𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒉

i honestly still dont know how tumblr works even tho having it for years, forgive me. sorry for my atrocious grammar too, english is not my first language and im currently learning jp so its my grammar and vocabs is more bonkers than ever huhu

[ghostgetter]

@no-gorms so i can’t send you messages but i’ve been using your fic “love is such an old-fashioned word” as a stepping stone for people to get into stony fics and my friend just…

[no-gorms]

HAAAA MARVELOUS yes spread the good word stony! 

Uh…. here have a timestamp thing set just after With Every Single Beat of My Heart.

Tony wakes to rustling, which could be cause for alarm but (1) FRIDAY is quiet and (2) it’s a distinct type of rustling that Tony’s subconscious recognizes as supposed to be here.

In the gloom of the bedroom, Tony can make out a strong back, bent over, because Steve is taking off his boots.

“Hey, sorry,” Steve says quietly. “Go back to sleep.” 

Keep reading

[whenishipiluxurycruiseit]

Faah.. is it bloop? 😭

[whenishipiluxurycruiseit]

“Derek..?” Avery stares at hi- Derek’s laptop, the words,

You died! TheMostMayo was pushed to death by d3rlord3

“No..” Avery clicks respawn, woke up in his base, and went back to the mines where Derek needs his help where Derek is sacrificing himself whereDerekisgoingtodie-

“Where is it? Where’s the mine?! It was supposed to be here, what- where is it?” He searches around the place where the mines is supposed to be, he digs down, digs the side-

“Where’s the entrance!?” He bangs the table in frustration. “Derek.. where are you.. please.. someone..” Avery covers his face with his hands and cries.

Pssssh- boom!

Fireworks.

Avery looks at his window.

Colorful, beautiful, loud fireworks.

Colorful enough, loud enough to drown all the darkness he currently feels.

But not loud enough to cover the notification sound, he suppose.

‘Huh? A ping?’

Bloop, Bloop, Bloop

Avery checks his Discord, ‘I’m pretty sure I muted the servers and group chats-,’

Message requests (4)

‘Who?’

Wifies: hi

Wifies: you might not know me, you might not remember the person who im delivering this for, but im here to deliver.. a request. For a friend.

Wifies: he wants you to read this, and if possible, to save the files in that drive too. He said it will be taken, dunno by who, but he wants you to have the proof that you both met, at least for you, in game.

Wifies: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1oKnSYbxE2tilcmJiGivRGxuQPX0owEZS

Avery clicks the google drive link, and there he saw two mp4 files, one in minecraft and the other… a google docs recording?

‘What..?’

Avery’s cursor hovers above the google docs video, then suddenly,

Bloop! Bloop! Bloop! Bloop! Bloop!

Continuous Discord notification sounds blasts off from the laptop.

Wifies: hi again

Wifies: im sorry for pinging you continuously like this

Wifies: i have a very urgent, uh, thing to tell you

Wifies: my.. uh.. hm.. old acquaintances found out about the gdrive and what happened to both you and derek in that minecraft world

Wifies: i really would recommend you to save those files

Bloop!

Wifies: like right now

Bloop!

Wifies: like immediately

Bloop! Bloop!

Wifies: please

Wifies: i dont think i can keep holding them back from going in the gdrive haha

Avery immediately drives into action. He doesn’t know who are those ‘acquaintances’ of this Wifies person are, but he cant let them take anything of Derek’s memories, remembrance- God. remembrance?- even if it’s the last thing he can do.

He saved both mp4s in the drive, prays to God that his internet is fast enough, faster than those who want to take Derek’s videos for him.

Files downloaded!

He immediately checks if both mp4s are not corrupted, no time to actually watch them, he skips scenes in the video, just to check if its working, if it was properly recorded, if it recorded Derek’s journey through the gates, Derek’s confrontation with that fake king, Derek’s sacrifice.. to save him.

‘I.. really.. hate yellow..’ Avery thinks as he stares at his screen which shows the paused scene of d3rlord3 facing the huge, yellow eyeball.

Bloop! Bloop!

Wifies: hey!

Wifies: did you make it in time?

AveryTheMayo: yeah man, thanks for pinging me

Wifies: im glad

Wifies: tho uh.. they got in.

Wifies: they took the minecraft recording that derek uploaded there replaced it with.. some pdf file

Wifies: did you check?

AveryTheMayo: oh uh, not yet, lemme check

Avery opens the browser again and both the mp4 videos are gone, replaced by a pdf file titled ‘Notice of Removal’.

Who do they think they are? To remove Dereks.. mark from the world? Derek recorded that to be remembered, how dare they remove it? Avery thinks as he stares at the sole pdf file in Dereks google drive.

He refreshes the tab, hoping. Hoping for what he doesn’t know, probably for Wifies to have a back up for that mp4 file, so that he can show the world that Derek was here, Derek lived and sacrificed his life for Avery and for everyone else, for everyone to see how selfish Avery was to save Derek and doom the world of that stupid, weak, coward of a king that needs a vessel to come out of a game.

‘Oh. I have the back up. I should upload it to my youtube channel and-‘

Bloop!

‘What now Wifies..’ As Avery comes out from his mind he finally notices a new file in the google drive. A google docs. Titled ‘Goodbye’.

A sweaty hand moves the mouse to point a cursor to that file. A shaky finger clicks the file, then the link. Teary eyes shakes as it reads the name of the youtube channel.

‘Derek.. Hutchins..’

I.. finally found you, Derek Hutchins.

That you did.

[whenishipiluxurycruiseit]

MAN i really wanna write knightslime short fic BRO (knightslime bc for me derek is top im sorry. ALSO NO ITS NOT NSFW its banned for now bc of what the director said)

[kateartz123]

First post :3

[mallowboo]

[crow-keys]

A day later all of the school’s sinks mysteriously go missing

Sequel to this

[spooky-pop]

This has no deeper meaning other than that I just think it's funny

[Part 2 | Part 3]

[katycreep]

He’s down bad

[lilivae]

points and laughs

[whenishipiluxurycruiseit]

I just know the moment pomni abstracts hes gon be next immediately

[lilivae]

points and laughs

[gidankuroki]

Don't let the redness of your cheeks show, Jax

The Amazing Digital Circus (Gooseworx)

[crow-keys]

Bonus:

This is the second comic in my Open World AU, where Caine and Kinger work together to make the circus more "human-friendly", including always-open personalized worlds and more bodily autonomy. Pomni and Jax discuss their newfound ability to change their clothes as they wish.

[voxofthevoid-furious]

I return with Modulo Yuuji Time Travel Wednesday #2 ✨

To nobody's surprise, this fic has turned into a bigass oneshot: It's currently a little over 10k, and I still have at least one scene left to write. But it's been flowing pretty well, except for a few transition scenes that had me chewing drywall in frustration, and I think I'll be able to finish it in a couple more writing sessions.

For now, have more of Gojou and Yuuji having a Very Normal Conversation. Don't be scared by the ending—this is not where the fic ends.

“Aren’t you going to scold me?”

“Scold you?”

“For hurting Megumi. I’d have killed him, you know, if I’d kept going.”

“I know,” is all Yuuji says.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“You’re not the only one,” Yuuji says softly, “who’s let children die.”

Ah, thinks Satoru, that unpleasant feeling from earlier creeping up his spine. It seems to spill into blood and bone both, turning one cold and the other hollow.

It’s not fear. Satoru can’t remember the last time he felt afraid, and this isn’t a man who deserves his fear anyway. But there’s a picture forming from what Yuuji’s saying, what he’s said before, everything he hasn’t yet, and all the things he’ll never say—and it’s not pretty.

What’s one of those too-old too-wise things Megumi likes to say? The only thing granted equally to all is an unfair reality.

Maybe Satoru was hoping to change that—for himself, for his students. A part of him accepted long ago that it’d never change for him, but he did have hope for his students. He had a lot of hope for this boy.

He’s always been prone to playing favorites.

“Let’s sit down a while,” Satoru says, walking toward the water. “It’s been a very long day.”

Yuuji’s silent and still for several seconds, even after Satoru sits down. Satoru cheats, using the Six Eyes to watch him without turning his head. He has a feeling Yuuji knows he’s doing it; he had a very good sense for it, even mere weeks into meeting Satoru.

He cuts an imposing figure, standing there alone. His oversized clothes don’t hide his stature, and his face could be carved from marble—hard, cold, exquisite. It’s not entirely alien. Yuuji has always had a chilling intensity about him when he truly focuses. But age and experience have pared this man down in ways Satoru can’t grasp, not yet.

Eighty-five, huh? Old enough to be his grandfather.

It doesn’t quite compute.

Eventually, Yuuji stirs to motion, padding over to sit down beside Satoru.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Satoru asks, far more casually than he thought himself capable of. “My Yuuji.”

“Yes.”

“You could at least pretend to be sorry.”

“…You did it first.”

“What, time travel? I’m sure I’d remember that.”

“Dying.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” Satoru leans back, till the blue of the sea becomes the blue of the sky. The bulk of his attention remains on Yuuji’s somber form. “Do you resent me for it?”

“No.”

“You mean it, huh? And here I thought you weren’t kind.”

“If I were,” Yuuji says, with a strangely delicate quality, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Satoru stares at Yuuji’s face for a long moment, trying to discern some emotion in its blank lines. There’s nothing. He was more animated earlier though, at least after eating Sukuna. Almost cheerful, if only for fleeting moments. It can’t be that Satoru’s worse company.

He reaches over, grasps Yuuji’s chin, and turns it toward him.

Yuuji blinks, unperturbed. For several seconds, he does nothing at all, and neither does Satoru, merely contemplating bad idea after bad idea, and then Yuuji breaks the stalemate with a languorous movement, raising a hand that gives Satoru more than enough time to escape its clutches before it closes gently but firmly around his wrist.

The calluses pressing into his skin aren’t wholly familiar. It’s not conscious choice that has Satoru comparing them with the ones his Yuuji had, drafting a mental map of the ones that have faded, the ones that overlap, and the ones that are entirely new, and he’ll remember these forever too, now, just like how he’ll always remember the way that boy’s hands felt the last time they touched him.

Yuuji does nothing else. He doesn’t pull Satoru’s hand away. He asks no questions.

He doesn’t stop Satoru with actions or words when he starts leaning in.

The lips are the same. The scar at their corner as well, even though it should also have faded and softened out by now. Then again, Satoru’s always suspected that those scars stay because Yuuji wants them to, and now he wonders if Yuuji’s two severed fingers remain nubs for the same reason.

He could ask, now. This Yuuji might even know the answer.

Satoru lingers for a moment with their faces just inches away, considering whether to ask or act. The latter wins out.

Yuuji allows the kiss the way he’s allowed the rest of it—his eyes wide open, his whole body motionless. Satoru keeps his eyes open too, even as a part of him sinks into the softness of the lips now pressed against his. They feel the same, too. Plush and kissable. A little dry. Satoru would put gloss on his own and kiss Yuuji in the guise of moisturizing them—a paper-thin pretense Yuuji never played along with but allowed anyway.

Do you remember? Satoru wants to ask.

He doesn’t. He watches Yuuji’s eyes instead. They’re dark and burning, like hot coals. The sight shouldn’t be new, but this is a fire fundamentally and ferociously different from what Satoru is used to. There’s nothing of that heat between their lips, but there’s warmth in abundance, seeping through Satoru to chase away the biting chill of the ocean breeze.

It’s another eternity later that he draws back, and the entire time, Yuuji doesn’t breathe.

Satoru huffs. “Is that how you kiss your teacher after seventy years, Yuuji?”

Yuuji’s hand uncurls from around Satoru’s wrist, drifting to his face instead. The fingers hover against his jaw, not quite touching. Satoru can still feel them, like static electricity, making him keenly aware of the fine hairs there.

“If I kiss you,” says Yuuji, “I won’t stop until I eat you.”

Satoru could point out that a fair amount of eating is generally involved in what follows, but they both know Yuuji means it quite literally this time. Satoru could still play the fool, but the memory of Yuuji cramming what was left of Sukuna, diminished but unquestionably sentient, into his mouth is fresh in his mind, and the joke doesn’t quite make it past his throat.

“Well,” he says at length, “that’s not usually how you finish that sentence.”

“I remember,” Yuuji murmurs, his eyes growing heavy-lidded as he looks at and right through Satoru. “But it’s the only way I know to keep someone now.”

Something inside his ribs clenches tight, making it hard to breathe for a single moment.

That boy wanted to keep Satoru. He wasn’t subtle. Satoru always figured he’d change his mind sooner or later, if Satoru lived long enough to give him the chance.

In this Yuuji’s world, he didn’t. You’d think that’d be its own argument.

Satoru says, “Careful now. You’ll make me jealous of Sukuna.”

Another of those strange, half-there smiles flits across Yuuji’s face. “You should go back to the others, sensei.”

“Should I?” Satoru asks, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you don’t intend on joining me.”

“No,” Yuuji says plainly. He stands up then, an abrupt motion that seems to go on for several long, suspended seconds. “But you should. They’re probably worried.”

“Maybe they think you’ve kidnapped me,” Satoru mutters absently, content to sit there and stare up at Yuuji—there’s a lot to look at.

“Not today,” Yuuji says, and before Satoru can quite process that, Yuuji’s yanking his hood back up and turning away, as if he’s got every intention of just walking away from Satoru.

Satoru’s on his feet in an instant, and the next second, he’s in front of Yuuji.

Just like the last time, Yuuji stops before they can collide.

“And where are you going?”

“To take a walk,” Yuuji says blandly. “I just had a pretty big meal.”

“What’re you—” Realization strikes, and words and thoughts all flee Satoru for a moment, eradicated by sheer incredulity. “Are you talking about Sukuna?”

Yuuji just chuckles, his eyes crinkling with it. For a moment, he looks so much like—

“Yuuji—”

“I’ll come back,” Yuuji says, very deliberately stepping away from Satoru. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Satoru repeats dubiously. He surveys Yuuji—there’s still no real tension in his frame, but Satoru knows how quickly that body can go from zero to sixty. He can be gone in an instant. “I could drag you back with me, you know.”

“Ah.” It’s a quiet sound, surprised and a little awkward. Yuuji slides both hands into his pockets, rocking slightly in place. “I guess I’d let you try, sensei. For old times’ sake. But I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Sparing my pride, are we?” Satoru asks drily. He waits for the same stung pride to rear its head, but there’s not much there. Just an empty feeling not unlike exhaustion. He sighs, crossing his arms. “At least tell me where you’re going.”

“Nowhere in particular,” Yuuji replies with a shrug. “I just need to think for a while. Sukuna and I need to talk too. He keeps trying to go through my memories and getting pissed when he can’t.”

“Is that…normal?”

“Which part?”

“Sukuna being unable to access your memories. I was under the impression that’s part and parcel of being a vessel.”

“It is. But I’m not really a vessel. I’m a cage.” Yuuji’s lips turn up the corners. The smile is pretty, but the shadows of his hood turn it ominous, almost cruel. “And I know my own bars very well these days. Goodbye, Gojou-sensei. I’ll see you around.”

[voxofthevoid-furious]

As hinted, here's Modulo Yuuji Time Travel Wednesday #1 💖

I probably don't need another time travel idea, but *gestures at Modulo Yuuji* Just look at him. I gotta. I actually have two such ideas that've been bouncing around in my head, but this is the one that's been haunting me since Chapter 20 came out.

The time travel(er) insertion point is the Shinjuku Showdown—specifically the moment before Gojou's death.

Also, I said in my last WIP Wed post that I was writing the first part of a two-part series, but I scrapped that idea and have kept it as just a oneshot. The current fic is also intended to be a oneshot. Even after finishing the oneshot marathon, I'm in oneshot land 🤣

Itadori Yuuji is a fifteen-year-old boy. Cute and tough and helplessly charming. The most adorable monster Satoru’s ever known.

The arms cradling him now don’t belong to a boy. The face peering down at him isn’t all that cute either—but it is very handsome. And it’s far too early to tell whether Yuuji’s retained his charm, but Satoru knows a monster when he sees it.

He keeps an absent eye on Sukuna as he takes in his rescuer and their surroundings. They’re on the roof of one of the intact buildings at the edge of the wasteland Satoru and Sukuna have made of Shinjuku, at least a kilometer away from where Satoru was standing a moment ago, prematurely triumphant and more vulnerable than he was even when facing down Fushiguro Tōji.

The distance is no detriment to his sight. Down there, Sukuna looks confused, and he’s as much of a mess as he was in the aftermath of Satoru’s final and most potent Hollow Purple. His cursed-energy sensing must be severely affected if he hasn’t detected Satoru yet. It likely helps that he’s instinctively tamped down on his cursed energy.

His knight in lackluster armor is doing the same, and the efficiency of his suppression is frankly mind-boggling coming from someone without the Six Eyes.

Those eyes have shifted from Satoru to Sukuna now. There’s not much of an expression on Yuuji’s face, but the neutral set of his features makes him look somber and distant—nothing like that fiery sunburst of a boy who wore his emotions openly and entirely even when he was sliding the weight of the weight onto his shoulders. Satoru didn’t help, did he? He just added his own dream to the weight.

There’s something else too, mundane in light of everything else but striking all the same. Yuuji’s favored oversized hoodies for as long as Satoru’s known him, delighting even in the unsolicited alteration Satoru made to his uniform, but he’s never worn those hoods up. But this man’s face is shrouded in shadows, the hood pulled down low over his eyes. It’s no obstacle to Satoru’s eyes, but anyone else would only see a scar-touched mouth and the tip of a nose.

“You know,” Satoru says, and he keeps his voice low, hushed, but it stills feels like he’s breaking something sacred, “I thought you’d grow out of this style a few years down the line. Don’t tell me your fashion sense never got any better.”

There’s a strangled noise. Not quite a laugh, not quite anything else.

And for the first time, this strange new version of Yuuji speaks: “Is that really what you should be focusing on right now?”

Satoru shrugs, the motion made a little awkward by how Yuuji’s still got him in a bridal carry. What a gentleman.

He reaches up, shoving the hood off unceremoniously. Yuuji blinks, once, and Satoru already knew that his eyes are the same warm brown of the boy who sent him off barely an hour ago with hope and faith and a firm, grounding touch, but it’s funny how the same color can look so different on the same face.

“You’ve certainly grown up,” Satoru murmurs, feeling strangely wistful. He lets his fingertips brush the top of Yuuji’s hair. It’s shorter than Satoru’s used to, the spiky strands near the front leaving the forehead exposed. Even if he ruffled it, it wouldn’t settle gently down. He lowers his hand to Yuuji’s right ear, smoothing his thumb along flesh that’s apparently long healed. “In more ways than one.”

Yuuji’s lips twitch, the ghost of a smile there and gone. His eyes drift downward, staring blankly at Satoru’s midriff.

Before either of them can say anything else, there’s a whole lot of commotion below—an explosion of cursed energy followed by raised voices.

Satoru refocuses on Sukuna in time to watch one of the incarnated sorcerers allied with them engage him in battle. Higher up in the sky, an icicle forms and melts, dropping a weapon that’s undoubtedly a powerful cursed object.

There’s that white-haired monk too, at least until Hakari spirits them away to his domain.

“Oh,” says Yuuji. “I’d forgotten this part.”

“If they’re already executing the backup plans, they must think I’m out of the game. So impatient, honestly. But I can’t really blame them either. You did swoop in and right back out. Did they even see you? None of Mei’s crows are here—though I might have killed a bunch with that last Purple.”

Yuuji hums noncommittally. “They probably didn’t see me. And that guy’s going to die.”

“Kashimo, wasn’t it?” Satoru asks idly, eying the figure shrouded in lightning. “He did make quite a fuss about my fighting Sukuna first—I was quite offended at the implication.

“He didn’t want us to interfere in your fight with Sukuna. I remember that. The others stopped Okkotsu-senpai because Sukuna might have been planning something, but for him, it wasn’t that about that. Warrior’s pride, maybe.”

“You don’t sound very impressed.”

“Pride is pointless.”

Satoru blinks. Yuuji’s expression doesn’t become any less opaque.

“You’ll have to elaborate on that someday,” Satoru tells him. “For now, aren’t you going to rescue him?”

“No.”

“No,” Satoru repeats, surprised…and something else. A strange feeling in his bones, writhing in his spine. “That’s not like you.”

“Isn’t it?” Yuuji asks dully. He stares into Satoru’s eyes for a moment before frowning, more thoughtful than bothered. “Guess it wasn’t. But that was a long time ago, sensei.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five? Thirty?” Satoru scans Yuuji’s features more carefully—the skin is unwrinkled, and there’s no grey in his hair. He’s older for sure, but he could be anywhere between twenty or thirty. “I suppose it would be half a lifetime for you.”

Yuuji says, “I’m eighty-five.”

“…Come again?”

“Long story.” A slight frown mars Yuuji’s expression for a millisecond, before his features smoothen back out. “Or a very short one, I guess. You can see it, right? Those eyes of yours—they can see what I am.”

It’s not a question; it’s not even a statement that compels an answer.

Satoru still looks, fully ignoring the battle raging below to focus on the man holding him. The most unique web of cursed energy he’s ever seen brands itself into his mind.

It’s more complex than the mess Yuuji made of his body and his soul by consuming Sukuna’s fingers, and it’s not even comparable to what he looked like to Satoru’s eyes when he emerged from the Prison Realm and found his favorite student in the process of slowly but thoroughly breaking down a total of six distinct cursed-energy signatures. Even after the integration was complete, Yuuji felt like a human—like a sorcerer.

That’s still there. An essential quality no curse can replicate, no matter how human they look. Yuuji’s flesh and blood, not pure curse given form. But Satoru wouldn’t quite call him human anymore.

He’s felt something similar, quite recently even. This is a lot like how the Death Painting who calls himself Yuuji’s brother registers in Satoru’s senses. But there’s a world of difference between them in terms of power—not just the sheer quantity of Yuuji’s cursed energy but also the refinement and control that are evident even as Yuuji simply stands there without even a spark of it at his fingertips.

“Ah,” Satoru breathes. “Your body went and changed on me again, Yuuji. It keeps doing that.”

“No,” says Yuuji, and he finally, gently sets Satoru down. “Not on you. Not this time.”

It’s tacit confirmation of something Satoru already assumed. He steps away from Yuuji, just enough that he can properly stand facing him. They’re nearly the same height now, Yuuji just a few centimeters shorter. It’s a drastic difference from what Satoru’s used to. Growth spurts are gradual things. Satoru’s seen his fair share of students shoot up over the years, though few reached his height—story of his life, really. But it’s another thing entirely to blink and be eye to eye with a boy you could tuck under your chin just this morning.

Yuuji doesn’t look nonplussed by their matching stature, but his expression isn’t so blank anymore either. There’s a strange new intensity to his gaze as it bores into Satoru, threatening to make the Six Eyes feel inadequate.

Satoru can understand though. This must be new to Yuuji too.

After all— “I didn’t survive, huh.”

Yuuji doesn’t reply, but the next moment, the same impossible arc of cursed energy that’d have cut through Infinity and Satoru both tears through the air below, and the sorcerer wreathed in lightning escapes it by a hair’s breadth.

“I couldn’t see it then,” Yuuji says. “Did you?”

“If I had,” Satoru says drily, “I’d have dodged.”

Yuuji, still looking at Satoru rather than the battle below, only stares for another long moment.

Then he nods. “I always thought that. But I wondered, sometimes.”

Satoru frowns. “Yuuji—

“I wouldn’t have blamed you, sensei,” Yuuji says serenely. “Even before I really understood, I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Then he leaps off the building.

[sideofcalimary]

Slice of Life AU (work in progress title)

AU Summary

Episode 1: How Tenko saved a friendship

Tenko knew Katsuki had always been a rough kid with a smart ass mouth and the pride of someone much taller than him

There's no "but" to that sentence. Tenko thought the kid was bad news, but, much to his annoyance, his little brother Izuku seemed to look past these obvious flaws and followed Katsuki along with his other lackies

"Kacchan is amazing!" Izuku would say both to Tenko and to Katsuki's face. Tenko swears he saw Katsuki's head get bigger after the praise.

You'd think that having a friend like Izuku following you around would garner some special treatment. That Katsuki would see Izuku as his BEST friend, much like how Izuku says they are

You. Would. Think.

But no. Katsuki was all too eager to put down Tenko's baby brother just to make himself seem better. And no matter what Tenko tells Izuku or their mom, Izuku was all too eager to defend his friend and sing his praises

Tenko gave up at a certain point. They were basically babies. Surely one day, Izuku would grow out of it, so Tenko stopped interfering

That was, until Katsuki started getting more physical

All it took was one shove, and Tenko came marching over to set things straight. He didn't care that his mom would probably be disappointed in him for using his quirk like this, but at least all he was doing was lifting Katsuki up and away from his brother

and hitting him

In Tenko's defence, Katsuki threw an explosion at him first

Through the whole little fight, though, Tenko managed to get Katsuki to yell out what was bothering him and why he was being such an ass. Which led to Izuku crying out about how he "Never looked down on Kacchan! Not ever!" and how "I want to be a hero and save people by Kacchan's side!" all while he cried rivers

Which led to even MORE yelling and thrashing from Katsuki. Tenko had to fly the blond home to tell on him to Auntie Mitsuki, with Izuku running after them

THAT got Katsuki to quiet down real quick

In the end, their moms all got together for lunch to talk about what happened

Katsuki huffed and puffed through the whole thing, but did apologize (after a lot of yelling between him and Auntie Mitsuki), and both Tenko's mom and baby brother seemed all too happy to get things resolved (Much to Tenko's confusion and annoyance)

Not much has changed after that

Katsuki was still a cocky little runt, and Izuku still followed him around with stars in his eyes

Tenko thinks their friendship is weird. Always will

But after watching Katsuki beat up a bunch of older kids to defend Izuku, Tenko doesn't think the kid is all that bad

And besides, Tenko's found a new way to entertain himself outside of video games: Making fun of Kacchan

[endthisdream]

bkdk

a delulu plus ultra romantic scene where ph kacchan skips the ranking ceremony to propose to the love of his life, his soulmate, his eternity — izuku.