#ao3 suff

[adhd-chaos-queen]

pretty sure someone has done this before, but it is true, so why not...

#ao3 suff #ao3 supremacy #ao3 #ao3 works #ao3 memes #archive of our own #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic meme

[lalalenii]

I love how ddf aO3 is just

shandrews shandrews shandrews shandrews ✨️porn ✨️ with a pairing you would have never considered shandrews pb&j shandrews ANGST shandrews some really dark suff shandrews shandrews d̸̯́̈́͂ĕ̵͍͖̰̈́ṃ̴̢̭͖̋͂͛o̶̻͚͂́͜͠n̸̗̬̒̓s̸͔̉̔ shandrews shandrews shandrews pb&j

#moi

[madwomansapologist]

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

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series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

 ― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

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#madwomansapologist #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness imagine #wandavision fic #wandavision fanfic #wandavision #avengers

[gali-in-distress]

My love, the reason I survive (Trust we'll be together soon)

Pairing: Alex Forbes/Nigel Colbie

Additional tags: Canon divergence/Alternative Universe, Nigel Lives, Disabled Character, Disabled Nigel, Implied/Referenced Suicide Attempt, Mentioned Mental Institutions, Men Crying, Happy Ending

Read on AO3

Nigel watched the trees disappear one after the other through the car window, every building along the road looking smaller and smaller until they were completely out of sight. His hands fidgeted with the folded cane on his lap, his body trembling with anxiety and anticipation. He had waited so long for this day. Nearly fifteen years, and he'd counted the days and every minute in them. But it would all be worth the wait, he would soon be rewarded for his patience and his commitment.

He would finally see Alex.

Not behind a small window on a door or on a screen but in person, with no obstacles between them. He would hear his voice, not muffled by the bulletproof glass or contaminated by the noise of an old phone no one had bothered to clean in years.

He couldn't wait to be face to face, real and free to do as they pleased.

"Are you sure about this, Mr. Colbie?" His chauffeur, Jacqueline, interrupted his thoughts, wiping away the smile that had started to form on his lips.

He turned to look at her with a raised brow and she shook her head nervously, looking from him to the road in a quick movement.

"I don't mean to offend, I know that you've been planning for this day for a long time but-"

"But?" 

"But sir, I just want you to know that you can change your mind."

Nigel had kept Jaqueline around for a number of reasons, many of which didn't particularly differentiate her from any other person that he could have hired to drive him around from one place to another. But there was one thing that he found convenient about her, and that was how normal she seemed. Dark hair, always pulled back in a tight ponytail, brown eyes, simple, common features on a face that no one would remember seeing if they hadn't been paying close attention. Beside him, she was just about the perfect amount of normal to make his presence less entertaining for others.

It did, however, extend to her very simple personality, which led to some contradictions in her opinions on him that she usually kept to herself. With some exceptions.

"You don't need to worry about that, Jaqueline. Like you said, I've been planning for this day for a long time," Nigel assured her.

"Alright, Mr. Colbie, if you say so."

He frowned. The sole mention of his last name for a second time in the conversation was almost enough to dampen his mood. Oh, how he hated being called that. The same thing people had called his father, now long buried underground and most definitely rotting in hell, like he deserved.

His hands tightened on the cane, knuckles turning white on his right, and his left hand shaking with the effort. He cast his eyes outside once more, his mind searching for comfort in the morning sky. It would all soon not matter, he would have everything he needed.

"Tell me what worries you, and I will ease your mind if I can," he encouraged her, starting to massage the tight joints of his left hand.

She cleared her throat and out of the corner of his eye he saw her let go of the wheel with one hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

"Well, it's just that, I know it's none of my business, but-" He turned to look at her and she was shaking her head without taking her eyes off the road. He wasn't entirely sure if it was to avoid looking at him or just her being her usual disciplined self. "From what I've heard, this man has hurt you so much."

Possibly without intending to, she turned to look at him, worry written on her face as her eyes fell on the scars of his right cheek before quickly looking away and blushing slightly.

"I don't understand why you would want him back in your life."

Nigel couldn't help but smile at that.

So many people in his life had been the cause of his pain and suffering, so many of them had been the ones that were supposed to protect and love him and had done anything but. Alex was certainly not one of them.

"You don't have to understand," he replied softly. "Everything he's ever done has been for a reason."

It was a difficult concept to understand for most, how everything had been part of a plan, the fact that every sacrifice had been necessary in their journey. How even when they had been apart for so long, Nigel didn't need to welcome Alex back into his life, for he had never been away to begin with. Of course, he knew things that everyone else ignored, not only about the secrets that he'd uncovered, but about what truly happened that fateful night and the days prior to it.

Lying had also been a necessity. Only he and Alex could understand, and therefore they had shaped their story to ensure that they would eventually be granted their freedom.

It had taken a lot of convincing. First a forensic psychologist, then many more being consulted on their case, and lastly a long list of psychiatrists they both had to talk to, without being able to directly get their story straight. They hadn't been allowed to speak to each other and even if they had been, Nigel spent the first month recovering from an injury that had prevented him from eating, and talking was completely out of the question. Their lawyers had played an important role in their communication and had been handsomely rewarded for that. 

"And I am not free of sins, you are well aware of that," Nigel reminded her.

Jaqueline murmured something he couldn't properly hear.

"Would you please say that again?" he asked her, completely aware that she hadn't meant for him to hear it. "You know that my right ear doesn't work well."

Nigel hated pity, especially when it was directed at him. But it did come in handy from time to time.

"I said," she began, "that he's been locked away for a long time, sir. That has to mean something."

"I was too, for a time."

"You were in a mental institution," she argued.

Nigel didn't need the reminder, it had been a painful stay from which he hadn't been released until his 21st birthday and then only because he had fought. With no legal guardians other than the social worker he had been assigned to and a frozen bank account waiting for his coming of age, Nigel had been almost completely defenseless till then. It had been worth it, he told himself. Had he not been deemed mentally ill, he would have lost much more for a lot longer. 

"I was in a madhouse, yes," he agreed, and Jaqueline flinched. "And so is Alex."

"But he was in jail," she argued once again, her grip on the wheel tightening.

"An unfortunate mistake that was corrected years ago."

She huffed at that.

"I am not that different from him, Jaqueline. You will see that soon."

They had almost reached their destination and with each meter they got closer his chest felt lighter, his jaw unclenched a bit more, releasing the tension he'd been holding for so many years now that he had forgotten how to exist in any other way.

I'm almost there, my better half. Just you wait.

"Are you trying to make me afraid of you, sir?" she joked, with incredulity in her voice.

Nigel laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it." Their eyes met for a second and he smiled at her. "What reason could you have to fear me?"

She visibly swallowed, staring back at him, before silently looking ahead to take a turn to the left.

We are getting closer, my love. Can you feel me?

"No, but he is coming to live with me and I would hate for your concerns to prevent you from properly fulfilling your duty."

"I would never, sir," she hurried to reassure him.

"Then you shouldn't be afraid, as long as you stay on his good side." He reached to touch her shoulder with his good hand. "Just like you've done with me." The smile he gave her was meant to calm her, but the way she looked at him, with tense lines on her face and eyes blinking faster than usual, he guessed it had the opposite effect.

Either way, she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the asylum and got out of the car while he waited for her to open his door and assist him. It had been a struggle at first for him, getting used to all the touching and being moved around when he couldn't do it himself. It had taken an insane amount of painkillers and neverending hours of physical therapy to return him to a functional human being again. He'd been so used to his solitude that the constant presence of others in his space had been pure agony. But unlike those first years, now he had the power to choose the people that were allowed to touch him and when and where they were allowed to touch him.

Jaqueline extended her arm, offering it to him for support to stand up. He hardly needed it these days, but after sitting in the car for more than an hour it was more than welcomed. The cane unfolded in his right hand and he let go of her to use it instead.

"Do we need to ask someone to call for him?" she asked, walking beside him into the private reception. They had circled to the back of the building to avoid seeing as many people as possible.

"No, he will come down soon."

The wait was almost unbearable, as short as it was. His heart was beating faster and faster inside his chest with anticipation, or was it anxiety?

Last time they had been together and free, Nigel had been bleeding on the wet and dirty ground next to the train tracks. He would never forget the cold followed by the paralyzed numbness on the left side of his body. The pain of the bullet wound wasn't as bad as seeing the horror on Alex's face.

"Oh my god," Alex had murmured after what felt like hours just staring down at him, but in reality it had been so soon that Nigel could still hear the echo of the bullet coming out of the barrel. Or perhaps it had been shrapnel that was lodged in his skull near the back of his ear.

"Fuck! Fuck, Nigel what the hell!" Alex, poor Alex, had yelled, kneeling down in front of him. His eyes were wide and wild, and so, so green. Nigel couldn't look away.

He was shaking when he lifted Nigel in his arms and cradled him against his chest.

He kept asking, "What have you done?" over and over again while tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain and falling over Nigel's face.

"I don't know," he wanted to say. "I'm sorry," he wanted to add. But his mind was getting dizzy and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

He heard Alex scream for help and then nothing.

That was the last time. After that it had been an entire, painful year with no direct contact. Then phone calls, and then finally he was able to visit. He'd been a free man for years now, he wasn't even required to see a psychologist every couple of months anymore. He'd sold his parents house and bought a new one far, far away from Leeds in a place where they could be alone and walk in the sun.

Dr. Forbes had been so angry that Alex didn’t want to go back to him after his release. But there was nothing he could do to stop him. Alex was going to be his own person and he was finally free to go where he was always meant to be. Right alongside Nigel.

The clock on the reception wall marked 15 minutes to 11 when Alex appeared down the hallway, wearing the pair of washed out jeans and the green t-shirt that Nigel had sent him earlier that week. He had not been allowed visitors, other than his blood family, but Nigel had been able to send him a couple of things here and there, to keep them both sane. And wasn't that ironic. 

A nurse was escorting him but he was carrying his own belongings in a small backpack.

Nigel stood up faster than he usually would, ignoring the dull ache in his left leg, and his cane fell to the floor with a clank. The sound made Alex look up and Nigel's heart did a somersault when their eyes locked. A few steps from him and a couple more agile ones from Alex and they were meeting halfway, their bodies colliding together in a tight embrace.

Alex's arms surrounded him and he closed his eyes tightly against his neck, breathing in his scent, still not fully believing what was happening. Everything around them faded away and for a moment it was only the two of them in the world.

Nigel pulled away to get a proper look at Alex and noticed that his eyes were gleaming with tears. He could feel his own face wet with the ones that had spilled.

"You're here," Alex said hoarsely, like he hadn't spoken in days, raw with emotion.

"I am," he confirmed with a shaky smile. 

Alex was a sight for sore eyes. He was taller, his hair shorter but still somehow a mess. He was thin like he'd always been, but with a roughness to his edges that he hadn't had before. The pictures and the pixelated image he'd seen through video calls could never compare to the actual him, to being right in front of Alex and being able to see him.

"For a moment I thought that it had all been a dream and you weren't actually coming for me," he said with a laugh, and there was a vulnerability in his words that could not be hidden behind the facade of a joke.

Nigel reached for his hands and placed them on his face. Alex's fingers traced over the soft skin of his left cheek and the scarred tissue he knew was on his right one.

"Well, I have," he promised. "We're going home, Alex."

"Home," Alex mouthed with a smile and he leaned down to kiss him.

With Alex's soft, warm lips against his, he realized that they hadn't done this before. It was a painful revelation that caused something inside him to both wither and bloom at the same time. He'd been planning their life together for so long, so sure of their love and their connection that he'd forgotten the most simple things that came from being in a relationship with someone. He'd dreamed of touching Alex, of kissing him like he was at the moment, so many times that he'd forgotten that they hadn't actually done this before. But the real thing was better than anything his imagination could have come up with.

They parted, both smiling like fools, tears finally falling from Alex's eyes.

"Well, let's go now, I already signed everything they needed. I don't want to be here for a minute longer," he said, wiping his face and clearing his throat.

Nigel nodded. He turned around to face a startled Jaqueline who offered him his cane. 

"Alex, this is Jaqueline, my chauffeur," he said, taking the offered aid from her. "Jaqueline, this is Alex."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir." She shook his hand firmly.

"The pleasure is all mine." He didn't know how right he was. "Jaqueline, huh?" Alex grinned at Nigel with a raised brow. "Do you call her Jaq?"

The question startled a laugh out of him and left the poor woman looking quite confused. He folded the cane, choosing to lean his weight against Alex instead, starting to walk out of the building and towards the car.

"I have missed you so much," he couldn't help confessing in a soft tone. He'd said as much, in many letters and phone calls, where he couldn't stop lamenting their time apart and regretting not being able to convince the court to release Alex sooner. 

"I know, I've missed you too." The answer warmed his heart. He could breathe again, with Alex's arm over his shoulders, walking together on a sunny July morning.

He chose to sit in the back of the car with Alex, although he usually preferred to be in the passenger seat because it made him feel more in control. If it was up to him, they would not be parted unless it was strictly necessary.

"I can't wait to show you what I've been doing. You'll be pleased," he said eagerly, like a child wanting their parents to see their new drawing.

"I'm sure I will."

Jacqueline started the engine and they headed home.

#like minds #like minds 2006 #like minds fic #murderous intent 2006 #murderous intent #murderous intent movie #nigel colbie #alex forbes #alex forbes x nigel colbie #my fics #my love the reason I survive #like minds alternative ending #like minds but nigel lives #gali in distress

[whalyrae]

*tap the mic* ahem ahem... hello ? :D

Yeah I'm still alive....!!! Please don't hate me :(

I can't say that I'm 100% back, I'll say it when I'll update my fics... BUT I started writing again ! I had a big session yesterday and I'm almost done with Dance with me !

I'm really sorry for the wait, I had a hugeeee writer block like the biggest one I've ever had :( and it's sooo painful because everyday I want to write, I think about my stories, my lovely characters, how to make them suffe- I mean, happy (:D) but I can't write and I feel so guilty So I try to be less mad at myself but it dosen't work so I can't write and it's the same thing on repeat the next day....

I don't know how I could unblock myself, and I'm a 100% sure that the next updates will be shitty as fuck and I'm so so sooo sorry for that :(

Please wait a little more for Dance with me... I'm almost done I'll do my best to post it quickly ! Same for The Old guard !

And again and again, thank you for all the votes, all the lovelies comments here, on ao3 and wattpad, and in private too ! I read all of them, but I don't answer so like that I can find them easily and read them when I'm feeling down it makes me feel a little better !! ♥

Also, I started making playlists for my fics on spotify if you want ! There's not many songs atm, but I'll update it progressively !

Here are the links : Dance with me & The Old Guard

Oh I talked a lot sorry... It's okay if you haven't made it this far, I've got a lot to tell you and I vented a lot...

Love ya, thank you all so much for everything ♥

PS : I'm in a QSMP hyperfixation atm and omg the eggs are back Pomme my daughter I'm so happy and I can't wait to know what happened to q!Baghera and q!Antoine and q!Cellbit and q!Jaiden and q!Foolish I miss them sm :(

#whalyrae #aly's update #aly's writing #dance with me #dwm #the old guard #tog #spotify #aly's talking shit

[marauderundercover]

Waffles and War Stories

AO3

Prev

Note, this takes place immediately after ch. 12 of “A Guide to Love and Coffee in the City of Crime which can be found here on AO3 or here on Tumblr. You don’t need to read that to understand this chapter. Just know that identities are still secret, but the League now knows about the ‘Paris Situation’. 

---

Marinette walks into the diner, grinning when she spots her cousins, Aunt and Uncle already waiting for her.

“Hey guys!” She says cheerily, not missing the way her Uncle scans over her as if assessing for injuries. Once he seems satisfied that she wasn’t currently hurt, he smiles back at her.

“Hey Sunshine.” He says, his smile unwavering as she slides into the booth. Glancing between each of her family members, she sighs before slumping slightly.

“Who told you?” She asks. Uncle Clark raises an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” He says. She sighs again, straightening.

“Who told you about the Paris situation? Was it Tim? Or maybe Nadja? Oh. I guess maybe Jimmy found out somehow-” She starts to ramble before Conner cuts her off.

“Mars, what are you talking about?” He asks, his confusion clear. Marinette frowns.

“The situation in Paris?” She says, and immediately the boys all stiffen. “So you do know.”

“What gave us away?” Her Uncle asks. She shrugs, then grins.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it was the dozens of missed calls from the boys once I could get to my phone again. Or the texts. Or the call from you.” She lists off, putting down a finger for each one. “Or maybe it’s how you looked at me like you expected me to be injured when I walked in.” Her Uncle sighs.

“Are you- mad at us?” He asks. She snorts, then shakes her head.

“Why would I be mad that you found out about Paris? Like, yes, I originally didn’t want you to know because you can be super overprotective, but now? It’s not like you can just suddenly get to Paris. Plus this way, Maman, Papa and I don’t have to hide it anymore. And we can talk about all of the funny akuma stories, though there’s not really many of those anymore.” Marinette rambles. Her family just stares at her for a moment. Completely silent. And then Aunt Lois starts laughing.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I thought your reaction would be, but I should’ve guessed you’d want to look at the bright side. Or the funny side. You are just like your Uncle.” She says fondly, shaking her head. Marinette grins.

“Why, thank you.” She says. Aunt Lois snorts again, before letting out a long sigh.

“Okay kid. We have several years worth of stories to listen to about the whole ‘Hawkmoth’ and ‘akuma’ situation, and we have a ton of breakfast food to eat. Where do you wanna start?”

—-

Clark was doing his best to keep an easy smile on his face while Marinette told stories, smiling and laughing as she relayed her stories to the boys and Lois. Her stories of being a civilian caught in the middle of a magical war that the Justice League had done nothing to stop. And although he was smiling, Clark was screaming internally. He’d never thought to x-ray his niece before for no reason. After all, why would he? Every time she’d fallen down or off of something, he’d x-rayed her, but she hadn’t been clumsy like that since before she was twelve. And now here she was, sixteen years old, with bones that looked like they’d been shattered and re-healed dozens upon dozens of times. Because according to the Parisian heroes, all physical damage was fixed by their powers. So her bones were no longer broken. Her spine no longer snapped, her skull no longer crushed, her neck- physically she was fine. But how was she mentally? How much of the horrors did his poor niece remember? He’d seen a video of a particularly bad akuma. Syren, they’d called her. Paris had been flooded beyond recognition, with only around four hundred survivors left on the rooftops. Did she remember it? Was she one of the lucky ones? Or did she drown, slowly losing the ability to breathe before taking in that last gasp- the water that would fill her lungs and ease her out of her suffering as she numbed to everything. It made him sick to think about, and that wasn’t even adding in his older brother to the equation. He couldn’t think about him, or his sister in law. The sheer number of terrors they’d seen and lived through- and he’d been against Marinette moving to Gotham? Well, he still was, but at least he understood where she was coming from a little better now.

“Right? Oh, and then there was my first date.” She’s saying, and Clark tunes back in, quirking an eyebrow.

“Your first date?” He asks. Marinette nods, grinning sheepishly.

“It may or may not have been with an akumatized individual.” She says. Clark blinks at her.

“I- am at a loss for words.” He finally says. She snorts, shrugging.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We were already friends before that whole situation, and we’re still friends now so it’s not like it mattered that much.” Marinette says flippantly.

“So you dated a villain?” Conner asks, obviously trying to figure out what she was saying. Marinette’s expression darkens slightly, and she shakes her head.

“No. Akumatized people are almost never villains. They don’t, for the most part, choose to be akumatized. They’re victims, normal people whose bad day is taken advantage of.” She says, and her shoulders slump as she folds in on herself. “There are some akumas that I won’t talk about. I just- I can’t. They were…scary. And heart breaking. Just know, Hawkmoth started out targeting negative emotions that were surface level. Like being embarrassed from having a crush outed, or being sent to the principal’s office despite doing nothing wrong. But he’s evolved. Now, our akumas are much darker. A grieving mother, an abused child, someone who is ready for everything to just end.” Marinette pauses, swiping furiously at her tears before letting out a soft breath. “None of them are villains. The only villain is Hawkmoth.”

“Oh, Mars.” Conner says softly, immediately moving towards her to wrap her in a hug. Marinette immediately buries her face in his chest, crying softly as Conner holds her close. Clark’s heart breaks at the sight, and in that moment he makes a promise. Hawkmoth was going down. And soon.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-calendar-events  @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @kking13  @toodaloo-kangaroo  @crazylittlemunchkin @buttercupsbitch @jayjayspixiepop @iloontjeboontje  @idontwannaexistsopleasekillme

#supermari #supermari may #supermari may 2022 #platonic supermari #maribat #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat conner kent #maribat jon kent #maribat clark kent #maribat lois lane #platonic maribat #maribat found family #platonic relationships

[bugsinthebayou]

o just saw that one aks conversation abt mechs suff on ao3 if it was written by one of the mechs does rhat make it canon

yeah probably. i mean, nastya and aurora fucking is already canon, so a fic of them fucking is like. canon compliant. and since its written by ivy's actor its just. canon

#answered #wali!!

[athenagc94]

Written in Rose Quartz

Chapter 4 - Unsuur/Builder - Turquoise

Beginning | Prev | Next

You can also keep up with it on my AO3 here.

~~~~

Robbie had no idea what possessed her to offer up her home to Unsuur while he recovered from his injuries. Her bedside manner left a lot to be desired, evidenced by, well, everything about her. He would honestly do better for himself if he stayed with someone like Vivi or someone from the Church of Light. Not to mention, she still had work to do with the bridge, so it's not like she had the time to entertain him. 

But seeing his lower lip jut out in a small pout when Justice benched him made her want to speak up. He looked more than irritated—he looked sad—and that just wouldn’t fly with her. That expression looked strange on his face.

That being said, she barely had enough room for herself in her tiny ass workshop, let alone a second person. That was why she couldn’t afford to lose that stupid bet with Pablo. She needed that damn expansion and with the trusses turned in, she finally had the money to do it. Heidi planned to stop by soon to take a quick look ahead of breaking ground on the project.

Her reflection glared back at her as she put in the lapis lazuli earrings she won off Pablo. She almost chucked the box at his head when she picked them up after what she dubbed the mistake. And it was a mistake. Maybe one of the worst she’d ever made—which said a lot about how much she hated her choices that night. It’s not like she had the best track record for making good decisions.

Pablo’s shit eating grin made her blood boil. And his sing-songey, “You earned this, love,” made it even worse.

She would fight Pablo one day—be it in this life or in hell—because she was fairly certain they were both going to hell.

No amount of good vibrations from her citrine collection could save her from that. And these damn earrings better give her the foresight to solve the water crisis for all the grief she went through to get them.

She tied back her hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck, a few stray curls already coming loose from its confines. She sighed. Whatever. There wasn’t any point in trying to tame them. It might be time to finally take Pablo up on his offer to cut her hair—before he fought him in the pits of hell, of course.

She stepped out into the living area as Unsuur opened the door that led out of her room. It was more of a closet, really, but it served its purpose with just enough room for a single bed and a shelf that housed her crystal collection. 

She insisted he take the bed. He tried to argue, but she wouldn’t hear it. It was a whole thing. He only conceded when she threatened to throw his ass over her shoulder and carry him there herself.

Like she said, stellar bedside manner.

He leaned heavily on the door jamb with one arm cradling his side. She still wasn’t used to seeing him dressed so casually in threadbare shirt and a pair of loose joggers that rode low on his hips. His hair looked like someone ran their fingers haphazardly through it—probably him, but it was a good look.

“Morning,” he yawned.

“Morning,” she parroted as she made a beeline for the kettle on the stove, “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He eased himself into one of the mismatched chairs at her comically small dining table. His legs were so long that his knees were almost tucked behind his ears when he was sitting. She found the pieces abandoned behind the Blue Moon and thought why not. A quick hose down from her water supply (which may not be the best use of her reserve) and a fresh coat of paint had them looking almost like new.

It saved her the trouble of spending money at By the Stairs. Arvio could kiss her ass if he actually thought she was spending a cent on his overpriced furniture pieces.

An awkward silence settled between them as she prepared their coffee. She took hers black, but he preferred his with a splash of milk—information she had to pry from him when she saw the way he grimaced each time he took a sip. The poor bastard would have suffered through a few weeks of stale bean water if she let him. Just because she liked it, didn’t mean he had to.

His eyes followed her as she moved across the kitchen. “I like those earrings.”

She almost dropped the mug in her hands. “Oh, uh, thanks. They were a,” she grappled for the right word, “they were a gift.” A badge of dishonor was more accurate. Or a bad omen. A clear quartz cleanse might be in order before she wore them again.

“Oh.” He almost sounded disappointed. “From who?”

“Pablo. He found them in Walnut Groove.”

“Lapis lazuli, right?”

She glanced back at him, realizing that he was actually following the slight swing of her earrings with his eyes. She wasn’t sure why that disappointed her. “That’s right. They’re one of my favorite stones. It’s known as the—”

“Wisdom stone.”

Her lips parted in surprise. Unsuur liked rocks. She knew that. It was the only thing he shared about himself, but she never thought the symbolism side of it all would interest him. It seemed too…whimsical for someone as rigidly literal as him.

“That’s right.”

“I like diamonds.”

Robbie whistled. “Perfection. You’ve got expensive tastes.”

“Oh, well, not just diamonds,” he said quickly, “I like rubies, sapphires, and garnet too.” Courage, justice, and truth—how appropriate. “But I just like rocks in general.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much.”

His extensive rock collection took up one full wall of his house—actually, a shack was a more accurate term for it. She thought her workshop was cramped. A couch would have never fit in his home in the first place. He seemed pleased with the rocks she brought back with her. The first being a speckled granite with flecks of blue and gray and the second a deep orange stone layered with pale yellow. His ensuing smile made her feel like she passed a test.

“So, what are your plans for the day?”

“Am I allowed to have plans?” He shifted in his seat, wincing. “I thought Justice said I was on bed rest.”

“Well, I don’t think Justice is here to yell at you.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into an almost smile. “And you can have plans.” She placed a mug in front of him and took the seat opposite him. “Or did you plan to stay cooped up inside again with this mess?”

She motioned vaguely to the chaos around them. Chests lined the walls, overflowing with odds and ends—mostly half-assembled relics for Catori. She used them as paper weights, bookends, and simple furniture pieces. Anything that might give them a purpose while she searched for the missing pieces.

“Can I watch you work?”

His request was simple enough, but it still surprised her. The fact that he stayed inside these last few days led her to believe he only agreed to this arrangement to avoid being stuck at home by himself. She didn’t think he had any real interest in hanging out with her, but it looked like she misunderstood.

“It’s not all that exciting,” she assured him, “I’ll be pretty busy working on that machine that Qi commissioned to speed up bridge construction. I won’t really be in the mindset to do much talking if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“That’s fine,” Unsuur said, “People say I blend into the background easily enough. You won’t even know I’m there.”

The weight of his stare suggested otherwise.

“You can do whatever you want. I’m not your mother. Or Justice. I don’t care.” 

His eyes followed her every movement—monitoring and weighing every subtle change in her demeanor. It made it hard not to stare right back. And she was…staring, she meant. She never realized how sharp his cheekbones were. Or the squareness of his jaw. Then there were his eyes. They sparkled like obsidian. Her gaze fell to trace the seam of his lips and she wet her own with a quick pass of her tongue.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just her?

She took a large gulp of her drink, blistering the roof of her mouth in the process, but it hardly registered. “So, tell me,” she croaked, “what’s the craziest shit you’ve done in the Civil Corps?”

He raised his mug to his lips and blew on it. “I once caught three mice in one afternoon.”

It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “That’s it?”

He nodded. “And what about you? What’s the craziest thing you’ve done as a builder? I already know that you press random buttons and chase geeglers onto speeding railcars.”

She stared at him. Was that one a joke? His deadpan tone made it impossible to know.

As if sensing her unease, he cracked a small smile and clarified, “I’m teasing you.”

Relief washed over her. “Oh, well, in that case, I’m not sure if I have too many crazy builder stories. You already know the good ones, but I have a few stories from when I traveled across the Free Cities. I used to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“And you think that’s changed?”

She barked a laugh. He was funnier than he let on—more of a dry wit kind of guy. She could respect that. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“I do.”

“Alright, if you think you can handle it.” He motioned for her to speak. “So, this one time, when I was in Atara. I stumbled across this abandoned rickshaw filled with relic tech…”

***

Unsuur hated sitting still.

He would much rather be on patrol. Or looking for new rocks. Or picking sand fleas out of Captain’s coat—he wasn’t too picky.

The last few days had been torture for him—laying in bed, staring at the ceiling with nothing better to do with his time. It hurt too much to move outside of his meals with Robbie, but the pain was tolerable that morning and he felt like doing something with his day. 

Robbie had grown more comfortable around him, which was progress. They no longer ate meals in tepid silence and he considered their conversation that morning a breakthrough in their relationship. It was nice to see her laughing and joking like she would with Pablo or Heidi. Per his request, she set him up in one of her comfier chairs on the front porch. It gave him a perfect view of the machines lining one side of the broken fence that circled her workshop.

The slightly crooked sign hanging off the awning bore the name: Robin’s Nest.

Was Robin her full name? He never thought to ask. People only ever called her Robbie or Robs around here. They had since she arrived.

He pursed his lips and said, “That fence won’t keep anything out.” She was opening herself up to all kinds of threats. He was constantly cutting off rocket roosters from walking right into her yard. A wild yakmel herd grazed right on the edge of her property and he knew firsthand how they could be during a sandstorm. “You should get it fixed.”

“I’m not looking to keep anything out.”

He grimaced. He didn’t understand her.

“How are you hanging in there?” Robin hauled a stack of bronze bars over to one of her machines and laid them out. A thin layer of sand clung to her sweat-slick skin. Her cheeks were red, the start of sunburn stretching across the bridge of her nose. She itched it irritably. “You look like you’re ready to start banging your head against the wall.”

“Is that an option?”

She snorted. “You’re just full of jokes today, aren’t you?”

“I tell plenty of jokes,” he deadpanned, “but no one ever laughs.”

The consistent click of bronze stopped. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“You’re the exception, I guess.” He fidgeted in his seat. He’d gotten used to the twinge in his side each time he breathed, moved, or thought too hard about it. “I just hate sitting still is all.”

“I’d offer to have you help me, but that would go against the whole resting aspect of this thing.” She fed bronze bars on one side of the machine and thin sheets of pliable metal came out the other side. It was like magic. Or science. They were one and the same to him. 

Everyone else in his family lived and breathed science. Spoke the language fluently. All of them were esteemed Vega 5 Old World technology experts and then there was him—Unsuur—the disappointment, the failure.

He shoved those intrusive thoughts from his mind before they found a home. There was no place for them here. His attention drifted to her workbench where a small collection of rocks and precious stones littered its surface. 

He perked up in his seat. That was right. “You collect rocks too, don’t you.”

“I guess.” She stood and brushed sand from the knees of her jeans. “I just grab what looks pretty. I don’t think too much about it.”

His gaze fell to a rough cut tiger's eye she strung on a gold chain. He motioned to it and said, “Like that orange one?”

“It’s a tiger’s eye,” she corrected, “People wear them to lessen fear and seek motivation from within.”

His lips curved. “I thought you didn’t think too much about it?”

She blew a stray curl from her eyes. Her hair was tied back in a low bun, but it had already come undone. “I don’t—I mean, I collect them for jewelry making purposes.”

It was a lot more than that. She kept a small collection in her bedroom. Most were on the shelf next to her bed, but she kept a few more on the exposed wood beams around the edge of her room. As if remembering that small fact, she muttered, “Crystals soothe me, I guess.”

“When did you start collecting them?”

“Oh, years ago when I still lived in Highwind with my family. A traveling ‘mystic’ came to town and she read fortunes for the children. She told me rocks would guide me through life like stepping stones across a river,” she scoffed, “which is a bonkers thing to say to a child, but I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I was young and impressionable and my little brain fixated on that fortune and I’ve been collecting them ever since…” She trailed off as if she wanted to say more.

His heart squeezed in his chest. That was surprisingly sentimental of her which seemed to go against her very nature. She was all hard edges and rough patches, like an uncut gem, but there was a softness under all that. “Which one is your favorite?”

Her brow creased. “What?”

“Of your collection? Which do you like best?”

She laughed, a little too loud and punctuated to be genuine. She crossed her arms and he saw the walls surrounding her shift and close with that one motion. As if she remembered who she was opening up to and stopped herself from divulging too much. “An impossible question. Next.”

“I like that one.” He motioned to the turquoise she set on a spool of copper wire. Its veined surface resembled fissures in ice. “I think it would stack nicely with the rest of my collection.”

She peered between him and the stone. “You like it?”

“That’s what I just said. Yeah.”

“One second.” She took the stone and turned away from him. He craned his neck to see what she was doing, but she kept her work hidden. He settled back in his chair with a pointed huff. Maybe taking up reading wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Ta-da!”

She spun around and presented him with her creation—the same turquoise rock with bolts and a curved piece of wire glued to its surface. Confusion furrowed his brow. Why did she ruin a perfectly good rock?

“What is it?”

“A pet rock, duh.”

“A pet…rock?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, “So, you don’t get lonely while I’m working.”

Unsuur studied it. The bolts and wire—was that supposed to be a face? “You know I think your company is more than enough, right?”

Her lips parted in surprise. That was the second time he’d gotten that look from her today. He was on a roll. “Well, I have to, uh, go scrounge up a few things from the scrapyard and I thought Uncertain, here, could keep you company while I was gone.” That splotchy red color crept back into her cheeks. “That’s all.”

He tilted his head. “Uncertain?”

“Yeah, that’s his—its name. Because, ya know, your name is Unsuur, so I thought it’d be funny if…” A vein visibly pulsed at her temple. If possible—her face had gotten even redder. “Forget I said anything. It was a stupid joke anyway.” She set the rock on the porch railing and hurried past him before he could stop her.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere or Justice will kill me.”

“But—”

She grabbed her pickhammer as she bolted around the corner. And, just like that, Unsuur was alone. His gaze fell back to the rock—Uncertain. Well, not completely alone. He picked up the turquoise and chuckled.

“Looks like it’s just you and me until she gets back.” Uncertain didn’t respond—not that he expected him to. The glue hadn’t fully dried and its smile became more of a mangled frown. His shoulders slumped. Yeah… He had that effect on people, but having a pet rock grimace at him was new. “Well, do you want to talk to me?”

Nothing. Why would he expect anything different?

He bobbed his head thoughtfully. But that wasn’t a no, per se.

“Alright, so I found the coolest rock while I was standing outside Paradise Lost. Lots of layers, perfect for stacking. You would have loved it…”

***

Robbie traced the grain in the wood overhead, unable to sleep even though she was exhausted. The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, toting scrap between the yard and her workshop. Dinner had been a quiet affair, just her and Unsuur, seated at her mismatched dining set with bowls of steaming fried rice.

Well, her, Unsuur, and Uncertain…

He kept the turquoise stone at the table the whole time, occasionally asking it a question and pretending like it had responded—like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. She could hardly look at the damn thing without an embarrassed flush burning at the crown of her head.

A pet rock?! What was she thinking??

He had to be messing with her, right?

That had been some lame attempt to connect with him, but why would he need a pet rock? It didn’t do anything. It definitely wouldn’t cure how bored he was, that was for sure. Light, was she actually boring? Did he regret coming to stay here with her?

She scrubbed her face until her skin stung. The clock on the wall read well past midnight. Tomorrow would be rough if she didn’t drift off here soon. As much as she wanted to take the day off and catch up on some much needed sleep, Heidi reached out to say she planned to stop by in the morning and she made an appointment with Pablo in the afternoon.

Between that, she still had work to do. Qi sent another letter asking for a status report on his robot. A letter. Like he couldn’t just walk down to her shop and ask himself.

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow.

The work never ended.

“N-No, ugh.”

Robbie sat up on the old loveset. It was a piece of trash. Literally. She found it left out for trash, but it beat having to sleep on the floor. She strained her ears and listened, but only silence followed. That whimper definitely came from her bedroom though.

Kicking her blanket off, she crept up to the door and pressed her ear to the rough wood. Unsuur whimpered again—albeit quieter than the one that alerted her in the first place. Was he in pain? Was the medicine still working? She wasn’t really sure what she could do to help him, but she cracked the open and poked her head inside?

The lights were dimmed. The blankets and pillows on her single bed made a vaguely Unsuur-shaped mound. 

“Unsuur?”

He whimpered again, rustling the blankets.

“Unsuur, are you okay? Do you need more medicine?” She padded over to the bed and squeezed into the small space between the bed and shelf. Worry lines creased his forehead as he flung the blankets off him. He was shirtless. A deep purplish bruise bled out from beneath the bandages wrapped around his middle, the edges turning the faintest shades of green and yellow. The planes of his chest were flat and well-toned from years in the Corps.

A frown toyed on his lips as he curled into a ball on his side, trembling. He looked so small, so scared—like a child. Robbie gasped.

He wasn’t in pain. He was having a nightmare.

She smoothed out his hair and cooed. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He relaxed under her touch, the lines on his forehead smoothing. His hair, though a little damp, felt like silk beneath her fingers. She brushed her thumb over his temple, then down and around the apple of his cheek. He sighed contentedly and leaned into the touch until his cheek was cradled in her palm.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Unsuur always seemed so sure of himself—ironically, enough. A quiet calm in the storm that was Sandrock and all its bullshit. Ever-present, dependable, a rock for others to lean on. Or at least, that’s how she saw it, but some of the more concerning things he said so casually about himself made her wonder if that was really the case.

People say I blend into the background.

No one ever laughs.

She brushed her thumb over his lower lip. Hers tingled as she recalled their kiss. Her travels kept her from making meaningful connections—only fleeting, one off relations that left her creeping out of a stranger's room at dawn. She never remembered their names. She never gave hers. It was easier to never get too attached—to anything or anyone.

Her hand fell from his face. He looked more settled than he had when she entered the room. Good. At least one of them would get a good night of sleep. She moved to leave before he realized she was there.

He reached for her in his sleep. Her expression softened as his fingers brushed against hers. He whimpered again.

“Unsuur?”

Nothing. It seemed along with liking rocks, he slept like one too. His fingers trailed up her palm until they closed around her wrist. She tugged lightly, but his grip tightened, almost insistent. Slept like a rock with a grip stronger than steel…

Another five minutes wouldn’t harm anyone. It’s not like she was anywhere close to falling asleep on her own anyway. If this is what Unsuur needed while he recovered, she could manage this much. She nudged him aside to make room for her—though there wasn’t too much room to give. The bars on her bed frame dug into her back as she found a comfortable spot. 

Unsuur curled up in her lap like a sleeping kitten, his cheek pressed flat against her bare thigh. His skin was warm against her—scorching really.

She took a slow, measured breath through her nose and held it. He smelled vaguely of spice—cinnamon, maybe? Or perhaps that was what tanned leather smelled like. It was hard to place, but she liked it. Her fingers trailed through his hair, earning a content hum that someone might mistake for a purr. 

One minute, maybe two, then she’d head back to the living room. That’s what she told herself as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas unsuur #mtas justice #mtas heidi #mtas builder #mtas fanfic

[living-history-lesson]

—- About —-

Hello, I’m Kennedy (or Cole, or Aidan), a 24-yo aspiring composer/writer with a passion for conservation and sustainable agriculture

I'm a nonbinary trans man and use he/they and some neopronouns

Diagnosed with autism, bipolar, EDS, PCOS

Suspected cPTSD and/or OSDD

Listography: pronouns, gender hoarde, kin list, and more

Secondary account: @plushprideflags

Gender account: @kennys-gendys

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinghistorylesson/

Mainly post history, star trek, nature/animals, tolkien suff, and random shit.

Occasionally post kin content

^ as such I am tagging Sam and Frodo stuff as # me and my husband (because that is me. And my husband.)

—- Notes —-

my activity online can be extremely sporadic, and I may jump between interests

Possible alters may sometimes sign things but I'm not putting a list out there rn.

[evilwriter37]

Ao3 and Wattpad titles be like “Hearts colliding” or random lyrics to a song; anything sweet sounding. Then you see the tags like

“a-nail fist in, seggs, motorboating, suff ication, butter as -….. milk” (I’m trying to not get myself banned okay)

Then you get a writer’s tag saying “please send me to mars”

LIKE ITS TOO FUNNY

Lol, anon, have you seen my fics? You can say all the kinky tags you want! No banning for that here!

But yeah, lol. I admit to doing that: where I have a beautiful title and you look at it and it’s like: CBT, or something.

#asks #lol #nsft

[adhd-chaos-queen]

This is a disaster ☹️

I wanted to read until midnight...

#ao3 #ao3 suff #ao3 supremacy #ao3 down #oh no #why now? #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[djdangerlove]

The Old Guard FanFic Author Appreciation Project

I wanted to do something fun for all the authors out there that have kept us fed with fanfic while we wait for a sequel announcement. The original post can be found here.

If you didn’t already submit a response and would like a graphic made you can still send your responses in a message and I’ll make one for you! Just check out the original post for more info.

This is only the first batch of authors who submitted a response so I will reblog this post every time I add more until everyone has received their graphic!

Please check out these authors/stories/blogs and give them some extra love! 🖤

@lilolilyr / AO3 : Lilolilyrae / In Your Stead

@winterequinoxx / AO3: WinterEquinox / Carry Me

@cactusdragon517 / AO3: MayQueen517 / Made of Star Suff

@demonicneonfishy / AO3: demonicneonfishy / Pandora’s Box

#the old guard #tog fanfic #andromache the scythian #tog quynh #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #nile freeman #togdaily

[silenthearts]

Okay listen up everyone, I am going to rewrite empty wallets . I am gonna plan it better and write a few chapters as well as renaming it. I might also put it on wattpad and aO3 and will be creating a ko-fi. Also I plan on writting a lot of suff.

Now is there any characters you want me to keep in empty wallets and if so why and what could be added to make the story better and more engaging?

Please discuss with me, I'd love feedback and write something you guys want. 🍑✨

#5sos #calum hood #ashton irwin #calum hood fic #calum thomas hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos au #5sos one shot #calum hood one shot #calum hood blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagines

[knightlychika]

Tagged!

Thanks for the tag @crowandmoonwriting!

1. What genre(s) you write: My main ones for original stuff right now are heroic/high fantasy and . . man I don’t even know how to peg the other one. Abstract urban fantasy? Actiony stuff. Slightly romancy stuff.

2. What’s on your reading wishlist: Honestly I wanna dip into more supernatural romance, but haven’t largely because I’m uncomfortable with erotic scenes and have a sinking feeling that I’d be hard-pressed to find books of the genre without sexy times ;-; curse you Debbie Viguie, you beautiful genius, for getting me hooked on Christian supernatural romance

3. Your favourite character from your current WIP: Oh man it changes based on the day. Recently though it’s been a tie between Angelo, my chaotic good bab who just wants friends, and Seul, one of my spirit babs whose attachment issues come from a few hefty doses of angst :’D

4. Some writing tropes you like: Guess I’ve never exactly like thought about it because this stumped me for a sec :’D but I adore angst, especially angst with ships (like one being in danger, one getting hurt for the other, etc). Found family is great, especially if there’s a Parent Friend in the group. Having an Average Joe, especially a goofy one, is a Chika lure too

5.The story behind your WIP’s name: I’m kinda stuck on two WIPs right now, but for the both of them, the title of the story is also the “title” of the main character (Sentinel’s main chara becomes a Sentinel)

6. Are you a pantser or plotter? Overall much more of a plotter, but when I actually get into the story/dealings, I kinda shift over to pantser. The hardest part is that I plot all the time, but that does no good when no words go on the page;;

7. Do you post your work somewhere? My fanfic stuff is on AO3, but my original stuff is still hiding in my private collection

8. Do you also read/write fanfic? If yes, for the same genres as what you write? Fanfic is like 90% of what I write right now just because of real life craziness and needing to treat myself. For fanfic, I jump around a bit more. A bunch of sci-fi, some fantasy, some supernatural suff. All still actiony and romancy. My favorite one to date is my horror fic, even a year and a half later

9. Your favourite dessert. Because why not. Oh dude dessert is the one way in which I’m not picky with my food. But I can eat ice cream any time c:

I tag @triscribe, @amynchan, and anyone else who wants to do this!

#chika tag #thanks again for the tag i def didn't expect it! #writer things #now if you'll excuse me back to arguing with the puppy over custody of my foot #and working on anoTHER NEW OC I DIDN'T NEED

[linane-art]

God, I am too exhausted for this shit.

Super-quick update: I have a first qualification exam on Wed, 12th of Dec. The course that was meant to prepare me for it, which was starting today, fell through. So I’ve embarked on a self-study, 300+ pages, all of it could come up on the exam. I don’t have time to sleep, nevermind anything else.

I need to buy into NZ programme in 2 days. I thought I was done panicking about this, but I am not. It’ll be great, but it will also be hell and I’ll be alone. I will also still be unemployed, with a mortgage in 2 months.

Proceed to log into Tumblr for 5 seconds of relaxation and sanity.

Tumblr decides to fuck us all over by banning adult content etc.

I really, really, cannot deal with this right now.

So just really basic things I need you guys to read if you care about me and the wider FIKi fandom:

Please do not do anything impulsive. Don’t delete your tumblr, make decisions, or move somewhere else etc.

Use this time instead to backup whatever is important to you. There are posts flying around about saving Tumblr to Wordpress, etc. Consider your favourites too.

As for my personal suff, all images (fanart and photosets) are actually hosted on LJ and all writing is actually hosted on AO3. The content won’t disappear, only the posts might, but there are ways of getting to it

@gatheringfiki will continue, it just may or may not be on Tumblr as a platform. We (the admins) barely started a conversation and at the moment it’s just full of shock, but please check @gatheringfiki directly for updates as we will be looking into our options.

Fandom is people. Pleople who like each other, create things relevant to each other’s interests and stick together. People can’t be deleted for adult content.

#personal #I need vodka #and like to stop being conscious

[allaboutshouto]

Warmth

Summary: Day 1 Prompt “Warmth” - oven, hot bread, baking, and house on fire. 

The Zodiacs, the notorious group of twelve criminals with supernatural power, has come to town to wreck destruction. As Head of the Police Department, Shouto made a promise to himself to capture these criminals and make them regret hurting Izuku. Now, if only he could convince these humans that not all with supernatural power, or Aberrants, as press’s preference for wordy name - were bad. 

Read on ao3 or here under the cut

“Is it ready yet?”

“Ten more minutes.”

Shouto said without even lifting his eyes off the papers he was reading and skilfully ignored Izuku’s disappointed whine from the kitchen. He had been trying to read this passage for the fourth time but nothing actually got inside his head. And he needed to finish skimming through this report before the meeting started.

‘The last known location of the criminals was on the 53rd floor of Shinsakai Tower. Extractions from security cameras before the power went out showed Rat and Ox walking into the elevator, Tiger remaining on the floor —’

“Now?” Izuku’s hopeful voice floating out from the kitchen effectively threw a wrench in the meagre attention Shouto managed to scavenge.

Not that he could do more reading anyway since the bread smelt of perfection right now. He slapped the papers against his face, completely giving up, and padded over to the joint kitchen.

Izuku squatted down in front of the oven, peering inside with wide, excited eyes. The yellow glow burnt on his face a warmth and light of healthiness Shouto hadn't seen in days. Izuku should be in bed, really really be in bed. His wrists were too thin and the bags under his eyes were pronounced. But he didn't have the heart to deny his boyfriend's request of baking something together, the two of them, to celebrate Izuku being released from the hospital. The criminals had dealt them a harsh blow, Izuku suffered the worst of the injury, having nearly had his life sucked out of him by Tiger's supernatural power manifestation — Soul Diluting.

"This looks burnt on top." Izuku pointed a finger on the oven door, unknowing of the conflict in Shouto and squinted to see inside. The tip of his nose was nearly touching the heated up oven door. "It looks too brown."

Shouto sniffed the air. Nothing smelt burnt, just the pure, tantalizing smell of home baked bread mixed in with the scent the dry shrub of lavender hanging over the window. He squatted down next to Izuku, peering inside. Nothing looked burnt either, the top was just getting to that right shade of brown. Izuku laid his head on Shouto's shoulders, his hair tickling Shouto's neck.

"Give it 25 seconds then we can turn off the oven." He patted Izuku's mane of hair, smiling lightly at the aggravated sigh. He glanced at the watched on his wrist, a gift from Izuku's mom and counted the seconds, All Might's arm. "You can turn it off on my mark. Right about now."

Lithe and quick with more power and rigor than he seemed to have, Izuku flicked his hand out to turn the temperature to 0 and leapt up, putting the oven mitt over his hand and pulled the door down. Shouto jumped out of the way as the blast of heat and potent aroma of baked bread rolled out of the oven.

"Hot bread incoming." Izuku singsonged, sliding over to the dining table and slapped the brass mold on the table. The sound echoed cleanly around their cramped kitchen.

*Probably it is time they throw out some unused stuff in here.* Shouto thought, rummaging around the pantry for a cooling rack, which was hidden under pile of finished cereal boxes. He put it onto Izuku's waiting hand and climbed down from the chair.

"I never knew you can bake Shouto." Izuku whistled appreciatively, expertly lifting the perfectly brown bread out of the mold and placing it on the rack to cool it down.

Shouto pulled a mould toward himself with the tips of his fingers. "It never came up in the conversation." He shrugged, loosening the bread from the side with a butter knife.

"That is not a legitimate excuse." Izuku blew a raspberry, childishly that drew a laugh out of him. "I could have had homemade bread the full four months ago." He bemoaned theatrically, putting a hand over his heart in faux hurt.

Shouto merely laughed, placing the bread on the rack and stood up. "The conference is starting soon. I need to leave." He hated leaving Izuku alone here in their apartment, weak and still in recovery. But he knew had he offered to stay at home, Izuku would have threw a fit and kicked him out of the house to go do his job. The issue with Zodiac Syndicate was spiraling out of police department's control. A group of twelve individuals with superpower wrecking destruction and lighting chaos every town they set foot into. And right now they were here, in Shouto's town. There was no way he would let them get away.

"Brief me when you get back?" Izuku batted his eyelashes hopefully.

"Absolutely not. You're on leave."

"Meanie. No homemade sandwich for you then."

-------

Eyes turned on him the moment he set foot inside the quarantined room. He ignored them all and took his seat at the head of the table. He headed this expedition to capture at least three out of twelve zodiac, the officers had no other choice but to listen to him, whether they liked working with an Aberrant or not. The AC was blasting suppressant air at full power. Not that it did anything other than making Shouto itchy but he kept that information to himself. No need to scare away the people he would be working with. He needed all the help he could get to capture the Zodiacs.

"What did they steal from Shinsakai Tower?" He flipped through the reports. Nothing new there, except for some blurry pictures of Rat's face and a clipping of the Zodiacs' emblem, a twelve pointed star stabbed through with a sword. "Baroque art piece? Gold cutlery?" Shinsakai Yukekki was well known for her opulence and love for showing off her wealth. Maybe the Zodiacs targeted her tower for some specific objects only she had --

"An empty ink cartridge." An officer grouched out, slamming his fist on the table. "Those notorious supernatural criminals stole an used ink cartridge. Completely not what you assumed they would go after. We listened to your ungrounded deduction and placed ambush in the gallery and vault, believing in your words that that was their targets! And guess what, you are fucking wrong, Officer Todoroki. We should have never listened to a word said by an Aberrant. You could have been working with the Zodiacs all this time for all we know."

Throughout the tirade, Shouto did nothing. He let the man finish his passionate spiel, waited until someone sitting next to him to pull him back to sitting, then finally, deliberately steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on top. The fear and wary in the room suddenly skyrocketed, penetrating his nose. The fangs tickled his bottom lips. Shouto quickly willed them away. No point in making them be more scared of him then they were now.

"I am not asking you to like me." He finally said, when the air in the room had become stuffy and quiet enough he could pick out everyone's breathing pattern. "All I ask is peaceful cooperation to capture the Zodiacs. To answer my question, Lieutenant Kaino, I have my reasons to believe the Zodiacs were targeting the paintings. Secrets of a hidden coterie only chosen people can get in. But an ink cartridge." he cut himself off here, withdrawing back to his thought.

Following the previous heists, stolen goods were expensive, historically important items. Crowns, paintings, necklaces, the wreckage of an entire ship from the National Maritime Museum, it stood to reason that this time would have been no difference. And then the Zodiacs had to come and broke that pattern by stealing something forgettable, worthless, and unthought of. A puzzle piece was missing here, but what exactly, he needed time and more information.

The door clicking open violently yanked him out of his thought. He jumped in his chair and knocked his knees against the underside of the table. The table shook, sending tea cups falling over. People jerked out of their chairs as hot water dripped onto the floor. Shouto cursed his sensitive hearing in his head and mustered up an apologetic smile on the outside. He turned to look at the personnel that interrupted the meeting. The heightened fear he saw there sent a spike of fear straight for his bone.

"What happened?" Shouto asked, standing up himself.

"It's your apartment, Sir," The rookie uttered breathlessly, "It's on fire."

“Is it ready yet?”

“Ten more minutes.”

Shouto said without even lifting his eyes off the papers he was reading and skilfully ignored Izuku’s disappointed whine from the kitchen. He had been trying to read this passage for the fourth time but nothing actually got inside his head. And he needed to finish skimming through this report before the meeting started.

‘The last known location of the criminals was on the 53rd floor of Shinsakai Tower. Extractions from security cameras before the power went out showed Rat and Ox walking into the elevator, Tiger remaining on the floor —’

“Now?” Izuku’s hopeful voice floating out from the kitchen effectively threw a wrench in the meagre attention Shouto managed to scavenge.

Not that he could do more reading anyway since the bread smelt of perfection right now. He slapped the papers against his face, completely giving up, and padded over to the joint kitchen.

Izuku squatted down in front of the oven, peering inside with wide, excited eyes. The yellow glow burnt on his face a warmth and light of healthiness Shouto hadn't seen in days. Izuku should be in bed, really really be in bed. His wrists were too thin and the bags under his eyes were pronounced. But he didn't have the heart to deny his boyfriend's request of baking something together, the two of them, to celebrate Izuku being released from the hospital. The criminals had dealt them a harsh blow, Izuku suffered the worst of the injury, having nearly had his life sucked out of him by Tiger's supernatural power manifestation — Soul Diluting.

"This looks burnt on top." Izuku pointed a finger on the oven door, unknowing of the conflict in Shouto and squinted to see inside. The tip of his nose was nearly touching the heated up oven door. "It looks too brown."

Shouto sniffed the air. Nothing smelt burnt, just the pure, tantalizing smell of home baked bread mixed in with the scent the dry shrub of lavender hanging over the window. He squatted down next to Izuku, peering inside. Nothing looked burnt either, the top was just getting to that right shade of brown. Izuku laid his head on Shouto's shoulders, his hair tickling Shouto's neck.

"Give it 25 seconds then we can turn off the oven." He patted Izuku's mane of hair, smiling lightly at the aggravated sigh. He glanced at the watched on his wrist, a gift from Izuku's mom and counted the seconds, All Might's arm. "You can turn it off on my mark. Right about now."

Lithe and quick with more power and rigor than he seemed to have, Izuku flicked his hand out to turn the temperature to 0 and leapt up, putting the oven mitt over his hand and pulled the door down. Shouto jumped out of the way as the blast of heat and potent aroma of baked bread rolled out of the oven.

"Hot bread incoming." Izuku singsonged, sliding over to the dining table and slapped the brass mold on the table. The sound echoed cleanly around their cramped kitchen.

*Probably it is time they throw out some unused stuff in here.* Shouto thought, rummaging around the pantry for a cooling rack, which was hidden under pile of finished cereal boxes. He put it onto Izuku's waiting hand and climbed down from the chair.

"I never knew you can bake Shouto." Izuku whistled appreciatively, expertly lifting the perfectly brown bread out of the mold and placing it on the rack to cool it down.

Shouto pulled a mould toward himself with the tips of his fingers. "It never came up in the conversation." He shrugged, loosening the bread from the side with a butter knife.

"That is not a legitimate excuse." Izuku blew a raspberry, childishly that drew a laugh out of him. "I could have had homemade bread the full four months ago." He bemoaned theatrically, putting a hand over his heart in faux hurt.

Shouto merely laughed, placing the bread on the rack and stood up. "The conference is starting soon. I need to leave." He hated leaving Izuku alone here in their apartment, weak and still in recovery. But he knew had he offered to stay at home, Izuku would have threw a fit and kicked him out of the house to go do his job. The issue with Zodiac Syndicate was spiraling out of police department's control. A group of twelve individuals with superpower wrecking destruction and lighting chaos every town they set foot into. And right now they were here, in Shouto's town. There was no way he would let them get away.

"Brief me when you get back?" Izuku batted his eyelashes hopefully.

"Absolutely not. You're on leave."

"Meanie. No homemade sandwich for you then."

-------

Eyes turned on him the moment he set foot inside the quarantined room. He ignored them all and took his seat at the head of the table. He headed this expedition to capture at least three out of twelve zodiac, the officers had no other choice but to listen to him, whether they liked working with an Aberrant or not. The AC was blasting suppressant air at full power. Not that it did anything other than making Shouto itchy but he kept that information to himself. No need to scare away the people he would be working with. He needed all the help he could get to capture the Zodiacs.

"What did they steal from Shinsakai Tower?" He flipped through the reports. Nothing new there, except for some blurry pictures of Rat's face and a clipping of the Zodiacs' emblem, a twelve pointed star stabbed through with a sword. "Baroque art piece? Gold cutlery?" Shinsakai Yukekki was well known for her opulence and love for showing off her wealth. Maybe the Zodiacs targeted her tower for some specific objects only she had --

"An empty ink cartridge." An officer grouched out, slamming his fist on the table. "Those notorious supernatural criminals stole an used ink cartridge. Completely not what you assumed they would go after. We listened to your ungrounded deduction and placed ambush in the gallery and vault, believing in your words that that was their targets! And guess what, you are fucking wrong, Officer Todoroki. We should have never listened to a word said by an Aberrant. You could have been working with the Zodiacs all this time for all we know."

Throughout the tirade, Shouto did nothing. He let the man finish his passionate spiel, waited until someone sitting next to him to pull him back to sitting, then finally, deliberately steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on top. The fear and wary in the room suddenly skyrocketed, penetrating his nose. The fangs tickled his bottom lips. Shouto quickly willed them away. No point in making them be more scared of him then they were now.

"I am not asking you to like me." He finally said, when the air in the room had become stuffy and quiet enough he could pick out everyone's breathing pattern. "All I ask is peaceful cooperation to capture the Zodiacs. To answer my question, Lieutenant Kaino, I have my reasons to believe the Zodiacs were targeting the paintings. Secrets of a hidden coterie only chosen people can get in. But an ink cartridge." he cut himself off here, withdrawing back to his thought.

Following the previous heists, stolen goods were expensive, historically important items. Crowns, paintings, necklaces, the wreckage of an entire ship from the National Maritime Museum, it stood to reason that this time would have been no difference. And then the Zodiacs had to come and broke that pattern by stealing something forgettable, worthless, and unthought of. A puzzle piece was missing here, but what exactly, he needed time and more information.

The door clicking open violently yanked him out of his thought. He jumped in his chair and knocked his knees against the underside of the table. The table shook, sending tea cups falling over. People jerked out of their chairs as hot water dripped onto the floor. Shouto cursed his sensitive hearing in his head and mustered up an apologetic smile on the outside. He turned to look at the personnel that interrupted the meeting. The heightened fear he saw there sent a spike of fear straight for his bone.

"What happened?" Shouto asked, standing up himself.

"It's your apartment, Sir," The rookie uttered breathlessly, "It's on fire."

#tododekuweek #tododeku #shouto todoroki #midoriya izuku #bnha #long time no tododeku #feels like coming home