red benny

anonymous asked:

can you draw vanessa in her dress from The Club?

shes here to look good and kick ass, and she already looks good

I really just want Andrew Benintendi (and his hair) to marry me

Originally posted by gfbaseball

Originally posted by gfbaseball

Originally posted by gfbaseball

Clap of Thunder, Usnavi de la Vega x Reader

Prompt:  Hi there ! I know it’s not really a prompt but could you do a usnavi x reader soulmate au ?

Word-count: 1,933 (Woo, boy I was cutting it close.)

Warnings: Like, maybe one curse word? I think? Also, angst. The dark blue, silkier kind. 

Note: Lol I’m not at a hundred, although I’m supposed to post this when I reach a hundred. I couldn’t wait. 

This stuff is angsty, I gotta warn you now. It has a happy ending, don’t worry, but don’t expect the regular sunny Usnavi (this functions a bit as a character study in that regard). Hope you enjoy the trash! 

P.S.: I referenced a fic on ao3 for the mantra, thought I would put it out there!


When it all came down to it, Usnavi was practical.

See, people would say differently; his own childish idealism when it came to the distant seas and golden, sun-drenched beaches of his homeland would contrast sharply with his own self-proclamations of pragmatism. But Usnavi rejects the notion that human beings were capable of being either one thing or the other, so he stands in the middle, comfortable if a little tense at times.

(He’d risked the thought that maybe they couldn’t take him all that seriously when he was recklessly awkward and sometimes too sunny, and also a little bit irritating at times. It would fit in with their assumption.) (And not to mention, he was all of those things. But it also happened that he was all of those things and more.)  

If anything, he would say that his pragmatism stemmed from the stiff, black-and-white nature of how he saw things. Quite literally. It was almost ironic, how he could compose soliloquies and sonnets about the beauty of the Dominican Republic (in that he was sure of, never mind the fact that he actually didn’t know what gold or sea foam or crystalline looked like) and the only things he could see on a day to day basis were the endless swatches of gray and coal and white.

He didn’t know which one of his parents bore the deficit, or maybe if it was perhaps both of them, because Abuela Claudia didn’t know, and all the keepsakes his parents had passed on was given to Abuela to filter.

And as much as he liked to believe in the power of things like love and honest goodness and (the reason for his own predicament) soulmates, when you are robbed by loss at such a young age, it’s hard not to keep a reminder around just in case you start selling yourself too hard to whimsical fantasies:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Usnavi kept that reminder close to his chest, and soon it was routine to mutter it to himself, as routine as wiping down the counters of his bodega, as routine as smiling at Vanessa and scolding Sonny as he was, once again, late.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


Benny ran to him first when he started seeing color, and Usnavi couldn’t help it, he felt a stab of envy he couldn’t tap down quick enough.

“I see green, man.” Benny breathed, in awe. “And it’s more beautiful than I thought it was going to be.”

“Really?” He couldn’t keep the straight wonder out of his voice.

“It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

“That’s amazing, Benny.” he said, patting his friend on the back. The man barely noticed him, still looking at the overarching planes of grass that stretched before them in the form of Central Park. They were all still varying shades of gray to Usnavi, but undoubtedly they were lush, exuberant hills to Benny now. He took the mantra out of his chest and started again.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.

Soon enough, the reason for Benny being able to see color was evident in the reappearance of Nina a few weeks later, looking more stressed than anything else but also looking around with wide eyes. She was seeing blue for the first time. On that very same day, their eyes met on the Rosario family dispatch and the burst of color was powerful enough to have them bowl over.


Usnavi wasn’t sure about too many things, but he was sure that he loved Vanessa. Never mind that he’d looked into her eyes and sure enough, he wasn’t able to see color the next second, but at that point, he was used to (and almost content with) living in a monochromatic world, and if he couldn’t have color, he would have Vanessa.

(She ended up finding her soulmate in her next-door neighbor in her new building, a girl named Georgia who owned three cats and had “the nicest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen”, according to Vanessa. Usnavi handled the news, her pitying gaze, with a grain of salt, and the typical repetition:

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.)


He was on his way home from the bodega when it happened.

He had dropped something, a bag of groceries, and he had sighed, looked at the mess and bent down to pick up all that had fallen. He had put away the last carton of milk and was stretching back up to his normal height, but a flash of something stopped him.

The fire hydrant.

Usnavi had to rub at his eyes. There was no way. No.

He waited for the blur in his vision to fade (he had rubbed quite hard) and fixed his gaze on the fire hydrant again. There was no questioning it.

The fire hydrant was no longer gray.

It was angry, and hot, and colored so vividly it stabbed at his eyes. Red, he realized.

How much time he spent staring at that fire hydrant, he didn’t know. It was only when the brilliant light of the sun began to fade that he looked up. God.

There was so much to see.

It was in the middle of October, and almost everything was rendered into differing, varying shades of red. Usnavi stood there for what felt like forever, taking it all in. He recalled what Benny said to him about green.

It’s almost alive, man. It’s practically breathing.”

Perhaps it could apply to others?

He finally started moving, his hands going to his face and feeling a slight jolt at the wetness he found on his cheeks. With a great sniff, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt and departed to his apartment. He had a hell of a lot to tell Sonny.


There was apparently a new girl in town. Usnavi would be more curious about her if she wasn’t moving into Vanessa’s old apartment. (It was still a relatively fresh wound, and even if the telltale sign that his soulmate was near was literally right before his eyes, he had loved Vanessa, and that mattered.)

Sonny had delivered the news to him as he walked in the bodega one morning, as late as he ever was. He had talked to her, because he was Sonny and that was what he did.

“Really pretty,” Sonny said, hopping onto the counter Usnavi just wiped. “Really friendly. Also, single.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes. “I’ll consider it then,” he said, not really meaning it.

The next day however, he was at the doorstep of the aforementioned new girl, holding a cup of coffee and a pastry, hoping to be some kind of welcome wagon. He pressed the buzzer multiple times but to no avail. Instead, he dropped off the to-go cup and the pastry (it was in a bag anyway,) on the doormat.

He looked at the cup again, thinking. Before he could second-guess himself, he picked it back up, fumbled for the Sharpie he always kept in his pocket, and scrawled on the cup:

Hi there!

Consider this a Welcome to the Neighborhood gift.

From:
The bodega across the street
.

He walked back, waving to anyone who stopped and said hello. The bell above the door tinkled as he made his entrance.

Sonny’s head popped up from behind the counter.

“Any luck?”

Usnavi shook his head. Sonny bit down on his bottom lip, but did not press the issue.

He’s only been seeing red recently. Benny said that he was supposed to be seeing more by now. Usnavi paid it no mind. The old mantra was still being put to use, although it was starting to rust a little.

There is more to life than love. There is more to love than joy.


He heard you before he saw you.

“Yeah, hi, is this, um, ‘the bodega across the street’? Okay, wow that was dumb. It’s just that, um, someone left coffee and a donut on my doorstep and it said it was from the bodega across the street and I checked and this was the bodega across the street and anyway—“

“Yes, we are indeed the, uh, ‘bodega across the street’.” Sonny said, amused. “Excuse the mystery, my cousin wrote that on your cup.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Can you tell your cousin ‘Thank you’? He didn’t have to do that, and it was honestly really nice that he did.”

Usnavi, all the while, was making another cup of coffee completely identical to the one he left on the doormat. He couldn’t understand what suddenly came over him, but he had heard you, and you sounded lovely, and all he knew was that he wanted to hear more. He was hastily pouring on foam when he heard Sonny say:

“Will that be all?”

“Yeah, that’d be all.”

Without thinking, he burst out of the back of the shop.

“Wait!”

Sonny was smirking, and the cash register was open, the money already half-way into it, but his eyes sought out yours.

It was as sudden as a clap of thunder.

One minute, all was as it normally was, if for the stray shocks of red that stood out from the bleak backdrop of gray and black and white he was for so long accustomed to. He had so long settled himself into that world, had so long contented himself to that world completely devoid of color save for a scant handful. He had convinced himself, after all, that things like the promise of soulmates were seductive but seemed more distant than the Dominican Republic ever was. He had made peace with that didn’t he?

What was that old epithet he had attached to his heart the minute he understood that things like love and honest goodness and soulmates had the potential to turn on you as easily as they could welcome you with open arms?

“It’s you,”

And then the curse is broken, and he is looking at you, and the world is awash with life and renewed and reborn, and you are at the very center of it, with your eyes and your hair and your skin.

He stepped forward, slipped, because he had dropped the coffee the minute his eyes met yours and also because he is Usnavi and this kind of shit always happened. Sonny caught him around the waist and hauled him up, and when he felt himself stable enough, he planted his hands on the counter for extra leverage, and looked at you again.

There were tears in your (wonderful, wonderful) eyes as you looked back at him, and you were shaky on your feet (although you were certainly much more balanced than he was).

“It’s you,” you said. He nodded, trying to get rid of the molasses sticking the sides of his throat together.

He stuck his hand out, remembering to pass it along his pant leg to take off the sheen of cold sweat, cleared his throat. “Usnavi,” he said.

Your smile was bright, as bright as the yellow dress you wore. “Y/N,” you said, your hand slipping into his and a shock of pure, undiluted fire passed through him.

The laugh of absolute jubilation that escaped him was as irrepressible as the tears streaming down his face.

“Wonderful,” he said, ignoring Sonny and hopping over the counter. He grabbed your other hand.

Wonderful,”

anonymous asked:

Chibi: Hi I wanted to say can't wait to see what you do next with your blog.Could I request a scenario with 64 and 65 with either Katsuki or Kirishima(your choice i don't mind) where their s/o who got involved in something that had to do their quirk going unstable.It something they could talk about with them being concerned that it could hurt them. I can rewrite this of needed

Hi Chibi!!! Sorry this took so long, I decided to do Kirishima! If you want Bakugou too, feel free to let me know! Thanks for sending it in!!! <3 

“Yo, Kirishima, what’s wrong with you?” Kaminari asked, leaning a bit in his desk. 
Kirishima had been staring at his paper, eyebrows furrowed, biting the inside of his cheek; he couldn’t calm the storm in his stomach. 
You hadn’t shown up to class today, or yesterday. Considering what happened during a improvement-evaluation yesterday, he slightly understood but not fully. 
While having your quirk strength evaluated, he heard you scream, and by the time he ran over to where Mr.Aizawa was testing you, his hair was standing on end, scarf floating, and you were rubbing your eyes squeezed shut. 
He was so confused. Your quirk wasn’t that strong… Why would Mr.Aizawa have to cancel it out? And why did he look so… scared? 
Your quirk was interesting, and you were surprised you were accepted into the UA school. You could change your eye colour to red, and shoot a red lazer about the strength of a lazer-pen. It was completely harmless, it’s use coming in distracting your opponent. 
“Just… occupied.”
Kirishima reached into his pocket and fished out his phone as soon as the bell rang. You still hand’t answered him… 
He started typing another message before his phone displayed your caller I.D, 
My ______<3
He answered immediately, already running into the hall. 
“Where are you?!” He shouted, looking left and right.
“I-I’m my room. I need your help, Eiji… I didn’t mean to avoid yo-”
“I’m coming!!” He yelled before jetting off to your room.
Upon getting there, he didn’t even bother knocking. Running straight into the room to find you sitting on your bed, once again rubbing your squeezed-close eyes. 
“_____… What’s going on…?”
The walls were lined with stripe-like burns. Some more devastating than others. Kirishima knelt infront of you and gr’ abbed your wrists.
“Don’t!” You immediately shouted, almost like his hands were electric shocks to you.
Talk to me…” He pleaded, voice soft, hands never leaving you. “What happened during your evaluation? Nothing you say can scare me. What happened to your room? Why can’t I see your beautiful eyes, ____?”
You didn’t reply, but you started to tear up. Whimpering as he pulled you into his arms, hands rubbing your back as he cooed you. 
“Eijirou…” You choked, wrapping your arms around him. He tried to pull back to look at you, but you kept your hold tight, keeping his head beside yours. 
“I need…”
“You need what? Let me see you!” He had grown impatient, pushing with enough force to keep holding you but finally look at you.
You had your eyes closed again.
“___, Why ar-”
“My quirk grew.”
“…It grew?!”
“It’s not just a laser pointer anymore, Eiji… It’s a full blown laser, that’s the marks on the wall. Anytime I open my eyes this stupid beam shoots out and destroys almost anything I look at. I couldn’t go to class! I couldn’t risk it going bezerk and killing everyone!” 
You were sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks. As Kirishima wiped them away, he noticed a red/orange tint to them. He frowned, your quirk was different now… and it seemed like you couldn’t control it yet.
Look at me - Just breathe, okay?” he urged.
“I can’t!! I’ll hurt you… I’ve been stuck in here for the last 2 days, Mr.Aizawa told me to get a good handle on it b-before I could get back into the class room pr even leave mine.”
“I’ll go to recovery girl, I don’t care. Look at me. Focus! You can do this, ____! If anyone can master this quirk, it’s you! Try to… Um.. try to think of the pen, like you said! The laser pointer! They only work if you push a button, right?! So, try to think of a button as your quirk, if you take pressure off the button, the laser doesn’t shine.”
“Eijirou, what if it doesn’t work?! I can’t shoot you!”
“Okay, I’m gonna move okay? I’m not gonna stand right infront of you, so if you open your eyes and that happens, it wont hit me, okay?”
“O-okay…” You whimpered as his arms left you. “Ready?”
“Go for it, _____. I believe in you! You got this!” 
Your eyes fluttered, not squeezed anymore but not open. You calmed your breathing, and imagined your thumb unclicking the laser pen. Your eyes slowly opened, and you saw red… Red? Spiky red? 
Opening your eyes fully, standing right infront of you, was your boyfriend Kirishima. 
“Told you you could do it, beautiful.” He spoke calmly, hands on his hips.
“You… you stood right infront of me.. You didn’t move! What if I would have hit you, dumby?!” You half laughed, half shouted.
He strode over and hugged you, kissing your forehead before looking into your eyes. 
“I’ve got one hell of a partner now,” he chuckled. “In love and war.”
“You are SO cheesy, Eiji!!!” You giggled as he lifted you into his hug, letting the fear of the uncontrollable quirk start to diminish as you took a big step into controlling it, with Eijirou Kirishima. 

Picchion cramoisi - ʻapapane / Apapane, Hawaii volcanoes national park

Himatione sanguinea (Gmelin, JF, 1788) :
- Picchion cramoisi - Drépanide rouge - ʻapapane ;
- Apapane ;
- Apapanekleidervogel ;
- Огненная гавайская цветочница ;
- hawajka karminowa ;
- šatovník karmínový ;
- havajčan karmínový  ;
- アカハワイミツスイ  ;
- 白臀蜜雀

Ordre : Passériformes - Passeriformes /
Famille : Fringillidés - Fringillidae /
Genre : Himatione /
Espèce : sanguinea - Espèce monotypique.

Les picchions cramoisis sont endémiques des principales îles de l'archipel des Hawaï.

P1080991  / Benny Mazur / (CC BY 2.0)

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