyfriend was too damn soft.

Wait.

“Hey, are we boyfriends?”

“You mean matesprits?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I dunno.” Karkat worried his lip with one of his fangs. “Do you wanna be?”

“I dunno.” Dave said, unintentionally parroting him. “Maybe? I-. I wouldn’t be opposed. To being matesprit-boyfriends. Maybe we can try it out for a while, see if we’re both down to clown- wait, bad choice of words, hopefully no clowns will be involved.”

“Yeah, that might get fucking weird.”

“Definitely. If you somehow become a clown, that ‘maybe’ will immediately turn into a no.”

“If I turn into a clown, you have my explicit permission to kill me instantly.”

“Punch the kill-button on the nose, right?” Dave said, brushing their noses together.

“Exactly. I’m trusting you with the secret to killing trolls, use it wisely.”

“I promise to only use my knowledge to put an end to my clown boyfriend’s horrible hypothetical existence.”

“You’re so dumb.” Karkat mumbled, tone full of affection, and he tucked his face into Dave’s neck.

They stayed there for a while, hours maybe, rambling and teasing each other. It really wasn’t very different from how they normally spent their time except they were a tangled mess of limbs and half on each other’s laps, cutting off particularly pointless rambles with kisses and effectively changing the subject completely.

Dave knew there were definitely things to worry about, things he’d have to deal with eventually, but with an armful of happy troll kissing him, he couldn’t be any happier.

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #homestuck #my writing #okay to reblog #i wrote this in the bus station and on the ride back to college on sunday #i alternated between writing it and finishing the comic itself lmao #i hope it's decently in character!!!!! #i've never written them before (obviously bc i literally finished the comic two days ago) #but yeah we love soft boyfriends

[dokuhan]

Oofuri XMas Exchange

Title: It Could Happen One Day Rating: PG Fandom: Ookiku Furikabutte Pairing: Mihashi Ren/Abe Takaya Summary: Or...the four times Abe Takaya thought Christmas was completely and totally ruined, but it actually turned out pretty, okay.  Notes: HOLY SHIT IT’S FINALLY DONE.

Hey hey hey, @jaesti it’s your Secret Santa~~ I’m sorry this took so long, I had this really cute idea and wanted to make sure it was perfect, but life kept kicking me in the face. Sorry it’s unbetaed, but I hope you like it all the same! Yuletide blessings~! <3 

The first really was just unfortunate circumstance. It was probably kind of their own fault, really. Their relationship was barely a few weeks old, and outside of Oki finding out by accident nobody knew they were together. It was still super tentative and overwhelming for two 17-year-old boys and they didn’t want to rock the boat right away.

But at the same time, Takaya wanted their first Christmas together to be special, dammit.

The plan was to keep it as low key as possible and play it by ear. See a movie, grab food, maybe something along those lines. Neither one of them had ever dated before so they didn’t exactly know how it worked, but it would still be pretty fun. It had taken a lot of sneaking around and excuses to get out of hanging out with the rest of the team too.

All that secrecy might have been their downfall, though.

“Abe-kun, it’s so great to see you again!”

Now to be absolutely clear, Takaya had absolutely no problem with Ruri. They barely knew each other, but what little interaction they had was far from unpleasant. He just didn’t want her third-wheeling on what was supposed to be a romantic evening.

“I d-didn’t know she was visiting…” Ren mumbled when they finally had a chance to talk. His head was down, but Takaya swore he could see Ren’s eyes boring holes into Ruri’s back as she walked leisurely ahead of them. “Mom said she should hang out with me and my friends.”

“Right. Because that’s what we said we were doing.” Takaya rubbed his face, breathing in deeply, “Now what?”

“Should…should we call someone? M-maybe Yuu-kun is around o-or Shouji-kun…”

“Yeah, and then then what?”

Ren made an uncomfortable noise and shrunk down a little, which made Takaya feel absolutely guilty but they both knew he was right. So yeah…they were stuck. Awesome.

And he tried to be nice about it, he really, really did – but it was just…Ruri was just there, all the time. She was an unavoidable, unmoving object placed there purely to ruin his Christmas.

When they went to grab food, she slid into the booth next to Ren before Takaya could even make it to the table. The movie was out of the question, because they couldn’t agree on something the three of them would enjoy. She dragged them through every crowded street, lamenting about how there were so many happy couples around them and yet the three of them were alone completely oblivious to the fact that IT. WAS. SUPPOSED. TO BE. A DATE.

Then there was the game center. That frigging game center. On a regular day, it was miserable. Too many people and a lot of noise – far from his cup of tea. Ren was even worse about it. But Ruri insisted, saying it was the perfect atmosphere for whatever tangent she found herself on, because Takaya had stopped listening long before that.

If he hated the game center normally, then on Christmas it was an absolute nightmare. By the time they pushed through the crowd, Takaya was ready to rip his hair out. Ren looked absolutely rattled too, reaching to cover his ears.

“Oh! Let’s try that one out,” Ruri exclaimed, reaching to pull Ren along, “RenRen, come on it’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is!”

Takaya whipped his head around, surprised that he could hear Ren over the rest of the noise.

Ruri looked just as surprised, letting her arms drop. She pouted a little, “Okay, so it’s busy, but I just want us to have fun. You’ve both been so grumpy.”

“B-because we wanted to be alone! It was supposed to be the two of us!”

She looked at the two of them, at first completely bewildered, but then as the dots connected in her head her eyes widened, “Oh…oh…OH! You guys…oh my god.” She covered her mouth, and Takaya braced himself for some kind of disgust, but instead, “I had no idea! I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Mom d-doesn’t know…n-nobody knows.”

Takaya sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “We haven’t been on an actual date yet. We’re still figuring this out.”

“Oh no, oh my god. I’m such a jerk. I can’t believe this.” She frowned, deeply.

That maybe, possibly made Takaya feel just a little bad. It obviously wasn’t her fault and she didn’t mean any of it, but it didn’t change the fact that their night was completely ruined. Having everything out in the open probably made it worse too, because now there were three miserable people spending Christmas together instead of just two.

“Wait, I think I might have an idea,” Ruri pushed past them, “You guys wait here, I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t like they could move anywhere else, anyway.

Takaya covered his own ears, moving in close to Ren, “I guess there’s always next year.”

“I’m so sorry, Takaya-kun.”

“Don’t. We’ll try again.”

Ruri grabbed onto the back of his shirt, “Okay, you two, come with me.”

She led the two of them up an escalator and down a hallway. She opened one of the doors, revealing a small karaoke room, “I could only get an hour, sorry. But I’ll be downstairs. Merry Christmas.”

With the door closed, most of the sounds coming from the lower level and other rooms muffled out.

Ren looked completely relieved and plopped down on the seat.

Takaya was quick to join him and stretched his legs forward. “So…should we put something on?”

“No, um…” Ren looked a little red, but lowered his head, resting it on Takaya’s shoulder, “I-is…is this okay? I don’t…it’s been a lot.”

Takaya felt his heart beating out of his chest, but he still moved his arm to rest around Ren’s waist, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

It was the best hour he had all year.

--

By their second Christmas and last year in high school, everyone was in the loop. It was understood and generally expected that they were going to be spending the holiday together. Takaya was determined to make it work that year. He pre-ordered movie tickets, looked up hole in the wall restaurants that he was certain wouldn’t be totally crowded, saved up all of his money, and even bought a new shirt for the occasion. After the mess the previous year had been, he was ready to call this their first real Christmas.

Until Japan had what had to have been its heaviest snowfall in all of history.

It had actually started early on the 23rd and the news reports had repeated over and over again that it would be done by the next afternoon, only for the winds to pick up and drop another foot on Saitama over the next two days. Takaya swore it was spite. Some god in the heavens probably saw him and went, “Yeah, that guy? Abe Takaya? Fuck him.”

So that nixed everything. Roads were closed. Trains weren’t running on schedule. Even if places were open there was no way the two of them could get there, much less to each other.

Which left Takaya to sulk in his room. Alone. On Christmas.

He huffed and placed his head on his desk. His mom had tried to reassure him that they could do something in few days, or he could even invite Ren over for the new year, but that just soured his move even more. None of that would be the same, he just wanted this one thing.

When his phone vibrated against his desk, he could feel it in his teeth. He wanted to ignore it, figuring it was one of his parents trying to get his attention. But then he figured it was easier than having them come up to lecture him, so he reached for it anyway.

To his surprise – it was Ren. Ren, who avoided phone calls like the plague. Ren, who initiated emails and conversations once every hundred thousand years when the planets perfectly aligned.

And even more shockingly, it was a video call.

He swiped it open, half expecting Ren to realize he made a mistake and hang up right away.

But there he was, sitting on his bed with the phone at a somewhat awkward, yet definitely intentional angle. “Hi…” he started, a little shakily.

“Hey…”

“I…wanted to see you…”

“Yeah?”

Ren nodded, swallowing hard. The phone shook a little as he fiddled with it, “Yeah.”

Takaya leaned forward, resting the phone against the wall and put his arms under his chin, “This sucks.”

“It’s so cold. And deep. I wanted to come over but my bike—”

“What?! Are you insane? What if you slipped on some ice and broke your arm, or worse cracked your head open?”

He flinched, “I would have been careful.”

“Jeez, just because Koushien is over doesn’t mean you can be so reckless.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, wait just…be careful. At least until we hear back from that scout.”

“Okay…I, um, I wanted…I miss you.”

Takaya felt the tips of his ears warm up, “Yeah, you too.”

They spent the entire day on the phone. By the time Takaya hung up, only because Ren looked ready to pass out and Shun was complaining about him being too loud, his phone felt a bit overheated. Nevertheless, as he plugged it into the charger for the umpteenth time, it still felt like a Christmas well spent.

Next year would be even better, too.

--

The next year was not better. They were together, but it was so, so bad.

Takaya thought living together would have made things like going on dates significantly easier. They weren’t in the city center itself, but close enough to it that they could go out and about whenever the mood struck. Everyone in their building kept mostly to themselves too, so nobody really bothered them. With all this in mind, Christmas should have been a cinch.

Then came Suzuya.

Before that day, Takaya had never met Suzuya and he was pretty sure Ren only ran into her a handful of times. She was a third year at the medical school connected to their university but their paths had never really crossed, despite the fact Takaya was a first year in that same program. Aside from the occasional noise through the paper thin walls, they wouldn’t have even known someone was renting.

But because it was Christmas Eve and they had the worst luck, that’s when she decided to formally introduce herself.

“I made strew because I thought I was going to be home tonight and tomorrow, but some friends invited on a trip,” she held out the pot to Takaya, smiling brightly, “you just need to keep it in the fridge until you’re ready and then heat it up on the stove. You and your roommate play baseball, right? Athletes need to eat.”

“You really don’t have to do this, we have plans tomorrow night and the rest of it will go to waste.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s still better than all of it going to waste. You could have it for lunch tomorrow too. Please, Abe-kun, I insist.”

So he took the stupid pot and put it in the fridge. When Ren got home from visiting is parents, Takaya put it on the stove and followed all the instructions Suzuya had given him. It tasted pretty alright, nothing to write home about and he figured it would work okay for lunch the next day.

And then 4:43AM rolled around.

Takaya had been the first to wake up, feeling slightly off. He swallowed a bit as the weird feeling traveled through his throat and face. He swallowed again. He tried to will himself to get up for some water, but then that ominous thought crossed his mind, “If you sit up, you’re going to throw up.”

He turned his head to look at Ren, silently hoping that this was just some kind of stomach bug and not what he suspected. He wiggled his way out from under Ren’s arm and rolled off the futon, holding his breath as his stomach gurgled. He started to crawl his way to the bathroom when that NOW. NOW. NOW. urgency hit him like a ton of bricks. Takaya scrambled to his feet and ran to the toilet, just barely making it before retching.

When he finally raised his head out of the toilet and flushed, he heard Ren coughing from the kitchen – probably on the tail end of his own vomiting spell. Takaya placed his head against the seat, “I’m going to kill Suzuya.”

It took until the early afternoon for the vomiting and bathroom trips to stop. Hanai had swung by in the hours before to bring them ginger ale, throw out the rest of the stew, clean up Suzuya’s pot, and set up their rice cooker for when they were feeling better.

“If anything,” he commented as he dried the top, “at least you two are consistent. Call me if you guys need anything else. If you’re feeling better by tonight I’m having cake with Shouji-kun and Yuuta-kun, maybe you can swing by.”

As Takaya crawled back into the futon, though, he knew that wasn’t even a possibility. “Christmas is cursed,” he groaned.

Ren buried his head into the pillow, “I’m never eating ever again.”

He pulled the extra blanket up higher, covering their shoulders, “Don’t say that. We’re just never eating anything Suzuya makes, ever again.”

“Mmm…” Ren moved in closer.

Their third Christmas consisted of a few good hours of sleep and two bowls rice of rice seeped in tea. They watched some dumb variety show on TV and read an article about some new baseball anime that would be starting in January. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

When Takaya returned the pot a few days later and told Suzuya about the food poisoning, she just shrugged.

“Oh,” Suzuya said, coolly, “that’s too bad.”

And that was when Takaya realized their neighbor was fucking insane.

But that’s a story for another time.

--

The most recent was because Takaya was a giant moron.

Ren was out for most of the day, finishing a project with two of his classmates. That gave Takaya all the time in the world to prepare for their quiet Christmas at home. His motivation going into all of it was the idea that if their attempts to go out always failed, maybe staying at home would work in their favor.

And at that point, it was actually working out in his favor. Suzuya had moved out weeks before (thank god), he hadn’t burned down the house making dinner, and the dishes weren’t a complete pain to clean up. That just left one thing.

Takaya reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a small box. He felt like an idiot, but Yuuto-kun had made a joke way back in the summer, and the idea stuck in the back of his head. He opened it up and pulled it out to inspect it.

It wasn’t an engagement ring, okay? It wasn’t that serious. It was…a promise of what could maybe, possibly, hopefully become one someday. Ren definitely wouldn’t wear it all the time, it would probably break during practice, and Takaya doubted it would ever actually leave the box but…well…ugh…

His all the lamenting about his dumb ideas, his brain decided that holding the ring in between his thumb and index finger was too much of a strain. It slipped out of his grip and clanked first against the edge of the counter, then into the sink, and finally into the drain. He swore he saw his entire bank account flash in front of his eyes.

Just as he was about to scream, he noticed that it hadn’t completely fallen down and was just sitting at the very bottom. Surely, surely he could get it out. All he hand to do was reach in and…

How was he supposed to know his hand would get stuck?!

Even more panic rushed through his body as he heard the door open and close behind him.

“I’m home…” Ren greeted.

“Welcome back…help me.”

Ren rushed over to his side, looked down at his hand, at Takaya’s face, and then back down in the sink. He pressed his lips firmly closed to stifle a laugh.

“No, this isn’t funny. I’m stuck. Help.”

“O-okay, just…” he struggled as he tried not to laugh, “h-how did y-you…”

“I’ll explain later. Get butter.”

All the butter did was make his hand feel disgusting, so did the oil. It was amazing he was still holding onto the ring when all was said and done.

When he finally gave in and let Ren call 119, the paramedics laughed at him for a solid minute. Still they were able to pull his hand out without breaking it, so it was worth it.

The ring did slip out of his fingers again, but thankfully it just fell onto the edge of the sink. Of course it was right where Ren could see it, though.

Ren’s eyes widened a bit. The paramedics looked at the two of them, one looked mortified and quickly scurried out while the other stopped to clap his shoulder before following after. Takaya mentally screamed at the demon that seemed intent to ruin every Christmas he had with Ren.

 Takaya sighed and leaned against the counter, careful of his still tender hand, “I’m not asking you to…it’s not like…maybe someday?”

Ren picked up the ring and wiped it on his shirt. It didn’t really fit when he slid it on his finger, but they could probably get it resized after the new year. “Someday.”

They both knew they had countless Christmases to get it right.  

#oofurixmas2017 #abemiha #oofuri #ookiku furikabutte #dokufic

[canaryatlaw]

well today was pretty good, best day in a while. I woke up at like, 8:20 with my alarm set for 8:45 and knew I wasn’t going to fall back asleep now that I had this knowledge so I just laid in bed and waited for my alarm to go off and then got up lol. I definitely packed like 4 different snacks in my purse, just because I felt like it was good to have them on hand for today (I ended up eating two of them). It was WAY TOO FUCKING COLD today, like 44, so I had to wear my fucking winter coat and it was awful and Chicago I’m so mad at you about this because it’s late May dammit I shouldn't have to still be putting up with this bullshit. I felt bad for the kids on the baseball/softball fields the bus passes that were already out there playing at 9 am when it was so cold. I do distinctly have memories of playing soccer in the snow, it was the end of the season and they had to get the games in, I legit had my winter coat on with my jersey over it, and it was legit snowing while we were playing. I can’t say it was really a negative memory though, because pretty much all my like, actual childhood memories of playing soccer were happy because I loved it so much, it was only once the breathing issues set in when I was 12 did they start becoming awful, frustrating and heartbreaking memories because I still loved it so much but I couldn’t do it now, and I felt so inadequate that I legit burst into tears on several occasions.....but then I found theatre and things were much happier again, so we can walk back that little tangent a little. But yeah, I took the bus to the train, I had to wait 11 minutes for the next train and it was fucking cold, I only had my coat, not my scarf or gloves or hat because IT’S MAY and I was freezing. But we got to church, a few minutes late but no big deal, I ended up sitting a little farther back than usual but it’s all good. I remembered upon arriving that small group sign ups opened up at 8 am this morning, and they fill up super fast, so I was bad and went on my phone discreetly during the service to make sure I could get a spot in the Young Adults/20s and 30s Singles small group. You’re supposed to be able to commit to 75% of the meetings before signing up, which I can’t technically do at this point because idk what’ll be happening in my life in July, but I know one of the leaders, she graduated from another law school in the city a few years back so I think I’ll just talk to her and be like as soon as I know if I have to leave I’ll drop out and someone else can have the spot and I’m sure she’ll be cool with it. Great worship as always, the little question they gave to talk to your neighbor for a minute while they transition was “if you could be any superhero who could you be” so I turn to the guy next to me and was like OH BOY, this is my fucking jam haha and we had a short conversation about DC vs Marvel and DCTV, so that was cool. Early in the sermon about the holy spirit my pastor brought up this group called “The Power Team” which I had completely forgot was a thing, but as soon as he said I had suddenly had these super vivid memories of sitting in some room in some church somewhere on Long Island (I had to have been like, 7, so I was little) and just watching these incredibly jacked guys do things like smash bricks with their hands and bend frying pans in half and literally blow up a hot water bottle until it burst, all while saying things like “IT’S THE POWER OF GOD THAT LETS US DO THIS” and that was their whole jam, that we were supposed to believe they could only do these superhuman acts because of God specifically enabling them to do them. I don’t know what was going on in the heads of the adults who were sending kids to this thing all the while knowing it had to be a farce, and that was the point my pastor was making, there’s nothing incredible about a man being able to do an act that he is physically built enough to do, if a normal not jacked guy came up and ripped a phonebook in half (that was another thing they did, my pastor joked “if some of you don’t know what that is, we used to print the internet”) by calling on the holy spirit then that would be something you could actually attribute to God, and how when we don’t believe incredible things in our lives can happen we aren’t realizing the full power of God (or something along those lines, you know what I mean). It got me thinking a bit about growing up in the church and how many kids raised in the church (so called “second generation Christians”) end up straying from the church, and how I felt like I got a bit of a cheat sheet in that area. I remember being in some sunday school class somewhere along the line and they were like “who’s had prayer requests that they’ve had answered by God?” and all the other kids were like “well I won my baseball game!” or “when I had the flu I got better!” and I was just like “well I actually prayed a human being into existence by praying for a little sister for three years until it happened” and I just remember the teacher being like........don’t know how to follow that up lol. Anyway. Service ended and I went to the volunteer lounge for our huddle up, it was the last week with one of the family ministries leaders, so we did a whole little celebration for him which was nice. When I got up to the baby’s room I was alone at first and one of the leaders/my friend came in and was like “oh you’re definitely not supposed to be alone, there were like 3 people signed up” so I did end up getting another person. Things went pretty smoothly overall, we ended up with 6  babies at one point, but ended up having to text the parents of this one little girl who was so adorable but was just not having it, she kept reaching towards the door and yelling “mama, mama!” as she cried and I was like damn, I can’t take this lol but besides that there were no real tears, everyone did pretty well together. There was a super adorable little boy who I’m pretty sure already turned 2 but if they want to keep him with the babies that’s fine with me, he wasn’t really engaging at first but after several attempts he got into it and was having fun. And there was this super cute little 11 month old girl who is the spitting image of her dad, her dad is definitely mixed race and it looks like her mother might be as well (I’m just speculating obviously) but the baby has that like, super adorable darker skin lighter hair and eyes thing going on and gosh, she’s just so damn cute lol. She’s still at the stage where she can’t fully stand up on her own, but will try to find anything she can grab onto to help pull herself  up, which can be problematic when she’s grabbing on like, the dirty diaper disposal haha but nothing too bad. There was a 7 month old little girl, and another one who was 19 months, both of whom were pretty calm, and there was the daughter of the couple who recently started heading up family ministries and she’s just the cutest little thing, she’s just got the whole chubby baby thing going on and she gives the best hugs and is so cute. So that went pretty well. After it ended I went back to the blue line train, but then switched over to the red line because I was going to meet Jess at the tattoo place to go with her to get her tattoo, so I did that and then walked down to the place, it was right across the street from the Target I generally go to so I knew where it was. They had  bit of a wait so we ended up sitting and talking for a while, which was good because we hadn’t seen each other in like a month so we had a lot of catching up to do. Then her name got called so she was talking with the guy about what she wanted done, and I chatted for a few minutes with another guy about the tattoo situation on me wrist (being that I got a white ink tattoo on it in January 2014 and then in July 2016 broke my wrist and ended up with a giant surgery scar right through my tattoo) and they basically said white ink tattoos are super hard to touch up because of the way the ink reacts to your body and it probably would not come out looking very good, so it'd probably be better to let it fade (they’re supposed to fade out it like 10 years, which I was aware of when I got it because it was another way I could be like “well if I decided I don’t want it anymore I can just let it fade and it’ll be gone” to my parents about it) and then maybe try something else in a different location, so I’m going to think about it, another option would be to get another tattoo on top of the old one, but I feel like that would be difficult to do without adding some color, and the whole point of it being white ink was to not draw attention to it because lawyer and I’m already kind of toeing the line of professionalism with my bright red hair and multiple ear piercings. so we’ll see, I’ll think about it, maybe in a few years when I’m somewhat established in the legal world. But yeah, they printed up Jess’ thing and made a stencil, and we came back and did the tattoo, during which we talked about Divergent and I was explaining my theory on how the hogwarts houses transfer into the Divergent factions (Amity and Abnegation are both just Hufflepuff, Dauntless is half gryffindor half slytherin, candor is half gryffindor half ravenclaw, and erudite is half ravenclaw half slytherin) (clearly I’ve put a lot of thought into this) as she squeezed my hand and was super brave through the whole thing (I know she doesn’t read these but I hope she knows I’m super proud of her for dealing with a whole lot of shit and making it out the other side still being an awesome human being). So once they finished up we ran over to the Target to get tattoo aftercare supplies, namely Aquaphor (which is apparently like bacitracin, I recognized the name but didn’t know what it actually was) and Dial hand soap, while I needed to pick up some make up removing wipes, and ended up grabbing a really cute pair of shorts because they were really cute and were my size and not made out of polyester and ended up being on sale, so, they were clearly a reasonable purchase. Checked out, I got a sour watermelon icee that I had been wanting to try (I got a super small one and I still couldn’t finish the whole thing without it burning my mouth, lol) and Jess got a passion tea/lemonade from the starbucks. So we then walked over to where she parked, and drove over to my place where she dropped me off and then went to lay in bed for the rest of the night because the seatbelt was like, apparently right on top of where the tattoo was and it was super painful so that sounded like a good plan. I got to my apartment and decided I wanted to make the parmesan noodle soup I made like a week or so ago for dinner which I realize contains like 800 calories in pasta but I don’t really care because it’s really good. So I did that, then waited for the Brooklyn 99 season finale to come on. Can I just say, I’m so proud of this show. I binged seasons one and two in preparation for season three because it was announced that Archie Panjabi was going to be on an episode and I was still hardcore on my Archie Panjabi kick at that point, especially for supporting work she did after she left TGW after being treated so poorly. But I ended up really liking the show so I kept watching, and like, suddenly it was everywhere and everyone was watching it and it was just this super awesome show everybody loved and it made me so happy. Obviously the season finale is a big deal, they really should’ve made it an hour special, but they did just fine in their half hour slot fitting in all the craziness that had to accompany a Jake/Amy wedding. So that made me happy. Once that was over I switched over to Netflix, and finished the episode of the great british baking show masterclass (the masterclass is basically just the two judges making their super awesome versions of what the contestants on the actual show had to make and it’s nuts but also super calming to watch. Once that was over I decided to start episode two of 13 Reasons Why’s second season, I figured I’d intercut watching it with british people baking as to not get too depressed about it. There was definitely a tonal shift in the show from last season to now, partially just because people are constantly dropping f-bombs which very much did not happen last season, and just generally being racier with things. I still have a lot of mixed feelings about the show, and I’m not terribly sure it’s something I want to endorse, but I at least want to watch it so I can make an informed decision on it. And again, I do feel some loyalty to it from having read the book all those years ago. The tone its take is definitely strange, though. The courtroom scenes continue to bother me because again, the defense’s entire case is bullshit inadmissible under rule of evidence 404 character evidence and is basically a victim blaming nightmare and has obviously been super traumatizing for all of the kids who they’ve had testify so far. The whole Jessica/Bryce situation is clearly incredibly volatile, and I very much hope it ends in Bryce having to face up to his crimes. The Alex storyline is interesting, it was an intriguing choice to go with a memory loss plot from his suicide attempt at the end of last season, so I’m interested to see how that’s going to play out. As far as Clay and Hannah and Skye are concerned, very much mixed feelings as well. Clay is of course clearly suffering from trauma and likely needs a mental health intervention, and not just because he’s quite literally seeing ghosts. Something about how they wrote Skye in this last episode kind of got under my skin, just that they’re going for the whole ~insecure artsy girl~ thing and I realize that’s most likely because I recognize the similarities of her with my own life and though I’m doing much better overall I do definitely still hate parts of me and that’s very much one of them. But yeah, it was a lot, so after that I watched two british baking episodes before starting to get ready for bed. It’s just past 1:30 am and I don’t have to be up for anything tomorrow, but I don’t want to waste the entire day sleeping in, so I’m going to call it a night here. Goodnight loves. Hope you have a kickass Monday.

#daily journal #May 2018 #tw: 13 reasons why #tw: suidice

[lejojotrash]

Truth or Dare (Weather Report X Reader)

AN: I was so bored I decided to write something by my own hands. Guess I should write I take one shots too. Hopefully I made Part 6 people in character. I'm praying. Thanks for reading!

----------------------------

Truth or Dare is a stupid game. You wished you could go back in time and beat the shit out of whoever invented the game. Dammit. Currently you were going through the hallway of the prison, heading towards Emporio's ghost room. You clicked your tongue, and shoved your hands deep into your pants pocket in irritation. Stupid Jolyne, asking if you like Weather Report. Stupid you for not lying and saying 'Sure, platonically.' Stupid Hermes, asking if you liked Weather's crotch guard. Stupid you for thinking about for a good second too long and saying 'no.' Stupid FF, catching on and just asking about Weather in general. Stupid you, for letting it continue. Stupid... Stupid the three of them. Stupid you for getting tired of questions about Weather and asking for dare.

You should've known this type of dare was gonna be asked, all three of them collaborated on this dare, so you'll deal some punishment back to them. Karma is a fucking bitch. When you get back, you were totally gonna dare Jolyne to make out with Anasui, or Hermes pull down the pants of a guard, or FF to... Give up her cup of water for the day or something. You weren't sure, but you were gonna figure something out. You eventually reached the ghost room, and you quickly looked around to make sure nobody was around, and you went in. Weather wasn't there. Thank God. It was just Emporio and Anasui. "Oh hey, (First)," Emporio greeted, Anasui didn't even cast a glance at you, probably thinking about wooing Jolyne or something creepy like that. "Do you need anything?" "I, uh,-" Need to make out with Weather? You got dared by your three stupid friends to kiss Weather? What can you say to make this less awkward? "Where's Weather?" "Um... I'm not sure," Emporio thought. "He'll probably come here later though..."

"Okay, cool," Great. You had time to mentally prepare to platonically make out with him. "Could I, maybe, like,-" Make out with him because of stupid dare, "-talk to him... Alone?" Emporio's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open, Anasui chose to take notice of you right now. "It's about goddamn time," Anasui states. What? "I'm sorry," Was there something you were suppose to know? Do they know about the dare too?! Fucking Jolyne! Fucking Hermes! Fucking- "What?" "You're finally gonna confess to Weather!" Emporio elaborated. He looked kinda happy discussing this. "You know, I think he likes you too, he keeps staring at you sometimes, so I think you'll be fine and-" "T-That's not what I need to talk to him about," Emporio's comment slightly catches you off guard. Weather? Liking you? It's just... Bizarre thinking about it. You couldn't imagine him liking anybody. Emporio flushes at getting his assumption wrong. "O-Oh..." He trails off, discouraged. Goddamnit. Now you felt bad. "Yeah... It's a long story. Jolyne, Hermes, FF, and I were playing Truth or Dare," Anasui focuses on you after you mention Jolyne, "They kept asking me about Weather, and I got pissed off, so I asked for a dare instead, and they all came up with the dare that I should-"

"Uh, (First)," Emporio began quietly, unsure of whether to interrupt you or not, but Anasui shushed him, not because he was interested in your story. Oh no. It was because of something else entirely. "-make out with Weather, platonically, of course, there's no way I like him romantically, at all. Period. He's just a friend," You cleared your throat because you could feel some heat crawl up to your face and you were going off tangent. "And I'm gonna get back at Jolyne and them... I'll probably make Jolyne make out with you, Anasui... That'll teach them..." Anasui looked pretty happy at the thought that Jolyne was gonna make out with him, and Emporio just looked nervous. "Hey, what's wrong, Empo-" "You wanted to what with me?" A low voice whispered clearly in your ear. There was only one explanation why Weather Report, out of all people in this prison, had to walk behind you as you explained the dare to Anasui and Emporio, and that explanation was that fate hated you. It hated you so much, so so very much.

You couldn't even pull any shit out of your ass to defend yourself, you just stood there, still as a rock as Weather Report was right behind you, head extremely close to your ear, breathing the same air you were. You could feel your face flush incredibly red. Goddamnit. You notice Emporio and Anasui leave the ghost room: Emporio making up some half-assed excuses to leave you two alone, and Anasui proclaiming he's gonna make out with Jolyne even though you haven't told Jolyne your dare to her yet so oh well, but honestly you couldn't really hear them because you were so embarrassed. It was until they left, you spoke: "How long were you standing behind me?" Your voice cracked, like a stupid teenage boy.

"Something about making out with me," You couldn't even look at him for God's Sake. You were scared of the face he was making, would it be the same face he always make? A blank one? Or would it be disgust? You needed to get out of the awkward situation quickly, and salvage the friendship you two had before it gets even more fucked up. "Did- Did I say 'making out?' I never said that!" You laughed it off, albeit nervously. "I-I said, um... I said taking out..." "Oh? So you're taking me out?" He clarified. You were too nervous to realize that he was teasing you in his own weird Weather Report way, and frankly you didn't realize that teasing existed in his vocabulary. Shit. Did he mean 'taking out' as in a date or killing him? Did you mean it that way? That wasn't the message you wanted to send. "N-No!" You protested, your heart was beating loudly in your chest, as you stepped away from Weather, and you turned around to face him, with all the courage you had. He still a stern and stoic expression on his face, but there was something different in his eyes that you couldn't place. "I-I meant... I..." You were running out of options here. Weather stepped closer to you, and leaned forward, his head close to your ear.

"(First), you're not making any sense," He murmured. God he had such a nice voice. Wait. Now's not the time. Focus! You groaned out of frustration, burying your face in the palms of your hands. "I know," Your voice was incredibly muffled in your hands. "I-I'm sorry, Weather." You took your hands off your face, and plopped on the floor, Weather took a seat as well. You breathed in and out, readying yourself to tell him the whole story. "It was a game of Truth or Dare and Jolyne, Hermes, and FF dared me to make out with you and like... Yeah." You ended the story blandly, not opting to tell him the whole reason why they dared you to make out with him, but hey it was simple enough. You looked downwards out of embarrassment again. "Look if you don't want to make it out with me, it's cool, we could just lie to them and say 'yeah we kissed and it was great', and like, I totally think of you as a-" "I don't mind," Weather interrupted you, you could feel his breath by your ear and you shivered. You turned slightly to look at him, still stoic faced, although there was a slight tint of red on his face and the weird look in his eyes. It was better than your tomato looking face. Either you were really hard of hearing or you couldn't believe what he said. "Don't mind what?" You ask like the clueless person you are.

"Kissing you, making out with you," He elaborated simply. Wow. He makes it sound so hot. "But I-" He hesitates, doing away slightly that confidence he held. "-I've never done this before. At least, not that I can remember-" "Does it matter?" You interrupted bluntly. "You're making out with me, I mean wow. That's just... The whole thing is pretty great... Wait is this a romantic make out or a platonic one, before I can get all mushy?" "A romantic one," Weather seemed slightly amused at your question, answering it like it was extremely obvious and it was weird that you even needed to ask. His answer, however, made you flush red again. "I didn't think you were interested in me, at all, to be honest," You began, you raised your hand, unsure if you could cup his cheek or not, but eventually you settled for holding his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "And I don't think past experiences with making out really matter here, at least right at this moment. I don't really make out with people myself, so, ah, I probably suck at this."

Weather looks at you and really looks at you, and you swallowed in nervousness. Did you say something wrong? Suddenly, he cups your cheek with his hand. Oh my God. Was this seriously happening? "Weather, I like you," You muttered, closing your eyes and tilting your head. This was it. "Romantically." He smiles slightly at your confession, but you don't see it because you're closing your eyes. "I like you romantically as well," and then Weather mimics your actions. Your lips meet, and boy was it nice. His lips were slightly chapped, but it didn't really matter because Weather was making out with you right now and it was the best thing ever. Eventually both of you pull away for air, and you were staring at Weather in awe. "Wow," You breathed out because it was the only thing intelligent that you could say. "Hey, Weather, did I ever tell you that liked you?" His face was slightly flushed too, and he was looking at you with fondness in his eyes. Weather, again, seemed amused at your question.

"Yes," He answered. "Well, I'm gonna say it again, so you won't forget it," You state. "I like you, Weather." "I don't think I'm ever going to forget this," Weather responds. "But I like you too, (First)." "....It's just in case, okay?" You could feel your face turn redder than a tomato. Weather leaned in closer again, closing his eyes. "Ah," He agreed. He doesn't mind hearing you say that over and over. But before he kisses you again he says, "Perhaps, I should thank Jolyne and the others for daring you to make out with me." Ugh. You totally forgot this was a dare. "Don't remind me, Weather," You groaned. "They're gonna get their share when I go back. But for now don't ruin the moment." And you placed both of your hands of Weather's cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. Huh. Maybe the person who invented Truth or Dare wasn't such a bad guy after all.

----------------------------

Bonus! "When should we go back into the room?" Emporio questioned, alongside an injured Anasui, who got punched in the face after he (forcefully and almost) made out with Jolyne. Apparently you hadn't dared her to make out with him... Yet.... "We should go interrupt whatever they're doing. It's gonna be fucking hilarious," Anasui states, grinning. The looks on your's and... Maybe Weather's faces would be gold. Emporio gulps audibly at the suggestion. "But what if... What if they're doing... The thing?" Emporio asks quietly. Anasui pauses, thinking about Emporio's implication and then eventually wondering if he should really scar himself by seeing his best friend naked and you on the floor duking it out. Gross. "Let's walk around for awhile, Emporio," He finally decides. "Maybe we can find some cleaning supplies for the floor."

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AN: Thanks for reading! I was thinking about making a sequel where Weather had his memories back. What do you guys think?

#Weather Report #X Reader #I make One Shots now #JJBA #jojo's bizarre adventure

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Pathfinder Campaign night #2! A shorter run than last week for a couple of reasons. Again, we have 

@theta-thoughts, the GM (^^)

@babebot as Durn (--)

@actnonsense as Yamato Nobuyuki (++)

and me as Blink! (==) No @tobiyond this week cause he was busy, but he sent his love. The gay kind. Because obviously.

Favorite moments this week included:

^^“Act, you ready to go?” ++*literally just woke up/still in the process of waking up “Yeah, be right there.”

Drawing even more dicks in the roll20 editor.

Theta censoring said dicks, dirty words, etc. as we’re putting them up.

==“Noooo! My boobies!” ^^“Not a sentence I expected from Momo today.”

Laughing so hard my gut hurt before we actually properly got started.

Deciding that today was strictly restock and info gathering since Tobi was gone.

Finally getting all my stats squared away and then remembering once we get loaded back into the actual game- Oh right, most of us were at 3 health or less left.

Making the innkeeper’s week by paying her back for the free room/board with like two months of interest.

Yamato coming out of his room in the morning in his kitsune form rather than the human form we’ve already seen and trying to pass it off as “Nah, I’m Yamato’s friend. We got in some trouble with some people and decided it’s safer if we’re not in the same place at the same time.”

==“He’s being suspicious. I roll to call bullshit.” *Blink gets a nat 20 on Sense Motive* =“Bullshit.” ++“GodDAMMIT.”

Durn not rolling nearly as well on his bs check, but still being suspicious.

-“So what’s your name?” +“Uhhh, T-tamato Moboduki?” ^^“Tomato Dookie?” +“I mean, Akira Kurusu.” (Act likes Persona.) =“So you came out of pretty boy’s room. You two dating?” (Blink, having already made the successful check.) +“Sure.”

Yamato Akira acquired a  new nickname! Unlocked: “Fluffy!”

Theta being a great and generous DM in nudging us the right direction and flat-out telling us which quests we shouldn’t/can’t try to do just yet.

Busting out the useless magic items list.

Act/Yamato Akira getting a magic liposuction wand and being deeply insulted.

David/Durn getting magic windchimes that might warn us if someone’s trying to sneak up on us while we sleep at night.

Me/Blink getting a small box of saint’s bones that rattle whenever someone tells a lie. Within a 1 mile radius.

Deciding that the bones will be more useful as a massage chair than as any sort of divination item and laying on the box while Yamato Akira goes off on this long, deadpan spiel about being the queen such-and-such blessed by yada yada goddess to make it work.

-“And I’m NOT Durn!” ==++^^“And the box just explodes.”

Act re-rolling for a new item because the lipo wand sucked. (See what I did there?) Getting a packet of 3 matches that don’t light when you strike them, but set fire to whatever the user is looking at when struck.

-“Oh! I got some replacement rope for Yams, you’re his friend, can you give it to him when you see him?” +“I can definitely do that.” *Blink rolling his eyes loudly*

Deciding that the discord should probably have a tab specifically for keeping track of story stuff. 

David immediately adding typing “dicks” in as the first entry.

Running around listening for rumors, at one point Act/Akira yelling “Whose dick do I have to suck for some information around here?!” and going off on a tangent, right outside the temple.

+ “Sex is completely natural, I don’t see what everyone is being weird about. It’s why everyone here is even alive.” = “As someone who spontaneously manifested, I’m offended you equate sex and life.”

Blink calling the guy taking a voluntary tithe as a bribe for information a dick under his breath. Getting chided by Fluffy because of Blink’s earlier zeal for throwing around money, and Blink insisting it’s different. Besides, he doesn’t really care about the gods anyway. Except Thisamet, he’s okay with him cause he gave Blink the Cow.

++ “I swear, you keep saying “Lady Origena” and I keep hearing “Lady Orgy.” What kind of stuff is this woman getting up to in her spare time?” == “You know the weird kind of shit nobles get up to. When you’re rich and bored...” ^ “What the fuck you saying about my mom? Nasty ho, keep it to yourself.”

+ “DON’T DENY THE SUCC, MY CHILD!” - “He’s not with us.” = “I don’t know him.”

Leaving shortly after that because people were staring at them after that last comment.

==“Hey, I’m gonna ask about -lore thing we’re looking for-.” ^“And I will gladly answer your question, traveler, (^^) as soon as Act gets back from the bathroom.” ==“Well then, Blink fucks off to raid the the Duchess’ pantry. And by that I mean, I’m getting food, I’m not actually going to steal from them. That seems like a bad call.”

Durn and Yamato doing the last bit of info gathering because the NPC is a Gnome and Gnomes do not like kval. 

Blink hanging out in a tree for a half hour while gnome npc regales Durn and Yamato with her story. She baked biscuits.

=+“Theta I’m bored, can I roll and acrobatics check to dangle from a branch with my tail like a monkey?” ^^“Sure. Roll acrobatics.” *Nat 20. Again.* ==“...I feel like the computer is trying to apologize to me for last run.”

Yamato dancing for the Gnome, who happens to be a bard, while she plays music and rolling a nat 20, plus hero point. 

^^“Your standing with her is now completely maxed out and you’re now in good standing with her whole political faction. Now everyone in her faction is friendly to you.” --“Cool.” ^^“And since you did it just by making friends with her and not by taking a particular political stance, you don’t go down in standing with the opposite faction.” --“Cool!” ^^“And Act, take another rank in dance, I’d say you earned it.”

Durn bringing Blink biscuits after they’re all done.

Durn being the one who actually made sure we’d be prepared for basically anything the next campaign throws at us. (Chests, cart, bags, tents, extra food, everything. I just know that’s gonna be a godsend.)

This campaign only lasting 4 1/2 hours instead of 6. Only.

#long post #the murder #smiles #pathfinder gayme #shorter because it was a shorter run and also because I dissociated pretty hard a few times #y'know I have no idea if this is actually any shorter than the other one #ugh it is time for momo to use the sleep #updated for readability

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 045: Superhero Names

Previously on BnHA: Everyone licked their emotional wounds from the sports festival arc. You wouldn’t think a simple sports festival would cause so many emotional wounds, but here we are. All Might hugged some kids. Iida visited his brother in the hospital. Todoroki visited his mom. Ochako’s parents came to cheer her up. Deku ate dinner. Bakugou brushed his teeth.

Today on BnHA: Aizawa wears an infinity scarf. Deku gets mobbed by people on a train. The draft pick totals are announced. The kids pick their superhero aliases. Somehow this ended up being one of my longest recaps ever because I went off on tangents like three separate times, talking about everything from the new volume’s character page to the stuff I think I might have been spoiled for by accident. Like, when I went back to edit this it was like whoa.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 104 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

looks like it’s the start of another new volume (and arc!), so let’s see what extras we’ve got today!

well there’s not much end-of-volume-5 stuff, but I did find this fascinating

honestly, this wrapped up in less than 20 chapters though. to me that’s incredibly fast. either way, I have to hand it to him, because the pacing was just about perfect. nothing dragged out to the point of becoming boring, and we didn’t waste time on anything we didn’t need to see, but we did get to see just about everyone have at least one cool moment. that’s about all you can ask for, really.

and lord, have you ever heard of a final battle in a tournament arc lasting just a single chapter?? I still can’t get over that ending. that just flew in the face of everything I’ve come to anticipate from a Jump manga, and once I realized what was happening it was as much a thrill as it was a shock.

apparently Endeavor was on the back of this volume cover the whole time. hey, Endeavor!! [deep breath] ...FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUU

all right, on to the new volume!

goddamn this series’s cover art is something else

is Iida even wearing his glasses here?? (ETA: nope!) 

he looks so cool and barely like the usual Iida at all

that Stain guy really fucking looks like Small Gia you guys. I apologize in advance if this ends up being something I never stop talking about

and I see Deku’s back in his original costume, but with a couple of upgrades. got what appears to be new gloves, some lines on his jumpsuit that I don’t remember seeing before (ETA: because they’ve changed color), reinforced collar/shoulder protection, and did he always have those big knee guards before? at any rate, it’s a vast improvement on the original look and I approve

what is this

why would Ochako dress up as a giant cancelled sign

and Deku’s Tokoyami hat is both so cute and so disturbing to me. cute because it’s so damn cute look at it, and disturbing because it’s realistic to the point of looking like his actual severed head almost

also are they working at a 7-11 or something. lol

volume title: “Struggling.” I’m feeling it. very relatable

all of the characters are wearing street clothes on the character page!

oh my god Aizawa’s infinity scarfff

SHOUJI WITH ONE OF HIS INFAMOUS PONCHOS

I CAN’T TELL IF DEKU’S ARM IS FUCKED UP FROM THIS ANGLE DAMMIT

DOES HORIKOSHI HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST DRAWING JACKETS/SWEATERS/BUTTON-DOWN SHIRTS THAT ARE A NORMAL LENGTH

BAKUGOU WILL JUST ALWAYS BE WEARING HIS PANTS LIKE A GOOD 3 INCHES BELOW WHERE THEY ACTUALLY SHOULD BE HUH

SHOUTO WITH THE THREE-QUARTER-LENGTH SLEEVED SWEATER. I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY ABOUT THAT. IT LOOKS REALLY GOOD ON HIM THOUGH

AIZAWA’S SCARF DESERVES ANOTHER MENTION EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY MENTIONED IT. BRO LOOKS LIKE LENNY KRAVITZ AND I’M HERE FOR IT

IT’S A CRIME THAT SO MUCH OF JIROU IS HIDDEN BEHIND IIDA’S GIANT FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN HEAD BECAUSE I LOVE HER FASHION SENSE SO MUCH AND THAT JACKET LOOKS SO FUCKING FINE ON HER WORK IT GURL!!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST ALL MIGHT WITH THAT BLAZER. ALL MIGHT YOU LOOK SO DAMN GOOD, IF YOU WERE A PHASER ON STAR TREK YOU’D BE SET TO STUN MY GOOD MAN

like a fool, I didn’t scroll past the table of contents quickly enough and my eyes glanced over the title “Gran Torino Appears.” and that shit sounds fucking familiar. some part of my brain that picks up on subconscious clues is telling me that this person is All Might’s master. guess we’ll find out probably in the next chapter. or at the end of this one maybe

Deku is on the train to school and people are recognizing him

“wow you’re that crazy kid from the sports festival, right? you were just sooooo crazy you little wackadoodle.”

but actually he seems to be getting praise from them! some guy is giving him a thumbs up

and now he’s surrounded

this might not be so good, actually. these people are fairly harmless, but this could get out of hand pretty quickly. there’s a reason celebrities always have bodyguards around. and we live in a world without supervillains. these kids are just kids, but some of them have already become household names and faces, and we know that at least a couple of them have also attracted some villainous interest as well. they’re safe enough at school with the security there (I know, I know, but they must have learned their lesson after the last time), but outside is a different story

I’ve been meaning to bring this up at some point, and now seems as good a time as any: another thing I’ve been spoiled about is the fact that I’m pretty sure at some point, some or possibly all of the kids from class A move into U.A. dorms. I’ve seen dorms mentioned enough that I’m pretty sure it’s a canon thing (I wasn’t sure at first). so since then I’ve been on the alert for this to come up, and if/when it does, I’m thinking something like this might be the reason why

and since we’re on the subject, here is a brief list of the other (still relatively few) things I’ve been spoiled for/sort of spoiled for:

Aizawa’s ridiculously hot ponytail. also a scar that’s under his right eye, but I’m thinking that he probably got that during his fight with Noumu and I just haven’t seen it yet because he still had bandages on his face during the festival

at some point there is going to be something really angsty involving Bakugou. because I know I’ve had an irrational love for him since the start, but at some point it seems like something’s going to happen with him that causes just about everyone to feel sympathetic toward him lol. I have no clue at all what this thing is going to be though

this Bakugou angst is going to lead to some good BakuDeku shit. I don’t know what shit, but I can’t wait for it. I have a feeling it’s still a looooong ways out, though

(ETA: well we did have an arc where Bakugou got kidnapped, so for a while I was sure this was what all the angst was about. but now that’s done and things have quieted down again, and we still haven’t gotten that BakuDeku goodness, so I’m thinking there must be still more angst on the horizon! which, frankly, good. yes. moooooore bring me more)

there is some guy with wings I think. not sure what his deal is

I keep seeing Shinsou in a mask similar to Deku’s

lastly, I blame the anime for this because they’ve thrown in some filler related to it that no one asked for, but: I’m pretty sure I’ve seen All Might’s master. but I kept throwing my hands up in front of my face or looking away or closing my eyes whenever I realized what was going on lol. but he was writing a letter to someone in episode 13, and I figure it has to be this person. and I saw like a brief silhouette of someone with long dark hair. and I think I’ve seen fanart of this person before. I can’t quite remember the details of it but I feel like this person is probably the aforementioned Gran Torino? the good thing is it seems like I don’t have much longer to wait before I finally find out more about that one.

(ETA: so obviously the person in question with the long hair was Shimura rather than Gran. so I was spoiled but also not spoiled I guess, because even though I’d gleaned Gran’s name from somewhere, I never actually saw him until he made his appearance in the manga.)

anyways, that’s it as far as I can recall!

so Deku’s made it to school now but he’s really tired. probably from all the nearly dying two days ago

someone’s running up behind him in a raincoat, and this bulky frame with its awkward arm motions could really only be one person

yep

never does anything halfway, this guy

Deku says they’ve still got five minutes before the first bell rings, but Iida insists that “the students of U.A. make it a point to arrive ten minutes early!!” wow I really would not have done well in this school

Iida immediately tells Deku he doesn’t need to worry about his brother and he’s sorry if they caused him any concern

the way he says it and the way Deku stares at him and dots afterward makes me think there is indeed cause for concern though. plus, like. you were on the volume cover, Iida

looks like all the kids had strangers coming up to them and congratulating them on their efforts

WOW look how well Aizawa has them trained

EVEN BAKUGOU WOW. Sero and Kouda switched desks, Ochako sprinted twenty feet all the way her seat at the back of the room, and Kaminari fucking teleported into his seat out of nowhere damn

so let’s see if this man has that eye scar now, then!

yes!!!

holy shit, and this is going to be there for the rest of the series. I fucking love attention to detail like this

what is hero informatics class. that sounds like something Deku would excel in. Deku should probably teach the damn class

Kirishima says it’s stuff about “hero law and junk.” oh my god I instantly have so many questions

GASP!!!!!!

GOOD LUCK BEATING MY NICKNAMES FOR ALL OF YOU LOSERS. OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED LOL

also, they really let these kids pick out their aliases at age 15? granted, most of them have probably been thinking about this for nearly their entire lives, so it’s not just a spur of the moment thing. but still, that seems awfully risky. I hope they’re allowed to change them later if they wake up one morning cringing over the choice

ohh! but first, pro draft picks!

he says it’s based on who the pros think will be ready to join the workforce after another 2-3 years of experience... so after graduation, basically. or really whenever they turn 18. well that makes sense

he says it’s not a guarantee of anything though; the offers can still be revoked if things don’t pan out

jesus christ

the top four stole the show, but the top two are in their own fucking league

worth nothing that Bakugou managed these numbers even with his personality out there on full display as well

I think a large part of that has to do with the guy that raked in 4,123 draft picks. the fact that Todoroki is that powerful and Bakugou still managed to beat him in the finals. of course, that wasn’t him at full power though, which I expect Bakugou is still salty about and will be for quite some time

only 108 people recognized Momo’s utter flawlessness. that’s everyone else’s loss

and even fewer gave Ochako a chance, but at least she still got 20!

and of course the most notable thing about the entire board is the fact that Deku’s not up there at all, which is fully understandable since his power’s drawback was thrust into the spotlight. I can’t imagine any pro hero agency wants to deal with that. 

well, it’s just like he was thinking back in the last chapter -- he’ll just have to find another way to manage things

poor Aoyama is in a huff about not having gotten any picks either

Momo congratulates Shouto, but he says it’s mostly just his dad’s influence. I really hope he can break away from that eventually. basically his entire life has centered around his dad up till this point, first with him being trained as his successor, and then later when he became obsessed with defying him. I just want him to be able to go after his dreams for his own sake and have pride in himself on his own merits without worrying about his parentage and how that comes into it

Mineta is shaking Deku and telling him, “I told you you scared them,” and no one fucking cares about your opinion on anything Mineta. this isn’t news to anyone

anyhow, Aizawa says that whether they were picked or not, they’ll all get a chance to work with the pros as part of their education

oh thank god, he says the names are only tentative. “but you’ll still want to pick something appropriate.”

now someone else is cutting in and screaming “OR ELSE YOU’LL KNOW TRUE HELL”

oh my god please let this be some poor sap who got saddled with the worst superhero name ever

nope it’s just Midnight

but she says the name might end up being what the world ends up calling them, so they still need to pick carefully

oh, true... if something eventful happened and the media ended up reporting on it, what was previously a “tentative” name might end up becoming a permanent one just like that

then again, IRL celebs change their names all the time and no one usually bats an eye

also Marvel superheroes change their names a fucking lot too. “it’s Iron Patriot now.”

looks like Midnight is here to make sure they don’t fuck it up. Aizawa says he’s no good at that lol. you picked the best fucking name out of anyone, fucking Eraser Head

my gooood I’m so curious and so excited to see what they pick. I haven’t been spoiled for any of this at all, and I’ve barely done any speculating, because I tend to just pick the first thing that pops into my head and stick with it, myself

they only got 15 minutes to do this, but like I said, I can’t imagine a single one of them hasn’t already thought this out. at worst, a few of them might have a little trouble narrowing down like a top 2 or 3

oh my god Aoyama

it’s perfect

omg Midnight is so supportive and nonjudgmental. all she does is tell him it’ll be “easier” if he takes out the “I” and changes “cannot” to “can’t”

but are you really telling me that this twinkly little lad is about to make his debut as “cantstoptwinkling.” because that literally is a tumblr handle

Mina wants to be known as “Alien Queen”

also this finally all but confirms that her quirk is indeed acid. you all have no idea how long that speculation was eating at me

(ETA: pretty sure you do by this point since this is like the 10th time I’ve mentioned it haha)

Tsuyu’s up next! the best nickname I had for her was “frog girl.” she’s chosen to go as Froppy instead which is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life

OH MY GOD MY BOY KIRISHIMA WENT AND PICKED “RED RIOT”, FUCK YEAH WHAT A NAME. APPARENTLY IT’S DERIVATIVE AND HE BASICALLY STOLE IT FROM ANOTHER GUY NAMED CRIMSON RIOT, WHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN RADDER. BUT THEY’RE CALLING IT AN “HOMAGE” SO HOPEFULLY THEY’LL AVOID ANY LEGAL TROUBLE

speaking of people who want to pay homage, Deku has a whole fucking list of All Might tribute names

it’s a toss-up between “All Might Jr.” and “Mighty Boy”, clearly

I’m personally hoping for some kind of Alexander Dumas-related thing, going with the One for All theme, but I doubt we’ll go that route

(ETA: cuz we were saving it for the bad guy, clearly!)

Kirishima really hasn’t thought of a name yet??? dude, lightning is literally the easiest element to make a badass name from. see: Wikipedia’s list of fictional characters with electric or magnetic abilities. just fucking name yourself Zeus or some shit

Jirou tapped him on the shoulder and said “how about Jamming-Yayyy” and I'm pretty sure she was just fucking with him but he actually seems really into it omg

her face I can’t

(ETA: Jirou’s inability to keep from cracking up when Kami overuses his quirk is possibly my favorite running gag in the series)

so now we’ve got Jirou, Shouji, and Sero as Earphone Jack, Tentacole, and Cellophane. all good names, though Jirou really went full literal, there. just went for broke on being as straightforward as possible

though nothing beats “Tailman” for literal

Satou’s sign says “Sweets” hero and his name is Sugarman?? first of all, I LOVE IT, and second, DUDE WHAT THE FUCK. this guy’s really been out here the whole time with some kind of donuts power or something and he somehow passed the entrance exam with it and we still have yet to see it??

AND HOMESTUCK’S CHANGED HER NAME TO PINKY NOW LMAO

Kaminari ended up going with Chargebolt, and for some reason he wrote this longass math equation explaining it, just in case it somehow wasn’t clear

HAGAKURE LITERALLY PICKED THE NAME I’VE BEEN CALLING HER THIS ENTIRE TIME GOD BLESS YOU GIRL

THAT’S ONE OUT OF TWENTY. I’LL TAKE IT

Momo went with “Creati.” I... guess...

OH MY GOD SHOUTO JUST WENT OUT AND HIT A HOME FUCKING RUN

OH MY FUCKING GOD LMAO

BUT ALSO, IT’S ACTUALLY A REALLY PERSONAL DECISION FOR HIM, BECAUSE IT’S HIS FIRST NAME AND NOT HIS LAST, AND THUS REFLECTS HIS DETERMINATION TO CAST OFF ANYTHING RELATED TO HIS FATHER

BUT STILL IT’S LITERALLY JUST HIS FIRST NAME OH MY GOD I LAUGHED SO FUCKING HARD. THERE WERE TEARS

I KNOW WHO TSUKUYOMI IS THANKS TO ITACHI. THANK YOU ITACHI. COOL PICK, TOKOYAMI

FUCK YOU MINETA

MY SOFT ROCK BOY KOUDA IS GOING WITH “ANIMA” AND HE IS DESCRIBING HIMSELF AS A “PETTING HERO” AND I THINK I LOVE HIM

so by my count, that just leaves Iida, Ochako, and my sons

this boy really went and tried to put “murder” in his fucking superhero name

URAVITY

OMG

OCHAKO REALLY WENT AND PUT A FUCKING PUN IN HER NAME

?? Midnight’s saying that the only thing left is Bakugou’s revision? um Deku and Iida are sitting right there??

oh

I should learn to scroll down before I start to fly off the handle like that huh

oh FUCK ME

FUCK. FUCK

okay, so I’ve had a weakness for this very specific type of angst ever since KHR nearly did this to Yamamoto during the Inheritance Arc. in the end he was healed and he made it out okay though. but now, ten years later, Iida’s brother has been sacrificed to the gods of shounen manga angst, and they have finally been appeased. holy shit

so this is going to be a tribute to his brother then I take it

oh!!! his brother asked him to take his name and Iida had started to write it down but then erased it at the last second and put his own first name down, thinking that he wasn’t ready yet :’(

so now it’s just my lads

here goes nothing Deku!

oh my god

based on everyone’s reaction and that remark... lol this fucking guy

lol Kacchan’s face

WHY ARE WE CUTTING AWAY BEFORE I GET TO SEE WHAT BAKUGOU PICKED

oh! someone picked Deku in the draft after all!

All Might’s asking who it is -- OH MY GOD. THAT CHAPTER TITLE FROM BEFORE. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME

based on All Might’s response... yep

and then one last little jokey panel of Bakugou’s revised name “Loud Explosion Murder” lmao. they could be here a while

(ETA: THEY NEVER ACTUALLY REVEALED HIS NAME THOUGH OH MY GOD?? or did they and I somehow missed it? IT’S BEEN 60 FUCKING CHAPTERS. dude what the hell)

BONUS:

oh my god Present Mic is the one who came up with Aizawa’s name. this is probably Mic’s greatest contribution to human society.

young present Mic is adorable and young Aizawa looks like Gaara with messier hair

and today in “Horikoshi explains away plot holes that no one was ever going to care about in the first place”, we have Mina apologizing for mixing up the directors of Alien and Aliens

fucking incredible

#bnha #boku no hero academia #makeste reads bnha #holy shit how do I even tag this though #basically everyone was in this one but I'll just stick with the ones I talked about most #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #iida tenya #todoroki shouto #there we go that should do it

[petite-neko]

Boyhood Blues - 03

Fanfiction: Boyhood Blues Story Summary: Actions, and inactions, have their repercussions. It may not be immediate but somewhere down the line, the effect will be seen. Chapter Characters: Sabo, Luffy, Ivankov, Sakazuki, Ace, Jinbei Pairing: LawLu Rating: T Warnings: Swearing, Universe Alteration, canon-typical violence, angst, A/N: LOOK I AM PRODUCTIVE TODAY. Please note: Mondays/Tuesdays might not be a staple time for posting by the way. I’ll just be ensuring that it’s posted on a weekly basis!

.xxx. > Time/scene skip

.+++. > PoV change

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2 || Chapter 3: Bonds || Chapter 4

The introduction had been brief, for Iva had taken him aside before informing him of everything that had happened so far. Ace’s vivre card, the happenings in Impel Down and their escape. It hadn’t been long until there was a tearful farewell to the man who had opened the gates for them. (One Sabo truly did not understand, merely because he had not known him. But, he didn’t like seeing Luffy cry like that.)

And after it was all said and done, Sabo just sat down, trying to understand everything. Because, simply, he didn’t. Why he was here. What it had to do with these two brothers. And why the hell he hated seeing Luffy doing anything but smile and laugh.

At the very least, he knew he could trust his instincts. It was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place…

“You weren’t in the prison, right?”

Sabo glanced up at that to see Luffy sitting next to him. He wasn’t frowning, but at the same time he wasn’t exactly smiling either. It really unnerved him.

“No, I wasn’t.” Sabo itched to get away. He had enough on his mind right now and he didn’t need Luffy just pestering him and looking at him like that. Couldn’t he just smile already?

“Then how’d you get on this ship? Did the Marines capture you? Iva said you were a revolutionary…” Well, he supposed the innocent curious expression on Luffy’s face was better than that neutral one.

Sabo sighed and shook his head. “No. I snuck aboard this ship and stowed away. I was hoping to end up at Marineford.” And then you went and commandeered this ship, which annoyed the hell out of me. He didn’t add the last point however, as it was moot considering that was their destination at hand.

“Really?”

When Sabo glanced at Luffy, all of his nerves unwound themselves. There. That was much better, the way that Luffy was looking at him, eyes practically glowing.

“Yeah, from what Iva told me, for the same reason as you.”

Luffy made some strange sound of happiness. “Really? How do you know Ace? I mean, I hadn’t seen him in three years so I don’t know all of his friends and.. ”

…Goodness he was just going off on tangents, wasn’t he?

“I don’t know Ace.”

And that put a complete halt in Luffy’s spiel. “…Huh?” He looked confused again, but still happy, and that was good enough for him he supposed.

“Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I can’t let this happen. It…it makes me angry. It turns my stomach I just…” He shook his head. “Let’s leave it at that, shall we? I can’t exactly explain why I am the way I am.”

It was just… fact. Luffy just didn’t know him or who he was or his past and while he didn’t think Luffy would understand hopefully he wouldn’t pry.

“Okay!”

…Huh?

“It’s just your instincts right? I understand that perfectly fine.” He was laughing now. “I don’t get why your instincts tell you to save Ace, but I’m happy they are.”

…Weirdo.

.xxx.

Luffy was currently telling him about Ace. Explaining what he looked like and his personality and his devil fruit and Sabo, well, he listened. He might as well learn just who this man was that he had decided to risk his life for.

“And, and then I met him in Alabasta! It was funny because he was waiting for me there but people forgot to tell me his message, but I met him anyway.” He laughed sheepishly. “That’s where he gave me this.” And Luffy pulled out a burning piece of paper from his hat. He made a sad expression before putting it back. “It was so nice to see him after three years. He invited me to his crew but of course I refused. The pirate king has to be the captain!”

There was more laughter, and yes, Sabo was more confident that this was how he liked to see Luffy. Smiling and laughing and just having fun. He’d question why later.

“And! Oh!” Now Luffy was grinning. “I showed him my prized possession.” Now, oh that grin had turned into this expression. It was just… so happy. “You see, my friend Vivi, she was secretly part of this organisation…” Then Luffy had a sour face, gesturing towards Crocodile. “And she had wanted posters and!” Luffy’s eyes lit up again as he returned to the topic at hand. “You see, there’s this really cool pirate and I have his wanted poster and Ace and I knew him as kids and I showed Ace!”

…This idiot was giddy. What the hell.

“And I met him a few days ago at the tree-islands and Torao has all these cool tattoos when he became a pirate! He’s got this cool beard too! And this really awesome-looking sword! And this bear and…”

…That wasn’t telling him anything Luffy. Nothing at all. And he wasn’t aware of any pirates named (or nicknamed) Torao either…. And Luffy was going on about just how cool this Torao character was…

He doubted they’d be getting back to the subject of Ace anytime soon…

.xxx.

More news came out about Luffy and Ace and Dragon however. How apparently Luffy and Ace were not brothers by blood, but by bond.

(It only made him remember that image of sake and the taste as it burned down his throat…)

What was it? And why?

Sabo sighed and just rested his head against a wall.

“Someving the matter, Sabo-boy?”

He opened his eyes to look up at Iva. “Headaches.” He explained, and truthfully, yes, he getting them in droves right now. Whenever that fog came in or certain things were said… And they just kept happening.

“Ah. Are vou vinking vhat I vink vou’re vinking Sabo-boy?” Iva said, gesturing towards Luffy.

…Now that Iva pointed it out, yeah, it was starting to make some sense…

“Vi vould suggest vou vait on vat Sabo-boy. Not vat Vi’m saying it’s not possible but…”

Sabo nodded. “He has enough on his mind right now.”

Iva nodded. “It’s highly possible, vou know. Vou both originated from East Blue after all.”

Not to mention, well… he doesn’t exactly remember it at all, and wouldn’t that be a slap in the face? No, let Luffy worry about Ace, and not some kid from his past whom he may or may not be.

.xxx.

This? It was war. Completely and utterly, and those damn Marines had the upper hand with Ace in sea-stone cuffs. And after hearing that this publicity was all over the fact of who Ace’s biological father was, well it only ignited that fury within him even more. In fact, it was almost blinding, that anger. He had to save Ace, he had to save Ace. He couldn’t let the Marines have him.

And he fought. Luffy fought. They all fought. Many fell, allies and foes alike.

(All of this, over a fucking bloodline!)

Here the Marines were, demonising these two brothers based on who their fathers were. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t righteous. Not one bit of it. And finally when they achieved hope, when Ace was freed and on the run…

Sakazuki descended, and he attacked. Not only with lava, but with words.

Sabo saw it coming. They all probably did. Except Ace. (Or if he did, he didn’t care.)

Ace refused to keep running, and Luffy was trying to convince him to continue. Begging him. Telling him that this wasn’t what Whitebeard wanted and Sakazuki was just goading him on and they needed to leave.

(The others were too preoccupied with the other admirals. He needed to get there, it wasn’t boding good. Not with Luffy’s condition, or Ace’s temper…)

And he saw it. Saw the way Sakazuki had aimed his molten fist towards Luffy. Saw the way that Ace had stepped in the way to protect his younger brother… Saw as red exploded everywhere. Fire. Lava. Blood. Saw the fist as it impaled Ace… Saw Luffy as he tilted back, screaming to the heavens...

He saw Ace die.

He saw Luffy break.

(No… no, his mind screamed. No!)

The shock shook him and brought him back to the present. And he watched… Watched as Sakazuki brought his fist back…

“NO!” Sabo screamed as he charged towards the admiral with a haki-infused claw. Anything. Anything. He needed to stop him from killing Ace…

And Sabo diverted Sakazuki’s attack.

He heard Ace’s scream of pain, and Luffy’s strangled cries of worry, but he had to ignore it for now. No. He needed to keep Sakazuki handled, he couldn’t let this… this monster harm these brothers anymore.

“Another revolutionary?” The man of magma spat at him. “How dare you…”

Sabo hardened his gaze on the admiral. “You will not harm these brothers!” He channelled all of his fury at this man. The man who hunted down Luffy and Ace. The man who tried – and almost succeeded – in killing them.

(He could hear sobbing and muttering behind him. In fact, he heard his name muttered, but whether or not they were referring to him or the other Sabo, he wasn’t too certain.)

He didn’t allow himself to be distracted, no. He used his Haki to disrupt the magma from seeping behind him. God dammit, couldn’t somebody just fucking grab them already?

(He heard the sound of a body hitting the ground and a heartbreaking scream ripple out into the air. What happened? Fuck. what happened?)

“I’ve got them now! Ace is still alive!”

(…That was Jinbei. Oh, thank god...)

Chaos, it was chaos everywhere, and in his relief, that damned Sakazuki broke away from him, and began to chase after the fishman carrying the two unconscious brothers away.

Bastard.

He was able to spare a glance at Ace finally, and the sight was not pretty. If he didn’t see a doctor soon… (And if he hadn’t diverted Sakazuki’s blast…)

Sabo narrowed his sights on the admiral once more… He couldn’t let that bastard win.

#monkey d. luffy #lawlu #portgas d. ace #sabo the revolutionary #one piece #fanfic:boyhoodblues #petiteneko:story #onepiece #tlaw #luffy #sabo #ace

[dearest-sunshine]

Word Count – “Sure just let me … Lie down here.”

Date – August 18, 2018

Word Count – 2270

It’s not every day you get to see the gates of hell while still living. And apparently, I should be lucky. Or so this grim reaper dude says.

        “Honestly man, I was sleeping. Can I go back to sleep? And wake up in my own bed?” the man shakes his head. Honestly, the grim reaper does not AT ALL look like what we make him out to be. Imagine your version of Aphrodite. Yeah. That’s what he or she looks like. Death is HOT. At the moment though, I did not give a single flying shit.

        “I’m sorry ma’am. We need to meet with Satan to figure out what’s going on. Like why you’re here. We may break so you can nap for a second though!” I look at him. And then at the river of lava beside us. And then at the ground which was made of rocks and red sand.

        “Sure. Lemme just…. Lie down here for a sec…” He glares at me and mutters under his breath.

        “Oh, for the love of shit you are one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met. And I deal with some annoying ass people.” I smirk.

        “that’s the goal. Imma make this trip hell. Oh wait.” He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath and I leap from one boulder to another. Oh well. If I’m in hell I might as well, make it worth it. I mean, aside from the lave and sharp rocks, it isn’t that bad. It’s just like a giant sauna. That I will be trekking. For who knows how long. I groan.

        “How long will this take?” I ask him. Genuinely curious. “I was planning on going to the prom for once and it’s today.” Death throws me a look over his shoulder. Like I should know better. Which is annoying because I’ve never been to hell and I have no clue what’s going on.

        “I have no clue. Time in hell is weird.” Jesus! That is not an answer!

        “God are you always this confusing?” he scoffs. I groan. And we walk. And walk. An hour later or so. (He’s right. Sadly. Time is confusing.) I check my phone. Thankfully, it was in my hand when I fell asleep, so it came with me. I try and turn it on. Instead of my usual lock screen, or a black screen, it shows a red screen. Like pure red.

        “Dammit! What’d you do to my phone? I just want to check the time!” he stops and turns around.

        “Shit do I have to explain EVERYTHING to you? Time is weird here. Electronics don’t work. You cannot die. We need to reach Devil man. I have no clue how long it will take. Now will you shut up? God the dead are NEVER this loud.” I smile. At least he acts human.

                                                                    ~ ~ ~

We walk in silence a bit longer but then I get bored. I hate silence.

“So….” I start talking, not knowing where I’m going. “why are you so fucking gorgeous?” he sighed a little bit. Like he hated explaining but did so all the time.

“I look different for each person. Basically, your version of the most attractive person ever, I am that person. I guess it makes dying easier.” Makes sense. He stopped, and I almost ran into him. He turned.

‘What do I look like to you?” I considered.

“I’m not sure how to describe you. You look kind of normal to me, but I’m not really attracted to the physical. I guess, if I were to describe you physically, you have a fade top. Your skin’s like fucking bronze or something. Your eyes are like a emerald green and you have a sharp ass jawline.” I pause for a second. there’s something else I just can’t put my finger on it. “Oh! Your missing your right pinky and have a scar around your neck.”

He looked at me with his jaw dropped. I felt scared. Did I describe him wrong? Shit.

“Did I..... Do something wrong?” he shook himself and pulled up the hood on his sweater. Funny. You think death would wear like a scary cloak and carry a scythe but nah. Just a red sweater and black pants.

“No.” I snap back from my tangent and look at him. “That’s… that’s what I actually look like. I’ve never had anyone describe the actual me. No one has ever found the real me attractive.” Damn. I’m kinda shocked. I never really had a type. I was kind of attracted to everyone. Just felt more attracted to personality than physical. I mean yeah physical was important, but I never really thought about it. He snapped his fingers in front of me and I shook myself into reality.

“Sorry man. dude… bro… what should I call you?” he laughed as I blushed a bit. Dammit. Why am I blushing?

“I never really had a name. most people just call me death.” I nod.

“That’s fair. I’m gonna name you.” He looks worried. “relax. I’m actually pretty good at naming things.” I consider.

“Jordan.” I nod definitively. He shrugs.

“Not too bad.” We make eye contact and blush. Dammit! “we should probably keep moving.” He says, looking at the distance ahead. I grin, and we start walking. This time, its peppered with conversation. We talk about school, why I’m so excited for prom, what prom is like what it’s like being death, and finally, why the fuck was he only a teenager?

“I’m actually one of the first ever people to die.”

“damn. Why do you look like a…? I dunno… ‘modern’ teen?”

“Because I’ve aged? But not in a biological sense. More I just look like a teen in the certain time period. My clothes and wardrobe change with the times too.”

“Damn. So, you’re like 10,000 years old?” he nodded. “Jesus.”

We walk a bit longer in silence.

“So why were you chosen to be death?” he thinks about it for a minute.

“because of the rest of the… village I guess? Didn’t want to die and I was the one who helped everyone come to terms with it. It was kinda trippy to see the first one die. Like how did you know they were dead? It was strange. Everyone was panicking and I kinda calmed them down. I was actually the last in my village to die.”

“Huh. Heroic.” He smirks and shrugs. “So, what about the devil and god and all that? How does that work?”

“well its different for everyone. It depends on your religion and beliefs. If you’re atheist, its kinda just nothing I guess.” I nod. Makes sense. Growing up in a Christian household, I still hold some of the Christian values even if I don’t support Christianity.

“Yeah. I guess I always figured id end up with hell. Even if I wasn’t pan, I've probably committed enough other sins. I mean who hasn’t?”

Jordan nodded.

“everyone has. It just depends on how bad they are. Honestly, though, I don’t understand why anyone would want to be in heaven. It’s kinda boring there. Then again, Utopias bore me. Nothing bad happening? Hah.” Yeah. I can get that.

“Plus, God is a douche.” I stop. Damn. I mean yeah, that makes sense. But still. Damn.

“How?”

“Well for the first couple centuries, he was really proactive. Very benevolent towards those who worshipped him. Smite those who are bad. Blah blah. He actually controlled hell too. Satan hadn’t really had a reason to be angry at him.

Anyways, after the black plague, he kinda stopped caring. Got lazy. I mean he still listens to his followers, but he got egotistical. Cared only for the opinions of his loudest disciples. He does what they say. Hence, gay people going to hell. All that.

So, after a couple years, Satan gave up. She tried her best to talk some sense into God, but he did not give a flying shit. After a while, she kinda just said fuck it and created a place for those who sinned. I actually enjoy being down here more. She’s like my older sister.

Anyways, she has more of a moral compass than doofus up there so those who really have sinned, molesters, pedophiles, rapists, etc., get actually punished whereas those who don’t really deserve it kinda just chill.

Every couple year, she has me do a sweep of heaven and bring down those who deserve to be punished but went unpunished because they supported God. Also, those who are just kind of sick of God.” I nod. Everything he says made sense. And, honestly, I’m excited to meet Satan now.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

We trek for a while. Finally, I see lights up ahead. Jordan sighs.

        “I forgot. There’s a party tonight. It’s gonna be hell finding Satan.” I giggle when he says hell. Its kinda funny considering the situation. And honestly, he and I have gotten along rather nicely. I’m definitely more attracted to him than I was at the start of the adventure.

        We get to the gates and hear music. I kinda bob along to it. It’s definitely my style. That reminds me. Prom. I sigh, realizing that I’ve probably missed it. Jordan looks at me confused.

        “I just realized that I’ve probably missed prom by now. And my family probably thinks that I’ve run away.” He shrugs. I find myself not really caring anymore either. My family sucked. we enter the party. It looks awesome. Loud music, grinding, food, everything a party needs. God, I love it.  

I start dancing to the music, swaying my hips and all that when I feel a pair of hands on my hips. I jerk around and see Jordan smirk at me.

“Satan’s normally at the middle of the party so we might as well dance our way there.” I roll my eyes but go with it. We grind and slowly make our way through the crowd. It hot and sweaty and so much damn fun. There’s guys dancing with guys, girls with girls, guys with girls, and so much more going on. Jordan pulls me closer and I blush. After about a week together, I can fully admit to myself that I like him. He leans down and whispers in my ear.

“I think I see her but she’s dancing this girl she wants to bone. Let’s give her a minute.” I giggle and nod my head. Leaning back, I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes as we ‘dance’. We sway for a minute and then a feel him gently tug on my arms. He spins me around and my eyes fly open with mild shock. He pulls me close as I look up to him. He’s a good 5 inches taller than I am. He smirks, and I feel my face turn beet red. I know exactly what’s happening. I’ve seen movies.

He leans down, and I close my eyes. God. This if fucking magical. I’ve definitely had my fair share of kisses, but none are as good as this one. Let me tell you one thing, person who’s reading this. Kisses are nothing like how they right in books. There are no fireworks. It doesn’t change your life. You won’t get married to your first kiss.

But here’s the thing. While there may not be fireworks, you will feel wonderful. Your toes will curl. You will feel warm. It will feel right. And god, did that kiss feel right.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

We break apart and I look at him. He smirks, and I blush harder than I ever had.

“That was… fucking amazing.” He laughed breathlessly.

“Damn right.”  I looked around. “Oh look! Satan’s staring at us. Joy.” And damn was she. Her mouth was open, and she had frozen. Jordan waved at her and she jolted. A big grin crossed her face as she made her way to us.

“Baby bro!!! you made it! And you brought a guest!” she exclaimed, hugging Jordan and looking at me. “Oh! You must be the one who told me you’d sell your soul to get out of your family and town! I’m so sorry life was so terrible for you. Anyways, you’re welcome to live here. I see you’ve already met my lil bro.” Damn. For someone portrayed as dark and foreboding, she was very bubbly. Then again, Satan was portrayed as male in the bible.

“Hi.” I say, a little shy. Satan was hot as fuck. “I’m Jada. And actually, thank you for listening to my... Prayer I guess? I couldn’t stand another day.” She nodded sympathetically.

“Of course, dear. Now, I know that you’ve obviously met my little brother, so he can guide you to your room.” Jordan nods and takes my hand. He leads me to the house that the party is coming from. We weave our way through couples practically fucking on the sofas and upstairs to a cozy looking hall with multiple bedrooms. Jordan guides me to the next one.

“This one will be yours. Mine is just across the hall.” I nod shyly and consider the room. Its rather lovely. I turn to him a blurt something out that I never in a million years thought I would.

“Will you help me get comfy in here?” I scream internally as I end with a wink. Jordan stares for a second, blinks, and then picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he starts kissing me. The door shuts behind us and the rest is history.

#writing #decaffeinated writing #short story #death #satan #hell #idk. #im probably gonna anger some people with this

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 022: Needs More Corporate Sponsorships

Previously on BnHA: A dozen pro heroes showed up at USJ. Kurogiri and Tomura were forced to blow the coop. Back at their secret villain hideout, they had a chat with their secret villain boss over Skype. We met All Might’s unnervingly cheerful detective friend. All Might talked about how great class 1-A is (spoilers: really great). Aizawa announced the upcoming sports festival.

Today on BnHA: The heroes discuss Tomura and his fellow villains and keep me guessing. We learn more about the sports fest. Ochako gets fucking possessed by the Spirit of Gambatte and it’s something to behold. All Might has lunch with Deku and tells him he needs to get out there at the sports fest and be like “HEY WORLD, WHAT’S FUCKING UPPPP.”

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 37 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.) 

OCHAKO PROFILE! :D :D :DDD

FUCKING YES, FINALLY MORE INFORMATION ABOUT HER QUIRK

THIS SERIOUSLY IS MY FAVORITE QUIRK, I LOVE IT

apparently she’s gotta touch something with all five fingertips on one hand in order to float it

she can float anything under three tons! interesting! so she can’t go floating aircraft carriers around or anything, but she could float a couple of cars if the situation ever called for it. she’ll puke but she could do it!

still no word on a time limit, so I’m just going to assume the thing floats until she releases it, and she herself probably doesn’t know what the limit is because she’s never reached it yet

(ETA: having now watched her fight against Bakugou, it appears to be more of a stamina limit thing than a time limit thing. all of my questions have thus officially been answered!)

her hair’s not bizarre! I take offense

she’s so cute

she sure does wear those tights, all right. you rock those tights Ochako

on to the chapter!

ahh! so they were able to at least find Tomura through the Quirk Registry!

(ETA: I read this completely wrong lol. they were not able to find anyone under that name.)

he can disintegrate anything he touches, but we already knew that. I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE HANDS

it occurs to me that the hands might not actually be his, they might belong to the Main Villain and that’s why Tomura appears to be talking to them sometimes. maybe that’s why they’re not mentioned in the registry. they also seem entirely unrelated to the disintegration quirk

and Kurogiri apparently is still a mystery. or at least he’s not a man in his twenties or thirties. maybe expand your search then. forty-year old villains exist too, surely. or else who will Iida fight

heehee the Sheriff is using his old timey cowboy slang again

I’m a simple person. I see the word “varmints”, I click the like button

All Might doesn’t seem convinced that Tomura was actually their leader

hmmmmmm

the more I think about it the more I’m convinced that the real Main Villain was involved with those hands somehow and was feeding some of Tomura’s dialogue to him to boot

All Might has really good instincts to have picked up on all this from the relatively brief interaction he had with him

yeah I think he’s correctly pegged Tomura as a Belphegor-type

apparently they offer quirk counseling in elementary school! I love hearing these little details that help expand the canon like that

they apprehended 72 fucking villains. I actually thought there were even more, given how many people seemed to be attacking each of the kids’ groups despite them being split into so many groups. anyhow, that’s still a lot of villains. but then, it was a league

now they’re discussing why all of these redshirt villains would follow a guy like Tomura

so clearly Tomura is just a puppet and the real guy who was pulling the strings is still out there, we get it. actually, we already knew that. I wish these guys would arrive at that conclusion already, or if they’re not going to, maybe change the subject unless there’s some other point they’re trying to make here

do not fucking start redeeming this person you guys. don’t start!! go ahead and do whatever you want but don’t expect me to just be on board like that! :/

(ETA: okay, one big thing that seemed to get lost in Viz’s translation, though. when I watched this scene in the anime, it seemed like they were using the word kodomo to describe Tomura, though I could have misheard it. anyway, for whatever reason, Viz translated this as “man-child”; I guess maybe to emphasize Tomura’s immaturity. however, to the best of my knowledge, kodomo actually translates directly to “child.” like, literally a kid.

so here’s the thing... it seems to me that what they’re hinting at here is that Tomura may in fact actually be a teenager himself, possibly not much older than the kids in class 1-A. he wasn’t in the registry, and they speculated that he might not have received quirk counseling, implying that maybe he wasn’t in the school system. anyway, this makes a huge difference to me as far as whether or not I think he’s redeemable, and if it’s true, then I will reverse my stance on that entirely. if he’s still just a kid himself, and is being manipulated/groomed by this mysterious Skype Villain character, that goes a long way towards him getting a pass for being a complete shithead. I mean, he is most definitely not stable from what we’ve seen, so. gotta say I’m pretty curious to see where this goes now. and also if this is true, fuck you Viz for making this so needlessly unclear.)

back to class 1-A!

apparently they’re going to have extra security during the sports fest, but they plan to move forward with it despite the recent attack

I’m torn on whether something else is going to happen, or if it’s just going to be them causing all the chaos on their own, because they’re more than capable of that even without help from villains lol

(ETA: so far it seems to be the latter and I’m loving it)

“our sports festival is the greatest opportunity you’ll get”... for what?

oh wow apparently this thing is a big deal and they all already know all about it

well if you’d all be so kind as to clue me in then

wow so it’s basically the Olympics

a high school sports festival is on the same level as the Olympics???

there’s not even any element of competition between different schools lol. it’s just U.A.

apparently lots of pro heroes use the event to scout for future sidekicks. kind of like how colleges and professional teams scout players at some high school sporting events

well that does sound like a fairly big deal, but surely it’s not as important for these first-years as it is for the older students

not that that’ll stop any of these kids from setting their sights on the big leagues right away, I’m sure

(ETA: okay so now that I know a little bit more about the sports festival, for some reason the question I haven’t been able to shake from my mind is: why are there no corporate sponsorships?

like, if this really is supposed to be BnHA’s equivalent of the Olympics, brands like Nike and Apple and Coca-Cola and various other car and beer and telecom and apparel companies should all be trying to snatch up as many of these kids as possible to push their brands. I mean, they even have an entire Business Course over at U.A., so what are those guys even studying then if stuff like this isn’t a thing.

I do realize of course that these kids are only 15, but their age really shouldn’t be a factor, given that plenty of Olympic-level athletes become well-known and are getting sponsorships and such well before they turn 18. it could also be that the brands concentrate more on the second- and third-years who’ve established themselves in past sports fests, but even if that were true, you’d think that the kids of 1-A would be a special case after the USJ incident thrust them into the spotlight. they practically became celebrities overnight. you’d think at least one or two of them -- Todoroki and Bakugou especially, since they were both already known to a degree -- would have gotten a few last minute calls with some lucrative and tempting offers.

the only other explanation I can come up with is that they’re forbidden from doing this sort of thing. which seems unrealistic since the school would undoubtedly be saying no to a LOT of money, but I guess they’re not hurting for it and don’t need it. (they sure do throw enough of it away on entrance exams.) or I suppose it’s also possible that this actually is going to be a thing, and I just haven’t seen any of it yet due to the aforementioned “they’re only first years” bit. I just think it would potentially be interesting, even just as a background thing.

anyway, I really went off on a tangent, but it’s just something that keeps nagging at me. like it’s a key element that’s missing in order for this to feel more realistic to me. you know, because Jump mangas about superpowers are always so realistic!! but this one actually is for the most part, so it feels all the more out of place.

okay I’ll shut up now.)

now it’s lunchtime!

lol it’s the cement guy. just chilling in the hallway

Cementoss...? pretty sure that was it

I don’t want to go look up his name because I found out the other day that their full names tend to be listed on the wikis, and if they haven’t been revealed in the manga yet then I don’t want to know dammit

the Internet is a treacherous place with dangers lurking around every corner

anyways. all the kids are abuzz with excitement

Iida looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe

I wonder if there’s any chance we might get like, a U.A. dance party at some point. I just want to see Iida try and dance. I think it would be really great

wow Ochako has shadow eyes, that’s a first I think

wow she is fired up

oh my god Ochako. you do know how fucking badly I want you to wreck some bitches, right. you know that? I put it on my wishlist and everything

please, more of this

YASSSSSS. SLAYYYYY

the trio is now walking downstairs on their way to lunch, presumably

LMAO WHAT

OCHAKO WANTS TO BE A HERO FOR THE CASH MONEY

EVERY TIME I LEARN SOMETHING NEW ABOUT HER IT GETS BETTER AND BETTER

now she’s embarrassed because compared with Iida, her motivations are less noble

but Iida flaps his arms around and tells her there’s nothing wrong with wanting to rake in that dough

boy but I sure do ship these two little oddballs

??? wow, she says her family runs a construction company, but that they’re somehow poor. here I would’ve thought they’d be in constant demand, what with villains constantly running amok and destroying shit. maybe there’s too much competition? or maybe heroes with construction-related quirks are putting them out of business somehow?

omg baby Ochako

her slightly oversized sweatshirt that says “SUPER” is making me wibbly eyes

I need to pick up this sweet little cinnamon roll right this instant and give her lots of hugs and cuddles

oh my god and just like that her goal of “making money” is the noblest fucking thing on earth goddamn

they’re fucking speechless

-- ALL MIGHT SUDDENLY APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WASTING YOUR ONE MEASLY HOUR A DAY AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN TEACHING A CLASS

OMG

IT’S GOT BUNNIES ON IT

GO DEKU, BE HIS FRIEND

down in the cafeteria, Iida and Ocha are speculating on what All Might could possibly want with Deku

“perhaps he’s taken a liking to him” y’all have noooo idea

what is this sudden shot of Todoroki

somehow I feel like he’s gonna be the first one to actually put it all together. he’s been listening and observing all this time, and he’s pretty sharp. he knows they have similar abilities; he saw firsthand how Deku behaved around All Might and how he dove in to save him; and I don’t know, but he’s just a pretty smart cookie and I wouldn’t put it past him

(ETA: he was so close. “illegitimate child” is close enough to get full marks IMO. also I’m now positive that Kacchan has figured it out, but I’ll save that speculation for another day.)

oh jesus the time limit is worse than I thought now. only fifty minutes

Deku apologizes even though it had nothing to do with him, aww

and All Might already knows him so well by now that he cuts him off before he can finish

he wants to talk to Deku about the sports festival!

oh yeah that’s right. we don’t want him dying yet again

Deku mentions that he was able to use the power once against Noumu with no side effects. so All Might asks him what he did differently

hmmm

hm. interesting. here I was thinking that it was only coincidental and it might’ve just been because of Noumu’s shock-absorption abilities. but I guess that wouldn’t have completely negated the impact. so I guess Deku would know better than me here

“sounds like you managed to pump the brakes without even knowing it” are you telling me he was worried about overdoing it against the guy who was trying to disintegrate Tsuyu’s face?? why is his heart so pure dammit

still, he’d better figure out how to do this at will, and sooner rather than later

:(((((

“and among those with villainous intent... there are some who’ve started to realize that.” yeah we kind of figured that one out

still, it’s not like Deku’s just going to be able to instantly replace him. he’s only fifteen for crying out loud

All Might what did I just fucking say. FIFTEEN

but I guess that’s not too young to be an inspirational hero though

wow he’s so earnest... he totally won me over in like two seconds

wowwwwww I just got fucking fired up. the intensity lines for no damn reason. and even with All Might coughing up blood at the end there lol

but yeah I’m sold, okay Deku go be a star

BONUS:

HE LITERALLY ISN’T HUMAN????? I WAS WONDERING BECAUSE HE KEPT SAYING “YOU HUMANS”

YOU’RE TELLING ME FUCKING RATATOUILLE HERE SOMEHOW MANIFESTED A QUIRK AND BECAME SO INTELLIGENT AND SUCCESSFUL THAT HE’S THE PRINCIPAL OF THE WORLD’S PREEMINENT SUPERHERO ACADEMIC INSTITUTION

HE’S 85 CENTIMETERS TALL. THAT’S TWO FEET AND NINE INCHES

WONDER WHAT IT WAS LIKE FOR THIS GERBIL TO SUDDENLY BECOME SELF AWARE AND DECIDE TO GO TO COLLEGE OR WHATEVER

AND WE MAY KNOW HIS NAME NOW BUT TO ME HE’LL ALWAYS BE THE RAT PRINCIPAL

(ETA: LITERALLY I’VE FORGOTTEN HIS ACTUAL NAME AGAIN ANYWAY)

LOOK AT HIM SMOKING A TINY RAT CIGARETTE. THAT’S SO BAD FOR YOU MISTER PRINCIPAL GOODBYE I AM DONE GOODBYE

#bnha #boku no hero academia #makeste reads bnha #uraraka ochako #shigaraki tomura #all might #midoriya izuku #y'all can't tell me the baku-todo-deku trio wouldn't absolutely slay a 'just do it' campaign though #like can you even imagine that ad #it would be the campaign to end all campaign #on a somewhat related note #do you guys think all might has like his own sneaker line #like jordans #but all mights #because if he doesn't #then he totally fucking should