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sourstars · 1 year

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yearning man; the cruelest condition | kuroo tetsuro.

giving hallmark with this one; soulmates who don't grow old until meeting?? sob. wrote in the same haze i did when i wrote midoriya’s. soulmate kuroo at his hopeless! if you find any mistakes please let me know!

He has learned, contrary to the belief of many, that he rather abhors the allure of red, but adores the particular shades of blue that morph from the original; ultramarine, cobalt, electric, sky, baby, periwinkle (which he believes should be considered more of a purple and probably is)—but his favorite for the last seventy years has been robin-egg blue.

He belives that in the time of looking for ‘the one’, he has discovered instead what makes life bearable. He likes his coffee black but with two sugars, sometimes three if he’s feeling risky, tea with sometimes too much honey, four pillows in bed so he has two to cuddle. He likes dogs, not as well as cats but has a certain endearment for his neighbor’s cocker spaniel, who seems to enjoy laying across his feet in protest whenever he visits, refusing to let him leave. He likes the routine of visiting the shops that open and close; the bookstore that burnt down and was rebuilt in defiance, the bar with the bartender who tells him really good jokes, the fabric store that trades gossip as well as wares. A maximalist to his core, but in seventy years, at least things would be there if someone wanted a list; what have you found, if not the other half of your soul?

(Not enough.)

(“I feel I could eat endlessly and still be starving.” He says, and Kenma waits for the punchline. “Because I feel what would nourish me is what has not found me.”

“I suggest you start writing poetry. You would be a hit with goths.” But his best friend would know him in every variation; he is a painting stripped of cover, in every medium. “You’re talking about your soulmate again.”

“Yes. There’s no comparison. None.”

“Giving up already?” Kenma smiles at that, laughs hard enough that his eyes squint and says; “And here I thought you’d strip the world to bone.”)

In truth, it is not for the lack of trying. He has spent every penny of his fortune and created another just to look into every face, buy every ticket, spend every hour creating a map of where you could be—he has been to every continent, every state, he’s sure nearly every city but another may always rise out a former’s grave. For a year he gave up searching, but a year turned into two and two into five and then Kenma sent him a picture of a stranger, who walked with a grace so familiar to him that he imagined he had lost control of his jaw.

And he imagines it must’ve been a fluke—that some things aren’t tethered to others the way people entertain, but then Hinata sends a photo, and then the Miyas, and the Tanakas, even the Haibas after. Everywhere he’s went, everywhere he’s not, you are there, dressed in his heartstrings. Perhaps this is his eternal punishment; knowing you want something so badly and never being close enough to grasp it.

(It is so strange, he thinks one night, to feel like the compass needle without direction. North, he knows, but the star is missing and he has been painting directions on kites, tacking fliers to all of the telescopes, hoping it will see.)

“It’s a little creepy to take pictures of strangers without them knowing. I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal.” Kuroo pinches a strawberry between his fingers, biting into it to the stem, letting sweetness coat his tongue. The longer he chews, he can feel the bitterness that will dry the throat. “I still think it’s just a coincidence. It won’t be just anyone, I’m sure I’ll know it when I see them.”

“Say it again and maybe you’ll convince yourself this time.” He can practically hear Tsukishima’s eye roll. “They’re definitely looking for someone. Hinata said they came into the bookshop just after you did and took a walk around the store but didn’t buy anything. I think you just have a broken radar,"

Kuroo’s mouth twists. “Are you sure it’s not just a shoplifter? Or just a coincidence? Hinata wouldn’t be able to see a criminal if they stood in front of him wearing handcuffs.” He pauses, mulling over his thoughts, listening to the thunder of rain outside of his window. “…That makes me sound like a dick—but the point is that I find it a little hard to believe it all comes together now.”

“You are a dick, but consider the idea the universe isn’t a total idiot. I’ve been trying to avoid my ‘other half’ for a month now and every time I think I’ve done it—wham! There they are, staring me in the face,"

“You ever hear about magnets?”

“Stop.”

“That’s literally what it is. You hate each other and can’t stop finding ways to eat each other’s faces? Magn—”

“Tetsuro. Kuroo. You need to go outside—you need to go outside right now. I’m looking out of my window, I think I just saw—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“—them. Turning the corner of Third. They’re holding… two coffee cups?” Tsukishima falls quieter then, voice tough as steel. “My advice; stop being a coward. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong but at least you’d know. Life goes on. Go.”

He has the best and worst of friends. “Fuck. I hate you. Getting my shoes.”

(It has taken so much to get here. He hopes in the mail room of destinies, he is a package only slightly dinged, hopes he is something someone is expecting and still excited for.)

He’s forgotten his umbrella and his hair sticks flat to his head when he arrives, inky blackness falling in front of his eyes, but his feet continue to slam against cement, his phone bounces in his pocket, his heart skitters across his ribs. The drizzle turns to downpour, downpour to drizzle. It seems even Mother Nature has a heart unwilling to live so softly.

Each step, Kuroo thinks; life is like a box of chocolates; something is always missing and every version of the map leads you opposite of where you want to go. He thinks; regardless of anyone’s age, they will never know anything, or everything. They will always be surprised.

When he sees you in person, he almost trips; like a child that learns to walk, he has misplaced the knowledge. The air escapes his lungs, the words he’d muttered under his breath have forgotten his name; he believes now, his senses have moved out and are backed up on the rent.

You catch his eye when he turns the corner, waving with one to-go cup, and time begins again. “Hello.”

Kuroo stares into your face, mouth parted, raindrops sliding past his eyes, down his cheeks. He is speechless—this is what love must be, to be both lighthouse and ship wanting to dock and never knowing when you’ll find a harbor.

He thinks; he is too old to have lovesickness such as this. He thinks; he is too young to know the type of wanting that craters into his soul like this. He thinks; that is okay, he has the rest of his life to love and hate figuring it out. He is right.

“It’s too late now,” he says. He wrings his hands in front of him, feels the need to tap his shoe. “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.”

You smile and he swears he hears music. “About time, second place.” He believes if the word sublime had a name, it would be yours. You are paradise sent, a catastrophically perfect being. A hurricane where he is perpetually in the eye. “I’ve been looking for you.”

(It cannot possibly be this easy.)

Kuroo hears the sidewalk traffic as people walk around you both, feels the cutting breeze, the firmness of the earth. It helps him breathe and yet scares him so. Life has a way of being unbearably real. “So I hear. You like blue?”

“Only this kind.”

“Interesting.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “I think I was made for you,” He feels he might hiccup up his heart. “I think we shared a star, once.”

Electricity, sunlight, supernovas, comets—none as bright as the sight of your half-lidded, knowing eyes, the unrestrained curl of your lips. He thinks that if he were to knit your hands, your thumb would brush the beauty marks on the side of his finger, over his knuckles, your wrists would kiss, the spaces of his body would fit yours.

It is quite impossible, he would’ve said, but he is a believer, now, of all things unblemished, all things unexplainable. He feels you could brush his soul with the pad of your finger and it would bring him to his knees.

(But maybe it is.)

The cups are placed into his hands, the smell of peppermint and vanilla, wafting. Your fingertips are hot, palms warm as they are softly pressed into his cheeks. You’re a breaths-width away, voice is twisted into song, and he bets the world has fallen from his feet.

“Finally.”

(He is hopelessly, endlessly, terribly devoured by the loveliness. It has been a vacation where he has painstakingly, wonderfully arrived home. He has never been this peaceful. Here’s the north star, he thinks, I was looking for it, and it was looking for me.

He will never love another color like this one again.)

reblogs are preferred and appreciated!

#truly i enjoy twisting characters so much #it’s been so long idk if this will be seen but if not oh well #!ilovequeue #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader #kuroo x gn! reader #kuroo x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn! reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #!pandora’s notes

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nattikay · 5 months

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so I started playing the new Frontiers of Pandora game last night, and was pleasantly surprised that not only did the opening cutscene feature a few lines of spoken Na'vi dialogue, but said dialogue was actually pretty accurate!! Good job game!!

Here’s the lines transcribed as far as I can tell:

Aha'ri: Plltxe po nìtsleng! He speaks falsely/he lies! Player: Ma tsmuke, ftang! Sister, stop!

Aha'ri: Ma Nor? Ma Nor, tìtxen si. Awnga ngahu, tam. Nor? Nor, wake up. We [are] with you, it’s ok. Nor: Tsat oel uniltsola nìmun…tsatxon a fol awngat kämolunge. I dreamed about it again…that night they took us.

Aha'ri: Awnga kä ne kelku! We go home! Player: Za'u, ma Teylan. Oeng kivä ne kelku. Come, Teylan. We [may] go home.

#lì'fya lena'vi #frontiers of pandora #there was one spot where I initially thought might be a mistake #aha'ri says the “we’re going home” line a couple of times #and one of the times she says it in English to Mercer and then repeats it in Na'vi #at first I thought she was still talking to Mercer in which case it should’ve been “ayoe” instead of “awnga”#cuz “awnga” would imply that Mercer is “going home” with them which….yeah no lol ^^;#but upon further reflection I think the intention was that she’s addressing Mercer in English #and then switches to addressing her friends in Na'vi #in which case “awnga” would indeed be correct #they did also get the awnga vs oeng distinction right so good job!!#(awnga being “we” as in a group of 4+ people vs oeng being “we” as in only the speaker and listener (in this case the player and Teylan))#on a side note Alma sounds like she’s coughing every time she says Aha'ri’s name :P #welp at least she’s making an effort

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betweenlands · 1 month

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how we should be naming our minecraft builds, a helpful guide by Cait Machina

#inspired by elmhat's tags on an ask we sent to the mcyt builds contest #this is not a vaguepost however it did get me to draw something and that was fun!#anyway this also quickly turned into a shitpost so it is what it is. go read piranesi #shoutout to vikingpilot for naming the Ghost’s Vault that and having it be actually a vault. 10/10 no notes #just like this post probably #yt #misc #orig #art #also yeah ill concede the original pandora was in fact a vault #but i don't believe people who say the other prisons are also vaults. nuh uh. definitionally NOT what they are doing #those are escape rooms/puzzleboxes

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sylviaplathenthusiast · 4 months

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i do not excuse the actions of my favourite characters. i accept and embrace them. i welcome them with open arms. i settle into bed with my favourite characters, brush through their hair with my fingers and say “that’s it, baby, be a menace to society, just like that”

#its all justified #love them because of their flaws #marauders #sirius black #regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #remus lupin #when the authors note is like ‘we gotta keep in mind that *character* is going through this this and that’#and im like BORIIIIING #i want chaos #bitching moaning #be a horrible person #i still know youre my baby girl

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scarareg · 10 months

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thingswedontunbox · 10 days

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s0lairee · 2 months

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USUALLY i keep the incoherent rambling to @xanyiaz's dms, but y’all know how i feel about vincent. so, here: roughly 2000 words of me talking abt him and the house of solaire.

(also, all non-art, original posts that i make, whether they’re just me keysmashing or me actually dissecting a video will now be tagged as #jo speaks <3)

(possibly incomprehensible) spoilers for “questioning the king” underneath (and a bit from sam’s latest vid). this isn’t really theorising, it’s more “jo analyzes fictional characters and cries”

first of all. CAN we get a round of applause for the voicing and the thumbnail. erik did such a good job - i wasn’t actually expecting a william vid since hedral has been mia for two years, but this was INSANE. erik’s voice is much softer than hedral’s (i think it’s because erik is used to voicing younger characters?) and it really adds to the tone of the video. also, the thumbnail is so perfectly in style with the summit thumbnails. everything is wonderful i just needed a moment for that.

anyways. i did not expect the video to go like this? i mean, everyone expected vincent to call william out for everything at some point, but dude, this caught me so off-guard. and in hindsight, it shouldn’t have. obviously the fandom paints (or painted, before the summit) william as the vamp dad, but he’s a king. he’s going to be political, pragmatic, and sometimes callous. callousness is why he survived. if he was as feeling as vincent is, he wouldn’t have survived his maker.

but like. i completely expected william to stand his ground against vincent’s criticism and mention how it was the right thing to do, but i thought eventually he’d give in and (at the very least) apologise. what i DIDN’T expect was for william:

to not do that.

to pretty much only apologise for keeping vincent out of the loop

to emphasise that this was what being a vampire prince entailed - this was what politics meant

and to GIVE HIM AN ULTIMATUM. it didn’t seem like one, but “if you’re one of us, that’s part of the deal” very much implies “be a solaire and do what is expected of you, or leave.”

i’m glad that vin and william, in some way, found a middle ground. but (as much as i was on will’s side this whole time bc vin always seemed too naive for the rough politics), vincent is right. william shouldn’t have given that burden only to porter. that’s one vampire against dozens that are at least centuries old. also, not to mention, vincent would NOT have trusted porter. can you imagine the mental strength it took vincent to not only hear porter out, but hear stuff that his maker was supposed to tell him from the one person he couldn’t stand? can you imagine how porter felt to be the messenger caught between these two??? and somehow, it’s worse when william doesn’t back down and just accept that vincent was right. he can excuse everything else as politics, but he can’t excuse this. and it’s so weird that he tried so hard to brush past that.

also. william’s favouritism is incredibly obvious. it’s insane. like, this entire audio, he’s prioritising vincent (and lovely, to some extent). his literal first lines are him choosing to speak to vincent and lovely alone, when sam is RIGHT THERE. he refers to sam as samuel, being one of the only people who does that. he also took the time to explain himself to vincent, but to sam he just says “say what you will.” it gives the vibe of the older sibling that the parent knows will understand, and i know sam doesn’t care about the house like vincent does, but GOD it really rubs it in. i know there’s that convoluted father-son dynamic between vin and william, but william put the pack, their mates, sam and darlin’ into the firing line. porter only gave vincent and lovely an alibi. none of the others. this was the pack's first summit too. if sweetheart was caught eavesdropping, they would have been in SO much trouble. it’s pure dumb luck they escaped.

also. my brain ran away here. but porter, who isn't will's progeny but acts like his dutiful son, doing whatever is asked of his king because he saved his life - porter, who can't help but feel slighted when after everything, william still fights to justify his actions to vincent (while porter understands). porter who watches (in his mind, at least) vincent throw all of that away for what's "morally right". porter who is faultlessly loyal but so goddamn alone. are you picking up what im putting down <3

^ going off on that, the different reactions (or possible reactions) to will’s ultimatum have me frothing at the mouth.

i want to say porter is fiercely loyal to william and the house but i do think a lot of it is desperation and his own version of “morally right”? like to porter, the right thing is listening to whatever his king - the man that took him in and saved his life - says. or it could be cowardice. if he doesn’t do what will wants him to do, he would have to leave the house… and where would he go? to treasure? imagine explaining this shit to them. he literally has no choice.

to sam, it's the practical, good thing, and it's almost political. and this way of thinking is easy for sam, since he's not really as loyal to the house as vincent is. in fact, he's almost completely detached. so sam's idea of what's right is that william should've considered vincent’s opinion too, or have some kind of counsel, because they were the people who were most directly in the firing line. so when william so self-assuredly says he isn't wrong, and won't ever be wrong... he lost sam. (sam also never outright got the choice to leave like vincent did. he still made the decision. he's, like, 100% gone.)

and to vincent, it's almost completely emotional. he had this responsibility for the summit thrust onto him suddenly after william shielded him from a lot during his growing up as a vampire. he had so much information kept from him by his maker, his family, and he had to put up with the one person william knew he couldn't put up with. he also almost lost his partner, his brother and his friends in the whole mess.

+ need to add that vincent is very, very emotional. throughout the whole summit, there wasn’t one time when he was able to go with the (albeit fucked up) flow. partly, this is who he is; someone who feels everything in extremes, and partly because william had shielded him from the worst of the vampire world for so, so long. this isn’t a positive or negative character trait: it’s just a trait, and something will should have considered. then again, if not vincent, who would host the summit? not sam. certainly not alexis. and porter couldn’t.

(also, it’s precisely how emotional he is and how much importance he places on family that makes “a prince is supposed to answer to his king, not the other way around” STING.)

now the part that GUTTED me: the ultimatum, and why sam is most certainly leaving (and vincent might consider it, but GOD i fucking hope he doesn’t.)

erik has established both sam and darlin' as being completely self sufficient. like they've both expressed that they're better with each other, and that they've grown as people, but also they're not tied down by any obligations to anyone. darlin' may be fiercely protective of their pack and their identity as a wolf, but sam is heavily disconnected from the house. he might only be sticking around because of vincent, and those two are BROTHERS your honour. but like, he doesn't really feel anything emotional to them nor does he have an obligation to them, even as a vampire.

(especially as a vampire, a status he did not want and is going to give up some time in the future.)

but vincent has both emotional (and i wanna say political?) ties to the house. one, being turned saved his life. he didn't have the choice that lovely had, but he also doesn’t completely hate it like sam did (maybe bc he was unempowered before and the loss of power didn't hit as hard.) two, he's kinda reconciled with his status as a vampire prince. he really does love william. whatever relationship they have (had.) was good - there was some amount of trust there (that will broke now).

and also, being a vampire allowed him to save lovely. vin and lovely are COMPLETELY devoted to each other. they've had one of the most dramatic changes together.

more than that, the solaire house is family to vin. like, at least in the context of lore and the channel, it has been such a massive part of his life. he introduced his partner to his maker. he took them to the summit. he has confided in them abt princely duties. the house is, for better or for worse, his family.

(also, william bringing out all of vincent’s worst memories right in front of lovely (who was also there for those memories) is so fucking insane. wh. every argument he made in this video is so so insane.)

somehow, for all the analysing i'm doing, i can't predict lovely's emotions. i know they're gonna be angry in their own way: very soon after mastering their powers, they had it taken away from them; and very soon after being crowned in the house of solaire, they're watching it crumble.

will giving them an ultimatum felt very final. i know erik mentioned wanting to wrap up a few plotlines, and i’m totally ok with that (not . i need vincent. but i can make my peace w things) but if this is how it ends i will cry

in conclusion, will was fighting between politics and progeny. he tried, desperately, to have both. unfortunately, you can’t have both. fortunately, you can try to rebuild the relationship the choice broke. unfortunately, will didn’t do that. he wasn’t fair to a single person here. he still sees tasks and details as a privilege given to solaires, not something that is expected of him as vincent’s family.

most of erik’s plotlines have a theme, and this one seems to surround trust and choice and how the right thing isn’t always in black and white. so yeah it would fucking suck and i would bawl my ass off if vincent and lovely decide to leave the house …… i know it would be the right thing to do but also i wish porter could knock some sense into william or something.

i would love to see that, actually. feels shakespearean.

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zoozoocala · 4 months

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Do you guys think Saavik ever had to take an intercultural communication course at the Academy where there was like a unit on Vulcan social norms and everyone in the class was like “damn easy A for Saavik” but Saavik who was literally a wolf child until age 8 and has never lived on Vulcan ever is in the library every night like

#saavik #star trek #the pandora principle #cornell notes #cornell note method

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bri-cheeses · 5 months

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What if I said that Evan’s favorite class was Defense Against the Dark Arts and that he was the best at dueling in their year

And what if I said that Pandora’s favorite class was charms and that she had a surprisingly lucrative side hustle of inventing different charmed objects that helped with everyday activities

#everyday activities as in the things that Panda deems everyday #is that where the Spectrespecs came from?#we’ll never know #on another note #if only evan had been slightly better at dueling #then maybe mad eye wouldn’t have got the best of him #again #i guess we’ll never know #evan rosier #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #rosier siblings #slytherin skittles #marauders era #marauders fandom

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sourstars · 1 year

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where are you? where are you? find me please, i can’t go back to sleep without you | midoriya izuku.

It was the type of love that made you feel immortal, like you could take on anything, but all of it will remain, unsullied in the halls of your memory.

He will be here, in your heart and soul, always.

…

one part of an incoming anthology series! song lyrics are IKEA date by swmrs.

warnings: mentions/implications of death and tragedy, mentions and depictions of grief, mourning, and heartbreak.

wc: 1.2K

Midoriya’s childhood room was just as it had always been, if only a bit older.

The shelves with spare parts for his creations, volumes of his favorite classics, articles on intricate theories, trinkets with made up names; they all gather in disquiet, waiting, as if each one has plucked its eyes open after a long rest and has come to discover the world was, and is not, how it has been left, but instead three inches too far out of place. The type of change you cannot ignore once seen, once felt, becoming unbearable; a hip into a table, a shoulder into a door frame, a mind gazing into history’s looking glass.

His bulletin board is tacked with photos, and notes, and essays, and ideas, dozens of pivotal times that commanded the course of your existences, twisted your strings into melodies bound by skin; Uraraka mid-stumble on a skate losing a wheel, Mina in the background as serene as the sea; Todoroki eating Bakugou’s spiciest concoction on a dare, with nonchalant abandon; Eri, Shinsou, Yamada and Aizawa at her sixteenth birthday, covered head to toe in glitter and confetti; Bakugou, through a door crack, reading a romance novel, his notes and analysis written in the margins; You and him within the forest, camping, leaning back as the fire surged, just in time for the camera to catch the fall of his marshmallow and collapsing of your tent.

It had been the time of your lives, before all this, before the hurt, before prophecy to fruition. But then again, you suppose, for anyone who is blind-sighted by tragedy, for anyone nipped too young and too harshly by destiny’s picky hand, it always is.

To be undeniably human is to have experienced all that comes with loss—which means having to have lived through the after.

His mother sits next to you on the bed, smoothing pristine but outdated patterned sheets, and says nothing while she cradles the hoodie he often wore; gotten at a time that Midoriya, truthfully, believed that All Might’s design team had seen better days, but none that had been none better than the beginning, because the beginning is alway the best part of the story.

In the beginning, there is unchained potential, all yours to do anything you wish. Nothing, but the world waiting to be brought to its knees.

She strokes the fabric, running her fingers along the seams, over the haphazardly done and amateurish repairs once made by his unpracticed hands, across the flap of the tag, where he’d written his fate in tiny letters—MIDORIYA IZUKU, FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO.

“I think,” Your throat feels filmy, your voice raw, words sticking to the meat of your tongue moments before the escape. They paw at you, struggling, and you take the second to scrounge up what’s left, like someone who’d sifted through the couch for a last chance to find loose change. “I think in another unive—if I—if he—we tried and I don’t—”

“I know.”

She sits with her back straight, head bowed down to allow her dark locks to hide her face. Tears smatter across the hoodie’s front, a canvas of endless agony. This is how it is to love and to lose and misplace the compass engraved with a heartbeat. This is how people trip and find one another.

“I know.” She says again, and you glance at the hand that wipes at her eyes, wringing your own. “He wouldn’t have changed a thing, that boy. He was always so stubborn. He would’ve loved you and went out all the same, if it meant he got to experience it all over again.”

She looks over now, nose blotched with pink and eyes shiny. Her hands shake as she reaches to squeeze an arm. “I know.” Her smile is tiny, like broken pieces without glue. “He would tell me about you and it would be like the sun had nothing against his smile. I am so honored to know my son fell in love with someone like you. Thank you for loving my boy.”

Hours feel like blinks when discussing things that matter, but sooner or later, you spend days at home, trying to live with the fact that everywhere you are, he’d been once, too. It will never go away, this ache, but his hoodie is a comfort, a piece of him you have not allowed time to touch, and even though it is not what you want, and what you want cannot be attained, you sleep with it on, you savor the smell of him on the threads. Lavender and honey, lavender and honey and heartache all wrapped up into one.

He had told you once, that when he was a kid, before he learned to talk, to walk, to hope and yearn for something so much bigger than himself, that he wanted—and was going to—change the world. That he wanted to be the history-maker type of man.

But behind his legacy and the fame, this is all that’s left for you, these memories and belongings, all of his goodness wafting away into the world, into your clothes, through his friends—through his work, and his sacrifices.

This is what it meant to be a hero—to lose, to have left something behind. There are things that say heroes are never meant to be happy, but Midoriya Izuku was happiness molded into voice, into body, into being. Sometimes the stories should be wrong. Sometimes they can be. Sometimes they’re not.

(Where’s a love too big for the body supposed to go now?

If not poured straight into him; nowhere, nowhere, nowhere.)

You’d, perhaps, imagined it, but for a moment—for the tiniest of seconds, amidst the silence, and devouring of you within the the cotton’s hold, there had been a warmth, like he was still here, holding your hand.

You say nothing, placing your palms together, imagining that if you’d closed your eyes tight enough, wished hard enough, you could intertwine your fingers, trace his knuckles, have him back.

(“I’m going to change the world one day, help so many people,” he said, and grinned as he forced the curls of his hair into your face as he buried his own into your neck. “Just watch me.”

Your fingers threaded through the green, lightly scratching at his scalp as you pressed a kiss to his head. “I’ve no doubt. And even when you get a big ego and puff up your chest like Toshinori did, I’ll love you through it all.”

There’s a nip at your shoulder, a smidge of laughter. “Even when I’m old and need help walking down the stairs?”

“Until you can barely remember what it was like not to feel like this, being loved like this,”

“Are you saying that you love me Plus Ultra?”

You groan, shoving him away from you before bringing him back in for a soft kiss, thumb pressed into his cheek. “Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. Let it be known, the future number one hero is in love,”

“With you? Infinitely.”)