boys with beads

king-wheezy-trash  asked:

Modern highschool AU with Reddie- they go to their first pride parade & Richie is the shirtless one with rainbow suspenders constantly talking about how gay everything is & Eddie is blushing behind him holding onto his hand & hiding the fact that he's so in love with the goofball shouting about just how obnoxious he knows he's being. Both boys covered in glitter getting beads & candy & toys from everyone because they look so great together & getting relationship advise from an old drag queen.

you know what??? i’d Die for this AU HOLY fuck
also guess who’s going to draw this (hint: me)



Ste. Anne de Beaupré was quiet. 

She couldn’t understand it.  She assumed Jamie had rushed out to be here.  She rang him in the cab and he hadn’t answered.  She assumed he was busy at the scene.

She walked cautiously towards the abandoned chapel.

Stopped.  Tried Jamie again.  

No answer.  

She tried to call the secretary back.  Dammit, she didn’t even know her name!

No answer.

It felt wrong.  But in a strange way it felt like it was supposed to.

Jamie was frantic.  He hated the part of his job that required him to get a search warrant from the court.  It could take hours.  And he didn’t have hours.  What if the man would knew he was being hunted?  Only God would know where to find him then.  

Mary, Michael and Bride, what is taking that Magistrate so long to sign a fucking piece of paper?  He checked his phone out of habit.  Two missed calls from Claire.  No voice message.  He stepped into the corridor to try her back.

No answer.  

She was probably at home, busy.  

He turned sharply when the door opened.  D.C. Mohr raised the warrant triumphantly in the air. 

Someone was in danger.  She could feel it. 

Claire walked slowly towards the old chapel.  Pushed on the heavy door. 

They were there.  The secretary.  Another woman.  

A boy.  

He was on the altar.  Tethered.

And the Killer.  Rapt.  Consumed.  Misguided. 

Claire slipped in unnoticed, the rise and fall of the prayers disguising any sound.  She could see the secretary trying to work at the knots of the straps without the priest seeing.  She was participating in the prayers, as was the other woman, but her fingers were working frantically to free the boy.

Beeswax candles filled the air with their scent.  The smell was clawing at Claire’s throat.  The heat pressing down on her.

From all evil, deliver us, O Lord.

“Deliver us, O Lord.”

From all sin,

“Deliver us, O Lord.”

From your wrath,

“Deliver us, O Lord.”

From sudden and unprovided death,

“Deliver us, O Lord.”

From the snares of the devil,

“Deliver us, O Lord.”

The litany continued.  He held a large, wooden crucifix over the boy.  Eyes closed.  Sweat beading on his brow.  His large body swayed with the rhythm of his voice.

 Claire stayed still so as not to attract his attention.

She focused on the victim.  She could tell his breathing was laboured.  Skin red.  She needed to get closer to examine him more thoroughly.  She weighed the risk.

To hell with it.

She walked forward, digging in her bag for her stethoscope.  She would need to move fast. 

He didn’t see her right away.  He was too deep into his ritual to focus on her.  It wasn’t until she touched the boy that he exploded.  

“What blasphemy is this??”  His jowls shook with the force of his anger.  “You will not play God to this boy!”

Claire quickly looked the boy over as she jammed the stethoscope in her ears.  Shortness of breath. Turning blue. Tongue swollen.  Blood pressure dropping.  Pulse thready.  Clearly suffering from stomach pain.  

His anger heightened with her indifference towards him.  

“I am the Lord’s Disciple!  You are not ordained to drive away the demon!  Now leave this place!”  His voice was graveled.  Rasping.  Outraged. 

“This boy is a slave to satan and must be purged!”

Claire tuned him out as best she could.  She needed to focus on her diagnosis. 

Allergic reaction.  She was sure of it.

She reached into her bag for the Epinephrine.  

The priest grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly.

“I smell the vapours of hell on you.”  His hand was like a vise.  His mouth was close to her ear, breathing his hate onto her.  

Claire was assaulted by the visions.  

The hound of Hell barking at him.  Chasing him.  Catching him. 

Half mad, spittle falling from his lips.  

At the pulpit.  Expounding the idea that each child was filled with the Devil.  His obsession with the idea of Satan roaming the Earth. 

In the hospital.  Every illness was a chance to prove God’s power.  Convinced he was one of the chosen Twelve, sent to cast out demons, to anoint the sick with oil, to heal them.  

In this room.  Praying over the children.  Anointing them in the name of the Lord.  Lecturing parents on how their prayers of faith will save the sick.  If anyone has committed sins he will be forgiven.  He will save the sick man.  God has used their suffering to bring about good.  Suffering brings sanctification. 

Claire twisted in his iron grip.  Would not let the visions take her under.  

She felt the unknown woman grab her other arm to steady her.  Could hear the secretary crying out to let Claire help.  

She wrenched her arm free.  In one smooth motion she turned on her heel, and raised her arm.  

She’d grabbed her scissors from the bag instead.  

Long handled, sharp, menacing looking things.  She held them in her fist as if to strike him.

He recoiled.  It gave her the time and space she needed.

She grabbed the boy’s pant leg and cut it open, reached back in the bag for the syringe, and holding his skin tight, plunged the tip of the injection into his outer thigh. 

The priest moved towards the door quickly.  “Satan may like to make a fool of God.  But God will have the last word.”

“Actually, Father Bain,” a thick Scottish accent said, “The Judge at yer trial will.”

Claire spun around in time to see Jamie shove the priest up against the wall, tying his hands behind his back.  

“I don’t even know your name,” Claire said, sitting quietly in a chair in the emergency ward’s waiting room. 

“Shauna,” she said, softly.  “Shauna MacNeil.  My son, Lindsey, was friends with Thomas.”

Thomas Baxter was currently in the back with his mother being monitored.  Seems the Epinephrine bought him some time, but he still needed proper medical attention.  

“Thank God you came,” Shauna whispered.

“I’m glad you called,” Claire said.  

“What happens now?”  Shauna’s dark eyes met Claire’s. 

“Well,” Claire sighed.  “That depends on Detective Sergeant Fraser.”

“How did you know what was wrong with Father Bain?”  Shauna’s dark eyes met Claire’s.

Claire shivered.

“Classic symptoms.  Rare, mind you, but textbook symptoms nonetheless.  Confusion.  Hallucination.  Excess saliva.  I just needed to see if he’d been bitten.”

“Will he live?”  Shauna asked.

“Well, Thomas should be fine.  I think we got to him in time.”  

Shauna visibly relaxed.  

Claire continued, “But I think it will be difficult for Father Bain to recover from this virus.  It’s been weeks.  His central nervous system is definitely compromised.”

Shauna simply nodded.  After a moment she spoke.  “Rabies.  Who would have thought?  I mean, he said he’d been bitten by a stray dog.  Father Anselm told him to get it checked.  We just assumed he had.”

Claire sighed.  She was exhausted.  The sight of the priest’s festering, infected wound kept flooding her mind.  The visions kept resurfacing.  

“He saw demons everywhere.  He was hallucinating.  It’s a symptom of the disease.  In his mind he was performing exorcisms to save those children.”  She turned towards Shauna.  “I’m so sorry your son was caught up in this.  I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“The truth is, Dr. Randall, my boy Lindsey was always sickly.  I was bound to lose him.  Maybe not as early as I did, but he couldn’t fight forever.”  Shauna’s eyes filled with tears.  “I miss him,” she said, choking out the words.  

Claire put her arm around the woman.  She could feel Shauna’s loneliness, her grief, her bone deep sorrow.  

“I know,” Claire whispered.  “I do know.”


THE BEAD MAKER – Apprentice Watches the Master – A Rosary Shop in Old Meiji-Era Japan by Okinawa Soba

<br /><i>Via Flickr:</i>
<br />This image and its 3-D counterpart are dedicated to the illustrious, world-traveling photographer and Flickr member &quot;DCI&quot;. Ever since he asked me what the strange tool was in another photo I posted, I have been meaning to dig this one out and post it.. 

In the OTHER photo, this handy tool was dead on the ground. In this photo it’s alive and well, and a young apprentice is being taught how to use it.

The tool is called a PUMP DRILL, and though rarely seen today, it was an important part of many old artisan cultures. Amazingly, I discovered a great modern version of this “Boy watching the Master” on Kai-Erik’s photostream : Take a moment to see his other photos showing close-up images of this tool as well. Thanks, Kai-Erik !

Due to the shaft reversing itself after many spins in one direction, the Pump Drill also required a unique bit. The all important flywheel – in the above photo it is a simple, ball-shaped weight in the shaft – could take any form; from round ball to “flying saucer” shape, and from smooth surfaced to ornately cast or engraved (making it a work of art in itself). It looks about as primitive as you can get, but it was an indispensable tool. It did its job making all manner of fine bore holes, the direction and flare of which could be accurately controlled by the subtle moves of a skilled operator.

Well, now that we have established how primitive this tool is, it’s only fair to tell you that at the very moment the quaint photo was taken above in 1904, back in the “advanced” nations of North America and Europe, every JEWELER, SILVERSMITH, GOLDSMITH, ENGRAVER, OPTICIAN and WATCHMAKER were all sitting at their benches using all sizes of the same Pump Drill seen above! With it, they produced the fantastic settings of the beautiful “antique rings and jewelry” that many folks like to collect, as well as the beautiful old precision watches and scientific instruments that still “keep on ticking” today.

In spite of that, I’m sure nobody here is about to trade in your variable-speed DREMEL Hobby Drill for one of these. On the other hand, if you are out in the wilderness with no electroicity (working on some kind of on-the-spot wood,metal, or stone project), some version of this drill with the right set of bits would come in MIGHTY HANDY.

If you are into stereoviews, the deep 3-D version of the above detail crop is here, and was photographed by JULIAN COCHRANE in 1904 for the Keystone View Company :

In the Wikipedia under BOW DRILL, and you can see PUMP DRILL illustrated as a related tool :

The Photo that DCI first caught the Pump Drill in is here :

For other beautiful and interesting photos by the same photographer (including a couple of great self portraits taken while in Japan), look here : Cochrane&w=24443965@N08


I am Wolf (MetalPhoenixXWolf) 

My own male original persona reference - WOLF -

Other of my original personas - Wild Guardianz  

Took me some hours to make a reference, TAKE THAT, HA! X’D

Some bio for Wolf.. Element: Time  
Although maybe I don’t need to say more cause I’d rather it be kept mysterious and unpredictable :3 (But I edit so he does have a wolf form kinda and phoenix wings look on link above) because he is me, so ask some questions if you wanna interact with him :3  

New persona I add for anything of asks in stuff

Once again I got distracted :’D 

Get to know me a little so to say ~ x3 

Unlike Wolf(me) isn’t in Wild Guardianz however the narrating storyteller :3

Hope ya like it! :D <3

Art , Wolf /c/ me

Woodstock, 1969.

“They went to a psychedelic pasture to listen to their music, to be with people who dressed like them and played like them. There was a shared bond on a cosmic scale, and their elders marveled that all these kids could be in one place for three days without violence or mayhem, despite pitifully inadequate facilities and food supplies, and despite rains that fell so long and hard they would have drowned any other party. The lesson was simple: These long-haired, antiwar bra-burners and boys with beads had created a field of dreams, and perhaps from it would rise something bright and beautiful for the future.”

“Under My Umbrella”

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Midoriya Inko

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Inko

Rating: G

Word Count: 5028

Summary: Under the heavy rain, an unexpected meeting occurs between two children that creates an unexpected friendship with the use of an umbrella and a flower.
[Aka. what would happen if Todoroki and Midoriya met as children?]

Notes: OMG I finally got this fic done after so many years and ages and 8) It’s finally done and I am so happy that I am finally able to publish it! It’s been so long since I uploaded a fanfic so I’m so happy I was able to finish it so I can share it with you guys! I’ve always wanted to write a fanfic where kids of Class 1-A met as kids and this fic was the perfect opportunity to do so. Yes, there are inconsistencies, I know, please bear through them OTL I didn’t realize them until it was too late so please just….imagine this being an AU and be done. I’m really sorry! I hope that it won’t detract any of you away from it ;.;

Read at AO3 Here ; Read at FF.Net Here


All it took was an umbrella and a flower to make Shouto cry.

It was a dreary day with clouds that had overtaken the morning sky, causing the world and its scenery to be in an opaque grayscale. Rain fell from the sky in hard, round droplets that were sensitive to the touch as they came down and crashed on the ground in a steady beat. Splashes from puddles could be heard as people ran from building to building, fiddling around with their clothing as they tried to not get their expensive luxuries ruined and creviced under the pouring water.

Everyone was in a rush except for Shouto Todoroki.

Earlier in the risings of morning, his fragile mother and demanding father rendered themselves hostile once more over the topic of their youngest son. Both had conflicting views on how to raise him, his mother wanting him to prosper in the light whereas his father in the fire and it led to continuous arguments that occurred around the clock, regardless if the sun was shining bright out or the moonlight dawned on their shadows. Plates and glasses would shatter into tiny fragments as their words cut wounds into their bloodstream, causing their hearts to be in turmoil as the sanctity of their home began to crumble with each passing minute. In the beginning, Shouto was breaking under the metaphorical fire that had burned through their once peaceful home, recoiling and flinching at every hit his mother received as his father continued to shoot words filled with a dark powder that left a burning sensation behind. However, after his mother dropped the boiling kettle water on his eye, leaving the skin scarred and burned from his mother’s hatred, the pain had dulled and he became a shell. Beautiful on the outside, hollow in the inside. Now, whenever these fights occurred, Shouto either stood on the side and absorbed it all, piece by piece, or, if his burn began to throb and swell up with immense heat, he would find solace in going to the local park nearby where his mom would take him to after long and exasperating shopping trips. Normally the park was vibrant with a range of colors staining the plants and flowers as children ran from play structure to play structure, laughing and giggling with each other as their parents watched on with peaceful eyes, but today, the rain scared the color away and all that was left were puddles of mud and lonely swings as they swayed in rhythm with the wet wind.

Shouto sat at one of the many desolated and drenched benches, gazing at the leaves and shreds of grass surrounding his feet. His eyes looked blank as they fixated at the same spot without blinking, analyzing the folds and creases of the plant life. His thoughts led him everywhere and nowhere as he felt his emotions bursting out of the cracks of his shell, wanting to come out and make them known to the outside world. He wanted to rage, throwing whatever is in sight and see them shatter into pieces just like how his heart did. He wanted to cry, screaming his sorrows to the world and tear each and every follicle on his mix matched hair. He wanted to at least know what the feeling of happiness felt like once in his life.

He just wanted to feel something else other than the blank and dead feeling that captivated his soul and rendered it to be hollow.


“Mama, why is the sky crying so much today?” asked the little green haired boy to his mother as one hand tightly clutched hers as the other held a small red umbrella that was slightly lopsided under his grasp. He and his mother had just left the nursing home his grandmother resided in and when they initially met the outside after their visitation, the clear sky that had broadcasted before them turned into a strong thunderstorm that caused them to fight back against the wind as they backed to the comfort of their small home.

“Well Izuku, you see, the sky always works so much to make others happy with their bright light and sunshine, but when he sees others sad and going through a rough time, well he can’t help to feel sad seeing them way. That’s why he’s crying so much today, he’s seeing others cry and it’s making him sad too.” His mother, Inko Midoriya, gently worded to him, trying to use as much simplistic language as possible. Izuku wasn’t at an age where he would be in elementary school, especially at an age where he would be learning the water cycle, so she did her best to explain to her son using more real life thoughts and examples to help him understand the phenomena at hand.

At his mother’s explanation, Izuku’s eyes teared up a bit, feeling a bit of sadness tugging at his own heartstrings. “Really Mama? That makes me so sad! I want the sky to be happy too!” he said with a slight push of passion there as a tear slightly dropped down from his cheek, making his eyes wet as they wanted to release more.

“I know dear, I want him to be happy too, but you know, crying is just going to make him more sad.” responded his mother, trying to cheer up her now sniffling son. “But you know what will make him happy Izuku?”

Izuku looked up to his mother with big, glossy eyes that had tears welled up at the corners, pleading with his mother for a solution. “What is it Mama?”

Izuku’s mom slightly turned her body towards him and, letting go of his hand to point towards her mouth, she flashed him a huge smile, her teeth clearly shown as they glistened under her umbrella. “By just smiling and having a happy attitude! The sky works so hard to make people happy so seeing others happy from their work makes them so happy! They love to see big smiles!”

At her words, Izuku immediately used his free hand to wipe away his budding tears and gave her a wobbly toothy grin, his lips shaking ever so slightly, “Like this Mama?”

“Yes! Just like that!” she said encouragingly as she nodded her head in response, slightly chuckling under her breath at how adorable her son’s actions were. Even though Izuku was known to act with his emotions and tears, his sense of justice and determination made him a strong little human that cared about those around him and his mother felt proud that he was her son every time he acted this way. Deep down inside, even though they had recently discovered he didn’t have a quirk and couldn’t go into heroics, she knew his life was set up for something bigger than others could even imagine. She wasn’t so sure what yet but she had a suspicious feeling that one day he would become a special type of hero that would impact people’s lives in a life changing way.

After a little bit of silence between the two, Inko began to hum an all too familiar melody that was shared between her and her son and her soft vibrations could be heard coming from behind her lips. Izuku caught on to his mother’s song and he began to join along, the two of them creating a peaceful harmony that matched up to the tempo of distant bird chirps.

Soon, they reached the park where Izuku loved to build sandcastles and hang himself from the bars while trying to play with his other friends and the nostalgia brought him to slow his steps as he gazed at the structures he was familiar with. His eyes scanned every detail until he came across a lonely boy sitting on the empty bench by himself, getting soaked under the heavy rain. Something about the boy was off; his back was slouched over as his dead eyes looked downwards at the sullen earth. Everything about what Izuku was seeing was wrong and something clutched in his heart as whispers of All Might, his inspiration, rang in his ear.

“Mama, look…” Izuku mumbled out as he slowly detached away from his mother’s side and walked towards the lonely boy, his expression filled with concern mixed in with a determination to help another being escape the roads of despair.

“Izuku! Come back here sweetie!” screamed Inko as she tried to grab onto Izuku’s tiny hand to pull him back closer to her side. However, with each attempt she tried at, Izuku’s hidden strength would appear from the seams and he yanked at his hand away from her grasp as his attention focused slowly on the boy. His footsteps moved on their own as he walked towards the boy, interest of his status peaking at his curiosity.

When Izuku reached the targeted bench, he shifted his umbrella in his hand to diffuse the coverage on his own head and instead cover the head of the drenched boy who sat on the beaded bench. “Here you go! Now you don’t have to get all wet and gross!” chirped Izuku with content as his once dry body began to receive patches of wetness under the heavy rain. As if he shocked back to life, the little boy rose his head up from the ground and slowly turned himself towards Izuku. Initially, his eyes drifted upwards towards the umbrella, scanning all the little details that patched it together before he shifted himself downwards to meet with Izuku’s sparkling eyes. His face read confusion, though that didn’t matter much to Izuku as he shot his hand forward and gave him a toothy grin that reached from ear to ear. “My name is Izuku! What’s your name?” he greeted to his new fellow comrade, dropping all levels of formalities to insinuate a special new friendship Izuku wanted to create.

The boy looked apprehensive, as if Izuku’s hand with a type of disease that could burn through his hand if not careful. His past with his father taught him to always be on his guard but he also taught him the importance of manners whenever they went to a pro hero conference so it left him in a conflicted spot. As he internalized the situation and planned escape routes in case, he swallowed his nerves down and looked at Izuku more directly. “…..Todoroki….” he muttered out, sticking to formalities unlike the stranger as hesitation lingered on his tongue and wavered each syllable he spoke out.

“Todoroki, huh? Well it’s nice to meet you Todoroki!” Izuku said excitedly as he smiled at his so called friend. Grabbing the bench’s back edge, he used his mighty strength to pull his body up so he could lean over the back to be able to get close to Shouto. Once he found his balance, he placed all his weight onto his stomach as he used his tiny arm to reach towards Shouto’s hair to grab a piece of hair, rubbing his thumb over it to feel the texture and softness of it. In reaction, Shouto froze his entire body up as his muscles tensed in apprehension. Small ice crystals began to form on his fingertips and he kept that on hand, ready to attack if Izuku even showed any sign of aggression towards him. This close of human contact became a foreign concept to him after his most trusted family created his scar so he knew to be on edge with every touch that came his way. However, Izuku was reacting in all the ways that Shouto wasn’t expecting and his eyes were studying Izuku’s giggles to see a possible change in reaction. “Wow! Your hair is so cool! How did you get it to be like that??” he asked with immense curiosity and amazement glistening in his eyes as he continued to play around with Shouto’s hair, inner questions popping in and out.

As Izuku continued to keep his close contact, Shouto studied him with observant eyes, analyzing each movement that he did. Fear struck his body as he had never experienced something like this before, especially with a stranger that he just met. Normally, when individuals came near him and touched him, it was out of malice and anger and disgust that was fueled for a hatred of the circumstances that surrounded him. Yet, Izuku’s touches were different. They weren’t harsh or destructive, rather they contained a sense of softness as he lovingly ran his fingers through the strong division of color in Shouto’s hair. He could feel the love in each of his strokes and Shouto’s anxieties began to build up as he didn’t know how to react to this new sense of feeling.

“Izuku, dear!” gently called his mother as she slightly picked up her steps to reach the boys, worry written all over her face as she saw her son completely drenched from the rain he decided to subject himself to.

“Oh, hi Mama! This is my new friend Todoroki! He’s really super cool! Did you see how even cool his hair is??” beamed Izuku, his teeth radiating under his smile that stretched from ear to ear as water was dripping down his face. From his reaction to seeing his mother, it became apparent that he valued more protecting his friend from getting wet than allowing his body to even be a smidge drier.  

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Todoroki. You do have very beautiful hair.” Inko gently greeted as she tilted her umbrella over a giddy Izuku to protect his tiny body from being exposed even more in the rain since he didn’t seemed concerned at all on the aftermath of his current stunt. She then look at Todoroki with curious eyes that were also filled with wonder and motherly instincts. “Are you here out by yourself? Where are your parents?”

Just from seeing their interactions alone, Shouto’s face began to mold itself to showcase more his apprehension towards the mother-son duo. After all the stuff that has occurred in his home since his quirk began to manifest, he had forgotten what kindness was like and seeing their friendly demeanor confused him and made his anxiety bubble slightly. While he may have received a pat or a hug once in a while, most of the time he only received hostile touches that left scars that were filled with hatred and disgust.

Yet, even though he was on edge and distressed, a part of him began to slightly form a small trust with the two. Something about them gave him a vibe that screamed he could entrust himself to them, that if he just grabbed their hands and followed them, he could be covered in a blanket of safety, even for a little bit. It was an odd feeling, one that made his stomach do flips with butterflies swirling inwards that caused acidic buildup in his budding esophagus, but there was a sense of warm in there as well, as if he was given a warm drink and the contents were creating a fuzzy feeling that made his inside feel like they were stuffed with plush. And it was that same warm feeling that got him to quietly answer back, “At home…”, to the worried question of where his parents were, revealing his current singular status.

“Oh my goodness! What are you out here all by yourself in the pouring rain??” Izuku’s mother said frantically, giving out an audible gasp as a hand took comfort on the side of her cheek. Her motherly instincts kicked into her heart and she knew that she had to do something to protect this boy and get him back to safety. After all, his parents must have been so worried about him (as she would have been as well if Izuku had suddenly gone missing) so it was the only right thing to do from parent to parent. “Where do you live dear?? We’ll take you home.”

Shouto’s father’s warnings and lessons of never revealing his permanent residence rang defiantly in his ears as he slowly raised his hand down the street, signaling the direction of his house. “It’s over there…” he quietly muttered, though his voice didn’t waver, as if he felt confident in his judgement of the situation.

Inko sighed in exasperation as all the heavy veins in her diaphragm released their tension into the cold air, causing a small puff of a cloud to emit from her narrow and trembling lips. Clutching her hand on Izuku’s shirt, she pulled him closer to her side, making sure he wouldn’t leave her side like the boy left his parents’. “Well, that doesn’t seem too far. Let’s get you home then.”

“Yay!! We get to take Todoroki home!!” shouted Izuku in a contrasting excited tone as he used his free to grab onto Shouto’s hand, pulling him off the bench with a child’s force so they could walk back to his house together. With the world revolving in his eyes, Shouto tumbled behind Izuku, his feet stumbling with each other as he could feel the socket of his shoulder being tugged as he tried to keep with Izuku’s fast paced energy. Everything in his field of vision was a blur with colors mixing into each other to create a somewhat undetailed painting that had chaotic brush strokes and meshed line work that blended the world together in a confusing tone. Yet, even though everything was turbulent and his gut sank in to itself in anguish, there was just that small glimmer that gave Shouto a sense of contentment that created a small line of hope and trust. It was a foreign and unsettling feeling but it came with a beautiful cascade of light that just happened to brighten Shouto’s monochromatic world for even a second.

Normally, the walk to Shouto’s house was long and lengthy, filled with stoplights and sometimes hidden passages. Whenever his house turned into a war zone with his parents’ firing metaphorical bullets and creating sharp linguistic cuts, Shouto would take the longest route possible, making sure that he got as far away from the chaos as possible so he could enjoy the quiet serenity of the wind without much worries or pain inflicted upon him. However, this time around it was different. Every pathway and every street lamp seemed to speed up on time and he could feel the time they had together crumpling up into a constrained ball that showed its limitation.

Silence was also an unfamiliar concept to their walk as Izuku continuously spoke in his high pitched tone of voice as he recounted stories of his life to his new friend. He told him about all the adventures he had with this other boy named Kacchan and how, no matter what Kacchan did, he did everything with an overconfident smile on his face that would make one follow him, even to the depths of a mysterious void that could get them all in trouble by their parents. He told him stories of his school life and how, even though he endured many jokes thrown at him, he still heavily enjoyed his time since the teachers were understanding and how there was this one girl who had a sharp tongue attached to her tiny frame but that she was still a sight to see regardless. He even told stories of his all-time favorite hero All Might and how he had put the video on loop of him saving over 100 people in less than 10 minutes with a crimson smile on his face that never wavered, no matter how even the situation seemed dangerous and daunting. As Izuku continued to retell the fables of his life, Shouto listened to him intently, completely under an amassed spell that left him entrenched in a puddle of Izuku’s words. He could hear all the magic embedded into his voice inflictions as he jumped from story to story, recounting all the memories of his life. Though, the more Shouto listened, the more he could feel a pang of jealously striking his core as there was a part of him that yearned to have the simplistic melodies of Izuku’s life. Even though Izuku was everything Shotou wasn’t, he had all the things Shouto wanted and it left an acidic taste as that fact ruminated within him.

Soon enough, after many twists and turns through a maze of cement that was accompanied with words swaying in the wind, the trio finally arrived at Shouto’s house and the mother-son duo had their mouth open ajar as they inhaled the beauty of the scenery. The Todoroki household was a Japanese style mansion that held up the different levels with planked wood that screwed together with the finest tools. Sliding doors could be seen on all levels that left a dimensional effect and a short wooden frame of a fence lined the second floor that provided an antique aesthetic feel. The yard was filled with a variety of different types of nature such as flourishing grass in front of the entry doors and bushes of mixed flowers surrounded the wooden walls that created the base to withhold all the weight. Overall, Shouto’s house was grand and spacious enough to fit an entire village, something that left Izuku and Inko shivering in their shoes as they thought back to their small apartment out in the city side.

“…..This is my house…..” Shouto quietly peeped with dread as he gripped onto Izuku’s hand with dear life. He was reluctant to let go of the positive aura Izuku had provided for him and submit himself back to the hostility that could cause more damage with its cut edges. All he wanted was to stay with this person who he was starting to view as a friend and hear more stories of the days in his life that brought a sense of change in Shouto’s eyes. A part of him wanted to pull Izuku and his mother away from his home and run away with them into a mystical land that was filled with love and guidance instead of broken glass.

“Wow, really!? You have such a cool house!!! It’s so freaking BIG!!” exclaimed Izuku as his heels arose from the ground to do a bouncing motion on the balls of his feet, clearly showing more excitement than Shouto to viewing the house. He kept jabbing his mother’s side, trying to keep her attention as he pointed out even the smallest of details that intrigued him. As Izuku kept bobbing his head sideways, Shouto couldn’t help but look over to him in jealously, wishing he could embody the same excitement Izuku was showing in this moment. If only things were different in his life, if only he wasn’t born into this family with a high profile hero, if only his life was just simpler and easier, if only-

“Hey, Todoroki! Look what I found!” Izuku happily called, his words snapping Shouto back to the harsh reality his body was in. His eyes shifted towards the owner of the voice and his heart stopped for a split second as Shouto looked to see what was in front of him. Outstretched to his visual field was a red and white tie-dyed flower that was damp with beads of rain sticking onto the petals but still managed to hold its flourishing nature. “This flower looks just as cool as you!” Izuku said as his bright smile shimmered under the virtuous light he was surrounded with.

Shouto’s eyes widened as he looked at the flower in utter awe, completely amazed yet surprised that such beauty was growing so close to him this entire time and he never seemed to notice. With ease, he gently took it from Izuku’s hand and slightly twirled it in between his fingers, really taking it in as he looked at it with a much deeper expression. The red and white weren’t entirely separated like his own hair, rather the opposing colors intermingled with each other, creating geometric shapes and patterns that looked like they were dancing on through the canvas the petals had created. Through the layers, they were swirling and twirling, as if the colors engaged in a waltz dance that had high step movements and swishes and they were leaving their marks so others could be as mesmerized as them.

It was just so beautiful.

“Hey Todoroki…” Izuku interrupted him once more, calling for his attention. Shouto looked up from his enchantment and looked back at him with curiosity overshadowing his eyes. “Well, I just wanted to say that I’m so happy we met today! You’re really nice and cool and you probably have a really cool quirk that I want to see one day! It was really nice talking to you and I hope we can be friends forever!” he said with a glittering smile as he opened and stretched his arms out, as if he was beckoning Shouto to come in and solidify their friendship with a tight fitting hug.

Which, in that moment, tears began to cascade down his cheek as he was washed away with every single emotion a human could possibly feel. He felt happiness, sadness, jealously, anger, regret, guilt, anguish all turmoil in his chest as his body began to quiver. Before that moment, all Shouto knew was loneliness and brokenness that sucked every last drip of energy into an infinite void and caused him to become to be a robotic shell that went through the motions. To avoid pain, he pushed everything into a box and threw it into a black hole that could never be accessed. Yet, in that moment, Izuku proved all odds and he wrenched it out of the dark, opening it up and releasing all his emotions that came in the form of tears that would slide against each other down his reddening cheeks. He never had experienced this before and everything seemed overwhelming and a chaotic mess and completely scrambled as he tried to sort himself out, but, even though his tears would suggest otherwise, Shouto wouldn’t change this rush of emotions for the world. It was the first time in a long while where despair wasn’t in his vocabulary and he wanted to protect every fragment before his father shattered them once more.

As his tears began to fall harder, Shouto moved into Izuku’s arm with shaking motions and he rested his head on top of Izuku’s shoulder as his arms wrapped themselves against Izuku’s small body. Small wails came from his mouth as he submerged himself more into Izuku’s embrace, feeling warmth and kindness and love as Izuku returned the hug, cherishing the moment they had together.


Rain poured down heavier than the previous days, causing tunnels of storms to go overhead as crack of lightening hit the ground with thunder chuckling after it. Even though Shouto had an umbrella to cover himself, his body still managed to get slightly wet, causing his uniform to cling to himself in a wet fashion.

Entering the UA building, he undid his red umbrella and shook it out slightly to try to wring out as much water as possible since the storm completely drenched it out. Once it felt adequate to Shouto, he walked into his classroom, making sure his shoes were dry by scraping them against the doormat and that he would leak water onto the pristine floor.  

Inside the class hustled and bustled as they were busy prepping for the upcoming school festival that UA was holding for the end of the year. Collectively, everyone had decided to take the simple route and go about making a specialized café so they came together to create all the decorations that would be placed on full display for all the visitors to see.

And what a sight it was to see everyone coming together and using the special nature of their quirks to help each other. Momo was on the side with a textbook laid in front of her as she created all the items that couldn’t be found in stores. Katsuki prepped all the food with his surprisingly amazing knife cutting skills while he also tried to fend off a hungry Ejirou and Denki from eating all the food he had made. Ochako utilized her zero gravity quirk to help lift items so they could be hung in high spaces, though she had to take small breaks in between to help calm the nausea in her system from the overuse. Though the most involved was Tenya as he ran back and forth, waving his arms at everyone in a robotic fashion as he made sure everyone was on track and all questions that indicated confusion were answered in an eloquent manner. With everyone moving around and their attention split off, Shouto stood on the side for a bit, taking in the environment with a silent admiration as a small tinge of happiness placed itself right next to him.

Seeing Shouto walk in, Mina interrupted his train of thought and rolled her chair right in front of him, holding a clipboard in hand that showed her status within the group. “Hey Todoroki! Nice to see you! Quick question, what’s your favorite flower? We’re trying to get everyone’s favorite in there to help diversify the café a little bit more and add a subtle personal touch. So far we have sunflowers for Uraraka, lilies for Tsuyu, carnations for Hagakure and I, and roses for Iida and Yaoyorozu.”

With his red umbrella in his hand and nostalgia running through his mind at the question, he couldn’t help but release a small smile as he recalled his memories he had in the past with the little boy and the flower. Time and training made them fuzzy and blurry but he could never forget the tender feeling he received during that time, which is why he calmly responded with a simple, “Camellias,” that not only received a thanks from Mina but it left him in a happy state that made him slightly wonder where the little boy with the red umbrella went.

90's Themed Sapphic Asks:
  • 1: Early to mid 90's sapphic, or mid to late 90's sapphic?
  • 2: Neon windbreaker sapphic, or denim jacket sapphic?
  • 3: Spice Girls sapphic, or Backstreet Boys sapphic?
  • 4: Beads on your bicycle spokes sapphic, or streamers in your bicycle handlebars sapphic?
  • 5: Furby sapphic, or Beanie Babies sapphic?
  • 6: Overalls sapphic, or jumper skirts sapphic?
  • 7: Xena: Warrior Princess sapphic, or Buffy The Vampire Slayer sapphic?
  • 8: Ripped jeans sapphic, or cargo pants sapphic?
  • 9: Nirvana sapphic, or Pearl Jam sapphic?
  • 10: Tommy Hilfiger sapphic, or Calvin Klein sapphic?
  • 11: Christopher Pike books sapphic, or R.L. Stine books sapphic?
  • 12: "Take a chill pill" sapphic, or "talk to the hand" sapphic?
  • 13: Clueless sapphic, or The Craft sapphic?
  • 14: Nintendo 64 console sapphic, or Nintendo Gameboy sapphic?
  • 15: 90's Euro-Pop sapphic, or 90's grunge sapphic?
  • 16: Platform sneakers sapphic, or Mary Jane shoes sapphic?
  • 17: Maybelline Roll on lip gloss sapphic, or Lip Smackers lip balm sapphic?
  • 18: Toe ring sapphic, or ankle bracelet sapphic?
  • 19: Walkman sapphic, or hit clips sapphic?
  • 20: Push pops sapphic, or ring pops sapphic?
  • 21: Plaid flannel sapphic, or baggy sweater sapphic?
  • 22: Eyebrow piercing sapphic, or tongue piercing sapphic?
  • 23: Rollerblades sapphic, or skateboard sapphic?
  • 24: Tori Amos sapphic, or Fiona Apple sapphic?
  • 25: Hair parted down the middle sapphic, or thick straight across bangs sapphic?
  • 26: MTV sapphic, or Nickelodeon sapphic?
  • 27: Slap bracelets sapphic, or mood rings sapphic?
  • 28: Bucket hats sapphic or bandanas sapphic?
  • 29: Christina Aguilera sapphic, or Britney Spears sapphic?
  • 30: Valley girl sapphic, or riot grrrl sapphic?
  • 31: Tattoo choker sapphic, or puka shell necklace sapphic?
  • 32: Skip-It sapphic, or hacky sack sapphic?
  • 33: Ying yang signs on everything sapphic, or alien faces on everything sapphic?
  • 34: "Whatever" hand sign sapphic, or "loser" hand sign sapphic?
  • 35: Are you a 90's baby sapphic, or 90's kid sapphic?

hyperstorms  asked:

omg congrats on the 300 followers!!! That's awesome! Following with your theme of chocochicks (adorable!!) would you maybe be able to write or headcanon something about little Prompto and Papa Cor, please? I love imagining Prompto and Papa Cor.

Thank you, my dear!  So as I started writing this it went into a tangent of now I’m not sure if this was the type of fic you were looking for but this is what came out.  Hope you like it!

@poisonous-panda and @prompto-cam you both were pretty vocal about wanting to see the final product.

From a Distance

“Let it go, Cor.”

“It’s not your problem anymore, Cor.”

“The mission is over.  No need to get attached to it, Cor.”

But Cor couldn’t help it.  Curiosity got the best of him.  What started off as an intelligence gathering mission evolved into something more.  He was enlisted for his stealth and fighting prowess.  Upon his return though, he added kidnapper to his resume.  None had anticipated that Cor would return with a child in his arms.  A child whom scientists were more than happy to confiscate once they learned how it was grown in a lab, in the same facility where experimentation with magitek technology occurred.  Seeing the hunger in the scientists’ eyes, Cor was weary about relinquishing the baby to those who only saw him as nothing more than a laboratory specimen, but he had no say in the matter.  Clarus reassured Cor that no harm would befall the infant, however they had to learn what they could about their enemy especially if it would help them get a step ahead of Niflheim.

As the days passed, Cor could not help but to dwell on what happened in the scientists’ care.  Was the baby healthy?  Was he being tortured?  Hell, the scientists wouldn’t even acknowledge the baby as a human, but rather kept referring to the boy as “it.”  In his eyes, that made them no better than those damned Niffs.

Soon days became weeks.  Then weeks turned into months.  Before long it had been years since that day he had snuck into the magitek facility yet he still wondered about the boy.  He should be eight-years-old now.  Whatever had become of him?

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