long exploser

After the Parade

“Hush,” he says.

Above them, Cabal ships drag thick black smoke across the flickering twilight, and flames rise from the Tower. Legionnaires scour the streets, seeking out the cries of the wounded and afraid.

“Hush,” he says again, as the child starts to sniffle, and he pulls her into the shadows cast by an apartment block as a patrol makes its laborious way past. He was made to protect, made to serve, but he feels clumsy now; the hand on her shoulder is almost larger than her head and she has no armor to protect her bruised and burned skin from his rough gauntlets. When he tries to wipe the tears from her face he worries that he will be the one to break her.

He followed her screams, just as the Cabal did. He had no rifle to kill the Legionnaires that would have silenced her; dispatched the first one with his boot-knife but was not quick enough to catch the second unaware. It is dead, but his chest-plate is cracked and burned and the thing that eats the Traveler has also eaten his Light.

She is wearing yellow. A summer dress, for a celebration. When he offered her his gore-spattered hand she took it at once, and did not look back at the splayed and broken limbs visible beneath the rubble around her as though she knew there was no one left to wait for. He brushed dust and chips of concrete from the tight black curls on her head, and when she tried to smile her gap-toothed smile at him despite it all he knew that he would die the second death to save her.

They pick their way through dust-covered streets and alleys, one grimy hand holding his armored fingers, the other wrapped around the silent shell of his Ghost. He told her to keep it safe, and she clutches it to her chest with an intensity that would do any Titan proud.

To those behind the Wall, love and service. To those outside it, fury and fire. He is young: the Order’s maxim has never meant much to him, but here at the end of an Age he feels each word burning in his chest and he wraps his Mark around her shoulders like a cloak, like a little Hunter, to keep the nearness of the night from her as best he can.

When they hear the distant bursts of gunfire he waits until the chatter fades, then leads them in a different direction even though it gives him hope to know the City is still fighting. Perhaps if he ran to the violence he would find weapons or more Guardians, but he will not risk it. And so hours pass as they slink across the city, and as slowly as his wounds force him to move she still takes ten strides for every one of his. She has only one sandal, silver leather wrapped around a tiny leg, but he thinks that a single piece of armor is better than no armor at all.

He finds a battered pulse rifle in a street that leads to a square, tries not to wonder where its owner went. The magazine is full, but it is all he has and there is no Ghost at his shoulder to synthesize ammo. He bends to pick it up, never letting go of the hand that holds his own, just as a troop of Legionnaires turn the corner in front of them.

He pulls the child behind a crumbled wall. Waits one heartbeat, two; no slug throwers roar in response. Even so, they are between him and the direction he has lead, and he doubts he has the strength to cross the City again.

Love and service to those within. Fire and fury to those without.

The Legionnaires do not notice, but neither do they move on. More join them, and they begin to spiral out in all directions, continuing their search. It will not be long before they find him and the child. A narrow street, once hung with banners but now collapsing from the rooftops down, will lead her west, to the walls, away from Cabal patrols - as long as there is a distraction.

He lifts her chin as gently as he can.

“You have to run,” he whispers. He is bad at whispering. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“That way,” he says when she stares at him in silence, pointing with his outsized hand down the shadowed street.

He gives her a delicate push, points again. She blinks, once, then toddles into the dark, Ghost held close as though it will protect her. Perhaps, if there is a way to undo this disaster, it someday will.

He props the rifle atop the ledge, lifts his visor and sights with naked eye. There are so many, he thinks, and then bites back a laugh - there are only eight.

Love within. Fury without.

The rifle barks. One Legionnaire dies and the others spin in confusion, firing in the direction of his cover. He ignores them, squeezes the trigger again. And again. And again.

Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within. Fury without. Love within -

Something tugs his arm. He looks down into the eyes of the little girl, and pure terror finds him.

“I said run,” he growls, but she does not, her face set in a scowl. He shakes his arm and she does not let go.

A micro-rocket bursts against the barricade and he ducks, throws his body over her, sprays the rest of his bullets in response. The child buries her head in his cracked armor, her frail body shaking.

Never has he been so afraid to die.

He feels a fool. He tosses the rifle down, wraps one arm around the child and pulls her close. With the other he slams his visor shut. He takes a deep breath, and then another, and when at last there is a break in the constant fire he lurches to his feet, lifts the child to his chest, and runs.

It is hard, so hard, to move full Titan-plate without his Light to drive it. His body aches. Something inside is probably broken, and he does not know how long it takes a body to heal without a Ghost.

A slug hits him in the back and he stumbles but his armor holds, and he sprints down the street where he tried to send the child, the sound of jump-packs following behind. He ducks his head and cups himself around his charge, makes himself as big as he can, plows across the debris-choked pavement. The girl begins to cry again, though to his ears it is not the sound of fear but of fury, and before long he is roaring with it, and the two of them roar together down the long, narrow street as explosions scatter bits of ruins that once were homes. He does not know where he is going, knows only that he must go somewhere, that he will not stop until the child is safe or his legs no longer work; that when he has nothing left he will throw her from him and tear the Cabal apart with fists alone, Light or no.

He has stopped counting the impacts. Every step is a knife in his chest. The Legionnaires must be close but he does not turn, lest the shield that is his body fail. He can feel himself slowing, a sensation that fills him both with wonder and despair, but he cannot force himself to let her go despite his promise. Something cracks against the back of his leg, and he is too tired and too hurt to correct. He lands heavily on one shoulder, slides ten grinding yards, arms still wrapped around the child. At the very least, they will have to rip him apart to get to her. Maybe, if he dies quickly, they will not notice her at all.

Gunfire interrupts his thoughts, along with the sound of footsteps and the roar of Cabal. Hands grab him, drag him out of the street, but still he does not uncurl. He sees Hunter cloaks, Warlock robes, a Titan mark.

“Hush,” he tells the child, head still tucked close, while they cower in a doorway and around them Guardians fight.

“Hush,” he tells her, over their surprised cries of pain.

“Hush,” he tells her, over and over, until at last all is silent and he dares to lift his head and stand.

He helps the child to her feet, and though he leans against the doorway it is her tiny hand in his that keeps him upright. He looks around at their saviors: most are near as bruised as he is. They nod their heads, pat him on the back, and he opens his mouth to ask for forgiveness, for leading the Legionnaires here, but a Hunter shakes her head as though she knows what he will say.

Two Guardians lie dead. Truly dead. One Hunter, one Titan wearing the Mark of the Gatewatch. He waits the half-second for their Ghosts to revive them, feels sick when they do not rise. He swears that he will learn their names and add them to the Order of the Pilgrim Guard.

Someone makes cooing sounds and tries to take the child, tries to give her water, but she refuses to let go of his hand, refuses to surrender his Ghost. For a moment they stand there, all seven of them in a circle around her, and it is as though a different light has risen to bond them all.

They need ships. Weapons. Food, maybe. The child, at least, must eat. The Hunter offers water again, and he wonders how many new scraps of fabric she has taken for her cloak. A different Titan, this one wearing the Mark of the Six Fronts, hands him the dead Hunter’s rifle - then looks down at the child, still clinging to his hand, and passes him a sidearm instead.

They turn their backs to the Tower, and continue their slow march to the western wall. Perhaps they will find supplies along the way. If not, so be it - they are still Guardians, and they will save what light they can.

Love within. Fury without.

The Cabal have no word for ‘retreat.’ Soon, they will learn that the Guardians have none for ‘mercy.’


Words: @themothyards

Art: @artdailybykitty

All of You

68. “I can hear you crying, you know. At night, when you think no one is listening.”; 71. “I’ve seen how much you really care. Don’t pretend like you don’t.”, requested by the lovely @fornhaus

Pairing: kacchako, obvsly.

Rating: t

a/n: sorry i’m such a lazy ass. This came out a bit longer and less angsty than I expected, but I just decided I can’t do prompts for shit. I always get carried away from the topic, in the end you ask me for apples and I give you pears. Anyways, hope you enjoy it anyway!

————————————————-

The air was warm, a pleasent breeze rushing through the trees and bushes that surrounded him. In front of him, was the lake that mirrored the starry night sky. No sounds could be heard, aside from the crickets, and, of course, the muffled laughter and chatter of his classmates.

It was one of those summer nights he would probably spend in his room, studying or reading some comics. That is, if he was home. Right now, Bakugou Katsuki was trapped in a campsite far, far away from the U.A. dorms, cursing all the souls within a hundred mile radius, and their mothers.

Summer break was just around the corner, and the students of classes A and B decided that they should all take a trip together to get their minds away from the midterms and have some fun. Which was exactly the opposite of what Bakugou was doing. In fact, he had only agreed to go thinking it was a training camp, like in first year. He would later find out that the only training they would be doing was on how to make s'mores and sing dumb songs by the fire.

After so much time living together, it was not like Bakugou wasn’t already used to the presence of his classmates. Hell, sometimes he wouldn’t even be that bothered by their shenanigans. But being tricked into coming to their little trip, wasting his time with stupid shit like that, it had spiked his fury in a whole other level.

He could easily had taken the easy path there and just burn them all to bits before they thought of another song. But after all they went through, Bakugou had to learn his lesson about thinking his actions through at some point. Instead, he got up from his seat by the fire and walked into the woods, screaming that anyone who followed him would have their head ripped out of their body and shoved in their ass. So, after a quiet walk, he expected to calm his nerves and clear all the murderous intentions out of his head.

What he did not expected, though, was to find Uraraka Ochako, sitting alone on the muddy ground, staring at the clear water of the lake.

She had her Nº 13 hoodie on, short brown hair floating with the breeze. After a better look, he noticed her shoulders were shaking.

The boy stood there for a few seconds, the wind brushing his wild hair, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do.

Bakugou wasn’t exactly the example of a caring person. Even after a year and a half of sharing a house and a classroom, he still couldn’t remember half of his classmates’ names. He just didn’t give a fuck. But she was different.

Uraraka had something in her. A hidden side, obscured by a good girl mask that could fool anyone and everyone. Except for him. She liked to bat her little eyelashes at him, smile at him on the halls, scold him for not being friendly or some shit. But as much as it all confused him, he had seen her for who she really was during their first fight, and on all their other fights since then. He was the only one who could see through her mask, who was able to push her past her breaking point and take a peek at the real Uraraka. She had caught his eye, to a point where he wasn’t satisfied with just a peek anymore. He wanted to see more, to find out what she really had to offer. So, on one restless night, Bakugou decided to go to her room and challenge her for a real match.

But before he could knock, he heard her sobs. Tiny, shaky sobs that, although he would never admit it, made his heart beat a little faster. Much more faster.

Bakugou had been avoiding her since that night. Don’t get the wrong idea, he wasn’t a coward. He would never run from his problems, like some chicken. But something in him has changed when he heard her crying. She was suffering, and somehow, that affected him too. He was fucking terrified of that.

His sharp crimson eyes stared at the back of her head, as her sobs and hiccups got louder. He scowled, turning around to leave while she hadn’t noticed his presence. Carefully, he took a step forward, then another–

“B-Bakugou-kun? Is that you?”, Uraraka’s meek voice reached his ears.

Fuck his life. He had stepped on a branch. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Comfort her? As if.

He slowly turned around, ready to make up some excuse for why he had been watching her cry, possibly throwing some insults and explosions on the way. But when he could finally see her face, his resolve was shattered.

She looked scared, frightened brown eyes staring at him from her seat by the lake. Her cheeks, usually rosy and flushed, were now pale and stained with tears. Her small frame looked even smaller, quivering under the moonlight.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. She got up, wiping the dirt off of her shorts, avoiding his gaze.

“I… Umm… What are you d-doing here?”, she tried again, looking mildly taken aback by his expression. He must have been looking really stupid.

Shaking his head, Bakugou opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say. Nothing came out. He averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks warming up.

Uraraka bit her bottom lip, looking at everything but him. She looked extremely uncomfortable. A part of him wanted to apologize for walking in on such an intimate moment of hers. A bigger part of him wanted to fucking punch that part in the face. What the hell was happening to him? It was her fault for crying on a public space! He had nothing to do with her, it wasn’t his fucking business. Again, he could easily have chosen the easiest path. But something about seeing her in such a frail state made him change his mind.

“Uraraka.”, he said, his strangely quiet tone capturing her attention again.

He moved a bit closer to her, reluctantly. She blinked, watching as he scowled and tucked his hands deeper in his pockets, looking like he regretted every word he was about to say.

“Why are you… y'know…”, he started, finding it hard to get the words out of his mouth. “… crying?”

She blinked again, several times, brows knitting in confusion.

“Why… why do you care?”

Good question. There was literally no reason for him to give a fuck about her, or what she felt. But he did. He fucking did. And no matter how stupid his words sounded to himself, he couldn’t help but want to know why she was suffering.

“Who the fuck said I cared? Don’t get cocky, round-face!”, he exclaimed, unable to hold back his tongue. She looked even more confused. “It’s just really fucking annoying to hear you crying all night, and then have to bare with it here too!”

Her eyes widened, the color rushing back to her cheeks in embarrassment. “Y-You could hear m-me?”

Bakugou’s scowl deepened, as he runned a hand through his blond hair, trying to hold back all the weird feelings that threatened to spill.

“Yeah, Uraraka, I could fucking hear you.”

She pursed her lips, hugging her torso and looking at her feet. Her eyes were closed again, a shaky breath leaving her lungs. He felt a pang in his chest, a strange urge to cup her face in his hands and tell her to breathe. Again, what the fuck was happening to him?

She opened her eyes, and he could swear they were even sadder than when he found her. Uraraka took a step back, going back to a sitting position next to the lake, looking expectantly at him. Bakugou hesitantly moved forward, sitting next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. She hugged her knees to her chest, a shaky sigh leaving her mouth. They were only a few inches apart from each other now.

“I’m sorry for bothering you.”, she started, looking at the clear water before them. “I’ve received some bad news lately and it’s been a little difficult for me to accept them.”

A few beats passed, his strict eyes locked on her face, before she cleared her throat and continued.

“My father is sick. It’s not so serious, but he still can’t work properly. But his debts keep growing y'know…”, her voice sounded so weak it was barely audible. “… My mother said it’s okay, that they’re gonna work this out. But I need to help too. I can’t just stay here and watch them work themselves to death.”

Bakugou went dead silent, the sharp features of his face curling in a frown. He had expected for her problems to be related to that bastard Deku or something, but this was much more serious than he initially thought.

“Do you mean…”, he muttered, voice faltering for a second. She still wouldn’t look at him, eyes trained on her reflection on the lake. “… does this mean you’re…?”

Her grip on her knees tightened. “Yeah.”, she mumbled, and he could swear his heart had skipped a beat. “I might have to drop out of school.”

She finally looked up at him, and the first emotion to hit him was confusion. It took his brain a few moments to process the real impact of her words. Then, a hurricane of feelings rushed through his mind, bliding his senses and making a big mess out of his already confused heart. He felt anger, and grief, and revolt.

Anger because of how fucking unfair that world was, for someone so unbearably kind like her to have to give up on her dreams so early. Grief, because no matter how much he denied it, that girl has done a great job at marking her name on his mind, and watch her go away would be much more difficult than he would like to admit.

Revolt, because that was Uraraka Ochako, that stubborn, impulsive, courageous mess of a girl he had learned to respect. An adorable looking girl who could lift up buildings and create meteors and never, ever accepted defeat, even after his most powerful blows. She would still refuse to give up.

Right now, he couldn’t find that girl. Looking deep into those frightened eyes, at her trembling hands, at her heaving chest, he just couldn’t find her. He only ever knew two sides of Uraraka: the cheery, innocent girl who he fought to ignore in class and the powerful, determinated woman he yearned to face up on the battlefield. But this was a new side of hers, the broken one, barely able to hold back her sobs, who hid herself from the world to fall apart alone and scared. Bakugou felt like his lungs were shrinking, making it impossible to breathe.

She still held his gaze, her big brown eyes full of sorrow, and tenderness, and so many other emotions he couldn’t describe. Her eyes could easily put the sky above them to shame. He couldn’t understand why someone like him could suddenly notice those things. Like the little marks and small scars that adorned her face and neck. The pink flush of her cheeks that had spreaded to her nose and ears. The teeth marks on her slightly parted lips, from biting at them nervously. So many details abour her came at his mind at once, as if he had been pinpointing them since the day they’ve first met. Maybe he did. At this point, his confusion was too much to handle.

Bakugou came out of his stupor when he saw her mouth curl up in a sad smile. Then, a short giggle scaped her lips.

“What’s so fucking funny?”, his voice was raspy and low, way too low for his standards. He suddenly realized of how close they really were, their shoulders almost touching.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just…”, she giggled again, shaking her head. Looking back at him, there was something else in her eyes he couldn’t exactly name. It made his hands tremble a bit. “You’re the first one to know. And I kinda like it that way.”

His gaze shifted to her eyes, then to her lips, and back to her eyes. What was that supposed to mean? They weren’t friends. That was probably the most intimate conversation they’ve ever had. Uraraka closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath and runing her hand through the water.

“I’m not worried ‘bout you.”, he said, staring at the lake.

She opened her eyes once again, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion.

Bakugou grabbed a branch at his side and started fiddling with the water, distorting his reflection. “You’ll find a way.”

The girl smiled sadly, watching the small waves on the lake. “I’m afraid it’ll be a little trickier this time.”

He let go of the branch, scowling at her. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Huh?!”, she squealed, surprised by his sudden change of tone. His crimson eyes stared deep into her brown ones, eyebrows knit together, in that always grumpy expression that inspired authority.

“Answer me! Who the fuck are you?!”

She cleared her throat, unsure of how to respond. “U-Uraraka Ochako?”

Bakugou scoffed, not averting his gaze from her. “Are you fucking sure? Doesn’t seem like it.”

Her confused expression didn’t budge, annoying him to bits. “I… I-I don’t understan–”

“I know a girl named Uraraka. Annoying little bitch. She’s always wearing these stupid smiles every time I see her.”, he grumbled, making the girl next to him puff her cheeks in annoyance.

“Oh yeah? If you hate this girl so much why don’t you–”

“I’ve seen her done so much stupid shit, that sometimes I wonder how the fuck did this girl ended up in third place on the entrance exam. That had to be a mistake.”

She looked down at her hands, her bottom lip starting to quiver again. “I get it. You don’t have to be so mean.”

“She’s always letting her damn feelings get in her way, like some little kid. Never thinking before acting, like a fucking amateur.”, Bakugou’s voice was as harsh as his words.

“You can stop now, please. I don’t want to hear how stupid you think I am.”, she hugged herself again, gaze lost in her reflection on the lake.

But he wasn’t done. “I’ve seen her trip over her own feet more times than I’ve seen the sun rise.”

Uraraka got up from the grass, legs still a bit shaky. “Okay, stop it! I get it! I’m useless and stupid and–”

“I’ve seen her get herself in danger over the dumbest things!”, he got up too, not letting her run away. They were only inches apart, her back facing the lake. “She tried to throw three tons of concrete on my head once! Who the fuck does that?!”

Her gaze was fixed on her feet, hands curled up in trembling fists at her sides.

“Stop it.”

Bakugou scowled, getting even closer to her. “This one time, she lifted a whole truck to find some little brat’s doll! How stupid is that?!”

She tried to push him out of the way, a few stray tears already running down her face. “Let me go! Stop it, Bakugou!”

He felt his chest tightening again, but didn’t stop.

“She even jumped off a building once to try and save a fucking villain, even though her weight limit was almost running out! Isn’t that fucking crazy?!”

He had to hold her wrists now, to stop her from sending him floating out of her way. She struggled in his hold, punching and kicking what she could see, but it was no use.

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Biting his bottom lip, he locked her wrists with one hand, while forcing her to look at him with the other.

“And you know what the worst part is?!”, Bakugou’s voice resounded over her protests, her fighting slowing down for a moment.

His expression looked almost painful, eyebrows knitted and face heating up at the proximity of their bodies. But his eyes told another story. There was a whole storm of sentiment he kept inside, waiting for a moment to be let out. All the anger and frustration he had hidden deep within his soul, all the nights he had spent wondering what was missing. What kept him up at night?

“The worst part, is that I can’t get her out of my fucking mind!”

Her eyes widened, breath stuck in her throat. They were so close their noses could almost touch. He stared at her eyes, hoping she could understand everything he meant by just that stare. By the way she stopped struggling, he thought she did.

“At first, I thought I just wanted to fight her, but I was wrong! I was so fucking wrong!”, Bakugou’s face was incredibly red, and by the tone of his voice, it wouldn’t be a surprise if everyone on the fucking camp had heard them by now. He couldn’t care less. “I don’t want to see just a part of her, I want the whole package! The annoying one, the strong one, the broken one, I want all of them!”

Uraraka just stared at him in awe, face wet with tears, blushing twice as much as him. Her mouth opened a few times, but nothing came out.

He let go of her wrists, taking a few steps back and breathing heavily. It had been a long time since he had screamed like that.

“That girl may be annoying, and naive, and she might irritate the fuck out of me…”, he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “But i’m fucking crazy about her. She’s the bravest fucking girl I’ve ever met, and hell would freeze before she gave up on her dreams after the first obstacle.”

The girl blinked, running a shaky hand over her hair, trying to digest all of what she just heard. Her mouth was completely shut, not even trying to formulate an answer anymore.

Bakugou turned around, ready to leave her with her thoughts. He had no idea why the fuck he decided to confess all those things after barely acknowledging them himself, but what is gone, is gone. He felt mortified, furious at himself for spilling all his own issues over her when she needed help dealing with her own. All he could do now was to go on his way and let her think.

“Trust me in this, round-face. If you really are this girl…”, he looked over his shoulder, seeing her confused eyes and quivering legs. “… you’ll find a way.”

At this, he walked into the woods again, disappearing from her sight, leaving an even bigger mess in her heart than when he found her.

ok so i’ve come up with two headcanons/situations for these two nerds in this photo. so:

1. Bakugou can get pretty riled up during one of his signature tantrums. That’s a given. But the problem is, when he gets like that, when his eyebrows knit together and his eyes narrow and he just yells, screaming his throat raw, there’s nothing to get him out of it. It’s all a waiting game as they wait for Bakugou to calm down. However, this isn’t ideal, considering how long his rants can be. Some days, he could hurt either himself or someone else pretty badly. Today was one of those days. What got Bakugou riled up in the first place completely slipped everyone’s mind. He’d been screaming and using his quirk wildly for about ten minutes now, and his attacks were starting to get more concentrated and planned. Usually people would ignore him. It’s third year, they’re used to this happening to the hot-headed hero. But this was getting old. The class knew that it wouldn’t help trying to touch or talk to him. They’ve tried it before (That’s how Kaminari got the hand-shaped scar on his chest. Apparently not everyone was as tactile as him). But as Kirishima watches his boyfriend keep yelling at people, his explosions starting to become more deliberate, he feels like he needs to do something. So in a spur of the minute decision, Kirishima grabs Bakugou’s wrist. The blonde jerks his head to look at him, his eyes wide and so full of absolute fury and loathing. It hurt a bit for Kirishima to see him like this, especially with the look pointed at himself. But now he had Bakugou’s attention. And his wrist. The next part was going to be risky, but it might just pull him out of this colossal fit he’s having. Kirishima quickly but softly presses his lips against Bakugou’s, pulling him in by the wrist. And as if by some sort of magic, Bakugou immediately is pacified, completely absorbed in this kiss. Everyone in the room is just staring at the two, slacked jawed and eyes wide. It wasn’t the kiss that they were surprised of, no. Their relationship had been very public for the last couple of months. No, what had them all in a state of shock was the fact that Bakugou fucking Katsuki was absolutely calm. His entire face was slack and almost…happy? And when the two boys pulled away from each other, he stayed that way. Bakugou was just calmed down from one of the biggest tantrums he’d ever had in public. By Kirishima. Now he just shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, turning around to go back upstairs. Kirishima, also shocked that it even worked, followed after Bakugou dazedly Class 1-A now knew how to calm down Bakugou. 

2. Kirishima wasn’t the best at math. This was a given. Everyone in his class knew this. What not a lot of people did know was that he was being tutored. By Bakugou. What was even lesser known was that Kirishima was also a tutor. For Bakugou. Now, Bakugou got good grades. Top three of his class, in fact. He’s a smart kid and he applies himself well. He pushes himself to his full potential, and even further beyond that. The problem is, sometimes he just doesn’t understand a subject. For him, that’s history. Lucky for him, Kirishima was a history buff. He prided himself on this knowledge, and so in return for getting help with math, he would help Bakugou with history. In the present, Kirishima was sitting in a chair pressed against Bakugou’s, chewing the end of his pencil absent-mindedly as he watched Bakugou go through an example problem step by step. He didn’t retain any of the information. His mind was, like usual, clouded with something else. He tried to keep his eyes on the paper in front of him, he really did, but Kirishima kept glancing back at their hands. Their hands were touching. Wrist to wrist, finger to finger. What’s more was that Bakugou, trying to get closer to the paper he was writing on, had moved a pinky over Kirishima’s forefinger. It was entirely unintentional, but he had kept it there out of lack of knowing just where his hand was. And it killed Kirishima. It had him biting through his pencil eraser, puncturing it with small holes due to his sharp teeth. It had him start to sweat, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt in order to get more air in. It had him glancing at their too-close hands, at Bakugou’s piercing red eyes, focusing on the work in front of him with sharp precision, at Bakugou’s lips which were in a slight pout, something he did when he was concentrating. The way they moved with such uncharacteristic grace when he was calm. The way Kirishima absolutely wanted to feel them against his own, moving softly and slowly and – “Are you even listening?” He was pulled out of his thoughts with a jerk as Bakugou bore his eyes straight into Kirishima’s head, a look of annoyance spreading across his face as his nose wrinkled at the bridge. Kirishima was at a loss of words. He definitely wasn’t just thinking about kissing his best bro. Definitely wasn’t thinking about the way their hands were brushing, about how close Bakugou was and oh god he knew if he spoke now he’d be dead and – Kirishima is pulled out of his thoughts for a second time by Bakugou. Except this time the look of annoyance is gone and replaced with an unreadable emotion. His eyes were blown wide, but his eyebrows were still handing low, knit together. His lips are drawn tight and there’s a hint of color in his cheeks and for once, Bakugou Katsuki is absolutely quiet and seemingly also at a lost of words. That’s when Kirishima realizes. He had just said what he was thinking out loud. It was a habit of Kirishima’s, a terrible habit. When he was nervous, he started to speak his thoughts out loud, for better or for worse. In this case, it was the worst possible time. And worst of it all, Bakugou wasn’t saying anything. Not even a curse. It was so out of character for him it almost scared Kirishima. But then, he blinked once. Twice. And spoke quietly. “You’ve been thinking of that this whole goddamn time, haven’t you?” His words were devoid of their usual venom. It lacked the bark that he typically placed behind his words. And his face wasn’t immediately scrunched up in disgust. Bakugou is not mad. No, not in the slightest. Kirishima swallows hard and replies with a quick “Mhm,” since it’d be no use lying now. Everything was out in the open. “I knew you were distracted, but I didn’t think it was because of…” Bakugou cards a hand through his hair, looking back at the work in front of them both now, “…me.” Kirishima doesn’t know what to say. It’s hard to even think right now. He just confessed to his best friend and dear god this was not the way it was supposed to go. Not like this. But then if by some miracle, Bakugou turns back to Kirishima. He looks at him and slowly, hesitantly, picks up the hand touching Kirishima’s, and places it entirely over Kirishima’s, now holding it. It’s some weird gesture that Bakugou totally isn’t used to and it shows, he’s not used to showing affection. Then he clears his throat awkwardly and speaks, breaking the silence. “Um. We still have to study. A lot. There’s still a fucking exam tomorrow and us being like this isn’t going to stop it,” he says, picking up the pencil again. But Kirishima doesn’t know if he’s going to actually be able to concentrate now that this is happening, now that there’s this weird unspoken thing going on between them right at this moment. “But…since I’m the one distracting you, let’s strike a deal.” Bakugou starts writing the practice problem again, as if that could lessen the awkwardness shared between them. “Every five minutes, I’ll make you do a problem. If you do it incorrectly,” he says, still writing the problem, “then you’re doing two more problems.” Kirishima watches the hand fly across the paper, leaving behind little neat letters behind as it scritches out the problem. “And if I get it right?” Kirishima says, focused on the way his hand moves, “I’m getting there, fucknut. And if you get it right,” Bakugou sets down the pencil after finishing the problem, and looks dead into Kirishima’s eyes, forcing eye contact, “Then you can kiss me.” Kirishima automatically broke out into a wide, hopeful grin, his eyes huge. “You serious?” He asks, already giddy. Of course that would bring him to attention. “Yeah sure, but don’t get your fucking hopes up. I know you haven’t been paying attention this last hour. It’s gonna take more than a fucking prayer and a half for you to get through these next questions with your scatterbrain.” And with that, Kirishima happily did his practice problems throughout the night with Bakugou by his side. He earned 15 kisses that night. And a 89% on his exam. 

2

These scenes are the best because, even though Japril are always so amazing and perfect together, you can really see and feel the intensity of their feelings after being apart for so long and the distance melting away when they finally come back together. They are a perfect example of what Callie said about making up, being “like coming up for air.”

anonymous asked:

Deanmus for the ship thing? Or Neville/blaise

I’m gonna go with dean/seamus bc I don’t rlly ship Neville and Blaise :/ sorry man


  • who hogs the duvet

Seamus does - he likes things hot (yes I went there) and Dean is way too much of a sweetheart to fight for it. And, if he was totally honest, Dean loves cuddling Seamus (he’s like a hot furnace) and he doesn’t even need something as silly as a duvet anyway

  • who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Dean does it, first of because he grew up as a muggle (and thus knows how telephones work and was the one who had to teach his boyfriend how to use them) and because he is a worrywart. Who knows what trouble Seamus gets into? 

  • who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Seamus! Dean tries so hard to beat him every year, he even handcrafted an entire suit for Seamus and painted him in gold magic paint, but somehow Seamus always knows exactly the thing to give him that will make Dean cry like a baby

  • who gets up first in the morning

Dean. He likes to run for a bit outside to wake up, shower, make breakfast (usually it’s pancakes because, let’s face it, Dean is a sweet tooth) and a nice cup of coffee to then, when Seamus wakes up (around nine) kiss him good morning

  • who suggests new things in bed

They both do - they’re very curious boys, and they are each other’s best friends. They say anything that comes to their mind, including weird sex stuff they’ve heard other people talk about and wonder how it’d be like to do it themselves. 

  • who cries at movies

Seamus. He hasn’t told anyone - and he’d probably torch Dean’s hair if his boyfriend did - because he likes to pretend he’s all tough, but he’s cried so hard he couldn’t speak for two hours after seeing Titanic for the first time (he blames it on the wine they’d been drinking - Dean let’s him believe this)

  • who gives unprompted massages

Dean; after seeing this god-awful romcom where they gave massages all the time (”seriously, Dean, one more massage and that woman will drop to the floor for lack of muscle-tensing”) he went into this fase where he simply could not stop - he stopped by Seamus’ work at lunch to help him “relax”, gave him one before going to bed, one in the morning, and sometimes even during work - that’s when Seamus (with the help of Ron Weasley) pulled a big intervention. (Mainly because Dean’s massages were so awful they were almost painful.) Since then Dean’s been banned from giving massages.

  • who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Dean - he’s the worrywart, and for some reason, Seamus always gets hurt (”toast doesn’t blow themselves up for no reason, how did you even -”

  • who gets jealous easiest

Seamus. He tries to be cool about it and brush it off, but as soon as someone even looks at Dean the wrong way he is ready to blow that dude up - “with some nice chit chat, Dean, don’t look at me like that”

  • who has the most embarrassing taste in music

They both do, and they’re unapologetic about it.

  • who collects something unusual

Seamus - he sometimes goes full Arthur Weasley and “fanboys” over all the muggle stuff his boyfriend has lying around in his apartment. Dean finds it adorable (especially when Seamus jumped so high in excitement after seeing a vacuum cleaner at work he managed to knock off the ceiling lights)

  • who takes the longest to get ready

Dean. Seamus doesn’t really care what he’s wearing - he usually just throws on the first clothes he spots in the morning - but Dean likes to look nice, and “this hairdo hasn’t been grown perfect, it needs time - stop looking at me like that.”

  • who is the most tidy and organised

Dean!! And if Seamus’ stuff looks tidy - that’s all Dean’s doing, don’t believe anything else you hear.

  • who gets most excited about the holidays

They both do, they really like to buy (or make - Dean’s style) gifts for all their friends for Christmas; sometimes they even start as early as June (it just has to be perfect and better than any other couple’s gifts, that’s all, and they’re totally not bothered by the fact that Hermione always seems to have better gifts, absolutely not, what are you talking about?

  • who is the big spoon/little spoon

Dean is the bigger spoon - Seamus is tiny (don’t say that to him, he will light you on fire) and Dean loves burying his head in Seamus’ hair, it makes him feel like he’s keeping Seamus safe from everything harmful, and Seamus just likes how Dean smells and feels (he’s so soft)

  • who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Seamus - he once kicked Hermione in the head when she won at monopoly and threw the board away (Dean had to drag him out of the room, for both Ron and Harry were blowing steam out of their ears in that moment)

  • who starts the most arguments

Seamus, he’s a hot-tempered man, and he’s easily pushed over the edge. Dean usually tries to make things go smoothly and likes to postpone or avoid fights all-together, and that sometimes work. When they do fight, however, it leads to the most explosive sex they ever had

  • who suggests that they buy a pet

Dean!! He loves dogs, and he whined and begged and pouted for two full years before Seamus relented and allowed him to get one dog. They nowadays have four dogs, and Seamus will die for each and every one of them.

  • what couple traditions they have

Sometimes, when Seamus falls asleep after a particularly tiring round of sex, Dean takes out his sketchbook to draw him (like one of his french girls boys). He has about ten of those sketchbooks by now. Their first date was in this crappy little pub in London with the grossest (and a bit sour) tuna sandwiches and beer that makes every grown man barf - so, naturally, on their anniversary they always come back to that place and eat, and drink, and barf their way into a new year with each other.

  • what tv shows they watch together

Seamus loves The 100 (”so many explosions!”) and he’s a fan of B99 (mainly because Harry and Ron would not stop talking about it, but they both watch Gilmore Girl with a passion. Seamus because he loves Emily Gilmore so much (”she’s the woman I want to marry some day” “Seamus, we’re engaged” “get over it”) and Dean because he understands Rory Gilmore is his child now that needs to be protected at all cost

  • what other couple they hang out with

Mainly Hermione and Ron - they play board games together monthly - and Dean, being a Professor at Hogwarts (he teaches DADA, his hero Remus Lupin inspired him to do so) sees Neville quite often, him now teaching Herbology. They occasionally meet with Harry and Draco, but Seamus still can’t stand Malfoy, mainly because Draco declined to play karaoke with Seamus that one time.

  • how they spend time together as a couple

Mainly going on awful dates or walking out with their dogs, when they’re not having sex (they just love each other, okay?) or meeting their friends

  • who made the first move

Seamus! He had enough of watching his best friend act straight and fail miserably. He always tells everyone he was very smooth about it, but the truth is that before they both graduated Seamus suddenly yelled “You’re very hot and I think I’m gay” to which Dean just laughed and said, “same” (they went on their first date that night)

  • who brings flowers home

Dean!! He loves flowers - especially yellow tulips - and he likes making Seamus smile

  • who is the best cook

Dean… no offense to our boy Seamus, but he tends to blow shit up overcook food now and then. It’s safer for them - and their entire neighbourhood - if Dean cooks for them. 


“Send me a ship and I’ll tell you…”

All of the Universes

im sorry i havent written much lately, school is ending so teachers are being dicks and piling work on before finals

as an apology have this first part of a sickfic! im going to write multiple ending type things for each of the other characters! pls forgive me


Before the mission, Lance had woken up with a pressure behind his eyes and an ache in his bones that wore him out the moment he stepped out of bed. Still, he knew he had a duty to his friends before anything else, and thusly forced himself to move when the alarm went off, ignoring the protests his body gave him.

As they had pulled out of their hangars Lance felt the pressure in his head increase to a full on headache but ignored it nonetheless while Shiro told them the plan to free the prisoners at the base and blow the whole thing.

Each loop of his lion, sharp turn to change directions, and blast of light against him make his stomach do flips. It felt like all of his insides were threatening to come up through his throat. Swallowing thickly, he pushed on as he landed inside the Galran base and began to free prisoners.

One by one each cell was unlocked. “Okay, I need you all to go down this hall and follow it to the bay, there’ll be–” He swallowed again, a gentle, wet burp escaping him as he tried to keep his breakfast down. “There’ll be ships waiting to take you to the castle for evaluation.”

Soft murmurs of concern came from a few of them as they looked upon the clearly ill paladin, but many just ignored it as the crowd surged forward to their pickup location.

Pressing a hand to his mouth he felt more bile rise up his throat, and this time Lance couldn’t stop it. No amount of adrenaline could solve the queasiness of his stomach at the moment, and he doubled over while a wave of sickness passed over him.

Before he knew it he was leaning against the wall and retching onto the floor, acrid against his tongue. It brought more with it, and his gags continued for what felt like hours– but were only minutes– before he was finally able to stand straight again and catch his breath.

He contemplated just contacting Shiro or Allura and letting them know how he was feeling, but he didn’t want to waste their time or leave the prisoners vulnerable, so he instead just wiped his mouth with his sleeve and continued his duties.

As soon as all of the prisoners were loaded on their ships and the lions, they all flew back to the Castleship and boarded quickly.

Not long after, the explosives Keith and Pidge had been placing blew any evidence of the prison up.

“This way, this way.” He calls, gently leading one young alien, a Solan from the Fideon planet, he had learned, to the healing pods by pressing a hand to its’ back, a group following after them. Once they had all made their way to the med bay, Coran shooed him off to go clean himself up.

Exhaustion weighed heavy on his limbs as he nodded and trudged off to the showers, feeling a gentle throbbing at his temples as the adrenaline– the body’s natural painkiller– finally began to wear off. Not only that, but his nausea was making a comeback.

Everything hurt.

That’s all Lance had to say about how he was feeling. Pain was coursing through his achy limbs as chills ran up and down his spine, bare skin bubbling up into goosebumps where it met the air. Yes, he was freezing, yet sweat ran down his back and droplets formed on his forehead.

But Lance, being Lance, elected to ignore all these ‘simple’ warning signs (even his hurling in the Galra base), finish stripping, and step into the warm showers anyway. The hot water running over his skin felt nice, calming and grounding with all that had happened that morning.

A gentle groan escaped his lips, one of relaxation, but once his eyes opened pain pulsed through his head.

His head was throbbing, the light made it feel as if his eyes were being crushed in his own skull. Tears pricked at the edges of his swirling vision, hand darting out to support his weight against the wall.

Lance’s legs felt shaky and his heart pounded as he stood there, trying to get his body under control and get his head to stop reeling. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t catch his breath, and only aided in making him panic more.

Fear gripped at him as he collapsed to his hands and knees, staring at the tile flooring. The world was tilting around him as water continued to flow around him, clear but soapy. The feeling of sickness continued to wash over him in waves and the dizziness didn’t ease up, despite his attempts.

“Let me just… Let me just lay down… For a minute..” He murmurs to himself, soft, raspy voice echoing gently off the shower walls. His heavy eyelids fell shut as he eased himself onto the cool ground, hot water still running against his tanned and slightly flush skin, darkness overtaking him.


endings can be chosen by character once theyve been uploaded! i should have them up soon so dont worry

keith / hunk / shiro / pidge / coran / allura / other

Feeling sort of angsty today, so here’s some Bakugo in battle, still ready to kick ass even after letting out a blast big enough to make his ears ring.

Nathan wants to be useful. Many times has he said things that suggest he thinks he’s a good for nothing idiot, such as the iconic “we can’t do anything riiiIIIIIIIIIGHT” or the time he said they’re all a bunch of rich useless sellouts. Even How can I be a Hero is an expression of his feelings of inadequacy.

Pickles wants to be appreciated, and we all know that this brought him to self destructive behaviours, including the band’s breakup. Maybe he entered the music industry to be appreciated as an artist.

Skwisgaar wants to be protected. All his problems seem rooted in the fact that his mother was simply the worst shit on earth and wasn’t able to make him feel safe. Every day different guys would show up, maybe he was even bullied in school because of that? He likes it when his step dad guides him through normal life (for once, he’s led, not a leader!), he almost looks like a teenager while bonding with him. He constantly holds his guitar in what’s basically a hug, just like Toki does to his teddy bear. I think his cold behaviour is a self defence mechanism, because if nobody protects him then he has to protect himself.

Toki wants to be loved, and this is pretty obvious. He looks for it everywhere, in every person that he meets. Sometimes he found it and sometimes he found the opposite. Sometimes he suppressed it because it hurt. But what kept him alive during his captivity? Love. The love he felt for the boys. The same love that helped him get over his past.

Murderface wants to be understood. He often acted as if nobody understands him, which is unfortunately true. Nobody has ever tried to understand what goes on in his head; with the exception of the time the boys followed him from cult to cult out of Nathan’s sense of guilt (again, he can’t do anything riiiIIIIIIIIIGHT), Murderface’ internal conflict seems to be invisible to the others. The heartbreaking Dethvanity is an example of how nobody got the point of the whole surgery thing. The boys did it out of vanity, Murderface out of pure self hate. The day he finds someone who fully understands him, that will be a good day.

Marriage Material - Part 14 - Jim Kirk

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13

Summary: in this chapter, there’s a short trip into jim’s head.

Warnings: language

A/N: a jim chapter. s’all about how jim’s feeling, nothing that drives the plot. forgive typos, im really tired.


He didn’t start any wars that day— and it wasn’t for lack of desire to do so. He would’ve loved to shake the frustration from his system with a few phaser shots here, couple torpedoes fired there. He almost asked Spock to run bioscans on every nearby planet so that once a deserted one was found, he could launch the entire payload of long-range explosives onto its surface.

Obviously, societal norms, morals, and common sense kept him from doing so— but he was still tempted.

There was too much frustration in his system, too much pent-up energy he would have rather spent yelling at you. Nothing malicious, of course, just the usual shouts of “I’m so in love with you I can barely breathe, why can’t you fucking see it?” and “I just want to love you, and care for you, and make you feel the way I feel every time you look in my direction— what the fuck is wrong with you that you won’t let me?”

But he couldn’t do that. Not only because he hated the idea of seeing your eyes lose some of their precious light at his tone, not only because he didn’t think he could stand to hurt you even inadvertently with his volume— he was also terrified.

There was no closing the floodgates once they opened. If he told you he loved you once, he’d have to keep saying it, he’d have to keep assuring you of it, he’d have to keep kissing you in a way that made sure you knew it.

He pictured every possible scenario. You hearing that he loved you and walking out of his quarters without a second glance over your shoulder, you hearing that he loved you and heavy divorce papers finding their way to him in a sooner eventually than he was prepared for, you hearing that he loved you and continuing to fulfill your obligations only because you were obliged to, not because being around him brought you as much joy as it brought him to be anywhere in your vicinity.

The most poisonous scenario, though, was the one bursting with red, bursting with pink. You hearing that he loved you, you understanding that he loved you, you loving that he loved you. Your smile would rival brightness he thought only existed in every star his ship warped past, your eyes would be as filled as anything in his chest with emotions so foolishly blissful, so beautifully scary he’d be unable to look away. You wouldn’t need to say it back until you were ready to, until you were sure you meant it— but he would know it was coming, he would know he’d hear your voice returning his sentiments and it would be worth the wait.

It played in his head repeatedly. He hated so much that his every thought revolved around it, he hated even more how much he hoped for it to come true. He didn’t know what forces controlled the universe, he didn’t know if any forces did— but he asked whatever it was, whatever it wasn’t to give you everything you wanted and then to give you to him.

As he stepped through the doors of the medbay, he didn’t bother keeping a soft focus. He kept his eyes trained in the direction of Leonard’s office and didn’t dare perceive the hall holding the exam rooms he knew you’d be near.

“Alpha’s done, Bones,” he said as he walked through the agape door and planted himself in one of the chairs across from Leonard’s desk. “Time to drink.”

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Guiding Light

summary: a miscommunication leads to a confession


C'mon Steve! That’s not fair!” Y/N yelled as she tried to reach for the bag of candy Steve was holding above her head. Steve chuckled as he watched her start to jump up and down, stretching her arm up as far as it could go but it never came near the bag.

“Steeeve,” Y/N whined, eventually growing tired of jumping and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You stole my bag last time,” Steve answered, like it was the perfect justification for why he had the bag.

“It was an accident!” Y/N exclaimed, uncrossing her arms and throwing them in the air in frustration.

“Yeah well, should have looked more carefully before pulling something out of the cabinet,” Steve replied, still holding the bag above her head.

“What’s going on here?” Another voice entered the kitchen. Sam and Bucky had just finished their workout and planned to have a relaxing snack but instead found two bickering children.

“He stole my candy!”

“She stole mine first!” Steve slowly lowered his arm, cautious of Y/N and her fast cat like reflexes.

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anonymous asked:

Have you seen BNHA? What do you think E classes superpowers ( aka "quirks" ) would be?

I put quite a bit of thought into these, and I skipped the students I had no idea what to do for (if you’d like me to do some more let me know). I’m also bad at coming up with quirk names, so I just described it. This was a super cool request! Thanks to @imagine-assclass for helping out on some of these!

Karma Akabane
Karma can teleport anywhere he can see/imagine clearly. He often would use this power to get up to mischief, such as pranking people and then getting away quickly by teleporting. 

Isogai Yuuma
Isogai can travel back to any moment in time that he can think of, as long as he knows the date, place, and time. However, he can’t change anything about what happens, only spectate to see exactly what did. 

Manami Okuda
Okuda can create explosions out of any chemical she can think of. Smaller explosions don’t take very long, but larger explosions tend to take longer. Creating these can also be quiet energy-sapping, so often after creating a lot she’ll have to rest.

Kaede Kayano
Kayano has the ability to look like anyone she wants to. She’s already super skilled at acting, so being able to look like other people makes her a super great impersonator! 

Masayoshi Kimura
Kimura has the ability to get a quick speed boost whenever he needs it. Every ten seconds he can use it, otherwise he’ll collapse of exhaustion. Each burst propels him forward from twenty-fifty feet, depending on how strong he makes it.

Hinano Kurahashi
Her quirk gives her the ability to communicate with any living thing (any animal, plant, etc). Living things naturally love her, so they’re glad to help her out whenever she needs it. She can only use this power for about thirty minutes at a time, and needs a few minutes of a break in between.

Nagisa Shiota
Nagisa can easily instill fear in anyone, simply by looking into their eyes pfft that’s basically true already. Anyone who he targets will feel a terrible fear and panic go through their body, and it’ll make it hard for his opponent to think straight. However, it won’t work if his opponent’s eyes are covered by anything.

Tomohito Sugino
Sugino has temporary increased strength and speed. It makes him incredibly quick and strong for about thirty seconds, and he must wait another ten before using it again. 

Ryūnosuke Chiba
His eyes can zoom in on anything, similarly to how a camera would. They can also detect any movement in his field of vision (though this takes a little bit), making him a valuable sniper.

Rio Nakamura
Rio is able to predict people’s next moves in any situation. She is incredibly intelligent, so she can decide what to do next easily. Whether it’s in battle or simply predicting how someone will react to having their face smashed into a pie, she can do it up to five seconds before the event takes place.

Kirara Hazama
Kirara can make any place darker, and anybody in that space but her would be totally unable to see. She can’t use it often (sometimes only once per day), but the effects last for a few hours.

Rinka Hayami
Her forearms have built-in guns, simply by raising her arm and squeezing her hand into a fist she can fire them. They’re not always visible, but are most of the time.

Tōka Yada
Her quirk is the ability to convince others of anything. With just a few words or a brief statement by her, you can have people believing that chairs are poison. The effects last an hour, then the people she uses it on will come back to their senses.

Itona Horibe
Itona can fix anything with the touch of his hand. It takes a while to work, but it’s less work than to hire a mechanic. His hand doesn’t need to be on the object during the process, simply touch it once and it begins to take effect.