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#hey endy
icemde · 6 months
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@novashe decided to come for my heart :
the war was finally over, fairy tail and the rest of the guilds won, everything could be peaceful again. but it would be a long time before any sense of normalcy would occur. everyone has their own wounds, some had it worst than others, but everyone alive would remember this war for the rest of their lives. because of Wendy’s quick first aid juvia’s life was in no risk. But it still hurt to move around. But there was someone she had to see, someone who was still alive because of her, someone who would rather harm themselves than to harm her. She needed to see Gray. She looked around the guild hall for him, but there was no sign of him.
There was one more area she thought she could find him, she wanted to try but at the same time knew it was probably best to leave him alone. But her desires overpowered her clear thoughts and so she ran out of the guild hall, ignoring the burning feeling in her side to the spot the two of them were at before the war. He was there, watching the sunrise of the first day of a new time. After silently catching her breath, she walked to his side and looked at the colorful sky. It took her a moment before she looked at the ice mage ‘ gray-San. are you feeling ok? ‘ concerned for him more than herself juvia didn’t know how to start this conversation. WHAT WAS THIER RELATIONSHIP ?
‘ juvia is so happy you’re alive and I’m so happy that I can still be by your side. . . ‘ she can’t muster up the courage to say anything else.
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IT WAS OVER, FINALLY IT WAS ALL OVER. AND HE HAD SURVIVED IT. That truly was what shocked him the most about it all, the fact that he was still breathing, still alive to see the future that was secured for them all. He found his attention locked firmly on his hands, the cracks far more prominent then they have ever been, permanently marking his failed attempt at ending it all so stupidly suddenly. Just another new scar to match-
BLUE FLASHED ACROSS HIS MEMORY AS THE INJURY ON HIS SIDE FLARED UP. On instinct alone, his hand dropped to the wound, allowing his magic to leak over it until it was numb enough for him to ignore once again. I had almost lost her. The memory played in a loop, the pain in his stomach as his ice burst out the other end, the absolute horror in meeting her eyes and seeing her parallel would. The scream he had let out when he realized what she had done echoed again and again. More magic than expected coated the wound, snapping him out of his head at the sudden stab of ice on uninjured skin.
BEFORE HE COULD SLIP BACK INTO HIS OWN HEAD, HER VOICE REACHED HIS EARS. Shifting ever so slightly, he found his eyes tracing over her, before settling on the injury, in better state than his own ( the mountains of thanks he owed Wendy ever growing ) but still there. I almost lost her. But I didn't. Not this time. A wave of guilt washed over the ice mage as he turned his attention to the river below. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve what you did for me.
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❝ I... I'm so glad you're okay.
HIS WORDS WERE SHAKY, UNNAMED EMOTIONS CREEPING INTO EVERY SYLLABLE. No. That was a lie. He knew exactly what emotion it was. It was the same emotion he had named when they were together during the year the guild wasn't. The same emotion he tried to force away when he had to leave her for Avatar. The same emotion he was hoping she'd forget when he vanished into ice to end the war. Silently, he found his hand trailing toward hers, letting his frigid touch rest gently against the warm and alive one of her own.
❝ I... I really don't deserve what you did for me, for you saving me... but I promise I'll make it up to you. Somehow...
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artidoesthings · 2 years
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I keep thinking about my ocs in the context of other peoples au concepts/fics when bored and idk if i should stop that or not
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thatnamelessbutler · 1 year
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((ooc: Chatterbugs I am thinking about a very small Butler
Just bringing that to your attention before I go beddy byes
And one more thing before I go beddy byes: Baby Endermen and especially their mites make little squeaky chirpy sounds and sometimes cat noises but higher and sharper so uhhh just imagine Butler making the baby noises
Okay goodnight))
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So looks like I’m going to be moving at the start of August rather than the end of the summer, using a uhaul trailer and my grandparents’ truck, then I come back with my best friend before taking a couple days and then driving out there for good, giving myself time to relax and acclimate before my phd program starts
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hey, sorry if you have a post about this already. i've noticed a bunch of different social media platforms (facebook, reddit, i think maybe twitter?) making statements about how they can't share news stories about canada anymore? what exactly do they mean?
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frankcastlescumslut · 7 months
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A House in Nebraska
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pairing: frank castle x f!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: gore, violence, minor character death, amy bendix (lol), language, angst!!, eventual smut
summary: He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.
a/n: hey! I’ve been sitting on this idea for months and finally ready to work on it :) this will definitely be a two-parter(maybe more), but I’m selfishly enjoying this little AU loosely following season 2!!!!
next chapter
comments/reblogs/likes are so appreciated, I love to hear your thoughts <3
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“So… how did you guys meet?” “Stay still.” The strong stench of rubbing alcohol burned your nostrils as you leaned over, her foot tapping mindlessly beneath her crossed legs. “You didn’t answer my question.” “Amy,” you interrupted, her blue eyes baring right back into yours. “If you want me to paint your nails, sit still.” She huffed at that. You were used to it by now, never taking her attitude personally because being sixteen was hard enough, so you paid no mind. It was almost reminiscent, a painful familiarity with the way she embodied your sister, but you chose to forget the feeling like your life depended on it. In a way, it did.
Her nail disappeared beneath a glossy black polish, the surrounding skin also falling victim to an unsteady hand. She let out a sigh and continued to count the number of stripes on her socks.
“We met in Nebraska.” “Nebraska?” She sounded disgusted, and the small room filled with laughter. “What the hell is in Nebraska?” “Absolutely nothing.”
Ghosts. Distant memories. Everything was in Nebraska.
It’s where he found you, hiding as some housekeeper in a shitty motel. You were both running from things neither of you cared to talk about while sober, so you didn’t, but he kept looking for reasons to come back.
He blamed it on the esteemed breakfast, a vending machine honeybun, but you saw through him like he was an apparition haunting your strained heartstrings.
Come with me, he asked. Where to? You didn’t really care.
You were in too deep by the time you made it to Michigan—you both were, and yet neither one of you would admit it. There was something sacred about the secrecy and inability to label what you both knew was love, or something like that; it was too precious, and you avoided any chance at jinxing it.
“But you two are together, though, right?” Amy was obsessed with knowing everything. You think it’s her way of pretending that everything was fine. Fine.
“No.” “Oh.” She straightened a bit, and you didn’t miss the way her brows furrowed. “That disappoint you?” “A little.” “Good,” you smirked. “You’re too nosey.” “I call it a healthy amount of curious.” Her back hunched again, and she watched the way your eyebrows scrunched over her fingers. “You guys are shit at hiding it, anyway.” You chuckled at that, manually manipulating her hand to inspect your work. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh come on,” she says matter-of-factly. “You guys fuck.” “Amy!” You could feel your eyes bulging from their sockets. “I knew it!” She clapped her hands before jumping from the mattress. “You don’t know anything.” “Oh come on,” she searched your face, expecting to find any confirmation to her assumptions, instead finding your lack of eye contact disappointing. “Not even once?” “No,” you lied. “Happy?” “Not really.”
The mattress failed to hide the sound of her disappointment as she threw her body onto the spare bed. You allowed yourself to find amusement in her attitude long enough to sift through a dirty duffel bag, keeping your mind occupied with something other than Frank’s absence.
Gaining Amy meant losing Frank. Hour by hour, piece by piece, chunk of flesh by chunk of flesh. The waiting never grew easier, but you adjusted, just like you always do, ending up in motels that smelled like damp polyester and cigarettes.
“I’m starving,” she groaned, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’ll get something soon.” Your stomach gurgled in agreement.
Static crackled throughout the room, momentarily stunning you, before being replaced by a weather report.
High of 89 today with an 80 percent chance of rain, folks! Grab an umbrella and stay dry!
You laughed to yourself at that—stay dry—like you ever left those shitty rooms.
It was bittersweet with Amy. You missed the sun. You missed the late night diner runs. You missed waking up to forehead kisses and soft touches. You missed the easiness of it all, pretending to be two normal people that had two normal lives, and now you were confined to a room that reeked of nail polish and gunpowder. A prisoner and caretaker.
“What do you want for dinner?” you asked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Huh?” “Dinner,” you stated. “I’ll go when—“ A knock at the door ended your conversation. “Amy,” you locked eyes with her, “get in the closet.” Your voice dropped to a whisper as you pointed the gun towards the door. “No, it’s fine!“ She practically leapt from the cheap mattress. “Closet. Now.” Your arm aches almost as much as your stomach as Amy reaches for the door handle. She was so far away, it seemed, and your legs felt cemented to the floor. “I ordered food,” she smiled, opening the door to reveal a woman holding a box. “See?”
It felt like you were staring at one of your polaroids; Amy looked pleased, beaming at you with a sense of accomplishment that she got dinner. That she could do things. That she didn’t need your help—Frank’s help. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for her.
“You can keep the change,” Amy offered the woman a handful of cash before turning to you with that same naivety.
Stupid, stupid girl.
You knew it was coming, and yet your stomach still dropped when her smile faded and her eyes bulged from their sockets. Amy’s lips moved frantically, but you were too focused on the way the woman’s gun left imprints against her temple.
Stupid, stupid girl.
The woman looked satisfied, puffing out her broad chest while Amy tried to talk her way out of it. “Kid,” you commanded her attention, ignoring the way you could hear Frank’s voice in the back of your head. She stared back at you, tears welling in her eyes, and you hoped to God that she would understand what you meant as you meticulously cocked your head towards the closet.
The stranger wasn’t an idiot, and she shuffled backwards, somehow digging the gun further into Amy’s head. “If you try anything funny—“
Point. Shoot. Kill.
Amy flinched as warm blood decorated her cheeks like a crimson blush.
You wish you could embrace her and muster out a lie—that it’s all over, that everything is okay now, that things can go back to normal, but you can’t, so you pull her into the room. “Closet, now.”
She listened, for once, ducking her head and hurrying to the small space Frank had designated as hers. A part of you selfishly wished she had fought back against your order. Maybe then things would feel normal, and you could pretend that the brain matter surrounding the door frame was some maximalist’s creative direction. Maybe then you could imagine that the body below you was just a rolled up carpet that was being discarded because it was too much of an eyesore for the motel regulars.
You pretended, ignoring the corpse’s vacant gaze as you patted its body, shoving any remaining bits of your humanity down as you pocketed a wallet and fully loaded gun.
Point. Shoot. Kill.
It was one of the first lessons you had learned while on your own, and one that Frank never let you forget. He was right, unfortunately, and heavy footsteps reiterated the importance of the mantra as they approached your temporary home.
There weren’t many places for you to hide, but you made it work, you had to. The bathroom was small and smelled like mildew, but you couldn’t care about the dangers of black mold when you had a target on your back. The gun felt lighter in your hand this time, and your posture felt natural as you crouched against the bathroom wall.
Time didn’t exist in moments like this. The moments where the world sounded like warm, rushing blood and high pitched screeching. Moments where you become reduced to your primal state, clenching jaw and eyes blown wide as they study the mirrored motel room. Moments where you held your breath, watching and waiting in anticipation of who would barge into your temporary sanctuary, noting the constant footsteps..
The footsteps never stopped, not even as they stepped over the limp body and pooled blood. You foolishly hoped you would have been met with the familiar darkened gaze, that he would lift you by your shoulders and tell you that you did good, but the man that barged into the room was ruthless. Cold-blooded.
His gun was already drawn, spraying the mattresses and walls with bullets and fury, sending drywall crumbling and flaking onto your head and shoulders.
Point. Shoot. Kill.
You inhaled, not even considering it could be the last time your lungs expanded to its full capacity, before glancing in the mirror a final time.
You looked like a version of yourself you had buried long ago—a version that hadn’t emerged since you had left home. It was reminiscent of something you fought to avoid, but you couldn’t run this time, not as the pang of gunshots echoed throughout the motel room.
He moved quickly, and you wondered if he was trained on the same basis: shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t the first one you had encountered, trigger-happy and determined, and you knew they always ran out of bullets quicker than they should.
Your golden opportunity sounded like a few seconds of silence followed by a huff of air leaving your lips before you reached around the corner, catching the man off guard as you unleashed three rounds towards his rigid frame.
“God damnit!” he shouted as a bullet ripped through the meat of his thigh.
His eyes were black, rolling into the sockets like a blood hungry shark, and you genuinely thought his teeth would crumble under the pressure of his clenched jaw.
The bathroom was no solace; you were cornered, backed into a cage like an animal waiting for its turn to be brought to the slaughterhouse. Surrendering wasn’t an option. It didn’t exist for people like the one hunting you—for people like Frank.
The thought of Frank coming back to your makeshift home, littered with blood and bodies, made your stomach churn. It meant you failed, that you weren’t capable of keeping up with him, and it was embarrassing. You failed him; you failed Amy, and you failed yourself once again, though that mattered little anymore.
Your golden moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of grunting and a continuous stream of popping inching towards your hiding place. The wall exploded and ceramic tile flew towards your face before you realized what was happening, and you instinctively receded towards the small spot between the toilet and cabinet.
“Come on out, honey,” he called. “Can’t hide forever!”
You could tell he was hovering outside the remnants of the doorframe, probably waiting for you to crawl out so he could pretend to be merciful by putting a bullet in your head, but his labored breathing told you everything he wasn’t. Your guess was a severed artery, and although he should be down by now, you learned to never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose and steadied your gun on the edge of the counter.
“Just tell me where the girl is and we can figure this out like adults!” “Like adults?” You called out, scanning the bathroom for anything that could help your situation. “Sure,” he huffed out. “We can play house after this. What do you say?”
The toe of his boot peeked around the corner, and your body moved before your mind could catch up.
The man let out a guttural scream and folded in half, instinctively grabbing his bleeding foot. You wasted no time yanking the cheap plastic shower curtain from its holdings before leaping towards the assailant.
He looked like a beached shark, thrashing beneath the fogging curtain, but felt more like a mechanical bull as you held onto him with your thighs, tightening your grip around the curtain.
It happened quickly. So quickly that you hadn’t registered the throbbing pain in the base of your skull as you crashed into the already crumbling drywall. You weren’t sure how he stood, how he gained enough momentum to fling you off of him, but your mind and body remained disconnected as he towered over you.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man coughed, failing to cover his mouth. “Where’s the girl?”
This wasn’t supposed to be the end. This was humiliating, and yet there you were, blinking away stars and choking on dust. You attempted to sit up straight, regaining your dignity, before your knuckles hit the familiar carbon steel.
There was only one shot, and you prayed Amy had made it out and ran as far away from you as she could—this wasn’t a place for young girls, yet you felt small enough in that moment. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be.
Point. Shoot. Kill.
He fell with a great thud, nearly landing on top of you. His mouth and eyes were still open, completely unsuspecting of his demise, and you were hypnotized by the crimson dripping from the bullet-sized hole in his forehead.
It was seamless, and you think Frank would have been proud had he walked in through the blown out door, but he doesn’t. Nobody was coming.
“He talked too much.” Her voice startled you, and you instinctively reached for the gun. “Whoa,” she warned, “it’s okay, it’s just me.” She showed her palms, emerging fully from the small closet.
“Amy,” you whispered, afraid that she was just an apparition.
“You okay?” She knew it was a stupid question the second it left her mouth, but she asked anyway—she at least meant it.
“Fine,” you huffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “We have to leave.”
“Leave? What about Frank?”
You had already limped across the room, adding the new guns and wallets to the duffel bag, and didn’t need to see the confusion on her face to know she was skeptical of your plan. “He’ll find us,” you tried to believe yourself, but you knew he would understand.
You’d had this conversation before; if anything were to happen to him, you and Amy were to find a Madani somewhere in New York. It was a 10 hour drive, but you were confident you could make it in six if you left now.
The room felt smaller with two bodies and crumbled drywall littering the floor. You could ignore the claustrophobic feel, but Amy stood frozen in place, studying the tread marked puddle of blood beneath her feet.
“Hey,” you started, “look at me. Look at me, Amy.”
She was pale, her eyes sunken into their sockets. It was impossible to make sense of how she looked so young, yet so hardened at that moment, but there wasn’t enough time to wonder. “Amy, we have to go, okay?” Her cheeks were soft beneath your palms. You tried to pull her from her trance, begging her to come back to the shitty motel room of death, but she stayed tucked away in the safest corner of her mind.
“You’re bleeding,” she muttered. “What?” “Bleeding. You’re bleeding.”
Her eyes led a trail to the soft curve of your waist. Your shirt stuck to your skin with an uncomfortable warmth, and you pretended it didn’t ache when you placed a few fingers over the gash.
You wanted to laugh at the irony, deluding yourself with a false sense of accomplishment. It was always too good to be true, and you were reminded of the cruel fact that things could always be worse as the sound of heavy footsteps pulled you from the pain. Amy ran towards the familiar hiding spot without being told, and your heart broke into smaller pieces.
It was getting old, the pointing and shooting and killing. It was getting old, and you were tired of calling the shots—you were tired of waiting for Frank to come back.
Fuck him. Fuck him for leaving you. Fuck him for leaving Amy. Fuck him for making you add two more heads to your roster.
Your arm ached as you leveled the gun, and you let out a sharp cry as your skin pulled in separate directions, the cotton of your shirt peeling from the wet wound. It was a matter of seconds before you would claim your next victim, but all you felt was the burning rage towards the man that left you in this position. It was automatic at this point; all you saw was a threat, so you acted, unloading rounds until all that remained was a busted door frame and tear stains against your grimy cheeks.
“Shit,” he whispered, not even acknowledging the body that he stepped over. “No no no, what happened?” He strung a hand behind your neck, forcing you to watch the way his eyes scanned your face. He meant well, you think, but you couldn’t look at him, especially as he thumbed through the tears that escaped your waterline. “Where’s the kid?”
God damn him. “Closet,” you choked out.
He was gone as quickly as he came, and your knees took the brute of the fall with a thud, masking the sound of the closet doors falling as Frank ripped them from the hinges. The stars in your eyes glistened, your peripheral shrinking, and you weren’t even sure if he was real. If he had actually come back, if he had actually left you on the floor, face to face with your bloody work.
“You okay, kid?” He crouched to her level, but she quickly uncurled herself, practically jumping from the small space to push past Frank and joined you on the damp carpet. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowing as she studied your face. “I’m fine," you whispered, bracing yourself against the mattress to hoist yourself to your feet. Frank hovered, like he usually did, unsure of his place between the two of you. His anger was palpable, and you made yourself as small as possible, limping towards the disheveled duffle bags. He watched you, noting the way you winced with each step. It killed him, knowing that his shit would eventually catch up to you, too, but he gulped it down, turning his attention towards Amy.
“I’m sorry,” Frank started, grabbing Amy’s shoulders before bending to her level. “I’m sorry this happened. I shouldn’t have left.” “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Seriously. It could’ve been worse.” “Yeah, you coulda been killed. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Alone. The bile rose from your stomach and burned the lining of your throat at the indirect insult.
“I wasn’t alone,” Amy snapped at Frank before sinking into the mattress. “Look, this is all my fault. I was the one that ordered food, she didn’t know.” It was humiliating having Amy come to your defense like that, even though she was right. Frank’s stare burned, and your feet involuntarily took you to the destroyed bathroom to escape his attention. “What?” He spat. “I mean, really. I probably would have died but she handled them.” She crossed her arms against her chest. “It was actually kinda cool.” “There’s nothin’ cool about this,” Frank hissed. “C’est la vie, I guess.” “C’mon,” he ordered. “Pack up.” “Everything’s already ready.” She motioned towards the perfectly lined duffle bags that you had assembled.
He didn’t have much to say. He was almost relieved at the fact that you were ready to leave him. You could make it on your own, he knew that much. You were strong enough, but a part of him wished you didn’t have to be—that you didn’t have to deal with his shit.
Amy watched as he shifted his weight outside the bathroom door, his fingers flexing and clenching in anticipation.
His heart broke as he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the busted mirror, your head hanging low as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.
He was afraid of you. Afraid that you had made up your mind and had enough of him, that this was the final straw. But the worst thing, he decided, was the possibility that this, that he, was enough for you—that you would pledge your loyalty to a man like him. To a life like this.
“Time to go,” he finally knocked against the remaining wall. You were quick to listen, pretending that you hadn’t been crying, and you pushed past him. The carpet squelched beneath your stride, and you ignored it long enough to pull Amy into your chest, focusing on the sweet smell of her shampoo. She stayed there for what seemed like forever until she became cognizant of her flickering facade. “You okay?” you whispered, nodding your head as if you could somehow convince her she was. She followed suit, swallowing down any trace of emotion that threatened to spill over, but her eyes betrayed her. Frank had seen enough.
It was too much—too much of a reminder that he had failed again, that his perpetual failings would always result in the loss of a life. Your commitment to Amy’s safety was evident; it was a continuation of what you couldn’t give your sister, and he was ashamed that he brought you back to the place where he met you. “Let’s go,” he cleared his throat. You listened, as you always do, breaking your moment of respite with Amy to shove two heavy duffle bugs over your shoulder, not caring to look behind you as you head towards a bulky van. Amy watched you disappear, shuffling her feet in frustration. “You really should take it easy on her.” Frank said nothing, instead sifting through the empty pockets of corpses. “Hey,” she kicked the limp hand, forcing Frank to stop his search. “I mean it. Lighten up.” “You done?” He stood, completely towering over Amy. His jaw clenched against his will, yet she held his gaze. “Be nice.”
“Time to go.” He didn’t wait for her, so she watched her footing as she tiptoed over the broken bodies.
She lingered in the doorframe, committing the bloodbath to memory. It was fucked that she had to—that the motel room reeked of blood and guts instead nail polish remover and pizza. But that’s how these things went, and you watched from the safety of the van as she slammed the door shut on that dirty fucking room.
You pretended that her clumpy mascara was still intact as she climbed in the van's backseat. She pretended you didn’t jump at the sound of Frank slamming his door closed as he slid into his seat. He pretended that this wasn’t his karmic debt catching up to him.
A caravan of fucking liars.
“Where are we going?” Amy broke the uncomfortable silence, and you held your breath. “New York,” he said with a sigh.
New York, a Madani, and a caravan of liars.
There was a poetic moment of silence and anticipation, and then the engine roared to life.
next chapter
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doodlegirl1998 · 2 months
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Hey...I want to post the question here to see if more people agree. Is it sad Izu lost to Shoto? He sacdificed his win for his classmate. YES, Izu helping Shoto is good (not arguing against that) but ...I may ne reaching but like if you think about it...Izu is sort "cleaning" the mess Endy did.
But even if I'm wrong on this aspect...I still find so...sad Izu had to give up on winning. Look, I get it fire is very hard to beat unless Izu uses some gadget - MEI WAS RIGHT THERE IZU lol- but still....he had to give up winning and come on, you know Izu has 0 wins in his life.
"But if he had won...Hori would have made fight BK and that would be clusterfuck" yes. Absolutely. Either BK wins bc yes or Izu and BK are tied "they both are too op"
😒I mean ofa is not op at all and only gives misery for Izu for no reason.
Tentacles is the coolest quirk he has but I know it is just bc Hori has a weak understanding of Spiderman.
(Float...in my fics I make Nana and Izu/Izuchan be able to fly like Superman but in canon...is not like that right?)
I think if Izu had won the Sports Festival more heroes would approach him...(50/50 his quirk still sucks) and we could see Izu being praised...but Hori 😒
Hi @mikeellee 👋,
Personally, I do feel like it was sad for Izuku in the moment to have lost especially when he felt like he had to win to make All Might proud.
However, on the flip side of things, Izuku threw the match, upon hearing Todoroki's backstory to aim to get him to overcome the trauma of his fire side of his quirk when the smart thing to do would have been to not help him and let him freeze himself.
That highlights the difference between Izuku and Bakugou by the way, Bakugou wanted to win against an opponent at full strength which is why he tried to goad Todoroki into using his flames. Whereas Izuku aimed to save him, Izuku also gained himself a loyal friend in Todoroki by doing this, which means many overlook Izuku's disappointment in losing. (Thankfully we hear AM is proud of Izuku for doing this later.)
Also can we talk about how this move should have got Izuku more hero offers? He threw his chance at 'glory' to save/help someone else, the other heroes were there while Izuku was literally shouting at Todoroki about using his flames. That's a fundamental part of being a hero right there! Guys! The heroes are sitting on Izuku's potential, not many students would do that, especially at the stage he had got to in the tournament !
As for if Izuku had won against Todoroki and made it to the final round... Hori would have made Bakugou absolutely obliterate Izuku because we all know how far his favoritism for Boom Boom boy goes. 😒
It's not that OFA is made from useless quirks it's more that Hori barely gave them any thought and wastes them. Like he's just barely going through the motions of OFA for 'plot' as fast as possible so he can get to writing what he enjoys... Namely Bakugou and Endeavor. *Sighs.*
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Perv!Xavier Thorpe~Headcanon 2
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warning : minors don't read, interact, obsession, yandere behaviour, kissing, stalking, non consensual touching, kidnapping, reader is female
masterlist
Part.1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
°It had been a few weeks since she had arrived at Nevermore Academy. Not only had she learned to love the place, she had made friends in Xavier, Bianca and Enid, and by her standards she was getting on well with Wednesday. Because the Addams already had murder plans that she could commit with the paper skills. But her relationship with Xavier was strengthened by their artistic nature.
°What was for her an artistic friendship, was for Xavier a deep connection, an artistic muse, an obsession that should be his. Which is why he had been trying to get closer to her ever since he saw her at the lake. Between endless meetings for homework, projects and an exchange of art ideas, he slowly got further, further and further. With each passing day, the thought matured that he needed you for himself. A muse to use anytime, in any way.
°Which is why he almost cried out in delight when Headmistress Weems announced that there would also be a painting competition at this year's festival, in which the winner would have to choose a fellow pupil as his muse, along with another scholarship, to celebrate the beautiful side of being different. His gaze, which was on Weems, suddenly went to you, who was standing so innocently next to Endi and was pleased that the blonde werewolf seemed to already have ideas.
°Waiting a little until the meeting had dispersed, he walked over to you with a confident smile. He knew her timetable by heart, had it hanging in his hut, knew where she was at all times. It was easy to memorise it and run into you whenever you went to the different classrooms. ,,Hey, I wanted to ask you about the painting competition," he started and saw you looking up from the notebook. You are perfect he thought and he was sure you could hear his heart beating.
°He saw you nod which told him he could continue before he said ,,I want you to be my muse, my model for the competition, in short you should be the exhibition". He watched her face grow more touched and geared with each word he said. He knew she was flattered, knew she liked it when he complimented her. He seemed to feel the warmth in her cheeks. ,,Thank you Xavier, that means a lot to me...do you have any ideas yet or do you want to draw something first? she asked innocently, not suspecting what he had in mind.
°My pretty one, you have no idea how beautiful you are going to be he thought and felt the anticipation rise up in him at her acceptance, not that he had given her a choice. ,,Just come to the hut this afternoon or early evening, I know exactly what it's going to be," he replied curtly before he left to buy a few things he needed for the preparation. Because besides immortalising his masterpiece, there was more than just the painting he had to do. The thought of finally having it, owning it for himself, seeing his inspiration in person. An excited sigh crossed his lips as he realised he no longer had just the paintings, her clothes, his imagination. He would be able to put his hands on her, to see her in her purest form, to touch her.
°The hours of the day passed and the artist was already in his hut when he heard the knock of his muse. To open the door for her and let her in, he closed the door and turned the key, but she didn't seem to hear. ,,This is an interesting and pretty environment, I like it," he heard her say and felt his lips twist into a smile. ,,You don't know what this means to me. Here some lemonade" he thanked her and held out some of the lemonade.
°He saw her take the glass and take the first sip. ,,This is good," she murmured and took another sip before sitting down on the chair he had set up a few metres away from his screen. ,,Like a supermodel," he quipped, even though it wasn't a joke and she giggled anyway before making herself reasonably comfortable. ,,Wait, I'll position you," he said, walking over to her. Gently he put his hands on her clothed body, handling her like a doll. Touching every bit of her skin he could get before he finally put her in the right position.
°He wanted to touch more of her, she was so precious and yet he wanted to dirty her. To have more of her. Before he forced himself to go back to his canvas and he began to paint on the pre-painted background. From time to time he looked at her to see if it was already having an effect. ,,What kind of background will it be?" he heard her ask, and saw her break her posture to wipe her face. Finally
°He continued to watch her for a moment before he said, ,,A background that suits you, it holds your beauty," he replied and put his brush back on the paint palette before he saw her make a slightly anxious noise. ,,Xa-Xavier" she said his name and rose from the chair as she stumbled to his table as her legs seemed to give way and she went down on one knee.
°A short laugh at her awkwardness crossed his lips as he walked to her. ,,You're going to be fine, you still have to model standing, my dear," he crooned and saw how she didn't know whether she should push him away or let him help her. With a jerk he had her back on the chair and let his hand wander over her body. Finally I have you he thought and felt the warmth of love flowing through him. It was no longer a fantasy, he finally had her to himself.
°His hand clasped hers and brought it to his lips, kissing her and seeing her misty eyes through the means in the drink. ,,You are beautiful...two artists together forever...ever since I saw you" he murmured and took a strand of her hair between his fingers and put a hand on her cheek. Warm and soft how would you sound?" he wondered, moving away from her but feeling the wave of excitement going through his body.
°Picking up the brush again, he began to continue the actual painting. To finally paint what he had lured her here to paint. With a few final brushstrokes he finished the painting and reached out his hand to make the artwork real. Before the golden cage formed around the chair and imprisoned her.
°Despite her fogged mind, she seemed to realise what had happened and rose from the chair, swaying, before going to the bars of the cage and trying to open them somehow. ,,Don't be afraid, my heart, I'm here," he said, slightly worried, and walked over to her cage where he wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her as far as the cage would allow.
°She seemed to want to say something but only an indistinct murmur came out before his other hand took hold of her jaw and gave her a kiss. The kiss he had been hoping for for so long. The kiss he knew he wanted more of. Before he broke away from her and saw the last of her strength drain from her body and she collapsed.
°Moving into the cage he held her upright knowing if he let go she would fall to the floor. ,,Finally you are mine and together we will create a masterpiece" he murmured before he took her in his arms and let his hands wander over her body. He ran his hands over her arms, belly and breasts, feeling her shape underneath. Before he snuggled against her and looked at the camera lying on his dresser.
°Despite the darkness surrounding the hut, the flash was illuminated by the camera's shutter. Positioning her body as he needed her before placing her used body on a painted bed inside the cage. Covering her naked body with a simple blanket, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave her another kiss. ,,Don't worry, I'll be right back," he said and turned off the light in the hut before going out and locking it. His leisure was finally his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@princessmads1820
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mikeellee · 3 months
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Hi 👋
I don't know if this is just me but what pisses me off about hori is how he treats izuku but not only that what pisses me off a lot more is if you really think about it izuku is low-key the best character you can have to be your main character. What I mean is that izuku is probably one of the only characters that has a lot and I mean A LOT OF DIFFERENT PARALLELS/ CONTRASTS with other characters whether it be as obvious as izuku and all might or as vague as izuku and Dabi. Izuku is the only character who has this which in my opinion makes it so much easier for hori to develop and use him to expand on the story and world building of MHA in general.
So coming back to my original point I really hate hori for ruining izuku and it's literally something I can't get over because by ruining izuku he kind of ruined the whole story
Hey @bibibbon
Thanks for the ask. So many good points here, let go for parts.
1) I think Hori sincerly hates his MC. He has stated how Izu is all thanks to a gag. "We have ikemen characters/pretty boys and gags characters" that I could ignore as I noticed how Japan and others asian countries do think poorly on freckles. But its the way Izu's pain is written off or as a gag that cements how Hori hates Izu.
You don't see any shonen writer do such thing with their MC. Oda does love Luffy. Kubo loves Ichigo and so on...Hori? He is riding BK's dick shameless.
2) Izu has many good paralels with Shig and Dabi. Dabi has a quirk that hurts him(only Dabi has this...I ignore Aoayama bc it was so...poorly done and just to shit on Izu. I will touch on that in a min) and even coming from a rich background...Endy did absolutely nothing! Inko IS emotional neglectful with Izu and did absolutely nothing as Izu was abused for 10 years.
Izu has so many paralels with Shig...its insane. Its insane bc Izu knows almost 0 about him and Shig- while knowing Izu is quirkelss and reacting surprisingly well- knows nothing about Izu. The final showdown is sooo...meh. What those 2 know? How Izu can even save Shig at this point?(his only mission here and is EXTRA HARD for no reason)
3) Izu has a quirk that hurts him and fuck him! I mentioned Aoayama before...ok. look, Izu got a quirk that breaks his bones and UA looks and does nothig, Aoayama's retcon is how he was a quirkless boy and went to afo to get a quirk...I do think this revelation is just to hurt Izu. No, he and Aoyama arent bffs, but his past can hurt him...but at the same time Izu can't ever heal.
He was abused! Plain and simple.
Hori weeps bc...the abuse made his beloved bk look bad.
Izu? Fuck him. Hori wrote this.
4) Izu had such potential. He could have a quirk(quirkless hero Izu wouldnt work in the story) but being way more creative. Hell, imagine Izu winning the Sports Festival without using his quirk? That would be cool.
To sum up, Izu's pain is a gag for Hori. Izu is given a ridiculous impossible task and is hirt and alone. Know the worst part? Its how saving Shig is not smth season 1 Izu would ignore. Izu would help him...or try. This plotline is useless.
Hori is riding on bk till the end.
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shipstucks · 11 months
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Please may you draw some enby 4 endy Fefeta please hey are so important to me! (Feferi is a femme enby who uses she/shell/they, Nepeta is a genderweird catgender who uses paw/purr/Nya/it)
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They are so !!
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sapphic-agent · 4 months
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Hm, can we talk about Nighteye here for a second? I dont think I can add anything new to the table but I do wonder how someone like Nighteye got to know about OFA and be AM's sidekick (note how AM never again took a sidekick)
While we can sort imagined: afo tried to kill him and am drive away to protect him...this doesnt seem the case.
I dont think afo even knows he existed oe wqs interested, in his arrogant way to see things, could be smth like "ah I'm too powerful...who cares if he can see the future" which honest??? Makes sense.
"I can beat you up whats the matter if you can see how"
So I think Nighteye is the entitled and crazy fan here (Inasa was entitled in his introduction...no, he didn't know about Endy's past so he has no pass to go "Endy didnt smile at me?! Nooo") who prey on AM, who lets face it has a shitty supprting group.
I can see it working ok at first but Nighteye started to be himself and AM wanted out. It was Gran who suggested Izu(why he, of all kids, doesnt have an intership or AM helps with that?) To go to his former sidekick.
And well...AM never found out what he said or tried to do with Izu(a pattern here. Nighteye's memory is "preserved" and Izu? Fuck you)
To conclude: I do think Inasa and Nighteye are the real entitled and crazy(on Nighteye's part) fans but the narrative doesnt want to go there. Also, Inasa is the first person I can remember who react to Shoto being the son of an important hero.
Hey, you might be right about that. Nighteye definitely seems obsessed with All Might. It's also possible that he was different before he and All Might separated, which was why they got along as hero and sidekick before
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seblaineaddict · 1 year
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Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!
Bliadhna Mhath Ùr from Scotland!
This Hogmanay Sebastian and Blaine have travelled back to the Smythe family home in Paris to bring in 2023 in style. Bas' big Sister Aurélie is looking after their adorable Corgi puppies Harry and new arrival Boq, and Bas and Blaine are watching the Champs-Elysées illuminations, before getting ready for Dinner at the Royal Monceau Raffles followed by dancing their feet off at their New Year's Eve 2023 party.
Wishing you all a very happy and healthy 2023! Don’t forget, over at @seblaineworld we'll be celebrating Seblainintine's for a whole weekend in February, and can't wait to see what our incredibly talented tiny (but always fierce!) Seblainer Fandom has in store for us!
💜💜
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@nightbirdssidekick @ttinycourageous @anisstaranise @blainesebastian @sourwolfseblaine @uptownseblaine @so-long-soldier28 @jammie3132 @sperrywink @shehungthemoon @shrack @seblaine-rph @principemanurps @indie-dcrper @xonceinadream @smythebros @beaurulesdalton @monsieurbeausmythe @transferblaine @captain-smythe @andersoncharm @warblerlo @twoblueheartslocked @seblaineaffairs @seblainelove @mrstotten @love-that-we-were-in @papervillage @akfanficlove @grantgustofwind @berrywarbler @jpetrakis @andercriss @endiness @secretseblaineshhhhh @andyandersmythe @oh-nerdo @the-gatekeepr @seblainedaily @roxymusicandlayers @nanthebookworm @beebeesrps @imogenlefay @dom-bastiansmythe @switchingolliesmythe @sebastian-smythexx @whatdiditellyouflawless
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riverlethe · 12 days
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Hey @riverlethe I know the real struggles of being a writer myself but I have to know: will there be any SilMil scenes in the newest chapter/ or future chapters in “Once more, with feeling!”
Btw, you’re amazing and I love your work! I hope chapter 13 is underway 😆
Hey, it's been awhile! Thanks for your question! 💜
I've been sitting here mentally sifting through what I have planned for the rest of OMwF, and I don't think I do have any SilMil scenes planned 🤔
I will say that an updated version of "What Dwells Within" will post when chapter 13 does (though, I may end up breaking up Ch 13 into 2 or 3 parts. If I do, the update will post when the final part posts - I'll make a note of it in OMwF), and that story will have a SilMil flashback involving Endy and Beryl. I'm quite proud of it, actually 💜
And I have a SilMil AU in my WiP pile, but I gotta get Chapter 13 done before I even consider picking it back up.
Speaking of Chapter 13:
Work on Chapter 13 IS underway! I broke it down into 3ish sections: part 1 is essentially done, and work on part 2 is ongoing. This chapter grew into a much bigger thing than I originally outlined, so writing it has taken far longer than I anticipated, even with the long break I took d/t burnout.
(I can't believe I have to deal with my nursing continuing education credits again before this chapter even posts! Stupid license 😅)
Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm so sorry everyone has had to wait so long for the next chapter. As I've said a billion times, I really can't thank everyone enough for their patience 💜💜💜 I hope the wait ends up being somewhat worth it (and I never want to make anyone wait that long ever again!)
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cambria-writes · 1 year
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crawling gasping heaving
somehow i made it i did it i actually wrote it before the end of the day and before i have to go to bed for work tomorrow holy shit i honestly didn't think i'd be able to do it
i didn't take the time to proofread this so i'm probably gonna be correcting the living daylights out of this tomorrow, but here you go!
rating: M, each chapter rated individually warnings: soft eddie, swearing, there's guns but no shooting, reader's going a bit off the deep end, a lot of essentially pointless rambling that may or may not eventually be foreshadowing, billy mentioned a singular time, typos bound to appear word count: 4,458
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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊: ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔢 ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢
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“Y’know that’s actually kinda hot,” you cough, parroting what you’d been told when you had pulled out your set of lock picks.
Robin steps in before Eddie can say anything, and there’s a quick back and forth before Steve eventually replaces him in the driver’s seat, once the thing has been successfully hotwired. You let them figure out the rest on their own while you make your way to the back of the RV to sit on the bed.
‘Stuck in the back of a speeding trailer with the awning still attached after your childhood best friend hotwired it just like his male genetic donor used to’ wasn’t exactly how you would’ve imagined the latter half of your spring break to go. Then again, you hadn’t entirely anticipated dimension hopping, either, or having to deal with what might potentially be the end of the world. 
Nancy had briefly caught you up to speed before the lot of you left to hijack someone’s home—and you’re desperately trying not to think about that for too long—and the entire thing left a sour taste in the back of your throat. Not just the world-endy bullshit, but the fact that Vecna slash Henry slash One had access to something you weren’t sure you could do.
Fucking divination. 
You’re digging your nails into the palms of your hands when Steve peels out of Forest Hills at a speed the RV you’re all crammed in would consider breakneck. There’s so much you haven’t tried, actually. And the more you think about it, the more you think that maybe you should’ve taken the asshole up on his offer. Maybe you should’ve let the stupid lich king teach you. 
Beyond the regret, though, as little as it may be, there’s a lot of contemplation. Dustin, Lucas and Eddie are chatting away, concocting some harebrained scheme probably, and with Robin and Nancy up front with Steve, you’ve got some peace of mind to think. Because thankfully, unlike her brother, apparently, Erica Sinclair is capable of recognizing when someone shouldn’t be bothered.
The idea of a phylactery had occurred to you, originally, when Eddie first brought up the concept of a lich. That even if you tried to kill him, it would just be a matter of time before he came back. What would the phylactery be, though? What could he have attached himself to so wholly and completely that he’d be willing to risk using it as a respawn point? 
When you look up from where you’re sat cross-legged on the bed in the back, you open your mouth to call for Nancy. You barely mutter the first consonant of her name when you notice that she and Steve seem to be… discussing, pretty intently. 
“H-hey, Robin?” 
“Huh? Yeah?” Robin answers quickly, turning around and shuffling her way to you, quickly whispering apologies to the kids for getting between them. “What’s up?” She asks, letting herself fall heavily next to you. 
“You went to Victor Creel’s house with the others, yeah?” 
“Creepy abandoned mansion, yeah,” she confirms, nervously drumming her fingers against her thighs. “What about it?” 
“Was there anything like…weird about that place? Anything that stood out?”
Robin frowns and hums for a second, turning to look down at her feet. “Something that stood out, huh…” There’s another moment of pause before she slaps her thigh and points at you. “We found the clock! The one you keep hearing, it was right there in the main hallway.” 
“Okay yeah, that does stand out.” But not exactly the kind of thing someone would bind their soul to, you figure. Way too obvious and easily spotted. “Anything else? Something maybe hidden? Like, a lot better?” 
Robin chuckles but nods, letting her head fall back and crossing her arms as she thinks. 
“We kind of split up, so it’s hard to tell but I heard Steve screaming like a girl. Something about spiders?” 
“It was a god damn black widow!” Steve shouts from the front seat, and you can’t help but stifle your laughter. 
“A black widow, alright. Where was it, do you know?” 
“Yeah, it was on the second floor. In the bathroom, I think? It was like, hidden under a vent in the floor ro something.” You frown and open your mouth to ask another question, but Robin excitedly flaps her hands. “Oh, oh! And there was this freaky shrine in the attic with a bunch of jars with spiders in them too!” 
“Oh wooow,” you say, putting as much nasally sarcasm into it as you can. “Love that. Spiders. Awesome. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so, place was pretty run down. I mean no one’s lived there since the Creels were murdered and I don’t think ‘home to a demonic serial killer who pops your eyes from the inside out’ sells too well.”
“Yeah, probably not,” you mutter, bringing your thumb up to chew at the nail. 
Something related to spiders would be way too obvious as a phylactery, right? Anyone with any kind of knowledge about Henry would be able to guess something like that. And though the grandfather clock does feel like a decently significant item, too, that’s beyond obvious. No way that someone like Vecna would use that as a phylactery, either. It’s too flammable, anyways. 
You squeak in surprise when Eddy drops himself on the bed on your other side. Robin quickly excuses herself to move back up front with Steve. You’re about to pull her back and tell her to give him room, but when you glance ahead it seems like whatever discussion he was having with Nancy is over. 
“What was all that about spiders?” Eddie asks, letting himself fall back on the bed with his hands behind his head. “I thought you hated spiders.”
“Ugh, god do I ever,” you groan, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as well. “I’m just trying to figure out like. If I was a lich that ended up in a parallel dimension, right? What would I choose as the one thing to bind my soul to and make sure I can respawn?”
“You’d probably have better luck asking Wheeler,” he replies, end of his sentence fading into a yawn. “She’s the one he gave his weird psychic visions to.” 
“And you’re assuming he has a phylactery to begin with.” Dustin has his has steepled in front of him on the small table, leaning out just a bit to be able to look at you. You left yourself up on your elbows to look back at him and frown. 
“There’s no way he’d be able to survive in that place for as many years as he has without dying,” you state, closing your eyes for a second to try and recall the small fragments of conversation you were able to catch when you were In Between with Eleven. “He took control of that thing, right? The thing you call the mind flayer? What if that’s what turned him into whatever the hell he is now?” 
“That doesn’t really matter,” Lucas pipes up, turning around in his seat and throwing his arm up against the back of the bench-like seat to look at you. “If we cut him off from the mind flayer, he won’t be able to do anything, right?”
“Yeah, and then all hell breaks loose, genius,” Erica scoffs, and you can tell without looking at her that her eyes are rolling. “If Vecna’s the only one keeping the monsters in check, we’re screwed if they all decide to do whatever they want.” 
You groan and let yourself fall back onto the bed Eddie pulls a hand from behind his heat to pat yours. 
“We’ll figure something out,” he says quietly, while the others continue discussing what to do about both Henry and the Mind Flayer. “You should probably take a nap while you can.” 
“I just got up from a nap like two hours ago!” you whine, kicking your feet. “I feel like all I’ve been doing is sleeping. I need to think while I’m awake. Shit gets weird when I’m asleep.”
There’s a beat of silence before Eddie turns his head to look at you with a brow raised.
“How weird are we talkin’ about?”
You groan again. “Being sucked into a weird not-dimension by someone else levels of weird.” When you turn your head to look at Eddie, you almost flinch at how close your faces are. You keep your eyes on his nose; nice, safe, doesn’t give any kind of weird impression. Right? Right. 
“That’s how you talked to their friend? Eleven?” he asks, quietly, and the breathiness of his voice makes you swallow thickly. You nod twice and clear your throat, turning your head back to look up at the ceiling of the RV.
“Y-yeah. Um, yeah she, uh, she said it was In Between. Whatever that means.” 
“Sounds more like dreamwalking to me.”
“You’re not wrong. Would be nice to know who was doing the walking though. Me or her?” 
Eddie shrugs, and somehow, without your realizing, he’s wormed an arm under your head and pulls you in. He’s extremely nonchalant about it, which you wish you could be. You try to lift yourself up on your elbows again, but he makes sure you can move, and in fact holds your head fast against his shoulder. 
“Sleep,” he said, an edge in his voice even though it’s nearly a whisper. “We’re going out of down to buy guns and traps. You need your rest.” 
With the rumbling of the RV, the constant bump and jostle of it, and the presence of someone warm next to you, you find that your eyes are starting to feel a bit dry and heavy. 
“Fuck you,” you grumble, but close your eyes and clasp your hands over your stomach anyways. 
“Sucks to sucks,” Eddie chuckles, and the last thing you register before falling into a light slumber is the feeling of fingers raking through your hair. 
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You wake up to the sound of the RV door slamming open and Eddie jumping out of his skin next to you. Nothing much happened—Erica making a quip to her brother, Steve shouting, everyone on edge and holding on to the nearest stationary object while Steve puts the RV in drive and bolts out of… 
“Wha—where are we? What hap-happened?” you mutter, sitting up on the bed, noticing that you’d been scooted up to lie down on it proper rather than just half-laid at the foot of it. “Did you move me while I was asleep?”
“We saw Hawkins’ star basketball team,” Robin says quickly, moving past you on the bed and kneeling by the window to peek out. “They didn’t seem super stoked to see us and honestly seeing a bunch of white boy jocks out for blood in a military surplus store doesn’t give me good vibes.” 
“Military surplus?” You ask, sleep still fogging your brain as you rub at your eyes. “That’s where we are—were?” 
“Yeah, Dustin and I stayed in here while they shopped around,” Eddie explains shortly, and there’s a tightness in his voice you don’t like. He’s sat with his back against the wall, Robin fit snugly between the two of you before she climbs back off the bed. “Did you grab anything good?”
“Oh,” Robin starts, turning around to face you two with a grin that feels just a little bit unhinged. “We grabbed something good. Nancy found a shotgun and, get this.” She leans in, and if you weren’t in a literal ride-or-die situation with this girl, you’d be a little worried about the teeth showing in her grin. “She’s gonna saw the thing off herself. Nancy Wheeler, illegally modifying a firearm. Amazing.”
“Amazing,” you mutter back, scooting yourself up on the bed to put your back against the wall, and leaning over to let your head fall on Eddie’s shoulder. “You were right. I needed a nap. I think I need a few more naps, actually.” 
“You can probably keep napping until we get there,” he says quietly. And again, there’s a warm arm around your shoulders that keeps you fixed to his side. You don’t even notice when your eyes drift shut again. 
“Where… when we get where?” 
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just sleep.” 
Sweetheart? That’s a new one. You wish you could analyze the speed of your thrumming heart and the wings of the butterflies in your stomach, but again, you’re unconscious before you can make too much of it.
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You’re sitting on the steps to the RV while Robin and Steve prepare, of all things, Molotov cocktails. Dustin and Eddie are off in the field to your left hammering nails into trashcan lids, and though you’re exceptionally doubtful of their efficiency—”Aren’t the nails just gonna pop right out the second something hits them? What’s gonna keep them from just popping out?”—they seem pretty content doing that. Max is holding onto the previously mentioned shotgun while Nancy is, indeed, sawing off the barrel as short as is probably safe to do.
You’re not doing anything at all. Rest, they said, you burnt yourself out for hours teleporting both yourself and Nancy out of the Upside Down, they insisted. Not that there’s much for you to do. Even looking off to your right at the Sinclairs, and to what even you can tell is a shit wrapping job from Lucas, you wonder what you place is here, right now. 
You take a particularly long drag from the one cigarette you were able to convince Robin to let you have. You’d agreed, if only verbally, not to get involved with any of the fighting. And that had been after you’d tried to argue with both Eddie and Dustin that acting as a decoy was a stupid idea. Stupid, dangerous, reckless, pick a descriptor. 
Roughhousing catches your eye, and you hear Dustin shriek about wedgies. You take another drag and hop off the steps. 
“Where’re you going?” Steve pipes up, making Robin turn around almost owlishly to be able to see you. 
“Something on my mind,” you say vaguely, waving Eddie down when he eventually looks at you. “DnD nerd shit I gotta run by him.”
“Ugh, have fun,” Steve says with a shudder, turning his focus back on the bottles in front of him and waving at Robin to pay attention. 
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Ed,” you say, once you’ve got him to follow you to the other side of the trailer. You keep walking a bit, though it’s more of a nervous pacing. “There’s no way this is going to be an ambush.” 
“You’re thinking about it too much man,” Eddie replies easily, hands in his pockets and slightly out of breath. “It’ll be fine.There’s no way he’ll see us coming.” 
“That’s the thing,” you say, a bit too loudly, rounding on him. You look around quickly before walking up to him and leaning over, clearing your throat and quieting your voice. “Did they tell you what happened with the mind flayer before? Two year ago?” 
Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “They mentioned something about one of their friends being like, possessed or something, but they didn’t really… explain anything.”
“Right, Will was possessed,” you reiterate, grabbing at Eddie’s upper arm. “By the mind flayer. Whatever Will could see and whatever Will knew, the mind flayer knew, too. That’s how—” You cut yourself off before you can mention Billy. Not my story to tell, you think bitterly. “That’s how all of them almost got caught. Will was leading the demodogs right to them. If El hadn’t come back in time they would’ve been screwed.” 
Eddie doesn’t speak, looks off in the distance. Slowly, he reached up to grab the hand at his upper arm to pry it off, but doesn’t let it go. 
“What are you trying to say?” 
“Max is cursed, Ed,” you whisper, balling your hand into a fist in his. “She’s cursed, and just last night he took a joy ride in Nancy’s head. I’m pretty sure he’s well out of mine, but can we really be sure that there isn’t some kind of—a fragment of him, in either of them?” 
You can see Eddie twisting his tongue in his mouth, clenching his jaw. It’s a possibility that makes for a very grim reality; one where nothing you do matters because there isn’t a way for you to keep anything secret. There’s no way anyone is going to want to exclude Nancy from what’s going on. Nancy wouldn’t want to be excluded, if the ferocious expression she had earlier was anything to go by. 
And Max…
When Eddie turns back to look at you, there’s something a little wild in his eyes. Different from last time. He looks… not feral, like this, with his hair all out of sorts and his knuckles bloodied and bruised. No, he just looks dangerous. You bite the inside of your cheek when you realize that maybe this is what everyone in Hawkins was seeing all along. Ridiculous to be scared of this Eddie; everything about him right now is about protecting people. 
Not an ounce of malice. 
“You got a backup plan then?” 
You take a deep breath and shake your head. “I haven’t been able to come up with something that makes sense, yet, no.” 
Eddie lets out a breath that’s almost a sigh and finally lets go of your hand. He lets himself fall down onto the grass to sit, cross legged, and gestures at the ground next to him for you to follow. You sit directly in front of him, hands on your knees, drumming your fingers on them. 
“What do we have so far?” Eddie asks. 
“We’re working under the assumption that Henry’s a lich,” you start, looking down at your hands to count on your fingers. “We know he’s a psychic kid, like Eleven. Nancy mentioned that he said something about keeping everyone he kills up in his head. Is power absorption even a thing?” 
“In ADnD? Sure,” Eddie answers, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the clouds. “There’s ways to take someone else’s abilities, so I guess it’s not impossible for him to have yanked the other kids’ abilities from them.”
You stay quiet for a moment. Max had also mentioned that Henry’s, his… whatever weird mind palace he has going on had the bodies of the three teens he’d killed all strung up. You can’t help but wonder if maybe the other people he’s killed are somewhere in that psychic sanctuary, too. You shake the thought out of your head and continue. 
“Right, okay. So he’s yanked abilities from kids before. He’s psychic, and somehow being shoved into the Upside Down turned him into a lich.”
“Or being in there long enough turned him into one.”
“Shit,” you mutter, bringing a hand to your mouth and frowning. “No, you’re right. Steve was choking on something when we got to your trailer in the Upside Down and I remember dreaming about them being in the tunnels. And Will…” You growl and wave your hand in front of you. “Doesn’t matter, point is that he’s acting like a lich so we should probably treat him like one. I’m still worried about the phylactery.” 
“When you were with Nancy, in there,” Eddie starts slowly, and he has the impression of someone who’s trying to describe a picture while he’s still putting the puzzle together. “When Vecna got in her head, you like, froze when you touched her. Did you, y’know?” He motions vaguely at his eyes and you snap your fingers at him. 
“Yeah, yeah! I did! I saw some of that!” you exclaim, slapping your knee excitedly. “Okay, okay wait. So I saw the house, and saw the spiders. Fucking hate the spiders,” you mutter under your breath, screwing your eyes shut and trying to recall more. “There’s… this weird shrine in the attic, for the spiders. There’s something—I know there’s something else there besides the jars but I can’t—it’s too, I don’t know. It was too out of focus, I can’t remember what it was.” 
You let the end of your sentence trail off and start tracing patterns in the grass. “If he has a phylactery, and I’m pretty sure he does because everything else is Dungeons and Dragons related, I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with that shrine.” 
Eddie nods and frowns. “He goes up there when he hunts people, right? It would make sense if he kept it close to him there.”
“But here,” you say, putting your hand out in front of you and pointing at the back of your hand. “Or there?” You flip your hand over and point at the palm. 
Eddie looks enthralled until something seems to click in his brain. He leans back from where he had, at some point, gotten very invested in the conversation and leaned into you. You lean back, in turn, frowning at him. He shakes a pointed finger at you at squints. 
“You’re going somewhere with this and I don’t like it.”
“Yeah well I don’t like the idea of you attracting a swarm of bats with fucking Metallica but here we are, aren’t we.” You slap his hand away and lean back in. “Look, if you can find a way to get me that disgusting ���double the caffeine’ soda, like as many as you can.” 
“I’m pretty sure dying of a caffeine-induced heart attack is the opposite of helpful, y’know.” 
You can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes you. “No! God, no, look. Doing the plane shifting shit is draining, right?” He nods. “Right. So I just figure—”
“No, nuh uh, that’s a shit idea,” Eddie cuts you off, crossing his arms. “There’s a reason you pass out when you do it too much. Your body can’t handle it.” 
“When I’m starved, sleep deprived and freaked out of my mind, sure!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up. You clear your throat before lowering your voice again. “Look, it’s a—not a theory, fuck, uh. It’s a hypothesis, okay? We don’t have time to test it, I just have to trust that it’s gonna work.” 
“And what exactly is your backup plan?” 
“While you’re distracting the bats with Dustin and not getting yourselves killed,” you start, placing your hands back on your knees. “And while the other bozos are busy trying to blast Vecna back to whatever hellscape he crawled out of, I go looking for the spider shrine here and torch it.” You pause, and hold your hand up when Eddie opens his mouth to speak. “And if it’s not here, I’ll just plane shift and get it in the Upside Down.” 
“M’hm, cool, there’s a problem with that though,” Eddie says, and flaps his hands at you to quiet down before he continues. “No, shush. Vecna’s gonna be in that attic when you go there. And then there’s Max.”
‘Let’s use me as bait’ Max. ‘It won’t matter if it goes wrong if it’s me’ Max. You swear under your breath and bite down on your lip. Vecna being in the same room you don’t really care about; provided that Sanctuary actually worked, there’s not much he can do to you. 
Once he’s in Max’s head though, you can’t control that.
“Not on my own,” you whisper, and when Eddie asks you to repeat yourself, you feel your face splitting with a grin. “I can’t do it on my own, I mean—look, no one’s gonna be able to convince Max not to be the bait. She’s cursed, that’s how it is, and we don’t know whether or not Vecna’s looking through her head. But once he’s in there,” you pause, standing up and starting to pace. “Once he’s hunting her, she said something about hiding in her own head, right? Like, in a happy memory or something. I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t think that’s going to work.” 
“And you have the face of someone who somehow managed to come up with an even worse idea,” Eddie says, slowly pushing himself to stand up on his feet. 
“Right, okay, first of all, fuck you,” you spit, crossing your arms as you pace. “Okay, so scrap the idea of looking for the phylactery. For now. Eleven knows what’s going on, and I already ended up in that weird In Between place with her, right? So once Vecna starts hunting her I can just—”
Both you and your thoughts are interrupted when Eddie stalks over and grabs you by the shoulders. 
“Hey, stop for a second,” he says, quietly, to a point where it’s got you a bit concerned. “Look, I get—I don’t understand what it’s been like for you for the past three years, okay? But you have to stop for a second.” One hand goes to grab one of your wrists to pull your hand up into view. You frown at Eddie and look at your hand when he nods at it. 
You’re shaking like a leaf. 
“You’re trying to throw yourself at way too many problems.”
“I can’t do nothing—”
“And I’m not telling you to do nothing,” Eddie says, letting your hand fall in favour of cupping your jaw with both hands. “I’m telling you to use that giant brain of yours wisely. You don’t need to go looking for soulbound artifacts or fighting psychic wars,” he continues, a thumb coming up to rub at your cheek.
“What else am I supposed to do, Ed?” You whisper, bringing your hands up to grab at his forearms. His hands don’t move. “I-I’ve been having these nightmares for years, and all of a sudden I can—I can do all these things, and I just, I have to do something.” 
“And you can,” Eddie reassures you, and when he rests his forehead against yours, you can just barely feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. “Just, just stick with m—us, just stick with us.”
“And what, bail you out?” you huff, and Eddie snorts. 
“Yeah, yeah just be our getaway driver. Best one out there. You ever heard of a getaway driver that can dimension hop?”
You laugh quietly and shake your head. You don’t risk opening your eyes yet. 
“Yeah, no, not so much.” You breathe, clear your throat and lean your head back away from Eddie, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll stay with you and Dustin. Second anything goes south I’m getting us all out of there.” 
“Sounds good to me.” You get a finger pat on the cheek before you put a finger up. 
“I’m still gonna need that gross soda if I’m gonna survive shifting like, three people though.”
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𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽
@storiesbyrhi @anothermunsonsimp @alovesongshewrote @doratheignora
please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters!
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universalcarnival · 3 months
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@heartlessdream gets a starter:
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— " Hey, uh. Kris? Lowkey got a question. "
They were hanging out as per usual, outside near the waterfront in their little town. Susie has been uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, probably pondering over this question itself. Kris might have some sort of better answer than she does, right? They're likely the one to pay attention to these sorts of things.
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— " You ever wonder who this Knight guy is? Like, the dude making all the Dark Fountains and stuff? I know that legend stuff Ralsei talks about is like... kinda world endy and things, so like... I wonder who wants to blow up the world that badly, I guess. Most of the guys we come across are kinda... Dope. Somewhat. "
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doodlegirl1998 · 6 months
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Hey, I was thinking about Endy and how his motivations don´t make sense(don´t make sense-a nice phrase, to sum up this manga) its how...if he wants to be the #1 so much...why he never applies himself and tried to be charmer or likable than AM?
I know. Not everyone is good with people.
But why Hori made him an abuser?
Think this way: Imagine you want a job very much, you study and practice for this big interview and once arriving, it is said all you need to do to get the job is to be friendly. Would you give up bc of that? Bc Endy sure did.
I was thinking how the abuser plotline serves for nothing. But imagine this, Endy wants to be the #1 to get acess of more ressources and find Dabi bc he knows he is alive...and if you want to add a bit of drama. Endy neglects his family(not forgetting neglect is a form of abuse but like its better than what canon gives us) and it would make sense. Endy is doing everything to reach this spot with Dabi in mind.
And Dabi will be pleased knowing he has his dad´s attention.
Its just strange how Endy never even tried to be friendly...and went to abuse his family. And if he wants to lifethrough Shoto...look, Shoto could get #2 as well. We don´t know how the ranking works...but I guess you need to be stronger and charismatic....
Which if true, makes me worry for more ways Hori can shit on Izu.
Hi @mikeellee 👋,
In my opinion, Hori could have gone two ways with Endeavor to make him make more sense as a 'symbol of corrupt heroics.'
"The Wolf in Sheep clothing" route, where he puts on a massive friendly smile for the cameras and is a lovely guy for the public - only to be full abusive at home. To have a "secret" quirk marriage, to drive Rei and Dabi insane, to make Shoto his 'masterpiece'... Etc. This route would make it more likely more people would be disbelieving at Endeav being a POS because they bought a lie and sow the distrust in heroics more because how many others are pretending to be good but aren't?
Or the "Neglectful workaholic Dad" route. This would be the route to go down if Endeav redemption is planned. Because it's easier to forgive someone who was inadvertently neglectful and focused on their job rather than...what we got in canon. Bonus if this got worse after Touya died and he pours funding into charities that help those whose quirks doesn't suit their bodies.
I'm also thinking of how Endeav, in canon, shot himself in the foot by being laser focused on the power of his and Shoto's quirk.
If he and Shoto needs charm and charisma to be a high ranking Hero then isolating Shoto and deliberately keeping him from interacting with others only stunted his charisma / social growth and made it less likely he would reach number one.
So not only was Endeav an abuser, he was a fucking idiot...
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