The MHA Oneshot I Made :D

And this one is about Dabi, bc I think he was done dirty so much (just like Izu) and I have to say....I don't like how dabi is closer to Natsu, a 8 years old, over Yumi.

I get the reason and have seen many discussion about Dabi and Natsu, trust me. But Yumi was there....she is their sister but is she like the maid or smth? I'm serious bc when Rei was gone I know the chores fall to Yumi who is the only girl in the house (mind you, Endy is rich enough to have more helpers "maybe he did and we don't know" ok fair, but the emotional labour fall to Yumi)

And yes Dabi was just parroting his father's sexism (when dabi wake up from the coma he wanted to apologize to his mom and sister, so is not as if he hated them. I do agree it's and should be nuanced ...) but we aren't allowed to see Toya and Yumi bonding? Did Toya ignored his sister and went straight to vent to a 8 years old boy?

Feels odd (not odd, in the sense "I don't believe it" but in the sense "it's forced, Toya had someone closer in age to talk") bc why not talk to his sister? Was she pro endy even back then? But Toya wanted his attention so his sister being pro endy wouldn't be an issue unless she told him to try be smth else.

Just saying it's ...strange how Yumi is ignored when she is closer of age to Toya. Dabi and Natsu have a bonding but not Yumi...bc she is a girl.

Did Dabi unlearn his sexism way? Look, as much "sexist dabi" are funny jokes...I never saw him, the adult dabi, as sexist. Endy? Yes. Dabi, the crazy villain not (not saying Dabi is feminist king or any shit, but like he never gave me the vibe of being "woman make me a sandwich!")

Just wondering here.

Hi @mikeellee 👋

I think it makes sense why Touya was closer to Natsou than to fuyumi. Now, when I say that, I mean that Touya simply talked to and opened up more to Natsou, not that he and fuyumi didn't have a relationship at all. The Canon material shows that they had a sibling relationship but they weren't particularly as close compared to touya and Natsou and I do think this stems from Touya's own mysgonistic beliefs that were instilled into him by Enji's behaviour. I do want to clarify that Touya's mysgonistic beliefs aren't presented as a LOUD BARRIER to his relationship with fuyumi and his mother, but they are still quite a present and persistent barrier that needs to be acknowledged. Yes, Touya cares for his mother and sister, and he did feel guilty after waking up from his coma, but that doesn't negate the fact that he has some concerning beliefs that taint his own perception of the women in the todoroki household.

That's to say I believe that Touya did use to open up to fuyumi but as time went on he slowly distanced himself away and began relaying on Natsou a lot more due to him viewing him and Natsou to be more similar again a mysognistic belief that is highlighted in these 2 pages.

Touya still seems to have a relationship with his sister before his death. However, I would argue that it's a lot more distant now than, especially with their differing beliefs on the matters of the household. Fuyumi craves a normal life and a normal happy family, which causes her to pretend everything is fine and try and do damage control on what she could while Touya knew fully what was going on with the family and abs hated all of it causing him to actively go against his parents wishes and rebel.

They still seem to be close as Touya does accept her invitation to play with her and Natsou. However, I would argue that Fuyumi now has a closer relationship to Natsou than to Touya, and the same is applicable to Touya.

Again, I do wish we got more flashbacks and differing perspectives from the todoroki family, especially from Fuyumi's perspective.

Before the incident, it is stated in chapter 302 that Enji did hire help but it was only to look after Shoto which does mean that the responsibility of the 3 children did fall mainly to Rei and I do believe that a gold chunk of the manual and emotional labour fell onto Fuyumi as well after her mother was hospitalised. I do think it is a possibility that Enji did hire someone to look after them however, I find it unlikely that the person stayed long at all or that they done much in general and I think from what we see it is heavily implied that after their mother's hospitalisation Fuyumi is the one to handle the labour requited to be fulfilled.

I don't think that the reason Touya was distant with fuyumi was that she was pro enji but more due to their differing views about what they want and how they individually process the situation they are in mixed in with Touya's mysgoiny. However, I do believe that Touya unlearns this after he becomes Dabi yet it is a shame that Horikoshi never showed us when and how (probably because it would paint enji in a bad light and it would need to be told from Dabi's perspective)

What is with the constant fetishisation of rape and SA on this app and in fan fiction?? I get people have their kinks n shit but rape??? Really???

Not only that but the amount of pedophilia and incest is insane😟

I try not to be judgemental but I don’t get why you would want to read about yourself or someone else being SA how does that not make you uncomfortable and normalising shit like that is so not okay. It is not romance. It is not dark romance. It’s abuse and it’s gross.

I get that people are into different things and that you can’t control what you like most of the time but the normalisation of this stuff is crazy and so damaging especially to minors and victims.

I get CNC like atleast there’s consent in that but straight up violent rape fiction is weird and scary.

Anyway thanks for reading my lil rant!! love you all, stay happy and safe MWAH 💋

Edit: I have a reblog answering a few questions 🫶

really appreciated ur mp100 meta post — i’ve never understood terumob as an actual ship and it’s always a little bizarre to me how frequently represented it is in fanworks - or, more specifically, mob crushing on teru/returning his feelings. i love teru and mob’s dynamic so much and think it’s such a genius way of indirectly showing how everyone is someone’s Most Important Person and someone else’s Just Some Guy. like, tsubomi really is just some girl! but thru mob vision, she’s ahything but. and mob is shown the entire show to be just some guy (ignoring the psychic powers) but teru looks at him like mob looks at tsubomi meaaaaning no one is inherently special so everyone means something special to different people !!!!! like terumob + tsubomi are such a great way of looking at the message of the show but ppl r too busy looking at it thru shipping goggles despite mob sadly showing no interest in teru as anything more than a friend. this is rambling and incoherent but u get my gist. tl;dr thank u agreed 1000% im glad i’m not alone in my reticence about terumob as an actual functioning ship

dude you worded this excellently and i agree entirely. it sucks too bc a lot of people are reading that post and being like "this is a great analysis!" and then tagging it as terumob?!?!?? like dude you did not read what this was about at ALL. but you're so absolutely right, it's all about how nobody is particularly special and the only things that separate us are our built up feelings and personal experiences--everyone is the main character because everyone has an entirely different view on the world

Hygge | Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Pairing : Nanami Kento x Tiana

↳ Rating :  T

↳ Summary : Nanami breaks his well cultivated routine 

↳ W.C : 4.4k

↳ A/N: the voices in my head got me y’all… this is a purely self indulgent fic featuring relatable king Nanami (I, too, do not dream of labor✊🏾) and black girlbossqueen Tiana

↳ Tags + Warnings: xenophobia from a side character, fluff, set in Tokyo, next door neighbors, cultural differences, salaryman x cafe owner, they can speak each other’s languages but not fluently

🎵 A Commuter’s Trip (The Commuter OST) by Roque Baños

🎵 Hello Stranger by KAI

Hygge (n.) | Danish

“the feeling of calm, comfort, and contentment evoked by life’s simple joys”

Nanami had a simple routine. Wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast by 7:45 and be out of the door—at the latest—a minute before 8. He had everything calculated to the T. If Nanami had been a minute too late—let’s say 8:01— he would miss the morning train and therefore be late for work, and he was never late. He had taken into account all contingencies i.e. a train delay, traffic, inclement weather, and made sure he was prepared for any and all possibilities.

That’s why, much to his chagrin, he was “Employee of the Month” every month since he had been promoted from associate to advisor. Most workers would’ve taken pride in that, felt their presence valued at their company. But Nanami didn’t care much for awards or titles, in fact, he just hated working period. He made sure to always clock out at 6 p.m. on the dot. One minute more would be overtime and he didn’t want to give his thankless job a second more of his labor. 

When he left work, he always went straight home. When his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, thoughts about the next day would drift into his mind. 

Did the market close up or down? What reports did he need to finish? There’s a client meeting coming up; the presentation deck needs to be prepared… Just two more days. Get through two more days and it’s the weekend. 

And so on and so on. Wash rinse repeat. 

He presumed this endless cycle of corporate monotony would continue until the day he turned 40, after which he could retire and live modestly in a country like Malaysia or the Philippines to catch up on all the reading he missed. Perhaps even find a nice woman and marry her while he was there.

The marriage part was new—an afterthought after years of daydreaming—and he didn’t really think much about the kind of woman he wanted to marry. What she looked like or what she did was more of an amorphous thought, a vague idea in his mind. 

Until her.

He met her by accident. Nanami had been cooking, a hobby he only indulged in on the weekends, and he was just in the middle of making a rolled omelet when he heard a loud thump outside his door.

His apartment building was more of an office building which meant that his floor didn’t get much traffic. The people who rented rooms were not really tenants who lived there, but workers looking for an extra workspace.  He had assumed the thump to be a delivery man outside his door so, naturally, he was surprised when it wasn’t the post, but a foreigner woman standing outside the room next door.

The woman had a heavy bag of groceries balanced in the crook of her arm and another by her feet that he presumed had been the source of the sound. When they made eye contact, he had been so startled that he quickly closed his door. The apartment next to his had been empty for months, but it looked like it had finally been rented out. 

He thought nothing more of it until her very presence began to infiltrate his well-maintained routine. Every morning, if he was quiet enough, he could faintly hear her humming as he got dressed. Other times, he could hear upbeat jazzy music on the weekends if he opened his window.

Every night, he was surrounded by the fragrance of whatever she seemed to be cooking. Most of the time it was sweet, other times it was savory. It wasn’t an unpleasant aroma, just noticeable to the point where its absence would feel strange. There were days when they would leave for work at the same time, though oftentimes he would end up holding the elevator door open for her when she left her apartment a few minutes after he did. 

In the brief moments they encountered, Nanami made small observations about her: She was an American. Beautiful. Unmarried—Americans wore rings on their ring finger to signify marital status, he’d noticed she didn’t.

He couldn’t infer her job or what exactly brought her to Tokyo in the first place from her appearance alone, however. He’d seen a fair amount of young foreign teachers in the city. He wondered if she was a teacher. She looked young enough. A missionary? She dressed modestly and wore sensible shoes. Her curly hair was often tied into a low bun. From the very slim list of what young American women did for work in Tokyo, he decided on teacher and his curiosity was sated. 

One day he found out. After a long day of work, he walked his usual route from the train station back to his apartment building but was redirected due to construction at his usual subway exit. When he alighted from the escalator he was on a different street entirely. The extra few minutes from this detour would undoubtedly cut into the time he’d set aside to unwind, and subsequently, he’d have to make a few adjustments to still get a full 8 hours of sleep.

He loosened his tie and sighed inwardly as he walked on. Since he’d moved to this district last year he didn’t make much effort to visit any new places. For all he was concerned, he only really needed to know his route to work and the nearest Starbucks. 

So when he passed by a small cafe called “Tiana’s Place”, it didn’t immediately click that the jazz he’d heard playing softly from her apartment was the same music that was playing now. It was familiar enough that it gave him pause. Where had he heard that song before? When he finally caught sight of her—his neighbor— through the glass window, it finally registered that she wasn’t a teacher or a missionary, but a cafe worker, and from the looks of it, she owned the place. 

He watched her dimples deepen as she interacted with customers, giving each and every one of them a tireless smile. Before he knew it, Nanami found himself inside the cafe whisked into the after-work rush of impatient office workers. She was so busy already, the only indication of strain being a moment when she blew the hair out of her face before the next customer walked up to order. He planned to buy something small and leave; he wanted to give her time to catch her breath but inadvertently in his musings he was already holding up the line. 

She was…right in front of him? And speaking to him now? It was the first time he’d heard her voice and he decided it suited her. She spoke in Japanese and, though accented, was clear and practiced enough in a way that impressed him.

“Are you still deciding, sir?” Impossibly large brown eyes waited in expectation for him to order.

He broke out of his reverie quickly enough to make it seem like his stalling was deliberate, his unmarred poker face further upholding the charade.

He scanned the prepackaged foods and retrieved the first thing that looked like bread. “Just this.” 

“Good choice,” She looked positively elated as she scanned the barcode and activated the card machine. “Beignets are my specialty.” She was beaming at him. Not in a “thank you come again” customer way but like in a he’d just made her entire week way. She was so laughably easy to please that it discomfited him.

He muttered a “thank you”, taking the package and turning to leave quickly before he met her eyes again. The Fall of Icarus was a cautionary tale for a reason, he wouldn’t risk another trip into the sun.

Nanami’s routine had drastically altered over the next few weeks. Every morning he’d gotten used to riding down the elevator with her. They greeted each other regularly, albeit a bit awkwardly, in the shared space—A slight bow from him as he held the doors open, reciprocated by a grateful wave from her.

The last time they shared an elevator, however, they'd accidentally brushed hands while reaching for the ground floor button. For some reason, that unnerved Nanami. So now, most times, he avoided that, opting to wait and listen to the click of her door before he left the house. For good measure, he started taking the stairs. As a result, Nanami had added an extra 10 minutes to his morning commute.

The detour, having yet to be fixed, took him past the café every day. Though Nanami knew the process of waiting in line would add an extra 15 minutes to his after-work trek, he did so anyway, calculating that picking up a quick dinner bento would be a fair trade to taking the time to cook something for himself. 

“What can I get for you today, sir?”  

He knew her name now—Tiana, from the name tag she wore, and the sign on the storefront. He noticed from the way her eyes would widen as he approached, that she recognized him now too.

“Black tea. No sugar, please.” He placed his usual prepackaged meal and packet of beignets on the counter, taking out his wallet. Nanami didn’t always plan to add beignets to every order, but he found himself reaching for them every time, dreading her predictable delight when he did. Ordering tea was another stroke of impulse he didn’t account for, but it wasn’t so busy now, he could enjoy it before he went home.

He decided on a table by the window, savoring the warm liquid as the sun set to a melancholy soundtrack of brass and bass. It was like being transported to another time, outside of crowded subway cars and the hustle of his high-powered office.

Nanami closed his eyes and felt something akin to contentment. When he exhaled, the stiffness in his shoulders abated, and the strain behind his eyes subsided. Was this what it was like to finally relax? 

He was about to take another sip of his drink when he heard a loud bang. The front door to the restaurant had flown open, a bulky man with greasy hair and a lecherous smile stalking in. Nanami’s eyes trailed after the man’s movements, the cup still raised to his lip.

“I’d like a dozen of those powdered donut things. Ya got any of those?” The man leered at the part-timer manning the counter. He sauntered back and forth at the register, eying the self-serve pastries in the display. 

“Sure, would you like them fresh? There aren’t enough ready-made ones for a dozen, but if you’re willing to wait there’s a new batch being made—” 

The man picked up a package of beignets that had been warming under a heated case and without warning, ripped open the package and took a bite.

“S-sir! You need to pay for that first!” The part-timer sputtered.

“Well, I’m waitin’ for that new batch. I wanna try before I buy.” The delinquent guffawed and attempted another gleeful bite only for the pastry to be smacked out of his hand and onto the floor.

He whirled around to face Tiana, bursting into laughter upon seeing her. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

“Call the police,” Tiana stated calmly to her employee as she stared down the man. Her usual polite smile had been replaced with a stony-faced expression. “Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything then it’s best you leave.”

“Huh? What was that? I can barely understand you, foreign bit-AHh” A pressure on the man’s shoulder made him crumple in pain.

“Your ears must not be working. I can understand her perfectly well,” Nanami murmured, his vice-like grip squeezing at the juncture between the man’s neck and shoulder. While the delinquent whimpered pathetically at the deepening pressure, Nanami directed his attention to Tiana, motioning with a slight tilt of his head for her to step away. “It’s not worth your trouble, I’ll take care of it.” 

She nodded reluctantly and joined her staff member who was now waiting with a phone at her ear behind the counter.

Nanami appeared to be saying something to the man now, but in a volume that Tiana couldn’t hear. His face was calm, betraying no emotion while the delinquent paled gradually in terror, trembling under his grip. The moment Nanami released him, the man scrambled out of his grasp and prostrated himself on all fours.

“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I PROMISE I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE—” He shouted hysterically and proceeded to do a fervent bow of penitence. 

Tiana looked at Nanami quizzically but was only met with a mild shrug. 

“Alright alright,” she stepped around the counter to placate him. If he could just stop snotting up the floor she just mopped and get out of there, they could just forget this all happened.

The tinkling bell sound of the cafe door opening interrupted the scene; everyone’s attention shifted from the blubbering man on the floor to the police officer who had just stepped in. 

Before anyone could speak, the man sprang up from the ground and ran toward the policeman. “OFFICER! IT'S ALL MY FAULT I ADMIT IT! ARREST ME, PLEASE! JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

Within 10 minutes the offender was cuffed—willingly, to the cop’s surprise— and whisked noisily out of the cafe just as quickly as he’d burst in. Nanami, suddenly uninterested in the commotion, walked calmly back to his table and gathered his things. 

Tiana made her way over to Nanami, eyeing the man through the window. He was currently being escorted to a police car on the curb. Still in hysterics, he’d practically thrown himself into the back of the car.

“Ok…what on earth did you say to that man?” She quirked an eyebrow at the blonde businessman.

That this cafe is his one and only oasis in the heaping pile of shit called life, and if even so much as one insignificant waste of air like him tries to ruin it he’ll have no choice but to chop his fingers off one by one and shove them down his throat so hard he’ll be shitting fingernails for weeks…among other things.

It would’ve been improper to divulge this to Tiana, of course.

“I asked him to apologize,” he said instead in simple English, a far cry from the eloquently horrific threats he’d made in his native language. 

“Really?” She asked, accepting the sudden change of language in stride. Her arms were crossed, her hip jutted to the side, face incredulous. “Just like that?”

“I’m rather persuasive.”

After a beat she laughed. 

Nanami didn’t consider himself a funny person. And frankly, he didn’t understand why she was laughing now but he welcomed it, if only to see that the earlier disturbance hadn’t caused her too much distress.

“Well, thank you kindly,” she drawled in between giggles, her southern accent now unmistakable when she switched to English. “Mister…” 

“Kento.” He offered his first name, aware he was skipping over several customary stages of familiarity. In any other case, anyone less than an acquaintance addressing him by his first name would be extremely frowned upon. But it was common business practice to use given names when dealing with American clients; he thought it fitting to do the same with her.

He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a silver business card holder, and passed over an impressive looking card: 

Nanami Kento, Investment Advisor

“If there are any similar issues please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He repeated an English phrase that had come in handy from past business dealings.

“Mr. Kento,” she repeated to herself with finality studying the card. Tiana faintly wondered why a guy with a fancy title—and the most expensive suits she’d ever laid eyes on— lived in the modest one-room apartment right next to hers. She pocketed the card and patted around for her own business card. 

“I would’ve given you my own card too. But if you ever need to contact me—”

“Boss!” Her part-timer called out, waving her over from where she stood next to a police officer holding a clipboard.

“I’d better go, you know where to find me.” She excused herself with an apologetic smile.

Unfortunately for Nanami, this little ordeal had cost him another hour of wasted time.

The next day Nanami waited for the familiar click of her door shutting before starting his commute. When he exited his apartment, he could still see the silhouette of her back walking towards the elevator bank. 

She left without an umbrella, he noted to himself as he walked part of the way down the hallway. He imagined walking up to her and bringing it up casually as they waited for the elevator. But as soon as she’d turned his direction he changed course abruptly, legs moving on their own through the emergency exit and down the stairs.

Work went on as usual. He sat at his desk going over the pitch deck, but his eyes could not seem to follow the text. Instead, he found himself gazing out the window, watching the clouds slowly darken in the horizon. 

“Fucking weather, right? News said it’s gonna rain like a bitch the next few days.”

His boss had walked up behind him, crouching at his eye level to see what Nanami was looking at. 

“Hope you brought your galoshes, rookie, we’re going overtime today for that big client meeting. Dinner’s on me.” His boss clapped a hand on his shoulder and went off to bother a different team.

He tried to return his attention to his work, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the blue light of his computer screen. All he could think about was the rain.

Tiana had hoped that by the time she closed, the rain would’ve stopped. But she found herself outside the doors of the cafe, reluctant to leave. The rain hadn’t let up, and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon.

It was a day of disappointments. On top of forgetting her umbrella, Nanami hadn’t come into the shop that day. She’d gotten used to seeing him enter the store at the same time every day, and perhaps even looked forward to it. 

She took one tentative step outside, shivering through the draft of wind. She didn’t live far, maybe it would be alright if she just ran home with a plastic bag over her head. Tiana locked the door behind her and raised the collar of her jacket, clasping it with her hand to protect her neck. On the count of three, she lifted the plastic takeout bag over her head and took the plunge.

After a few strides in the pelting rain, it suddenly stopped—She had run into something or someone. The rain made it difficult to see where she was going so she blindly sputtered a reflexive “I’m so sorry!” in English at whoever it was that she had run into.

When she wiped the rain out of her eyes she could see nothing but an impeccably tailored pinstripe suit in the dim of the streetlights. It was Nanami and he was holding an umbrella over her head. His collar was unbuttoned without a tie, and he looked utterly exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced from where she stood underneath him.

“Mr. Kento? Are you alright? What are you—”

“I figured you could use an umbrella,” he said dryly and pretty pointedly at her makeshift plastic bag hat.

“Yea, I guess I could use one of those,” she laughed breathlessly and took the bag off her head, before giving him one of those heart-stopping smiles he loathed. “You saved my life.*”

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, amused. Perhaps because her choice of words sounded highly literal, almost…cute?, in Japanese. He “saved her life” just by sharing his umbrella? Americans were known to have a penchant for the dramatic. But he didn’t bother to correct her, instead, he only hummed somewhat of an affirmative response.

They walked in a comfortable silence down a familiar tree-lined path leading to their apartment building. She noticed Nanami’s shoulder getting wet, and leaned closer to him. 

Feeling the imperceptible shift, he gave the woman beside him a sidelong glance. His eyes settled on the loose wisp of hair he’d always seen her blowing out of her face.

It bothered him.

Maybe it was the fatigue-driven delirium, but he was struck with the inane compulsion to brush that lock out of her eyes. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the umbrella currently occupying his hand, otherwise, he would’ve indulged it.

Tiana reached over and gently adjusted the umbrella closer over his side. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice suit of yours,” she said softly.

“I hate this suit.” The curt statement came off a bit more brusque than he’d initially intended, though, it was true. He hated that suit and everything it represented.

She looked at him curiously, wondering if this was another aspect of his humor. But from what she could see on his countenance, he was entirely serious. 

He glanced at her again, catching the confused look on her face. “I don’t mind if it gets wet,” he reiterated this time with the intended lack of severity, along with a kind of finality that implied an end to the discussion of his suit and his decision to prioritize her dryness. They continued the rest of the way, the umbrella above them biased towards her side.

When they got to the apartment he held the building door open, letting her walk through first. 

“Thank you again for yesterday. That man, he was—” she paused to conjure the correct word.

“He was being a nuisance,” he completed, pushing the button for the elevator door. Naturally, he had chosen the same number for their floors, and when they arrived at their floor he waited for her to alight before walking after her.

When they finally reached their neighboring doors, he set his umbrella on the hallway floor for it to dry and began to punch in the code for his door. 

“Mr. Kento, wait a moment.”

He stilled his movement and watched as she rummaged into her purse. 

Tiana pulled out a paper box from her bag and presented it to him, “I was going to give these to you earlier if you came in. Glad they didn’t get wet.”

It was a small gesture. Even so, he was reluctant to take it.

“You… didn’t have to,” he frowned, eyeing the box.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, either,” she shrugged. 

“We’re neighbors. We were going in the same direction,” he said plainly, though, he didn’t entirely believe the words as they left his mouth either. It was unlike him to go anywhere else except straight home after working overtime. He hadn’t run into her by some coincidence or divine guidance. He’d gone there on purpose, and he had a sinking feeling she figured that out already too.

“Then just think of it as a ‘thank you gift’,” she insisted, tugging gently at his wrist and nudging the box softly into his hands. “For being my favorite customer.”

He shifted uncomfortably to receive the box with both hands. It was an unfamiliar concept for him to be anyone’s favorite anything.

“Good night, Mr. Kento.” Tiana’s voice had an amused lilt to it. Nanami must’ve stood there frozen because she was already halfway through her door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He regained his composure and mumbled back a formal “Good night, Miss. Tiana,” —her name a bit alien on his tongue—before retreating back inside.

When the door shut behind him, he immediately shed his suit jacket. His body was much too warm despite one side being wet; his collar much too tight, despite his lack of tie.

Nanami stared at the assortment of pastries that Tiana had given to him. He couldn’t recall the last time he willingly ate dessert though he assumed if he had, it would’ve probably been with Gojo and his infantile palate.

Truthfully, Nanami didn’t really like sweets at all. The first time he bought those beignets, he’d just picked up the first thing in line that day and just…never stopped buying it. Over the past weeks, he’d amassed a bevy of unopened bags of the foreign confection and they were occupying the much-needed counter space of his kitchen. 

It was rather ironic for an investment advisor to be so frivolous with his money. Spending on foods he didn’t even eat when was supposed to be saving it didn’t make any sort of financial sense. He had been planning to retire by 40, and now he’d have to add an extra 5 years to his projections over mere fried dough.

Nanami turned over the yellow business card for “Tiana’s Place” that he had found wedged in the box. A simple “Bon Appétit ;) -T.” was written on the back.

He picked up a beignet from the box and took a bite—It was made for him, after all. He chewed it slowly, the consistency not too far off from that of a baguette. It wasn’t too sweet, either. In fact, it was…delicious? Better than any dessert he’s had before. Maybe everything he’d tried before this was just a crude imitation, a poor excuse for the craft of baking. 

Perhaps he did like sweets or even dessert right before bed. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he wouldn’t be getting his full 8 hours of sleep. If he concentrated hard enough, her faint humming as she got ready for bed filled the silence of his apartment. He could stay up even longer if at all possible.

When he finally closed his eyes, a rush of different kinds of thoughts flooded his mind. 

Some were more mundane: Maybe I’ll have a beignet for breakfast or It’s probably going to rain tomorrow. 

Some were imaginations: plump glossy lips curved in an oversweet smile meant solely for him. His fingers gently tucking that bothersome tendril of hair behind her ear. 

He finally drifted to sleep with one last thought just as simple as the others, a tiny hope that she would forget her umbrella again.

*A/N: Tiana’s words sound like a literal translation/unnatural because she’s a non-native speaker ex. “you saved my life” vs a more natural/colloquial “you’re a lifesaver”

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

The Greatest Boy In The World: Izuku Midoirya

This was originally part of a discussion I was having with @mikeellee but it got huge so this became its own thing. When I call Izuku privileged, I meant from multiple levels.

We've got our viewpoint, where we see beyond what the narrative shows us: a bunch of fake friends, an abusive rival, shoddy mentors, a school that failed him constantly.

Then there's what the narrative tells us: 1-A as a family, Bakugo as his best friend, him liking Aizawa, Nighteye, All Might and so on, and apparently Izuku's issues being something he himself needed to work on and not something that an educational facility should have been able to help him fix.

But here's why I say it.

What does Izuku actually lose across the story? Every single situation meant to bring tension and danger turns out to not come to pass, or gets walked back right away.

His teacher is a hard ass who seems to have it out for him? Well, no, Aizawa cools off entirely and is just there to be a grumpy toothless dragon. His bark is far worse than his bite. He'll make constant threats but never act on any of them.

Izuku is fresh to using his quirk and his classmates are all ahead of him? No, Izuku actually does way better than the majority of these loser kids and only actually lost to Shoto because, 1, he decided to sacrifice his win to taunt Shoto into using fire, and 2, bad luck.

Izuku's arms are in serious danger and breaking them could ruin their use for good? Nothing ever becomes of this. He breaks both arms against Muscular, uses a primarily kick based fighting style, then goes ham against Shigaraki during the first war arc. They reveal that, no, actually, OFA adapted to his body and prevents him from getting hurt so badly anymore and it prevents permanent damage.

He then loses his arms in the most nonsensical way possible, via a dream sequence? Only to have Eri mutilate herself (how did she know she could do that, how did they know it would work, why was she allowed and helped by Ectoplasm to do this?) and walk it back right away. His arms are restored so he can punch Shigaraki apart with the embers of OFA.

Losing his arms was completely meaningless and was done entirely for shock value.

Izuku's habit of going plus ultra is dangerous and people warn him it'll end poorly? Actually, no. Every single time he's gone plus ultra, he's saved a life or it worked out for him in the end. He scarred up his arms fighting Shoto, just for this to lead to Shoto coming to his and Iida's rescue in Hosu. He fought Gentle and La Brava and got criticism for it, but that turned out to be one of the best decisions he ever made, because they came back to save EVERYONE in the final war arc. He risks his life to save Bakugo and gets yelled at by the pro heroes, and then All Might decides he's his new successor and tells him he's worthy. He kept poking at Kota who just wanted to be left alone? He's in a prime location to save this little boy's life.

The only negative outcome of his reckless habit of going plus ultra was him losing to Dictator, who is then near instantly defeated by his classmates who happened to show up just in time to save him.

When you compare this guy to other shonen mcs and just look at the end results, what did Izuku lose?

He lost his quirk, but according to Izuku, he never really was all that serious about being a hero and always wanted to be a teacher. Regardless of if he lost his quirk or not.

Oh, but then his friends gave him an ironman suit anyways so he can do hero work when he's not being a teacher.

He gets a pity shonen hetero relationship, as one does in this genre.

He's known as the greatest hero who inspired the entire world to be more kind.

He didn't lose a single friend. None of his mentors died, besides Nighteye who was killed in the same arc he was introduced in. And I guess Midnight?

He's also never lost a real fight. Besides school games and the fight with Bakugo, what Ls has this guy ever taken? He either beats his enemy, an ally comes to his rescue and wins, or the enemy flees.

Even the abysmal 8 year timeskip was another of the author's fakeouts. He makes you believe that Izuku gave up on his dream and is no longer a hero, that he's super sad he doesn't get to see them as often, then his friends arrive to give him a handout just as All Might did all those years ago. What was originally meant to be the final chapter ends with Midoriya leaping into action with all his friends.

The author uses negative events and dumps on this guy to make you feel sorry for him and to make him seem like an underdog. Even his backstory is just that: a Cinderella story to get you to like him.

The author just walked the ending back because of fan backlash.

So rather than being a guy who doesn't try and needed his friends to even be a hero again without a quirk, he's a guy who only wants to play hero on the weekends.

Compare this to other Shonen MCs. Naruto at least lost his mentor and had his friend Neji die. Luffy lost his brother and has also lost multiple people across his journey who helped him, Pedro being one of them. There's also Jujutsu Kaisen which is absolutely excessive with how much it torments Yuji, but boy does that guy suffer for his victories.

Does Izuku even actually have any personality flaws? His flaw is that he's too heroic and he's too self sacrificing. But that's like saying he's too awesome.

People just act like the muttering is creepy and he's a loser for being a hero nerd, but what actual impact does that have on anything in his life? He still gets the friends, the fame, and the girl.

At no point is he ever socially isolated once he gets to UA nor is he seen as one of the weird or lame kids or anything like that. He's the heart of the class. The only person who ever dislikes him are people the narrative specifically frames as antagonists or mentors whose respect he has to earn, and Bakugo.

Even his dark hero arc where he left his friends to go out and become a hero…completely fucks up the moral because many characters would be DEAD if he hadn't left school to go save people.

The giant lady? Dead via a hate crime. Yo Shindo, his girlfriend, and the civilians they were protecting? Dead at Muscular's hands. All of All For One's assassins he sent after Izuku? Would still be at large and in AFO's pocket for the final war arc.

The numerous villains Deku beat down in defense of citizens? Still rampaging. Still killing people.

His friends left the ivory tower of UA to bitch at Izuku for saving lives and isolating himself while the narrative ignores this very real fact.

Hell, Lady Nagant wouldn't have been redeemed if he didn't do that. A world where he stayed at UA is an objectively worse off universe.

You see what I mean? Even when he does wrong, it ends up right.

Has Izuku ever actually make a mistake or choice in this story that wasn't rewarded or shown later to be the right one?

No.

He's a paragon of morality and good who the narrative warps reality around to ensure his actions have no lasting consequences for anyone.

Think about it. Let's take a look at how he said he'd save Shigaraki and didn't. What consequences came of that? Nothing. Spinner got mad at him for a few seconds and then Izuku talks him down and the guy decides to write a book.

Did heroes take Izuku's example of killing being a way to save people and use that to justify killing villains who don't surrender? No.

Was Izuku's triumph used by bad actors who wanted to push an agenda that would oppress more people and eventually create more people like the League? No.

Is there some threat out there that could have been handled by the power of One For All but couldn't be because the quirk is gone? No.

The world is actually more peaceful than it's ever been! Meaning even if Izuku kept his power, he'd probably be out of a job soon. Allegedly.

Did the death of Shigaraki, leader of the PLF, trigger second and third waves of terrorism from his followers who escaped capture? Did society have to face the backlash of this and it complicated the efforts to rebuild? No, the MLA might as well not have even existed.

Nothing happens. Deku just sometimes thinks back to Shigaraki while he enjoys what he claims is his dream job.

So that's my reasoning. He's simultaneously privileged but also gets shit on. His life sucks, but it's also awesome. His actions are dangerous and reckless, but they save lives and always result in a positive outcome.

I'd actually argue that the author dumping on Izuku is meant to portray him as a false underdog so you don't notice his other qualities. And of course, because he doesn't like the guy, but we already know that.

Home and Somewhere Else

"What if Tomioka killed Nezuko?"

I wanted to try editing Tanjiro and since I like him with long hair in episode 1 I did this too :)

• He's blind from one eye because Nezuko scratched his face when attacking him.

• He wears Nezuko's hair tie as a bracelet.

• Always wears his hair in a loose ponytail, but sometimes put his hair down when resting.

• Tanjiro have nightmares every night so he has some trouble sleeping.

• Became a demon slayer to avenge his whole family being killed and to prevent other people to lose their families too.

Close up

So there's a strange "defense" of Miraculous I've seen crop up on occasion. The idea that everything wrong about the Lovesquare powerdynamic is deliberate and will all be explored next season (lets put aside that this defense has been cropping up for 3 seasons now). The claim that Soon(TM), the writers are gonna make the characters face the concequences and explore the fallout of the entire jenga-tower of BS they've been "carefully" setting up all along... Which... isnt a defense I vibe with, cause it fundamentally boils down to "its not a Kids Rolemodel Show, its a deconstruction of a Kids Rolemodel Show". It's a defence that would place Marinette alongside Tyler Durden, Walter White and Rick Sanchez in the "you werent supposed to relate to them" pantheon. And while i think there are plenty of reasons that deconstruction is a usefull tool (even if i hate the dime-a-dozen "Childrens Fairytale but its depression" and "Superman, but psycho"' decon-stories out there). I'd argue 'Kids Rolemodel Show' is the one genre that should never be deconstructed, or at least not in the slow-burn,long-form way the people arguing this claim the show to be doing. And i hold that stance for one simple two-part reason: Poe's law, and the fact that the deconstructed genre is aimed at an audience with absolute zero media-literacy. (reminder: "5-6 year old kids" is the one audience where that is not an insult, simply a statement of fact.) A show aimed deconstructing a genre with an audience for whom it may actually be their first big piece of media is legitimately dangerous. Because there is no way a 5 year old can be expected to tell "deconstruction of a formulaic kids cartoon" from "Formulaic kids cartoon". The idea that "they've been making Marinette into a bad example deliberately and are going to reveal the entire show to have been a carefull ruse in season 6/7" is supposed to be a defense? Its frankly absurd. A 6 year kid who watched the show when it first aired and idolised Ladybug, could be old enough to drink by the time S6 reveals she was supposed to be a bad example. A little girl who based her relationships on the way Mari pursues romance would have a restraining order by the time the show indends to pull this twist. And some of y'all are claiming that "actually its a long-form deconstruction" is a defense? I legit don't get y'all.