I know that recent chapters show that maybe Bakugou and eventually Kirishima will get One For All but imagine this, what if a teenage Eri got One For All?

…okay first, that whole thing about Bakugou and Kirishima getting OFA? load of bull, and most likely a joke by a few fans

there were 8 users before Deku, including all might, and there are 8 people in this picture of previous users, those shadows, who I am betting were the second and third users, are just shrouded in a bunch of foreshadowing…well, shadows, and we’ll probably learn what their deal is much much later.

as for Eri getting OfA? I dunno, on the one hand seeing Eri taking up her hero’s mantle and saving people like he saved her is a really cool image, but on the other hand I’m not sure Deku would want to put that much pressure on her (Or Kouta for that matter, since I’ve seen one or two posts about him getting it in the future)….on the other other hand, Deku sharing his secret with Eri as a sort of show of trust and solidarity with having a power you can’t fully control, that I can totally see happening.

Swipes of Sword and Fan 6

I decided that every third drabble of this “collection” will be at least a little angsty. Keep that in mind ;P

Chapter 6: Fire and Grass

The
world is burning.  

The
sky above her head is glowing red and the ground under her feet is naught but
dark soot and ash. She is on her knees, her weapons strewn around her in disarray,
bent, broken, and useless. All she can do is lay there, lay there and
look up into the pitiless eyes of her enemy.

It
is tall, large enough to reach out a hand and crush the sun in its grip. It
could be ripping the world in two, but instead it focuses its attention on her,
this ant at its feet that thought steel and gunpowder could cut down a god.

The
rage and hatred in her heart refuse to let her cower, they light a fire as
intense as to dwarf the blaze around her. She glares with all her might at the
monster, gritting her teeth and clenching her only fist.

On
the head of the monster stand a man-no a coward-and with a wave of his
hand the monster-his monster-moves.

Gleaming
and flawless white and blue armor lurches forward, blood red mane swings in the
gale brought on by the inferno.

A monstrous
limb the size of house rises, and begins to descend upon her, the air whistling
as it rushes aside.

Suddenly,
her clenched hand is not empty, instead in her palm lays a broken wooden fan,
blood and burn marks cover what is left.

The
hand is close. The descent is slow, what should have been a second stretches
long just before it reaches her.

She
closes her eye.

She
is awake.

She
is on her back, her head propped up on something soft. Her back tickled by a
multitude of grass blade. A moment later and her mind snaps awake completely.

They
are in a village, a modest place where farmers spend their days tending to corn
and rice. They reached this place in the early morning when Anji suggested they
stop and rest.  

They picked, or rather, Anji picked and
dragged her, a large grassy hill half a mile off from the village proper. He
promptly sat down on his knees, opened up his parasol for shade, and patted his
lap for her to lay her head.

She
sent him a glare that could have cut through concrete, judging by how Anji
flinched.

But
still he insisted, saying that she didn’t have enough sleep and that he didn’t
have enough time to meditate, and that this suggestion of his was perfect for
both. Tired and unwilling to spend energy to argue for an inn, she relented.

Looking
up, Anji’s face is serene and unflinching. The same as it was when she first laid
her head down and right before the exhaustion she didn’t knew she had dragged
her under. She knew that she didn’t jolt awake from her nightmare, all she did
was snap her eye open and stared straight up, right into a clear blue sky.

Still,
her heart thundered in her chest, her breathing shallow and quick. Her eye
darted this way and that, unsure of her own mind, thinking that this vision of
peace before her to be a trick of a dying spirit trying to comfort itself
before the end.

A
hand threaded through the hair at the crown of her head, the long pink strands free
from her usual ponytail. The motion is slow, gentle and familiar. Slowly, she
turns her one eye to gaze at Anji again, seeing him peering down through half
lidded eyes.

She
is confused by his lack of glasses for a moment, before she remembers he took
them off to lay them by her feet along with her eyepatch.

Anji
continues his ministrations for a short while, Baiken’s breathing slowly
winding down as her heartbeat evens out. She closes her eye again and takes a
breath, “How long has Justice been dead?”

“Eight
years.”

“Where
are we?”

“China,
about 30 miles from the Vietnamese border.”

She
stops; a flock of sparrow passes overhead, a dozen small shadows racing past.

“Is
this a dream?”

“No.”
He places a hand on her cheek, moving a finger over the long scar going through
her eye, “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

She
leans into his palm for a moment, breathes him in, “What time is it?”

Anji
looks up at the sun, tilting his head in thought, “About 1 in the
afternoon, I’d say.”

She
nods, and turns her head so her nose buries itself in the cloth covering his
midsection, “Wake me in two hours, we still have ground to cover.”

He
chuckles gently, “Alright.”

His
hand stays on her head, slowly and gently moving through her hair, and then he
starts singing. It is an old song, older than the both of them put together,
older than all of this, and she focuses her mind on the soft notes and nostalgic
lyrics as her mind once more drifts off.

(She
dreams of an endless stretch of grass, where she lays her head in his lap as he
sings for her. Around her the world flows between green and blue and white.
There are no Gears to slay, no coward to hunt. They are safe.

The smile this pulls from her later scares her infinitely
more than the monster.)  

Swipes of Sword and Fan 5

First one of these to be over 1k words long (which is about as long as they’ll get, give or take) Also, what drabble collection would be complete without a jealousy story? 😉

Word count: 1302

Chapter 5: Clouds and Jealousy 

Anji
may not be the biggest fan of heights, nor did he have much love for the
methods of traveling that involved being very (very very oh dear loving Buddha)
high up in the air, nor was he a fan of the air ship he was currently on. (The
various crude drawings of aquatic life on most of the walls and hull was tacky
at best)

At the very least, he could appreciate the
view. White clouds stretched far and wide in every direction, racing past as
the ship soared through the sky in the direction of llyria, he and Baiken
having been invited by the first king Ky Kisuke for a report on the colonies,
the ground a rushing smear of brown and green far (far far)
below.

In
the interest of not wasting the generous meal the crew of the
“Mayship” prepared for Baiken and himself, Anji extracted himself
from the window and began walking back to the dinner hall.

As
much as he would rather jump off this godforsaken hunk of metal and become a little
stain on the jagged rocks below then go back to the sight of the captain
flirting with Baiken.

He
respected Johnny well enough, both for his actions in support of the colonies
and his strength he displayed in the whole “Valentine” fiasco, but if
he saw the man looking at Baiken with that smirk  (especially when looking there when
Baiken looked away) for one minute more he was going to take the man’s
sunglasses and shove them down his throat.

(The
lone samurai was rubbing off on him; if she ever found out, she would never let
it go.)

He
stopped outside the door to take a deep, centered breath before he entered, his
face a polite display of calm. A display that faltered for a quick second when
he caught sight of Baiken laughing gruffly at something or other that the esteemed
and venerable captain of the Mayship said.

Anji
walked around the room, the corner of his eye always on the two seated
together, and his steps probably a mite louder then was strictly necessary,
which had the side effect of catching the attention of one of the pirate crew
who was cleaning the tables, “Oh! Hey Mr. Mito! Need anything?”

Johnny
and Baiken looked in his direction, the pirate with a carefree smile and the
samurai with a raised brow. Anji hesitated for a moment before giving the
younger girl a polite smile, “Oh no, I’m alright dear I’m just,” He
glanced at the two again, noticing that the captain’s shaded eyes dipped a bit
lower than they should; “I’m just…walking around.”

“You
sure? I could get Leap to cook something special for you-”

“Sephy!”
Johnny scolded lightly, “Don’t bother him, Anji’s a grown man, he can take
care of himself just fine until we land in Ilyria,” A kind smile was
directed his way, “Right?”

The
captain’s tone was jovial and joking, not patronizing or malicious in anyway
and yet Anji found himself suppressing the urge to grind his teeth, “Of
course Mr. Sfondy,” He forced a grin on his face, “Which reminds me!
How soon will we land?”

“Heh,
still a bit sky sick huh?” Johnny intoned with a friendly smile that made
Anji want to punch him, “We’ll dock in about 4 hours or so, don’t
worry.”

“Good,”
Anji muttered tightly, the polite smile on his face not quiet reached the rim
of his glasses, “I will retreat to my quarters than, if it’s all the same
to you.”

Johnny
shrugged easily, “Suit yourself my man.”

“I
will.”

As
soon as he stepped out into the hallway, he began stomping in earnest, his mind
whirling at the memory of Baiken eating, drinking, laughing, and smiling
with that self-important Robin Hood wannabe of a pirate. She had shown
reluctance about boarding his ship, chiefly because of the captain’s history of
flirting (Anji had to commend his courage if nothing else) with her.

He
had foolishly pointed out that going by ship was the fastest way to Ilyria, and
now he had wished he had not and walked the damn way instead.

He
needed a drink.

“Anji!”

He
stopped mid angry stride to look behind him, the sight of Baiken resolutely
stomping her way to him with a supremely annoyed look on her face making him
gulp despite his mounting frustration.

She
walked until she stood at his side, placing Anji between herself and the wall, effectively
trapping him, “Alright,” She started without bothering to hide her
displeasure. “What crawled up your ass and took a great big shit?”

He smiled;
her blunt statement making it a bit warmer then Anji thought would be possible,
it still did not reach his eyes, “I assure you Baiken, I am perfectly
fine.”

“Oh
really?” She said, utterly unconvinced, “Because last I checked, your
eyes weren’t that green.”

Anji
opened his mouth to refute further, but his jaw snapped shut when Baiken shot
him a look, a look that roughly translated to ’for the love God don’t
bullshit me’, so he sighed and decided to cut to the chase, “I think
you…understated Mr. Sfondi’s…affection for you.”

Baiken
didn’t look surprised, having apparently figured that out herself on the way
(Anji guessed as much), but her glare did soften a bit as she sighed. She
looked up, right into his eyes, “What are you?”

Anji
blinked in confusion, “What are you-”

“You
seemed to have forgotten what you are.” She continued, as if he didn’t
speak, she reached her hand up to catch the back of his neck, bringing him down
to her level, “Let me remind you.”

Their
lips met, soft at first, before quickly growing heated, Baiken pushing him
against the cold metal wall as lips smacked together and their tongues writhed
on top of each other. For a long minute, all thoughts of the captain and his
nerve flew out of Anji’s head; all he could think of was Baiken’s hand on his
neck and Baiken’s lips on his and Baiken Baiken Baiken.

Baiken
leaned back and rested her forehead on his, a bit out of breath,
“You,” she started, her eye burning into him, “Are mine.”
A shiver went down his spine, his gaze refused to budge an inch from her, a
dopey smile lit up his face, “Mine, do you understand?”

“Yours,”
He said, breathlessly, devotedly, cut down and at her mercy, “Yours, always
yours.”

Baiken
smiled again, softer, kinder, and brighter than anything he saw her do when
talking to him, “I only need one arm,” She said lowly, just
loud enough to hear, “One eye, one blade, and one Anji.” Her
head rose from his, one eyebrow climbing a few inches on her face,
“Alright?”

Anji
breathed, calm, deep, and untroubled, though a little embarrassed,
“Okay.”

Baiken
nodded, and leaned off Anji so he could extract himself from the wall,
“Good.” She rolled her shoulders, “I’m gonna go rest before we
land, you joining me?”

Anji
laughed a little, “In a bit, going to grab myself a cup of tea
first,” He smiled softly at her, “You want one?”

“Sure,”
She said airily, “You know how I like it.”

Anji
laughed before turning to make his way back to the kitchen.

“Also,”
Baiken called out before she went out of earshot, “If you see him, tell
that half assed pirate that if I catch him looking at my tits again, I’ll shove
his stupid hat so far up his ass he’ll choke on it.”

Anji
laughed all the way to the teapot.

(When
they landed, Anji made a show of him draping an arm over Baiken’s shoulder,
which she requited by leaning against him slightly. Johnny, to his credit, only
smiled and gave an encouraging wink.)

pinkqueerpunk:

faggotpeachs:

people really need to stop making fun of young trans boys who go through the “im a soft plant boy uwu” phase, who dye their hair pastel colors, who go through the space prince phase, who dresses very feminine. realizing you’re trans can be pretty tough so staying “soft” can be a good middle ground for these young boys who were previously raised feminine. making fun of young trans men that call themselves soft/soft boys is so harmful. let them find themselves, grow out of it on their own. if you consider yourself an “elder” and make fun of these kids you’re a terrible role model.

if you’re cis you can rb this just don’t speak on the subject

Tbh grown trans men are allowed to feel this way too- trans men shouldn’t have to be shackled to toxic and/or stereotypical masculinity any more than cis men, and it can be important to explore expressions of masculinity that are less conforming to figure out how you’re most comfortable presenting and expressing yourself.

Reblog if you’re black tumblr.

neo-soulless:

thehadrianshow:

imagine-charizards:

decodethefallenmoon:

antikoreaboo:

eo-akes:

ablacknation:

You don’t have to be black, it just means you support us, you stand by us and you’re for us.

100%

200%

Someone who’s black or supports black people and their human rights. it literally says that in the description. “You don’t have to be black, it just means you support us, you stand by us and you’re for us.” 

Why the fuck does this not have more notes wtf.

🙋🏻‍♂️

Let’s count the psyops

piggyofoz:

songspinner9:

acreaturecalledgreed:

so heres a thing my mother always said to me growing up when i broke something on accident that i think is really important

and i know, from watching my friends and seeing their panic and terror when something broke, that not only were not nearly enough children told this thing, many children were punished in place of being reassured

and thats heartbreaking

so heres the words from my mom that i was always told, and theyre the same words that anyone who never got to hear them should hear now, courtesy of my mom, who has repeated those same words to many a friend of mine and now to you

if i ever broke anything, the first words out of her mouth would always be and have always been, “are you hurt?” 

i would say no

she would say, “thats okay, then”

and i would ask why

and she would say “because it was just a thing- even if its a nice thing, or an old thing, or an expensive thing, its still just a thing. it can be replaced, or we can live without it. there is only one you. there will only ever be one you. you will always be more important than just some thing.” 

I lend out a collection to fossils to my school’s 8th grade science teachers annually. I’ve collected since I was a kid, added more as an adult from yard sales and donations. I want kids to be inspired and intrigued. About my 5th year at my school, the teacher came to me with one of her students. The girl looked upset and sort of scared. The teacher explained that the girl’s hand had slipped and a Megaladon Shark’s tooth had broken into two pieces. My first response was to make sure she hadn’t been cut by one of the pieces, and she shook her head, tears in her eyes. I smiled at her and pointed out that she hadn’t dropped it on purpose, that the ridiculously big tooth had been fossilized and survived this long, and it would still be amazing if I had to either keep it in two pieces or superglue it.

It bothered me a lot that the kid was clearly primed by a lot of adults to deal with anger and blame when a simple mistake was made. I offered her a hug, which she accepted and finally laughed.

Story time: 

My grandmother owns crystal bowls that have been passed down to her from her grandmother. Being a family with Jewish heritage in Austria, every single piece of family history we own is basically a treasure in itself.

I was already an adult when she allowed me to take one of them home with me, of course only after I swore several oaths to keep it safe. I can go months and years without breaking a single dish, but lo and behold, it takes two weeks and a split second of not paying attention, and suddenly that crystal bowl, that’s worth more to my grandmother than the entire rest of her furniture, goes flying and shatters into a million pieces. I swear I watched for what felt like an hour as that thing dropped, turned around itself and finally crashed in a spectacular impact. Anyway, it’s completely beyond repair, and I’m freaking out because my grandmother will murder me. Only, she will not, because even worse, she’s going to be fucking heartbroken and so, so disappointed with me she won’t even find it within herself to murder me.

But, you gotta do what you gotta do – not being able to face her while confessing, I call her, in tears, apologizing a hundred times before she finally goes: “Gigi, calm down now, what happened??”
“*sobbing* I- I broke your grandma’s bohooohooowl -”

And my grandmother, bless that woman, starts laughing hysterically. She’s laughing so much I think, I must have broken her, that’s it, she’s lost her marbles now and it’s my fault, until she wheezes out: “Gigi that bowl survived two world wars and the Nazis but not a month in your kitchen!” and of course I fucking lost it too at that point. That’s how I learned, that in the end, it’s really all about perspective. 

Now I’m a step-mum myself and my go to reaction whenever I hear something break is to shrug and say ‘Well, it had a good run’ and then I go fetch a broom and we’ll clean up because if my grandma could laugh off a 100 year old crystal dish, I can laugh off an IKEA mug lmao