BRO 😭☹️

yes cmere bby

Someone please take him in 😭

SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR

Just an idea I wanted to get out of my head. A quick Dabi x F!Reader where he gets the (mostly) happy ending that he deserves, god damn it. I may expand on this at some point, we’ll see. Contains vague spoilers for chapter 390.

1.2k words

You’re watching the coverage and you see the moment when Touya’s badly charred body hits the ground. You were supposed to stay away, to remain in the flanks supporting the fight, but you book it to his location; Endeavor and all the others be damned.

The Todoroki family looks on in stunned silence as you drop to your knees beside him, crying his name and begging him not to die. He can’t see you, but he can hear you, and he croaks a single, pained word, “…Doll…”

Your heart shatters.

He was your world and you were watching it slowly slipping away.

You plead for him to hang on while searching for a place to lay your hands. Even in his fractured state of mind, he knows what you’re doing and he’s afraid that you might take a lethal toll on your body by using your quirk to heal him. It probably wouldn’t even be enough to save him, you were bitterly aware of that, but it wasn’t going to stop you.

“Don’t.”

“I have to try, Touya! I love you! I love you so much! Please don’t leave me!”

He knew this. You’d told him countless times before, but even so, he’s grateful that these are the last words he ever hears. Knowing that he was truly loved tempered the pain of failing to accomplish his goal. He just wished that he could stay to love you longer, to give you the normal life that you deserved.

You pour every ounce of yourself into keeping him alive and the chaos around you eventually fades to black.

. . .

It feels like everything is over in an instant.

His eyes flutter open and he briefly experiences the same sights and sounds from the battlefield before realizing that he was somewhere else; in a brightly lit, sterile room. He didn’t recognize this place, but you were sitting beside his hospital bed, fast asleep while upright in a folding chair.

He’s so relieved to see you that bloody tears well in his eyes before spilling over onto his cheeks. You looked different, healthy, and no longer war-torn. How much time had passed?

He’s not entirely sure what he’s expecting to see when he looks down at his hands, but the fact that he has both is startling enough. It takes some effort for him to move his tired body. He touches his face and finds smooth skin where scars and staples had once been. Was he dreaming? Was he dead?

He quickly decides that he didn’t mind either option, so long as he got to stay with you. He watches you sleep for what feels like an eternity before finally reaching over to take your hand.

You were solid. Real. Warm. Familiar.

“Doll?”

You wake to the sound of his hoarse voice and, for a second, you’re half convinced you must be hallucinating.

“Touya?” Your heart leaps inside your chest. You’d been praying for this moment for so long, having fantasized about it so many times that it almost didn’t seem real.

You throw yourself at him, pulling him into a fierce hug, which he reciprocates as best he can.

“Don’t cry, Doll,” he says softly while rubbing your back.

“You’re one to talk,” you sniffle, having noticed the crimson tears on his face. “Fuck, I love you so much, I’m so glad you’re awake.” You start sobbing in spite of yourself, “I missed you.”

He clears his throat, getting choked up as he squeezes you tighter, “I love you, too. More than anything.”

You enjoy each other’s company for a while, holding each other in comfortable silence, just as you always had. This man was your best friend, your lover, your fucking soul mate. You could have sat with him in silence until the end of time and it would have been more than enough just knowing that he was still breathing.

“How long was I out?” He asks quietly, expecting you to say a few weeks, or maybe a couple months.

You pull back to look at him wearing a sad smile, “Three years.”

“What!?” He blinks at you in shock.

You nod while squeezing his hand, “Just like Sekoto Peak.”

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised, it made sense considering his previous experience, though he was in much better shape this time around. His body looked damn near brand new, but he did still have some scarring on his torso, which would forever serve as a reminder of the pain and suffering he’d endured.

Over the course of the next few days, you explain how you’d found the best healers who’d survived the war to work on him. You also gently break the news about the villains losing and Endeavor still being alive, though he’d long since retired after issuing an apology to him and their family. You assure him that his efforts hadn’t been completely in vain, as society had made some changes for the better over the last three years, and the PLF was still working underground.

He takes his time processing all of this information, not quite sure how to feel. You help him through it, rarely leaving his side.

. . .

One week later, you walk into his room and sit on the bed to take his hand. He’d been doing well. You could see him slowly starting to envision a future for himself for the first time in years and you believed it was time to press forward.

“Touya, there’s someone very special who I want you to meet.”

He looks at you curiously, and with a bit of apprehension.

You smile fondly, “I think you’ll like him. He’s a lot like you.”

He narrows his eyes, but agrees to this meeting.

You step out and return a few minutes later carrying a small boy on your hip.

Touya knows as soon as he sees him.

His heart stops, his blood runs cold, and his stomach lurches. He tells himself that it couldn’t be possible, but there was no denying what was right in front of him, and the timeline added up.

“Mama!” The toddler says sweetly, beaming while tugging on the front of your shirt. He had a mop of white hair and big, beautiful blue eyes, just like his father.

He was the most precious and yet utterly terrifying little thing that Touya had ever encountered in his life. He stares at him in awe while fighting back tears.

You move to sit in the chair beside the bed and the boy suddenly takes notice of Touya. It’s rather endearing how the two gawk at each other.

“Touya, this is Seiko,” you say softly while ruffling his messy hair.

The look of pure love and devotion on your face as you gaze at your son—his son—makes his heart swell. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

“The Sweepy Man,” Seiko says while pointing at Touya. “Mama, he ‘wake.”

“Yes, baby. He was asleep for a long time, but he’s finally awake. Do you wanna say hi?”

Suddenly shy, Seiko hides his face against your neck before mustering the courage to peek at the so-called Sleepy Man, whom he’d been visiting every day since birth. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Touya’s voice cracks as a single crimson tear escapes from the corner of his eye, yet he finds himself smiling. “Hi, Seiko. I’m…I’m your dad.”

Kotaro and Enji are the ones responsible for Tomura and Dabi, the same Toga's parents are responsible for what happened to her.

This is a story about abusive homes and how vulnerable are kids who grew up in them, and how a man would take advantage of it to use those broken kids and try to shape them into whatever they want.

This is a story about parents forcing kids to be someone else because they don't like who their kids are. This is a story about stolen identities and the tragedies of kids and teenagers dying or getting hurt, because their parents wouldn't accept them.

This is a story about parents ignoring the needs of their children because they think they know better. A story about repressing rage and sadness and being punished when you can't hold it back anymore, a story about society discarding kids since they are very young because they don't fit in, because they are scary or look scary or act scary, and scary just means different.

A story about not living to the standards, not being enough, sweet enough, normal enough, special enough, different enough, similar enough.

This is a story about how real tragedies and evil start with the little things, at home, at every home. At school, in the streets. About how dangerous it is to think "it is not my problem because it is not my family or my life". A story about indifference and irresponsibility and children always paying the price.

Always.

🥺🥺

@dabisqueen omg this is maybe the cutest I've drawn in a while

i need dabi to fuck me

so cute :((

them in the new official art ,,,, holds them so gemtly in my hands

[id:

image 1: a drawing of a chibi toga and dabi sitting in the palms of two hands. toga looks happy and is wearing a red dress with pink sleeves. dabi looks annoyed and is wearing a black suit.

image 2: a cropped screenshot of my hero academia official art. it shows toga and dabi in a red dress with pink sleeves and a black suit respectively. /end id]

Meme redraw

this means so much to me

your voice tended to get lost in groups sometimes.

your friends were quite... loud, at times. rambunctious. it was difficult to be heard whenever you wanted to say something. you didn't blame them, not really. they were so energetic all the time that it was only inevitable that someone like you—soft-spoken and significantly quieter than them—would get drowned out in the face of their fast-paced enthusiasm.

to their credit, they didn't exclude you intentionally. they did remember your presence and they often did their best to get you to contribute to conversations. but, well, they didn't always.

not that you were particularly incensed about it. you were new to the group anyways, it was only natural that they would forget you were there from time to time.

overall, though, you thought yourself lucky to be able to settle in so easily with their friend group. they were very accommodating and nice—you couldn't recall a single moment where they made you feel like an imposter. they'd adopted you into their lives like you were a stray cat on the streets and you couldn't find it in yourself to be ungrateful.

currently, you were sitting in the apartment of ashido mina, having been invited to one of her get togethers for some of her classmates from her high school days. you were familiar with most—if not all—of them by now and had been warmly welcomed into her home to catch up with their exciting lives.

you sat quietly on the fuzzy pink ottoman ashido had and sipped at a drink she'd made for you that bubbled down your throat. around you, multiple conversations were occurring as people had sectioned off into little circles for the time being. you were partially included in one of the circles closest to you and listened on as kaminari denki chatted with a few others about one of the more recent missions he'd done.

"yeah, i didn't realize the villain had smashed my shooter until it was too late!" he sighed dramatically and shook his head. "i'd fully brought it up to nail him in the face, too! imagine my surprise when it didn't shoot out any of my disks! i was almost outta charge at that point, i was so desperate..."

"bummer, man." sero hanta grinned in that familiar way of his. "aren't you supposed to be a pro? how you get caught slacking like that, dude?"

"i don't know!!" kaminari almost wailed. "i almost got squashed by his quirk but lucky for me, ei was there—"

"i'd always take a hit for you, man!" kirishima eijirou said as he clapped his friend on the shoulder with a smile. "did you send your shooter to hatsume?"

"yeah, i dropped by her shop yesterday." kaminari then pouted slightly. "she almost beat me up for it. i told her i was sorry a million times!"

"oh!" you perked up slightly and opened your mouth to add in your own story. "that reminds me of when i—" but your voice got drowned out when kaminari started talking loudly about hatsume always messing with him, and you found yourself clamping your lips shut to avoid talking over him or getting overpowered.

you instead resigned yourself to taking another sip of your drink. and that was when you suddenly heard a low grunt to your right.

lounging on the loveseat ashido owned was bakugou katsuki, glass in hand as he stared at some random point to his left. he looked like he didn't want to be here—like he didn't care—but you knew it was all just for show. he tended, like you, to sit to the side and simply watch to the people around him. it sometimes gave you an odd sense of camaraderie with the man, even if you'd never had a proper conversation with him before.

his ruby eyes swiveled in your direction when you looked at him and he raised a singular pale eyebrow at you. "you were sayin'?" he said in a rough voice. "m'listenin'."

you stared at him like you were a goldfish—eyes wide and mouth agape—then smiled lightly and scooted closer so you could continue your story.

and you learned that bakugou katsuki paid attention to those around him. he paid attention, and he listened.

because he cared.

he picked up on little things that most people wouldn't, his sharp eyes quick to analyze and assess. he wasn't particularly fond of being the focus of a conversation and rarely put himself in that position. he did add his two cents when people expected him to—when they looked at him for his input on a certain thing or when they teased him to get him to say something, anything. but he much preferred to be on the outside looking in. after all, it was quiet there.

he was tuned—even if it didn't seem like it—to his friends' emotions. he was the foundation that they could stand on, the glue that kept them together. he wasn't good with words, but he was good at sitting and listening. and contrary to what others believed, he didn't mind it, either.

he occasionally gave solid advice, too. advice you never knew you needed to hear.

"don't be afraid t'speak up," he grunted at you one day when it was just the two of you. "your words matter." you matter, went unsaid.

you used to think he would get annoyed easily at having to listen to people ramble all the time. but he didn't—not when it was someone he trusted, someone he was close to. it was just another thing you hadn't expected from loud, explosive bakugou katsuki. another thing you kept note of and stored away in a little box to keep.

and as you chatted with him happily, watching him listen to you attentively as though every word you said was important, you couldn't help but to smile at him warmly.

mouth watering

Full

bc hes gay

Why does Will Graham say “Doctor Lecter” like that. Like an absolute whore. Like he’s really trying to put the D in doctor