VIKTOR

Password

Dan Heng: How’d you guys hack into my Netflix account?

Caelus: Hack is a stretch. I guessed the password.

Stelle: Same, maybe next time don’t make it so obvious.

March: Even I figured it out, first try too.

You: *typing something on the computer* I’m the password?!

Dan Heng: STOP BREAKING INTO MY NETFLIX ACCOUNT!!

your goofy fave who comes up to you when you’re out running errands or shopping with friends and says “my friend thinks you’re cute” while pointing off to the distance only for you to look where he’s pointing and see his reflection in a mirror winking at you

the child soldier summer tour

13k | bnha | bakugou & class 1-a, bakugou & midoriya, bakugou/kirishima

The scheduling gods – AKA Yaoyorozu Momo and Iida Tenya – slapped down the papers on the kitchen table. There were way too many people in Jirou’s apartment, but Bakugou was just thankful that they’d decided not to cram his living room for this. Usually, they liked to, because he had the biggest living space seeing as his place came with three obnoxious roommates, but today they’d all met at Jirou’s and Jirou had only acted totally fine with twenty people shoved into her little two-bed box that she shared with Ashido, and now they were all climbing over each other to see the meticulous schedule their ex-class presidents had put together for the summer.

“This is insane—when are we supposed to pee?” Kaminari yelped, as Kirishima complained, “Three back-to-back – are you forgetting we’re heroes too?”

“Bathroom breaks will be scheduled on a day-to-day basis,” Yaomomo said, Iida chopping the air behind her.

“The schedule has been designed with heroics in mind!” he cried. “This way, everyone can attend an equal number of events, while also maintaining their agency contracts. We will have handouts for everyone to take back to their agencies!”

“This is amazing, guys,” Deku gushed. Bakugou shoved himself past Sero to get a look. True to form, the schedule was a colour-coded nightmare of thirty-six tour dates across twenty-nine locations in Japan over only the two months of summer. The system was divided equally between the five members of the band who had to appear at every concert (for obvious reasons) and the fifteen remaining ex-classmates who insisted that they, too, were also part of the band and would be coming along to roadie, dance, or just take selfies backstage and get in the way.

Bakugou’s opinion on the whole tour had originally been fuck that, if I’m gonna be a hero, I can’t waste an entire summer playing music, followed by three days of yelling and the eventual decision that if he didn’t spend a summer playing music now, when the hell would he ever get the chance to do it again?

They were freshly twenty, some of them still holding onto the reins of nineteen, and they’d only been out of Yuuei for a year. Only experienced the world of being rookie heroes for twelve short months and already it was more than they’d bargained for. Their second and third years in school had been downright peaceful compared to that hellish first, and maybe Bakugou would’ve preferred it if they had been just as dangerous – they’d gone soft, almost, in that time. Memories of the war had finally started to fade, and peacetime was a good look on them all. They were well-rested, therapized, on top of their studies and throwing late night parties in their dorms – when they’d been kicked out onto the streets of Japan, expected to rent an apartment and go to a job and be famous fucking heroes, the culture shock had damn near knocked half of them on their asses.

Bakugou didn’t want or need a break – but they were a damn good band, and there was no time he saw for himself in the next twenty years that would allow them to do a tour like this again.

When he’d consented to the band at one of their jam nights, they’d all fucking cheered. Then they’d added him into the groupchat with the rest of the class that they’d made three days before, fully knowing he would change his mind.

“Alright, everyone take a copy,” Yaomomo continued. “Then check it over – you have one calendar week to return with any necessary changes before we confirm bookings with the venues. It’s alright if you need to switch, just let us know by the deadline.”

-

Bakugou slumped into the chair opposite Best Jeanist. He’d signed on for eighteen months at the agency, his last months falling at the end of summer. He watched Jeanist’s eyebrows vanish under his hair as he read over the schedule.

“Well, this is organised – who put this together?”

“Creati and Ingenium,” he replied, tipping his head back. Even the ceiling was obnoxiously bedazzled. A disco ball hung from the centre; somewhere around the building, Aoyama was interning – a common appreciation for Best Jeanist (albeit for entirely different reasons) was the only thing the two had in common. Aoyama was a year behind everyone else since the whole, you know, All For One traitor shit, but he was pulling it back, and Bakugou respected the drive if nothing else.

“I would expect nothing less from them,” Jeanist mused. “I can’t say I’m surprised, as you warned me just how much time you would be spending on this during the summer, but I’m happy to sign it all off.”

Bakugou tilted his head forward. He’d expected even the slightest negotiation. “You are.”

“Of course. Bakugou, your work has been admirable and impressive this past year, but you haven’t taken a single day of holiday and there comes a point when that becomes a work violation as an employer. So I’m thrilled to roll over your unused holiday days into this calendar year so you can go on this tour.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. Jeanist had a way of speaking like he was always on camera, but there were none in here and he wasn’t about to be bullshitted by his own boss. “Alright, now tell me what you really think.”

He could see Jeanist’s smile beyond the high collar. “I think…” he hummed. “Approximately three years ago, when you were barely sixteen, you died, Katsuki.” Bakugou swallowed, tensing at the given name. “You then got up and kept going. You took down All For One, you ploughed through months of gruelling rehabilitation and graduated third in your class two years later without so much as a single break.”

“I went home for Christmas,” Bakugou muttered.

Jeanist continued anyway, “You haven’t done anything for yourself in all the time I’ve known you. No—that’s a lie. You joined a band. But even that, initially, was to cheer up your fellow students who had been put out by your class’ misfortune. So, if this band is the one thing you let yourself enjoy, away from being a hero, I would be a terrible employer, and a terrible friend, to not allow you time to take part in it. And I hope that in return – although, really, it would be tacky to get any sort of thanks for this – I would appreciate a single ticket to see your finale show in Musutafu.”

Bakugou blinked. Jeanist stared. Bakugou’s mouth curled into the sharp kind of smile.

“I think I can swing a ticket.”

“Then I wish you all the best of luck on your tour,” Jeanist said. “Let me know what dates you can work, and if you need any help choosing what to do after your contract runs out.”

-

COMING TO A CITY/TOWN/NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE NEAR YOU

THIS SUMMER

A BAND: THE CHILD SOLDIER SUMMER TOUR

continue reading on ao3

Fem Kacchan

my boy sero looking fine as fuck i see

Clean scan of the 10th anniversary color page

go for it nakamura!! cover redraws cause i love them sm ;w;

haha hey i love the blood dripping from your face and the animal rage in your eyes whats your pronouns

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL *SOBS*

Return To Stardust (Eternity Is Within Our Grasp)

A cosmos of stardust

Memories of a life never lived

Of a body that wasn't quite right

A companion to the one lost

Haunted by a vengeful past 

Bound to secrecy and silence

He waits for painful judgment 

But for the one born of starshine

Love and loyalty is not so easily lost

A beginning brought forth

From vicious destruction 

A fate once damned 

Blooms ever faithful

Two souls lost in the abyss

At last find their way back home

luka runs cold. this is an undeniable state of fact. his body is not as… refined, despite his owner's claims that he is genetically superior compared to the rest of his peers. a younger luka had once scoffed at the thought.

superiority, he mused back then, meant nothing if he could barely lift a kilo on his own, if his own body couldn't even regulate its own temperature or maintain the circulation of his blood.

but now luka finds that he has much less cause to complain when your palms press his soft, delicate hands between the warmth of them. he likes sitting backstage before his performances, eyes fluttered close as you rub his hands between your own and murmur soft reassurances to him, a habit you've never quite managed to shake from your days of watching him backstage during his first season on alien stage.

now luka rules the stage, toying with his fellow performers' hearts and minds, but he still depends on your devotion all the same.

I CAME TO REQUEST, IN THE NAME OF THE FANDOM WE MUST SEE….

your version of “things I posted to get my crush to date me”

Specially Barty….

Hahaha ooooh Barty

May I present to you…

Things Barty Crouch Jr posted hoping to get (fem) readers attention:

(did i do this right? I’ve only ever seen one of these before!)