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willowser · 1 year

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I posted 2,029 times in 2022

464 posts created (23%)

1,565 posts reblogged (77%)

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I tagged 2,009 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#bnha - 499 posts

#jjk - 271 posts

#ask willow - 259 posts

#shut up willow - 153 posts

#about willow - 78 posts

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#aot - 58 posts

#bnha spoilers - 44 posts

#bye - 44 posts

#pleased to meet you: dabi - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and at the end of the hall is a great portrait of a man with long hair — black as night — and red eyes that still gleam after all this time

My Top Posts in 2022:

i have this like one hc that pro-hero work involves a lot of traveling, especially in the beginning. they move here for six months and then there for four and then here for 14 and so on, just to get experience out in the field.

so it only makes sense you and bakugou end things, right at the start of his career.

and it's okay. it is. bc you both love each other and you know that, know that it's not ending bc of any huge, terrible fight that makes you enemies of one another. all the memories you'll carry can stay gold, not tarnished by anything other than the bittersweet distance.

getting used to it takes a little time, that's all; before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend, first and foremost. someone you had inside jokes with and had similar interests you could talk to about for hours, things that you only did with him and no one else. things only he knew. and not getting to tell him exciting news about college or ask if he saw the limited edition, golden age all might nendoroid they're releasing at the end of the year...sucks. it feels wrong, like these are things he's supposed to know, no matter what. things you're supposed to talk about.

you call him five months into his eight month nagoya contract and he doesn't answer. you think maybe he changed his number and didn't tell you, bc he doesn't actually have to anymore. bakugou has always been good about self control, keeping to himself, and it wouldn't surprise you if he's written you off without a second thought—bc this is how it's supposed to be when you break up with someone.

it's not until the next day that you get a text, late in the evening.

[9:26 PM] did you mean to call me

of course you did, but maybe you shouldn't have. hearing the line ring over and over again—it's cemented the realization that he's not thinking about you anymore. that he's moved on and you should too and he probably doesn't want to hear whatever if is you want to talk about. he'll probably just think you're weird. clingy.

yeah, but it's nothing important [9:32 PM]

he reads it immediately and—nothing happens. and you think that's it. hopefully you didn't come off too passive aggressive and now he thinks you're mad that he didn't answer. maybe you should have put an emoji, the little smiling one with the hands to show no biggie ! maybe you should have just said that, or that you couldn't remember the name of that hiking trail you did together two summers ago, but then you googled it and didn't need him anymore. or something.

he calls at 10:03.

your heart is in your throat when you pick up, beating like crazy bc you haven't heard his voice in a while. "uh, hello?"

and he hesitates too; his drawn out inhale doesn’t go unnoticed. "hey."

there's a brief period of silence on the line, some light shuffling on his end. sounds of cars passing, the rare honk of what traffic lingers this late at night. the wind scratches by, audible, and you shiver despite being in your own bed. you imagine him under a dim streetlight, fully outfitted.

bakugou huffs, "you called me?"

"yeah," you blink and sit up, though you don't know why. maybe because this needs your full attention, or because you don't want your voice to get muffled by your pillow. "i was just, uh—my roommate. she asked me if i've ever been to gekikara gourmet festival—"

"oh my god."

it's the exasperation in his voice that makes you laugh, so vivid, exactly as you remember it, and you can picture the face he must be making. "i know, i was like 'oh boy, have i'."

"d'you tell her you puked—"

"—with my head between my knees while sitting on that kiddie slide, yes i did."

he snorts, just the way he did as he patted the back of your head that night, awkwardly, standing beside you with a fist at his side. "told you not to try those fucking noodles."

you agree. "they were making even you sweat, i don't know what i was thinking."

it had been one of your first official dates, and you think all the spicy food didn't help with your restless nerves. it always felt stupid, looking back on it, to be so afraid; you'd known bakugou forever, and the only difference between that night and the many you'd spent before as friends was that he'd kissed your temple, lips red from spice and all. it was just bakugou, you thought. what was there to be anxious about?

and now the silence is making your stomach turn.

"yeah," you continue lamely, "nothing important, it just—made me think of you."

he doesn't say anything. if it weren't for the distant slam of something—a trash can lid or car door—you would think he hung up. he's always had a hard time with his words and you don't really even understand why he called instead of texting. if there was something he wanted to say to you, you aren't sure he could.

"so, i guess i'll let you—"

"y'got a roommate now?"

"uh, yeah." something ugly in your stomach wants there to be jealousy in his tone, and you shake your head to be rid of the thought. because it shouldn't matter. "she's in a couple of my classes. big fan of, like, kpop and stuff."

he snorts again and you can imagine the roll of his eyes, bright with amusement despite the frown on his lips. you love that look on him; so content that it felt out of his character, something he wanted to hide. being the cause of it has always been so sweet. "different apartment?"

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909 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

today i am thinking about. like. soulmate/arranged marriage au with bakugou.

it's common to get married once you find your pre-destined other half, bc there isn't anyone else out there for you, anyway, and it takes a little while for you and him to come across one another. late twenties even, and by this time, you're both so sure you're defective and that it will never happen and have given up completely on ever knowing what love is.

(you — a painfully average human being — having to be pried from your car after a minor accident. by pro-hero dynamight. and he touches you and you touch him and an oven timer goes off in your head. some box is checked deep inside your heart. both of you, at the exact same time, think: oh. it's you.

and then you're left standing at an intersection, awkwardly staring at one another as you're swarmed by media and fans and the other driver of the car, who is demanding all your insurance information.)

your wedding night is — boring; you sleep with your back to one another and don't say much beyond half-hearted conversation. he looks angry or deep in thought 99% of the time, frowning, and even though you knew that from seeing him on tv for years, it's more intimidating up close and in your face.

dynamight — bakugou — is gone a lot of the time, with work, leaving you alone in his nice three-bedroom more often than not. it's comforting almost, because you don't particularly feel anything for this man and you're allowed to expand in his space without being under his metallic gaze, making it your own as you please.

it's not unusual for you to fall asleep without him in a big, empty bed, untouched and unbothered — though he doesn't do either even when he's in it. he keeps his distance and you want him to, for now at least; you kissed once during the ceremony and a handful of times after that, when it felt right: after he made you dinner, two weeks into your marriage; when he got in from dubai after being gone for 12 days; you met kirishima and ashido recently — finally, they said — and he'd surprised you in the garage afterwards, leaning a little more into it than he typically does, though you think his two, small glasses of something amber and sweet at dinner might have helped with that.

not this morning though. because you'd been more than half asleep and hadn't even noticed him all night and therefore weren't even prepared to say goodbye. a hand at on your shoulder, maybe, before he left and then —

and then mina called. to tell you what happened. what hospital. how bad it was.

"he's uh—" you're blank, voice lost under the chatter of the emergency room, blinking at the receptionist in surprise. all the beeping and the squeak of shoes across the linoleum, the hurried instruction and calls for clear! are making you — "bakugou, he's uh—katsuki is—"

you're feeling a lot of things, and nothing, all at once. mostly regret, furious with yourself at the simple fact that you didn't even wake up properly to tell him goodbye, to have a nice day, that you never do. it's been almost half a year and you haven't even called him by his first name to his face, haven't given him permission to call you by yours. he's never seen you naked and you've been too scared to know if you even wanted him to.

you've been complacent in the distance and now it's getting further and further, as a machine flatlines just down the hall.

"my wife,"

when you turn, katsuki's standing across the lobby, peeking out from a room that's much quieter, that looks less intense. half of his face is bandaged up and his arm is in a sling, but — he looks —

"she's my wife," he croaks again, and mina appears, too, cringing under the heated glare he gives her. "told you 'm fine."

you feel a lot of things, all at once, but when he fixes you with his sleepy, half-lidded gaze, blinking soft and slow and gentle, you think: oh. of course it's you.

919 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

oh me, oh my, the cowboy bakugou brainrot that i have HAD. i've decided he's perfect for it. 100% has it down pat. whew doggy. can you IMAGINE him in his levi's and his soft cotton tee and his square-toed work boots hello??? HELLO???? and a HAT goodbye

he's like. okay so he's this guy from your teeny home town, right. someone you knew in high-school, maybe weren't friends with but had classes together and had friends of friends of each other. and he was always kind of an asshole and had a truck by the time he was like 16 and never could go out on the weekends or stay out late bc he was always helping his dad. and he never left -- but you did.

and you come back on a random night, for whatever reason, and your old friends take you out to some local bar that you can't believe is still up and open and running and. he's there. little drunk and loud and so fucking handsome. tan from working outside, fit from lifting hay and roping horses and his hands are rough and maybe a little dirty and he's just in a shirt and jeans but god. he looks so good.

and he's so smooth too. all "fancy seein' you here" and "looks like someone grew up right", smells like fresh cut grass and sharp aftershave. pats your hips to get your attention. oh yeah, you're going home with him. no doubt. he still drives that fucking truck, single cab, and before he even can get out of the parking lot, he's got a hand up your shirt and his mouth on yours and he's got to physically strap himself in so he can drive back to his house.

and he's great and rough and you can't believe the best sex of your life is from this country boy from back home. wild.

but. he's still kind of an asshole. and by the morning, he's grouchy and not as smooth and leavin' by the crack of dawn bc he's got shit to do. the little chickens in his yard are talking outside his window while you get dressed, maneuvering around his home as carefully as you can. being in there alone, knowing he's probably ready to be rid of you -- makes you feel like you're doing something wrong. so you call your friend to come get you, sitting on his porch -- that he built himself, by the way -- and just. watching him. out in the field, sheepdog running behind him and the horse he's riding. he's got his hat on bc the sun is fully out by now and beating down on the back of his neck and you can tell he's already sweating.

he lives a little further out of town than you or your friend realized, so you're just waiting when he comes back to sit beside you on the porch, all quiet. his dog comes up too, relishing in all the attention you give him until bakugou pushes him away, telling him to get on.

he doesn't smile as much now that he's sober, just frowns at you. "didn't think i'd see you 'round here again."

the dog comes back and you don't care. you scratch at his fluffy ears anyway. "didn't think you'd notice i was even gone."

he snorts, boots scuffing in his gravel drive as he shifts. "don't be dumb, 'course i noticed."

and you two weren't friends in high-school, hardly ever spoke to one another. maybe saw him in the hallway or thanked him when he opened doors for you. sat in front of him in class or next to him on those rare friday night football games he got to go to, when it was starting to get cold and he would give you the carhart off his own back just 'cause you were shivering and he ran hot anyway.

and he still does, beside you on the porch. when you look up from his dog, he's peering at you with all that heat, tipping his hat up a little to see you better.

"got eggs 'n shit, if you're hungry. if you wanna --" he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe at sweat on his brow and yeah. yes. whatever he's gonna say. yes. "if you wanna stay and eat."

good thing you got no phone signal out there, bc you didn't really wanna leave anyway.

1,184 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

look. i just. want to talk about bakugou after your first big fight. bc i think he eventually becomes the type of person that knows when he's being too mean but he still can't stop. like you say one thing in defense to him and he takes it a step too far and immediately thinks, why the fuck did i say that—and then you get angrier and so he gets angrier and his inner monologue is just like shut up shut up shut up shut up before you say something you don't mean literally stop.

and so maybe he leaves, just to cool off.

not in the middle of the fight, but it's not resolved either. there's a lull between the little back and forth quips, all the "well i'm not saying that you—" and the "no, you're fuckin' saying—", the "don't cuss at me, katsuki—" and the "then don't talk to me like 'm—" and then it's silent. he's got more to say and so do you—but at the same time, he's just. over it. whatever started the argument in the first place has been left behind, anger moreso stemming from what's happened since the first shot was taken (by him, of fucking course), and he doesn't want to fight with you of all people. not you.

and the longer he's gone, the more it just spins around and around in his head. everything he said and the way he said it and why he said it, why the fuck did he say it. bakugou is—he's too used to fighting, too good at it bc that's all anyone has ever done with him. that's all anyone has ever shown him, that irritation, that push-back, that quick judgement and eventual avoidance. fed up with it. with him.

by the time he comes home—if he can call it that anymore—he knows it's over. he knows this is the part with the "i just don't think it's working out—" and the "really can't handle this right now—", the "you're an asshole—" and the—

and the worst of all is just the abandonment. the worst of all is when he'll come back to that apartment and you'll just be gone. you'll come and get your things over time, stuffing it all into cardboard until there aren't any traces left. until all that's there is the walls and the carpet and the frame and just. bakugou. alone. again.

but he walks through the door and you're just—there. washing some dishes, folding the laundry, poking at your phone because you can't sit still. and you frown at him with a little crease between your eyebrows, bc you're still mad and he knows this is it, this is when you look him in the eye and you tell him—

"i can't find the tv remote."

".......y'always lose the—the freakin' thing. did you check under the couch?"

"that's the first place i looked."

and you stand up to prove you're not sitting on it and he shakes out the throw blanket you were using and sticks his hand between the couch cushions and he finds a bunch of coins, a sock, that pair of underwear he took off of you the last time he had a night off—and the f—reakin' tv remote.

and you rest your forehead on his chest and you're pouting and you mumble out a, "thanks," even though you probably don't want to. you probably do a lot of things you don't want to do, with him. because of him. things you probably don't want to do anymore because you're fed up. and this is it. this is it.

"i love you, jerk."

when you wrap your arms limply around him, he doesn't say anything. because he can't. he can't shut up when he wants to, and he can't speak up when he wants to, and it's something you're probably tired of, maybe, he's not actually sure, but you let him bury his face into your hair and you pretend you don't notice that he's trembling just a little and that you can feel his racing heartbeat through his back.

bakugou doesn't say anything, because he can't, so you just lean into him a little more and you say,

"still love you."

and you pretend not to hear the deep inhale that he takes or the little groan he lets out, and you pretend not to feel the clench of his jaw or the barely-there wobble of his chin. and you say,

"still gonna choose to love you."

because you don't love him by accident. even with his irritation and his push-back, his smart-ass quips and his angry language. you see it all and you see him and you still say,

"always gonna love you."

and that's how bakugou knows where his home is. what it is. that's how he knows it's you, of all people.

2,514 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i keep going back to this thought of like adult, pro-hero, brick-wall-of-a-man bakugou still being just so insecure. like he works hard for his body and he's not stupid, he knows that it's strong and is what it needs to be for his line of work, for being a pro, for protecting those that he loves—but he's always had an issue with...people.

yeah, as an older man, that's fallen away some and he's learned to let go of all the little battles he wants to start, how to ignore challenges that aren't there, but he's still bakugou, and people have this perception of him and his personality and attitude and he knows it's not unfounded, but...what good is there to say about him, really? that he's got a fit body? big fucking whoop.

a hot body isn't what's gonna keep you around.

and it's frustrating, because you smile at him and laugh at the shitty things he says and you forgive him, even when he can't apologize, and you understand the space he just needs sometimes. there are days when he wants to sleep alone because he'd done it all of his life, until you came around, and there are days he doesn't want to speak—to you or anybody—because every little thing is grating on his nerves, there are days when he wants to get out of the house and fuck off to hike, somewhere far without cell service, and only come back once he's sweaty and tired and in need of a shower.

and that's—he's not stupid. who wants to put up with that? him, and all that he entails? all you have to just accept, because he doesn't know how to change it.

it's not as if he doesn't want to spend time with you; some days that's all he wants. your attention, your touch, your little affections, your approval. a reminder that you do still love him, even after everything, and yeah, you say it every night and every morning and before you hang up the phone, but—what about all the times in between? even when he wants to be alone, he still thinks about you, too much maybe, for how much space he's willingly created for himself.

the face you make when you eat something too soon from the oven or when you pretend not to cry at some stupid movie. the shirt you wore last thursday and how well the color looked against your skin. how warm you are first thing in the morning, when he rolls over to make sure you're still there. what you smell like right out of the shower—do you smell like him, on the days you wear his shirts out of the house? does it make you think about him, too, all day? do you even like the way he smells or the way he dresses? how he cuts his hair or the shoes he wears on casual days, when he doesn't have to go work and he's not having dinner with his witch of a mother?

you're...attracted to him. right? gotta be, because if you aren't then all you have is his personality and that—there's just no fucking way. you've gotta be, because you kiss him and touch him and bother him in the shower and sometimes he looks at you across the table and you're giving him this look that drives him fucking crazy and—he's just bad at asking for things, for anything. 'specially for you.

sometimes you make him feel like a virgin fucking schoolboy, that doesn't know how to touch or be touched and so he does petty shit, little things that are supposed to drive you crazy, too. not like he really knows for sure, because the minute you look too long when he's shirtless, he wants to launch his own embarrassing ass off a cliff. he'll never admit to it, but yeah, he eats strawberries that way on purpose, messy while watching you, and he stands at the edge of your bed in a low-slung towel until he's nearly dry, just furthering some mindless conversation so that you'll stay awake and looking at him. when he's at the gym, he'll send a snapchat he took way too long posing for, just to respond with a "yeah", or he'll pretend he doesn't know why it's a big deal that he decided to forgo boxer briefs under his sweatpants.

bakugou wants to be wanted, but he doesn't know how to make himself worth wanting, and doesn't know how to ask either—but he's learning; placing his face between your shoulderblades when he wants you to turn to him in bed, resting his forehead on your knee when he's sorry and can't say why, drawing a heart on a sticky note, quick and shitty, before he has time to get embarrassed, nipping at the skin under your earlobe when he wants you, the blush on his cheeks probably searing into the skin of your neck.

insecure but trying, trusting. isn't that what love is anyway?

4,197 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

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that-bajan-kid · 4 years

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Boku No Hero Academia Chapter 271 SPOILERS

(Fumi is short for Fumikage, which is Tokoyami's given name. And DS is Dark Shadow.)

Yes we FINALLY get to see what mayhem Tomura will cause and how The Boys will react to it! Except we don't because Horikoshi likes to blue ball people and we end up cutting back to Best Bird Boys, which I wouldn't have a problem with if Tomura hadn't just AWAKEN FROM THE DEAD but sure, let's watch Tokoyami try to save Hawks from burning to death.

Anyway, Tokoyami uses Dark Shadow to escape the Fataxi as Fat Gum tries, and fails miserably, to keep him there.

Kaminari is all "The hell are you doing idiot?!?!" and Tokoyami yells back "Hawks is in danger and the plot demands I go save him!!"

Fat Gum muses about how Tokoyami is the only person to escape his quirk before ejecting the kids out of him and following after Tokoyami while yelling about Fumi dinning and dashing him.

Hi yes I like this very much thank you Horikoshi-sensei. I'm still upset about the blue balling tho.

Fast-foward to where we last left them off, DS is covering Hawks' back with Fumi's cloak and his assessment of Hawks' injuries are kinda grim. DS says there's nothing left, so I'm assuming that means his wings are permanently gone. And also he's still on fire.

Dabi calls UA pathetic for bringing the kids in to this, which is fair, however need I remind you that you guys have Toga, who's 17 and you had Mustard on your team at the Training camp arc and he wasn't even in high school. Not saying that bring highschoolers into an actual war is any better, just pointing it out is all.

OH NO OH FUCK OH SHIT OH-

YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING YOU LITTLE SHIT. LOOK AT THAT SMIRK.

I mean you guys are literally trying to destroy all society and mass murder millions of innocent people but go off I guess.

Omg Fumi's face. He looks so betrayed T^T

I'm sure Fumi is gonna unpack all of that later but right now he's trying to make sure neither of them die.

Dabi goes on a rant about how the heroes are the real bad guys, and while this happening Hawks tells Fumi that the reason Dabi didn't kill him when he had the chance is because his own flames have weakened him. They've got you figure out Dabi.

With this information in mind, DS attacks Dabi and Fumi decides that's the perfect time to yeet Hawks and himself off the balcony. DS barely has time to hold on to the railings.

The landing is rough because fire and DS don't mix. Hawks is knock out from the impact, but at least he's not on fire anymore.

(Edit: He is still very much on fire)

There's no fire on the balcony they landed on so Fumi calls back DS and they do the Black Fallen Angel move to fly on out of there.

NEVER FUCKING MIND

Oh shit he's doing the Endevour thing. Could he always do that? Probably. More fuel for the Dabi/Touya theory no doubt.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ICE?!?!

We cut back to outside the mansion where Fat Gum finally arrives only to be greeted with the perfect view of Mt. Lady's ass as she falls from the sky, still in her giant form btw.

Lol Fat Gum no.

Geten appears in all his icy glory and say he won't allow the heroes to interfere with Re-Destro's plans any longer. What took you so fucking long to show up anyway.

So Geten, who holds all the brain cells of this operation apparently, tells the underlings that rushing into a fight is exactly what the heroes want and that they should wait for an opening to strike instead. As he says this a villain appears from the ice right next to Gang Orca with a SFX I can't read before we cut away. This better not be implying what I thing it's implying.

I know he's dying and still on fire for some reason but Hawks looks really soft in this panel.

Oh and Dabi is upset with Geten for obvious reasons, but then he say "let's begin early" BEGIN WHAT EARLY YOU BURNT GREMLIN?!!?

I don't know how I feel about that. The "Fumi apparently being okay with Hawks killing someone" not the "Please don't die". I would very much like for Hawks to not die as well. I'll probably make a desperate post about it later after I think about. Maybe. If I feel like it.

Re-Destro is asking for his legs since DS broke the last pair. One of his goons calls out to him in a worried tone. Hmm what seems to be the problem now?

Fuck.

Oh well. Guess everyone finna die. At least the kids aren't there. Wait. Where the FUCK is Sun Eater???

I'm very concerned about what will happen next. Are we gonna go back to the hospital, stay at the mansion, or cut to The Boys in the city? IS GANG ORCA DEAD? I need answers DAMNIT!

Until next time.

#i forgot to type a cited works page for my final assessment essay #that i already submitted #fuck my life #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia spoilers #bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha manga #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 271 #bnha 271 spoilers #bnha chapter 271 #bnha chapter 271 spoilers

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