#I GUESS NOW IT'S HIS NAAAAME

[pcholkachai]

sorry mr. edgeworth! we oughta solve this case by ourselves

i'm late on the aai collection announcement but good god. how am i scared for my life

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 408: Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain

Previously on BnHA: HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi decides he’s going to cover the rest of the AFO/OFA saga in the span of just seven pages, the majority of which are mostly just filled with lovingly detailed closeups of AFO and Kudou’s eyes. Back in the present day, Kid For One takes a couple of seconds to trample the last of the “Kacchan is OFA II or is related to OFA II” theories into the dust, and is then all “fuck it, I’ll just take him out with one last spectacularly grotesque supermove.” Kacchan is all “lol you fucking dipshit”, and he says it with such confidence that it truly makes me believe he can defeat AFO’s “ALL THE QUIRKS EVER!!” attack with his piddly little exploding bloodsweat quirk. AND IT WILL BE A SIGHT TO SEE.

interesting!

Yoichi’s name btw is written with the kanji 与 which means “bestow” or “give”, and 一 which means “one.” so basically “one who gives”, which is fitting as the creator of OFA, but also fits in with this new context of being the first “possession” bestowed upon AFO

oh yes and also AFO I guess has just torn his brother to shreds or something too. idk. I’m going to be honest with you guys, this panel has such a surreal vibe that I just sat here blinking stupidly at it and wasn’t even shocked or anything. like what. is he dreaming this?? or did he really just make a “STOP! IN THE NAAAAME OF LOVE” gesture and in doing so remove half of his brother’s jaw

ewww

idk what’s wrong with me today guys. AFO just disintegrated Yoichi, and Kudou and and OFA Tres (who apparently still doesn’t have a name???? freaking Kudou got named before you??) are literally RIGHT THERE and presumably horrified, and all I can think about is how fucking gross it is that they’re all hanging out in a fucking sewer

oh shit y’all it’s about to go down

he can’t kill Kudou right off the bat can he? does Kudou even know he has OFA yet? are we going to see him transfer it to OFA III? I’m so fucking excited omg

LOL WHAT

“weirdly matte” omg. so apparently he’s like All Might, where the “he’s just drawn differently” thing is something people actually acknowledge in-story. “yeah he actually has no pupils. that’s a real thing. technically that should mean he can’t see since pupils are what let light into your eyes, but don’t worry about that part. just know that his eyes canonically look weird to the story people as well, and everyone is creeped out by it, not just you”

yeah he’s actually blind

so he literally can’t see outside himself. way to lay those metaphors on thick, Horikoshi

(ETA: this is my “just in case my impeccably dry wit doesn’t translate well across the internet” ETA to assure everyone I know he’s not actually blind lol.)

now we’re cutting to some random city where AFO is broodingly staring at Yoichi’s severed hand because he’s perfected the art of always doing incredibly unsettling things

I cannot believe the fucking hands thing has an actual origin story. of course it does. this man has never done a single hinged thing in his life. it’s all unhinged or bust. am I talking about AFO or Horikoshi? YOU DECIDE

he’s sitting at a table with a bottle of wine holding his dead brother’s embalmed severed limb and thinking about fucking quirk shit

so your transformation from Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain happened almost completely offscreen huh. I’m kinda disappointed, ngl. I could have read a few more chapters about that. maybe a spinoff miniseries

WAIT WHAT

are you serious. we finally get a panel that’s INCREDIBLY RELEVANT to pretty much ALL OF MY BNHA THEORIES, only for that same panel to contradict itself ONE SPEECH BUBBLE LATER?? so what is the truth???

omg omg omg

so many fucking questions, omg. what the hell does “through research” even mean. how did he confirm Yoichi’s quirklessness, and why did he later change his mind? how the fuck can Yoichi have a quirk factor and yet not have an actual quirk. “it was just so weak it didn’t count or something I guess” okay??? how much of this is unreliable narrator vs. the word of god? how is it we’re getting so many answers and yet all I have is more fucking questions you guys

BRUE?CE?CEE??!

bruce

Kudou is so goddamned hot. I hope you washed the hell out of that arm wound after getting it all covered in sewage you stupid sexy man

I can’t get over Three’s name. “idk if anyone noticed, but it’s kind of a subtle homage to another very famous superhero” Horikoshi your nap wasn’t long enough, please go home

also love how Bruce is talking shit about OFA being a puny loser quirk for wimps. how the fuck do they even know what’s going on, anyway? was there a tutorial???

oh you just had a feeling huh??? that it was “something like this”, huh??? how is it that I, who knows all about OFA because I’m from the future and have read 408 chapters of this nonsense, am somehow still less in the know than this handsome clown who doesn’t know shit but just “had a feeling”

(ETA: while editing this post I noted that Bruce is sitting in front of a computer in what seems to be some sort of medical lab, so maybe they ran some tests or something? except that only makes me more confused, because it implies they didn’t actually figure out OFA’s workings via convenient plot instincts. so then how the fuck did they figure out the transfer process?? questions)

meanwhile AFO is sitting in the panel next to him whining about how someone stole Yoichi’s quirk. excuse you. he did not steal it. it was in fact a gift

these flashbacks are all jumbled up and it’s unexpectedly fun to read, but also really chaotic

I guess he’s talking to Kudou on the right and AFO on the left

so many intense closeups of eyes in this chapter oh my goodness

Horikoshi even drew the individual goddamn eyelashes. this looks like the margins of someone’s notebook from when they were really bored in middle school

oh my god the information overload!!!

so much for AFO actually feeling emotions lol. or is he just lying to himself about why he cried. that delicious ambiguity

so we don’t even get a flashback explaining how the transfer actually happened?? to either Kudou OR my beloved Bruce?? goddamn you Horikoshi. omg I would seriously kill for more of this. make a movie about it. I want the OFA origin story prequel movie damn it

I like how AFO just sits there on a throne holding court with a single tiki torch beside him for aesthetic reasons

I can’t quite figure out how he killed Banjou and I’m not sure I really want to know. it looks very violent

friendly reminder that Shinomori is Sir Not Appearing In This Flashback because he’s the only OFA user who died of natural causes! good for you Shinomori. En probably wishes he was more like you

poor En

was Nana just taking a stroll or something one day and stumbled across this epic fight with the evilest man on the planet vs some kid in a trenchcoat, and then the poor kid got bisected and he looked at her and he was all “please eat my hair” and she was just like “ok”?

OH WOW

what a transition omg

LOLLLLLLLL

you know, part of me always wondered how All Might was so certain he’d killed AFO that he apparently never bothered to confirm it. but looking at this panel now, I can understand

fjjfdzjgf

he’s sweating so much. like “okay yeah he punched the top of his face off, this is pretty bad but I’LL DO MY BEST”

BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY AWW SHUCKS

so let’s recap. over on Kacchan’s side we have “GOTTA USE THE PAIN TO WIN!!!” haha ouch. and then over here on KFO’s side we have. whatever the fuck we just experienced over these past two chapters. so basically it’s a battle between the two most deranged characters in the entire series. glorious sweet chaos

DSFJKSLDKGJL he’s now trying to figure out how the fuck they look so much alike and whether they’re actually related

“no, that can’t be it. so then maybe... this kid grows up and then somehow travels back in time...?!” HE’S JUST LIKE US FR

so now he’s saying it’s because Kacchan didn’t have character development yet the last time, but now that he does his eyes are all Full Of Determination just like Kudou’s and so we’ve basically come full circle!

transcended WHAT? :O :D :D omg I’m kidding you guys please don’t hurt me

lol

actually the more we learn about Kudou the less I personally see the resemblance now lol. because Kudou seems so calm and collected, but Kacchan is just... [gestures to literally everything about Kacchan]

so AFO’s trying to strategize, but he can’t warp Kacchan away because the only available targets are too close and he’s still got that SUPERSPEED, BOYO so it wouldn’t make a difference. lol but if you kept doing it repeatedly it might be kind of funny though

and he can’t keep fighting him either because he’s getting his ass whooped and it’s speeding up his de-aging or whatever. well you could just give up then I guess. your call, AFO

oh was that your plan?

spoiler alert for me lol. but it’s not exactly shocking or anything since he’s dying, guess he wants to abandon ship

(ETA: just FYI for anyone reading this who’s not familiar with my dumbassery, I have currently only read chapters 1 through 374 at this point in time, before skipping ahead to 403 because Kacchan came back and I lost all willpower. I am working on catching up with the rest!)

oh so now you did come up with a strategy?

lmao what the FUCK

how much of this is going to be clearer to me once I finish the chapters that I missed, and how much of it is just plain old “nope this is all brand new zero-context BnHA bullshit” lol. this looks like every single quirk AFO ever absorbed combined into one gigantic horrifying blob that forced Horikoshi to take an extra week just to draw it

oh my god!?

Kacchan hovering there bravely facing all this is giving me Gandalf “you shall not pass” vibes and I’m LIVING FOR IT

so either AFO is going to kill Kacchan for the second time right here and now, or he’s going to fail and turn back into a squishy evil baby fdslfjkls

love how All Might is all “DODGE IT YOUNG BAKUGOU!” thanks for the warning, champ. doing his part

more exploding bloodsweat closeups. are these just going to be a mainstay of Kacchan fights from now on

“are you stupid?”, when faced with [gestures to the entirety of the previous page], is possibly the best line ever uttered by anyone in the series. even better than the polite “coming through” uttered only seconds before it

ah man. you love to see it. he literally doesn’t even care. HE ALREADY DIED ONCE TODAY, AND IT CLUED HIM IN TO THE FACT THAT HE’S A MAIN CHARACTER AND ACTUALLY IMMUNE TO DEATH. sorry AFO it’s curtains for you. CURTAINS

[unbridgeabledistances]

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

--

1.

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

 2.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

3.

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

4.

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

[twilightprince101]

Mafia!Wiggle AU

So yeah, I came up with the idea of Wiggle being a mob boss a few days ago and I succumbed to the brain rot. Wrote an entire fic for this idea, introducing her and what she's like.

I got flustered myself writing the tall crime lady. Enjoy!

Mafia Boss Wiggle

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF’A ME YOU MEATHEADS!!” A lanky, roughed up grumpus struggles in the beefy arms of two well-dressed goons. They grip his arms tight with their paws, dragging his body along behind it like an afterthought. “You have any idea what my family will do when-?!”

“Shut your trap already,” the purple goon groaned. They adjust their ornate mask, brushing the sunset and emerald colored feathers out of their eyes. “Honestly, you’re lucky we caught you before openin’ hours, else we’d have to knock your teeth in to keep you from disturbin’ the patrons.”

“Don’t act like yer better than me!” The red grump kicks over a velvet chair from a nearby table as they pass. It clatters against the polished wood floor, echoing through the well-lit nightclub. A bartender--wearing a similar feathered and jeweled mask to the goons--gets up from polishing glasses to set it right. “Don’t you know who I am?! I’m from the Turnpipe family!! My boys’ll storm this place once they hear what you’se done to me! They’ll roast you all over open flames until every last strand of your fur is singed to the flesh!! You’ll be nothing but a naked mole rat for the rest of your lives!!!”

“Heya Cold-Brew, how was your kid’s party last night?” The blue goon holding Turnpipe’s other paw waves to the bartender as he sets the chair upright.

“Went okay. Park got rained out midway through the picnic, so we went to Slaker’s for ‘shakes.”

“Ah, shame. Need any help after I’m done here?” He gestures to their victim as if it were a sack of potatos. The red grump wiggles and yells while scuffing the floor they’re dragged across.

“Nah, should be good here, thanks ‘Stein. Fifteen until the doors open.” Cold-Brew waves back to the goons as he returns to his station, both wave back and smile.

“I SAID LET ME GO YOU INVERTEBRATES!!!!”

“Ugh, honestly why can’t you all say anything original?” The purple grump shakes their head. “Always just ‘let me go,’ ‘I’m with this family,’ ‘You’ll pay for this,’ if you’re gonna keep yappin’ at least say something interesting.”

“I’LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!!!”

“Hehey, he tells jokes!”

The nightclub’s attendants laugh together under the neon spotlights as the intruder’s yells fall on uncaring ears. Past the bar lined with high class alcohol and the grand stage lined with spotlights and the band pit, the three grumps make their way to a door labeled “BACKSTAGE: EMPLOYEE’S ONLY.” With a quick knock and faint response from the other side, the two gently push open the door and leave the main area behind.

“Heya boss,” the purple goon speaks, his voice much more formal. “Found this one tryin’ to bash the front lock open with a brick. Got him before any major damage was done, don’t worry.”

Both grumps lift the intruder up by the shoulders, leaving his legs kicking in the air. It takes the Turnpipe a moment to adjust to the dimmer lighting and he coughs from the lingering cigarette smoke in the air.

“Thank ya’ darlings,” a sultry voice speaks, facing away from the three. The grump thinks that the boss is some shade of pink, but poking above the large mass of pink fluff a sort of golden orange pokes out. Despite being held in the air, the orange grumpus sitting at the table in front of them reaches just below the Turnpipe’s height. “Wouldn’t want him making a mess before our loyal customers come in.”

“Are you these goons’ boss?!” The Turnpipe screams, pointing at the grumpus. “You fucked up now! When the Turnpipes hear of this-”

“They’ll tear us limb from limb, yes hun I know.” The boss speaks calmly, comfortably while applying purple eyeliner via pocket mirror.  “I could hear you all the way backstage, making me consider sound proofing.”

The red grumpus blinks. Despite the goons disregarding his threats earlier, for some reason his mind expected her to take him seriously. He takes a moment to look around the employee’s area, finding various other grumps of size and stature. Some more fancily-dressed grumps put on makeup and practice vocal exercises in large vanity mirrors, while toned tux-wearing grumps check their suits before walking out to the main club area. All of them are wearing the same mask and haven’t given him so much as a glance.

“Now tell me darling,” the boss angles the pocket mirror to address her intruder. Her ice blue iris gives off a sharp, cold gaze that clashes with the warm and comforting atmosphere before. “Why were you trying to break into our lovely establishment? Just couldn’t wait to have some fun, wanted to steal some of our booze perhaps?”

“Wh-no I’m, I don’t care about your stupid club!!” The Turnpipe yells, finding his fury again. “One’a your meatheads shook down my brother! They were on my family’s turf, and I don’t take these insults lyin’ down!”

“I can see that. So you’d rather take it in the air instead?”

Some of the other staff members chuckle as they check themselves for the third time over.

“Du-buh?!” Did you even hear what I said?!” The turnpipe explodes, his enemy’s eyes narrowing in the mirror. “YOUR goons-”

“I heard you clearly.”

The CLICK of the pocket mirror cuts through the smoky air. She places it on the table alongside the bills, fan letters and knives and begins spinning her chair around. It swivels as she sweeps her long legs along with the momentum, poking out of her dark emerald dress. The dark emerald dress’s frills flutter from the sudden movement, draping the boss from her knees to the straps on her shoulders, hidden under her flowing pink mane. With a CLACK of her deep purple heels on stone she sets her crossed legs down and stops the chair in place. Her previous playful gaze is now replaced with one of annoyance, both her icy and greyed eyes narrowed in contempt.

With her clean scar sweeping across her right eye, the boss of the Gilded Dahlias, Wiggle Wigglebottom, sits up fully and rests a paw on her chin while gazing down at her prey.

“I’m just curious as to how you thought you could barge in here and get revenge against my boys, my gang, even me, all by yourself. You certainly don’t have the physique or firepower to do the job, so my first guess is that you’re either full of yourself, or just plain dumb.”

The performers all “ooooooooh~” between them, like a class of 8th graders hearing their fellow classmate called up to the principal’s office.

“I mean-well, I…” The red grumpus searches the floor for the right words, then balls his fists and puffs out his chest. “I’d assume YOU would pay us with respect! Us Turnpipe’s been around longer than you newbies have, so we outrank you!”

“It’s stupidity folks!!” Wiggle cheers and flicks up a paw to announce the results. A few goons groan and dig into their jacket pockets, handing their smiling associates a fat wad of bills. Turnpipe’s hot air dissipates and he deflates once more.

“Damn, third in a row… I’ll treat you to a drink later Wiggle.” A brown-furred performer in a glittery red dress crosses her arms.

“Maybe a milkshake,” The boss peeks over her shoulder, “I overheard Brew talking about Slakers and my sweet tooth’s been acting up lately! Them icy sweets are ‘Callin my naaaame~’.” She sings in a wide vocal range with complete ease, giving her paw a flourish and leaning back as she hums.

“You… You know, just because you’re new it doesn’t mean you’re better than us! Don’t act like you’re a hotshot just because you did a few successful heists!”

“A few? Oohohoho!!” Wiggle peers back, sitting up straight once again. “Goodness darlin’, you are not helping your case right now. Tell me, how many bank heists has your little family done in the past year?”

“Uh… twenty five?”

A tuxed grumpus snorts as he walks out.

“Oh darling…” Wiggle places a palm against her cheek with a pitiful smile. “That’s not even cute, it’s just... sad.”

“Yeah?! Well, I’d like to see you-”

“Fifty three.” Wiggle interrupts. “In the past three months.”

“...wha-”

“Around… how much was it Abra?” Wiggle calls behind her.

“Passed the million mark just last week!” A green grumpus, wearing more casual clothing, peeks out from around a corner leading to an employee hallway.

“Got so much excess profits that even after giving everyone a bonus, I got to turn the rest to my own personal bed!” She waves a paw in the air. “Certainly wasn’t the comfiest experience, but I at least got to check it off my bucket list!”

“I… I don’t…” The Turnpipe’s words do their best to try and search for any rage or anger to grasp onto, but any attempt to feel above her hasn’t worked, not helped by the fact he’s still being held up by the shoulders like a small child. After around ten seconds of stammering, Wiggle sighs and shakes her head.

“You don’t gotta try and act tough anymore darlin’, I think I get what you’re about now…” The sunset grumpus uncrosses her legs and lets her other heel clack on the floor. The Turnpipe’s gaze goes from eye level to slowly upwards, and upwards, and upwards; the boss’s body obscuring the light from one of the vanities. She wraps one of her paws around the grip of a knife lodged into the table and yanks it out. Her prey freezes up in the arms of her trap.

“You didn’t come here so you could avenge your brother or any sappy nonsense like that.” Wiggle circles around the Turnpipe, her heels echoing their clicks with each step while fiddling with the knife in her paws. “You came here so you could try and make yourself feel big and stwong, flaunting your family name as if it were a gun in of itself.”

“I…” Clack. Clack. Clack. It becomes hard to think as each step feels like a hammer and chisel against his brain. Wiggle looks the red grump up and down, drawing invisible lines up and down his torso.

“Since you came in you’ve been talking about your little gang as if you ran it. ‘My boys,’ ‘My gang,’ ‘My my my my my.’ But all that time, being caught up in your own head? It just made your skull more dense. All you are is just some lowly lackey that probably joined, say…” She plants an elbow on the Turnpipe’s head, checking her makeup one last time in the reflection of her knife. “A month ago? Maybe less?”

The frog in her armrest’s throat nearly leaps out of his mouth. His head shrinking down is the only confirmation Wiggle needs.

“You’ve been so caught up in that little bubble of yours, thinking you’re the hottest grump on the block, just because you’re part of a gang. Think just because you have a name to flaunt around and access to guns it makes you powerful. But I’m gonna let you in on a secret little man.” The Turnpipe’s body clenches as Wiggle stands back up and Clacks her way back to his front, eyeing the knife she paws in her hands as intensely as possible.

“Having a name to flaunt around doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.

“Having guns and knives to hold against people’s throats doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.

“Having enough money to buy out all of Grump Vegas doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.’

“But you know what does?”

Wiggle towers above the Turnpipe, patting her razor-sharp knife in her paw. All different rays of light are obscured by her roaring mane, leaving the grump to cower in the arms of her two goons. She Clacks forward, and her goons take a step back. Not out of fear or trepidation though; a quick glance to both of their faces shows the same devilish smile that their boss wears. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Every single step is like a jolt of ice to his heart, dragging every last little step for an eternity as his entire being trembles in the arms of the two goons. Just the slight bump of the wall on his back knocks out every bit of air in his lungs and he fights to just inhale as his natural predator CLACKS just inches away from him, casting a toothy, ecstatic smile. Her single, silver iris seems to glow in the limited light.

Wiggle grips the knife in a reverse grip in her left hand and begins to raise it. The grumpus tries to close his eyes and look away but she grabs his chin with her other paw and forces his gaze back to her. His attempts to shake his head in a desperate plea are pointless, her paw digging into his fur and keeping him from moving even a centimeter out of place. The glinted metal shines as it finally reaches the zenith of its arc, hungry to tear through red grumpus fur. With nothing left to do all the Turnpipe can do is let tears stream down his face.

With the speed of a bullet and barely giving the Turnpipe a moment to flinch, Wiggle swings down the dagger. Her victim closes his eyes and blurts out a whimper and-

THUNK!!!

…

He’s not dead. His eyes are still fuzed shut but he’s still not dead, he can hear the sounds of the backstage area around him. The Turnpipe forces an eye open to peek at the knife and his skeleton nearly leaps out and books it at the sight. The knife is only a hair’s length away from his cheek embedded into the wood beam he’s pressed against. A sting in his cheek and the running of a warm liquid helps him fill in the gap of what happened. But just a little bit away, the Turnpipe finds something else that makes his body completely shut down

It’s Wigglebottom’s face, just as close to his as the knife.

Her icy and greyed eyes peer into the Turnpipe’s irises, flickering around while high on adrenaline and terror. Her gaze looks past his false-bravado exterior and reaches further, deeper inside him into a dark pit he had tried so desperately to hide. A black, slimy, jittering piece of disgust comes out. Letting the grip on his chin go she traces his chin and speaks in a tone fitting of her now-sultry gaze. Wiggle leans in close, so close that the Turnpipe can smell her rich floral perfume, and whispers into his ear.

“Fear~”

“...”

The Turnpipe’s mind has gone blank. Despite the pounding jackhammer in his chest, the final whisper and breath of hot air from the Gilded Dahlia boss erases his mind, leaving him a whimpering and stuttering mess. A few of the remaining employees from backstage snicker and point at her latest victim, though he isn’t able to process the fact that he’s being mocked. Seeing that the usual routine has worked yet again, Wiggle leaves the knife implanted in the wall and pulls back with a satisfied smile.

“Boys,” she snaps a finger in the air, her tone returning to the playful nature it was before, “drop our newest employee. He won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, should be good to leave him back here for the day.”

Both goons do as they’re told without question, letting the grumpus slump to the floor, his knees having completely given out. He continues to stare at the ground and shake his head, crying as he trembles from the terror just inflicted.

“So what’re you gonna make this one boss?” The purple grumpus asks with a playful smile. “Waiter? Bartender?”

“Nah.” She shrugs with little effort. “He doesn’t really have the looks for either of those. Probably’ll make him our new janitor, been needing a new one after our last one squealed. Feel free to give him the old guy’s uniform, I feel it should fit pretty well.”

The purple goon nods and takes out a sketchpad, writing “Find old janitor’s uniform” at the bottom of the list as they walk past and out towards the main area.

“Alright everyone, hopefully this little show of mine was able to help you get fired up! We got five minutes ‘till the doors open, get those finishing touches done!” The boss claps her hands in the air to her employees, resuming business as usual. “If we’re able to double our profits today I’ll treat everyone to Slakers at the end of our shift tonight! Let’s make tonight a good one darlin’s!”

The warm and familiar chatter of the backstage area continues once more. As every last well-dressed employee strolls out to prepare for the afternoon they pass by their new coworker, neither giving the other a glance. As the front door opens and the excited clamoring of a new audience begins to fill the club, Wiggle peers down at her latest victim, slumped up the hole-ridden wood post on his back. She smirks and gives a content sigh.

“Maybe one day you’ll all surprise me… but until then, I suppose this is just as fun~”

Wiggle ruffles the head of the former Turnpipe like an affectionate puppy, and then walks back to her main office, her heels Clacking and echoing throughout backstage and the red grumpus’s empty mind.

[voidblacktea]

Lockdown: day 51

The houses where the workers of the Baltimore steel industry used to live are now abandoned. The factories have been closed, the companies have gone bankrupt, a tons of buildings and walls have collapsed.

So many people have fled this city that there are plenty of empty dwellings for the homeless to be murdered in.

Baltimore has a record homicide rate & the largest port in the United States.

David Simon based one of the best TV shows ever made on the city Baltimore; Counting Crows say it rains there (but they mean something else, I think rain is just a metaphor); Edgar Allan Poe was found deliriously walking the Baltimore streets. He was wearing someone else's clothes and no one knew what happened to him in his final week. His constant repetition of the name "Reynolds" is the only clue.

Some of your favorite hardcore bands happen to come from Baltimore. To name a few: Turnstile, Trapped Under Ice, Queensway, Angel Du$t, Ruiner, Praise, Mindset. They're children of this big city and I guess what they're really good at is how they are all able to tie together positivity, street culture, city culture, rage, hurt, pain, both, calling your naaaame (semicit.)

Today's tunes: Canned Heat by Turnstile; Raining In Baltimore by Counting Crows.

[jonahsahn]

Starting Anew

I had Tumblr before.

It used to be a collection of things that interested me.

Anime, art, photography, porn, music, you naaaame it. 

My Tumblr interests were just as jumbled up as I am. And while there’s a uniqueness to that kind of mixed upness, I have come to learn that when it comes to digital marketing, or the selling of oneself as a “brand” on social media, the world seems to like flattened experiences. 

You see, I have been on social media since the beginning. I call myself a vintage millennial. No, I didn’t think of that myself. It’s actually the work of Jaboukie (Young-White (my future husband, but not really because he doesn’t fulfill the “half my age plus 9″ rule)). I have been on social media for a long time, and I have marketed myself as a mixed up person comprised of a whole bunch of different experiences. 

That doesn’t work. Especially not on my social media platform of choice: Youtube. 

My Youtube channel started off as a way for me to upload video that I had taken for my Sinfonia chapter’s Mills Music Missions; groups of guys going around to nursing homes and hospitals, singing songs for the bed ridden and down trodden. From there, I started using Youtube to watch Happyslip, a Filipinx comedian who got her break acting like her parents online. Then I started following LoveBScott; a gay androgynous man who told stories and gave advice from his apartment in West Hollywood. From there, I began doing my own vlogs about my experiences as a Black/ Asian person. 

I saw a lot of growth in the beginning. I was popular most among Filipinx people and Black Gay Queer men, a lot of whom were out online, but not in real life, a subset of the queer community which wasn’t uncommon in 2008, as a matter of fact. It was a prime time to use Youtube as a way to “escape” and I was an escape for a lot of people at first. 

But then, I started talking about being Gay; being part of the LGBTQ community, and instantly many of my Filipinx subscribers turned on me. I received comments from the same people, over and over again telling me that I could still turn back and “return to God” and that they were praying for me, and hoped that I would get right because they had watched my videos for so long. 

And I dug in further. I transformed my youtube channel into a place where Black Queer (Gay) men gathered on a weekly basis to talk about the issues of the day. Mind you, this was 4 months before The Read podcast by Kid Fury and Crissle. I was so into this idea that I even changed the name of the Youtube channel from “blasianFMA” to “Edugaytion.” A complete rebranding and including of my friends. 

Edugaytion had a good run and was the jumping off point for some really interesting things. Garrett McQueen, the host of Edugaytion, went on to work for radio stations around the South, and ended up making his way to American Public Media where he currently works as a host of not only a show, but also a podcast listened to millions of people, and I currently work on a Queer podcast called “This QPOC Life.” 

But what of those people from the Youtube days? The ones I haven’t mentioned? The ones who were my contemporaries, the ones who started around the same time I did, and we might not know each other (or maybe we do...)? 

Plenty of people who started Youtube at the same time that I did stuck to a path. They stuck to one point. They stayed in a lane. Some of those people are now Youtube celebrities; with millions of followers, or household names in certain communities. 

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, because I’m trying to figure out what happened with me. Why didn’t I make it big? What did I do wrong? Why don’t people latch on to me at as fast a rate as the people who were around me during the beginning? 

I think I know. 

I think it’s because I didn’t stay in a single lane. I changed the name of my channel. I changed the subject material. People who subscribed to me because I made a particular type of video would come back and then I’d be talking about or doing something completely different. One moment I’m reviewing the latest anime to live action adaptation, the next I’m talking about the struggles of being a Queer Person of Color in a largely White performing arts institution. One minute I’m talking about video games the next, I’m talking about HIV awareness. 

I get it. 

At this point it just seems like it’s far too late to even try to get things on one track. I’ve stepped away from Youtube. I’ve stepped back into it. I’ve taken breaks. I’ve done a video a day for a week. I can see the topics that gain the subscribers and the comments: They’re videos about mixed race people - but I don’t want to devote my channel to talking about one experience. I want  to review videos games, movies, talk about queerness, and a whole host of other things. I want to vlog, get things off my chest, ramble, share stories... But the diversity thing isn’t something that audiences want. 

This carries over into real life as well and is the reason why I’m able to arrive at the conclusion that I have regarding just youtube. 

All blasians know the feeling of not being enough of one or the other. I guess this whole youtube thing is just another byproduct of that. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of blasians who have made it by solely devoting their channels to talking about being Black and Korean, with emphasis on anything Korean, and there are youtubers who are blasian who have devoted their channels to just compiling grammatical errors and talking shit about how people can’t spell... and these people rack up millions of views and subscribers. 

I can’t do that. Not because I don’t have the ability, but because I don’t want to. I’m always evolving. I’m always learning something new, and I’m always trying a different thing.

The current thing is Film Making, which I will probably get into more in my next post because I’ve been typing too much already, and I’m behind on this script I’m writing. 

Anyway, I doubt anybody is reading this, but I’m glad I thought it through and put it out into the universe. 

xx blasianFMA 

[lygerastia]

maybe some other time (Lance)

Summary: After so long, Lance reunites with you, his long lost love -- but...

If only.

Warnings: angst; death.

Chapters: 1 [completed]

Words: 2,110 

**

“[name]...! [name]! [naaaame]!”

It came from a distance; or so it seemed, you had no idea. Too tired to figure it out. There was a loud ringing in your ears and a stinging pain in your side—you were drifting on and off out of consciousness and couldn’t keep your mind straight, coulndn't think clear.

But that familiar voice…You focused on it, trying to stay awake and holding on for a few more seconds.

“[name]! [name]! Stay with me!”

Clearer this time: was it Lance? It must be Lance…You were with him, last thing you remember.

“Don’t…Don’t do this to me…”

“Lance…” you try to say but your throat is dry and your lips uncoordinated. Two arms were holding you, dragging you through the dust. It was all quiet around you, except for Lance’s worried murmurs—his words were overlapping and you don’t have the energy to completely focus on them.

It doesn’t matter anyway. You feel like blacking out once again…

“[name], please—“ a pitiful sob wakes you up. “—please wake up…”

Arms were squeezed around chest, cradling you, swinging back and forth gently. Your hair was wet—was someone crying in your hair?

Because someone planted soft kisses on top of your head every few word; they felt warm and protective. You felt safe, you could just drift back to sleep and forget all the pain that your whole body felt. Your brain buzzed with blackness and you couldn’t move your body at all—it was numb, without energy.

Were you just extremely tired?

Or was it something else? You drifted back to sleep until—

Lance…It was Lance that was crying, no?

After such a long time since you’ve last seen him, you finally reunited. You saw his goofy face and your heart skipped a beat: he was there to save you.

Lance. The one you’ve been loving ever since you first met him, back on Earth, his hometown. He was here for you—you thought your cries for help were going to be left unanswered. But he heard you and he came for you.

T o save you from years of slavery; who would’ve guessed that so deep in space, you would meet with him again?

It was fate. Destiny wanted you two to..

Everything went wrong, though.

It was no tearful reunion—a tragic one instead. When you were holding his hand as you were running to safety, you knew that things will be better. Your hero, with his bright grin you so missed, was here for you. ‘

It’s going to be fine!’ he told you, squeezing your hand. ‘You have the best sharpshooter with you. [name].’ When he called you your name, you were amazed he still remembered. But then…a hidden enemy appeared in front of you, taking you by surprise. Lance didn’t manage to ready his weapon in time and the Galra soldier drove his blade into your stomach, deep enough, straight to the mark.

Blood everywhere….The intense pain…It all came back to you.

Lance panicked and killed the soldier before picking you up bridal style. You couldn’t focus anymore, though—you weren’t strong enough, you couldn’t deal with this. You were weak from all the work and...

There was something about an escape pod that malfunctioned…

And you two landed….on a stranded planet.

You were alone with no way to escape.

“Lance!” you gasped audibly, opening your eyes and meeting a yellow sky—foreign.

Yet again, everything was foreign for you in space; you didn't get to explore it, as you would've wished.

“[name]! You’re—you’re awake!” Lance’s relieved voice reaches you, crystal clear. You were amazed that you managed to somehow recover, but you were sweating and feeling weak—you didn’t think you could hold that long. “I’m so glad, I’m so glad, oh…” Lance cried onto your hair, hugging you even tighter. You were slumped against his chest and you oh so wanted to kiss him. You missed that feeling; but you had no strength. “I—I contacted the team, K-Keith’s coming for us.” His voice was shaky, filled with tears but he tried to keep his cool. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, you’ll…” he pauses, staring at his bloodstained hands.

It was too much blood, he believed that if he waited too much, he’s going to lose you again. For real this time…

“…You’re a terrible liar, Lance…” you chuckle, moving your head a little bit to look at his gorgeous tanned face. His blue eyes were so damn beautiful: reminded you of the ocean back in Cuba. Reminded you of home—those eyes were so familiar, so damn beautiful. They were the reason you fell in love with Lance in the first place. “Always have been…”

“Sh-Shush, don’t speak. You’re weak.” His orbs are swirling with emotions, concern and tears. He tried to smile reassuringly, but he fails to do so—it doesn’t look convincing enough.

“Mm…Thank you for coming for me, Lance…” you start, knowing that these might be the last of your moments. “I never expected…to see you again. You simply disappeared…”

“I’m sorry about that, something came up—I’m a defender of the universe now! I have a mission, I have to fight stuff. Have you ever heard of Voltron? I pilot the Blue lion but I left her back in the castle…” his passionate voice turned low the more he talked. He tried to be energetic to keep your mind off your wound. “I shouldn’t have done that, but it was part of the plan.”

“I appreciate you anyway…I’m glad I saw you again.” You smiled weakly, trying to lift your hand to touch his beautiful face. It was scratched all over, but they didn’t make him any less handsome. But your arm was shaky and you only reached to put your palm on top of his hands. “I’ve missed you…Lancey…”

“Lancey…” he chuckles. “Your nickname sense sucks.”

“Hey, you told me…you liked it,” you laugh dryly. “Remember…the first time I told you…When we…”

He nods, closing his eyes. He does remember. Back on Earth, when you first…

You’ve always been friends, but one day, it escalated to something more. Mutual pining turned into expressed feelings. He remembers your first kiss, so sweet on the beach, late at night while you were stargazing. Happened naturally, no words needed. You were simply attracted to one another. Your mouth was so soft and tasty—he memorized it and sometimes, while missing his home planet, he thought about you.

How he missed you so and all the things you did.

“Remember, Lance…Our beautiful moments together…” you close your eyes.

“I do…”

How you were each other’s first. After many days of desiring on another, of experimental kisses and not so decent touches whenever no one was looking, it happened. Both inexperienced indulged into the arts of carnal pleasure. Heh, you still remembered how you took control of him, since he was fumbling too much. He was so shy despite his bravado—but he was extremely insecure and had no idea where to touch you. You guided him, though. You both wanted it, why waste the time? The atmosphere was hot and you were all sweaty as you continued on kissing, enjoying the feeling of your tongues battling. You memorized his features and textures, the shape of his chest and arms and hips and legs and…

“Best time of my life,” he says melancholic.

You agree. Because Lance, in those vulnerable moments, was delicious to look at. As you rode him, adjusting to the feeling of your act, he looked at you with loving eyes, half-lidded by the desire he felt. He held onto your hips, nails digging into your skin and making you hiss in pleasure. But your eyes were only focused on your face, as his was on yours. He kept on moaning your name loudly because he couldn’t control himself. He never did. Always loud like he was singing a concert—but you liked that. You felt smug seeing that you were the one that made him feel this way. It made you go stronger. Sweat was running down his face and body, his brown hair tousled from your naughty fingers. His bruised lips and those many hickeys you left him—all done by you.

All just a beautiful and distant memory.

“I’m sorry I left, [name]…Sometimes I think how it would’ve been if I stayed with you…” he’s sorrowful; he always wondered this. He’d never know the answer. Maybe he was wrong—but…“This was my call. I couldn’t be there when you needed me, [name]…”

And now he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

“I understand, Lance. I’ve never regretted…letting you go. You needed this, you..” you coughed and there’s a metallic aftertaste. You feel it dribbling down your chin. But you continue. “I couldn’t stop you from your destiny…You’re doing something great…” Although you’ve never heard about Voltron. But you’ve always believed that Lance was made for greatness—he wasn’t meant to stay by your side, on little planet Earth.

He was meant to conquer space.

Your chest hurts and breathing becomes hard and painful. Consciousness is slipping away but you want to hold on, you want to hear Lance’s voice some more. No matter what he says. “At-At least I’ve seen you…one last time…”

“Don’t say that!” Panic installs again into Lance’s heart and he holds onto you, grabbing your hands. “You’ll be fine, you’re going to make it. We’re going to resume where this was going and—and create more memories!”

Ah, your vision becomes blurry…Lance was disappearing out of your sight. Will you have the energy to tell him…? “I’d be happy to…Promise me that…you’ll make me happy…”

“I promise!” he brings your hand and kisses your knuckles. Over and over and… “We’ll be happy. I’ll take you through space, show it to you. We can do so many…” he breaks down into tears and sobs, his body trembling.

This was useless. He knew. You knew. You were slipping away. “Please…Don’t leave me…I’m sorry…You—You remind me of home. You’re my home. I have to…save you..”

“And you did…” with one last spur of strength, you touch his face—you’re going to stain him with your blood. You just hope he’s going to get over…You didn’t think he’d care so much after all this time, but it seemed as strong as before, as if you were never separated. It broke your heart and your eyes sting.

You wished you had more time…But it all happened so fast. Your moment of happiness was blown away in a single blink.

I t was unfair.

“You saved me, Lance…I’m—“ you coughed some more. “I’m grateful.” Closing your eyes, your breathing was getting shallow. “I—I…” You took one breath and you seemed to sit still.

“[name]? [name]! N-No, don’t do this, wake up! No! Guys, hurry up! Please…don’t let…me lose you…I love you. I’ve loved you all this time…”

“Lance, I’m still here…” you whispered weakly, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. “I wanted to say…” your voice was choked with tears. Were you crying? You couldn’t feel them. You were cold—not even Lance’s sunny and natural warmth couldn’t hold you together now. “I love you too…”

Despite it all, your words made him smile his toothy smile.

In that moment, he was the sun. Your sun. You were glad that he was your last sight before…

“Thank you—huh…?” your hand slipped away from his face and landed on the ground to your side lifelessly. “[name]! NO! NO!!” and even though he cried dejectedly and continued on kissing your hair, your closed eyes, your still fresh tears, your chapped and dried lips, your bloody hand or your cheeks…

But you were so damn livid…And he couldn’t hear you breathing…No…

No pulse.

Lance knew he lost you back then—but his mind couldn’t accept. He continued on whispering your name until Keith finally came to the rescue. It was too late, though. You were gone. And Keith couldn’t do anything but stay at a distance, frozen and at the same time moved by Lance’s outburst of emotions. He never saw the Blue paladin this way… As Lance cried his heart out with your body in his arms, Keith only watched helplessly.

How will Lance be able to go on like this…? How will he find the strength to smile brightly tomorrow?

Only time can tell.

–

[masterlist]

[five-wow]

i rewatched 6x25 today (the episode where danny gives steve half of his liver) and I had some Thoughts (capital T) about fic that could be spun from this glorious episode but that i will probably never write because i’m already working on a thousand things and i just don’t have the time, so i thought i’d share in tumblr post format:

fic about nahele + steve + the guilt nahele almost definitely feels about steve almost dying while on a Mission that he took on because nahele’s friend died and nahele dragged him into this (which isn’t how it works but that’s what steve (and possibly danny, because he’s in the next bed over) has to tell him, clearly)

in that same vein: fic about nahele’s state of mind in general, because nahele’s dad died in 6x21 and then nahele finds his friend dead from a drug overdose just four episodes later (and that’s what, a month, two max?) and a couple days after that steve almost dies (nahele’s last family!! again!!) and it’s NOT OKAY

as long as we’re talking about angst and kids: CHARLIE IS SPENDING SO MUCH OF HIS LIFE INSIDE HOSPITALS. he’s in and out of them all the time because of his illness and now he’s there even more because of danny

i’d also love to know grace’s perspective on everything, actually. she, too, has presumably been spending more time at hospitals than any kid should (even if in her case it’s always for other people, but being a helpless bystander is horrible in its own way) and then she suddenly gets picked up by kono who tells her that her dad is going into surgery to save uncle steve’s life

in the episode, while steve and danny are in surgery, chin tells lou a story about steve sometimes calling him up in the middle of the night after malia died just to invite him out for coffee. give me chin & steve hurt/comfort buddy fic about (one of) those nights

OR about steve, specifically, during one of those nights, because apparently he’s up at all hours too? and he’s totally the kind of friend that would sacrifice sleep to be there for chin, but i don’t think it’d be completely out of the question that he’s up anyway because he has his own demons haunting him and he kind of needs the comfort as badly as chin does

OR to make this all a little less angsty and a little more mcdanno: during this period where steve and chin spend nights together at a cafe, danny starts noticing that both chin and steve look like they’re not getting enough sleep and they sometimes arrive at work together in the mornings and they seem slightly closer than before in some secretive way and danny, being a good cop but also a person with a giant crush on steve, draws some not infeasable but still very wrong conclusions from all this. what i mean to say is, he angrily confronts steve because it’s not right to be using chin as a friend with benefits while chin is in such a vulnerable spot just after his wife died (and steve is like ??? wait WHAT oh god no (and then he accidentally says that chin is not the one on the team he wants to be more than friends with and there’s a happy end and danny maybe turns up to some of steve and chin’s quiet coffee nights because danny is a canonical insomniac and could use that, or he doesn’t because it’s a steve and chin thing but he starts his own tradition of keeping chin company by introducing him to the beautiful horror of infomercials))

either AU fic or simply “we have x case that urgently requires bringing our fake personas back” fic about steve and danny as pilot Evan Raintree and his mechanic Dave Carson because a) those outfits, b) “we’re a package deal” and c) those naaaames, oh boy, they’re one single (tiny) step up from Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, and i’m not entirely convinced evan raintree isn’t a stripper name that kono, giggling maniacally, put in while creating steve’s cover identity

at the end of the episode in the hospital, danny says they put him in steve’s room because it was supposed to aid his recovery. sooo, fic about the nurse or doctor who suggests this and danny’s reaction to it? about steve teasing danny endlessly when danny is wheeled into the room but also grinning and laughing for literally the first time since the surgery?

fic about danny and steve watching the soap opera that steve puts on because he wants to sleep (that’s what he says, anyway, but let’s be real that there’s a 98% chance that it’s mostly just because he wants to annoy danny into some classic bickering) and while they watch this soap opera about dead parents who miraculously turn up alive and children conceived with ex-wives whose parentage only comes out years later, they slowly realize “huh, guess our lives are a soap opera” (and one of them jokes that the only thing that’s missing is the secret gay love storyline and the other one is like “... haha yeah i’m totally not secretly in love with you”)

and my favorite because i’m a giant softie: fic about the fact that steve casually complains “i’m going to have to listen to this for the rest of my life, aren’t i?” when danny brings up the fact that he gave steve half of his liver, and then one or both of them is hit by the entire truth of that and the fact that they really are planning on spending the rest of their lives together even if they’ve never put it in so many words and holy shit i’m in love with this guy

[ptrpanarchy-blog]

Jesus...Trippin Ballz

So Jesus was relaxing at this Christmas party at his friend Trevor’s house and Trevor presented him a pill and Jesus was like “Umm..I’ve never done any drugs before” and freakin' Trevor was all “Don’t worry, I’m watching your back bro.”

     Jesus realized he had spent all evening standing by, being the mom of the party and not joining in any conversations or games or festivities. This holiday was of his whimsy to begin with and he decided to try something new this millenia.

     "This will loosen you up a bit" said Trevor. “And besides, you died right? FOR US? We basically owe you this experience dude.”

     Jesus (even for the first time ever) was super down. He slammed the pill back and then a beer and then another beer to wash that beer down. “Glug glug glug glug glug glug.”

     Half an hour passed and Jesus was feeling lucid and hadn’t noticed anything strange or different. He went outside to pee in the back alley of the house and it was a beautiful night to be peeing pee outside. Faintly, and just for a second, Jesus thought he heard his name. More seconds passed and he heard it again. “Jeeessus. Jeeessuuusssss.” Jesus heard the voice loud and clear now but it was coming from every direction!

     "Jeeeessusss! Do nooott beeee alaarrrrrrmed. My naaaame is Breeezus and I am the wind lorrrrrd and I am evarywhaaarrr.“

     "Breezus?” said Jesus. "You have control of the wind?“

     "Yess I doo,” said Breezus. 

     "I hearrrrrd some giiirrrlls talking about some douchebag peeing ouuut back but I only found yoooouuu. Theee wind tells mee many thiiings. I have tooo go blow on thiiings noooww but yoouu wiiiill find what yoouuu must seeek in the kiiiitchen".

     Jesus felt slightly off but perhaps it was the beer, he already downed 2 of them since meeting breezus. But it wasn’t. He was about to be trippin' balls.

     He entered the kitchen and decided to eat something just in case so the food could maybe soak up some of the alcohol and whatever else was in his system. He opened the refrigerator and there was only beer from top to bottom. Hiding in the butter slot, however, was a lil’ piece of cheese.

     "Better than nothing I guess," Jesus said. He grabbed the cheese and the cheese cried out. Jesus held the cheese in the palm of his hand and noticed this cheese had a teeny face and a cheesy lil' beard very similar to his. “I am Cheesus! Dont eat me, for if you do, you will surely-

     Jesus, now starting to trip balls, ignored Cheesus’s sharp warning and feasted on his cheese lord flesh, his cheesy innards and cheese organs and his decadent, cheesy blood, lapping up every drop and sucking the cheesy bones dry. Jesus was filled with intense remorse for a second but remembered it was just cheese, or so he hoped. Trying to get a hold of himself, Jesus went into the bathroom and wet his face. He opened the window for some fresh air and felt Breezus cool his skin.

     "Thank Breezus,” said Jesus.

     Suddenly, Jesus felt a pair sharp stings on his forehead and heard 2 tiny voices. It was Beesus, the Bee Lord and on his back, was Fleasus, the Flea Lord. By combining powers and toxins, they have strengthened each others resolve for overcom-

     Jesus smited Beesus and Fleasus because they stung him for no reason and that is a sin. Now feeling a bit irritated and having a swollen red bump on his forehead, Jesus started down the stairs and he started feeling woozy and blinked his eyes to try and focus and he noticed that he was suddenly in the kitchen holding a large steak knife, panting loudly like he had just ran a race or exhausted himself somehow. Then he noticed his hands and arms. They were covered in what looked like blood, little bits of meat and hair still lingering on his shirt. He looked around. It was quiet. Too quiet for a Christmas party.

     After searching around the house for about a minute he heard a thump upstairs. He started heading for the stairs but only made it 3 feet before he noticed his reflection in a mirror. He was wearing a skin suit made from countless party-goers. He ripped it off as fast as he could, uncovering a surprisingly well tailored skin vest he made too but this actually looked stylish so his dad would totes forgive him for keeping it since he did die for everyone.

     "What is going on!?“ yelled Jesus. He screamed and felt the room spinning, the walls were bleeding and the kitchen sink was ejecting blood and meat particles from the drain and Ann Coulter was there promoting her new book and criticizing Jesus for everything non-american and he screamed even more loudly and he clicked his heels together over and over and threw himself slowly to the ground as he cried until there was a flash from someone’s camera phone.

     He then found himself naked and covered in shrimp and cocktail sauce. The party was fine, the drugs led him on this intense trip and he was embarrassed. Everyone at the party was staring at him and just then a huge shipment of shrimp arrived. Following the teachings of Jesus, the party-goers stripped and covered themselves in shrimp and cocktail sauce too and they all chuckled while shaking their heads at Jesus and they danced the night away. He was so relieved to not have murdered everyone. He wouldn’t let it happen a second time.

The end?

[vizkopa]

Celestial (FallenAngel!Doflamingo x Reader) CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1: To Fall from Grace ~

The sound of the bell signalling the end of the school week—and the beginning of the much anticipated weekend—rang through the corridors. You shouted to be heard over the clamour of your students rushing to be first out the door. “Don’t forget, the Lyrid meteor shower will be at its peak tonight! Before dawn is the best time for viewing!” You received a few looks of horror at the thought of getting up before dawn on a Saturday and you chuckled. Being a high school Physics teacher meant you received those looks on a regular basis, but you wouldn’t trade your job for the world. The room was cleared within minutes, everyone eager for the weekend and you were no exception. You had planned your whole weekend around the meteor shower and damned if you were going to miss a second of it. So you sped through your preparations for the next week and hurried out the door, already calculating the best position in which to set up your telescope for optimal viewing pleasure. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, [Name]-ya?”

Speaking of pleasure… The smooth voice stopped you in your tracks and you fought to control the blush rising in your cheeks. Trafalgar Law never failed to leave you flustered. He was relatively new to the school, assuming the position of Human Biology teacher after the previous one had retired. And you had wanted a lesson in ‘anatomy’ from him since the day he’d introduced himself with that sleek, velvet voice. You turned to face him, smiling pleasantly. “Mr. Trafalgar! I could say the same to you. You’re heading out early.” He smiled—more of a smirk, really. One that made you weak at the knees. “Please, I’ve told you to call me Law. And I was hoping to catch you on your way out, actually.” “What can I help you with?” “Are you free tonight?” You hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh… Actually, I already made plans…” “I should have guessed,” he chuckled, but you could see the disappointment in his eyes. “The way you were rushing just now, you could only have a date tonight, am I right?” “You could say that,” you said with a laugh. “The Lyrid meteor shower peaks tonight. I’ll be observing the whole thing from home for my paper.” He laughed and god you could get used to that sound. “Of course, another time perhaps. In that case, I’ll remember to look to the sky tonight and think of you.” He winked and you felt your face flush red. “See you on Monday, [Name]-ya.” With one last smile he said his goodbyes, leaving a tingling warmth where his arm had brushed yours as he passed. And you were left standing in the empty corridor a blushing mess. You hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to say goodbye, you were so afraid of tripping over your own tongue. You had almost invited him over to watch the shower with you, but it had been a long time since you’d had a guy over and, as much as you wanted it to happen, you weren’t sure that was the message you wanted to send. You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. That man was a walking distraction and you couldn’t afford to fall all over him like a blushing school girl. You had a celestial event to catch. On your way out, you dropped by the school library to return a stack of books you had borrowed. Robin, the school librarian and History teacher, and Nami the Geography teacher were chatting as they sorted through the returns to be placed back on the shelves. You dropped your stack of books loudly on the table in front of them. “Trafalgar Law just asked me out.” They both stopped talking abruptly and turned to you, Robin with a look of smug amusement on her face, while Nami looked like she had just won the lottery. “And what did you say!?” she squealed. You scrunched up your face at her. “I told him I was busy this weekend.” Nami’s face fell. “[Naaaame], why would you do that? You’ve been looking all lovey-dovey at each other for weeks. This was your chance!” “The Lyrid meteor showers peaks tonight and—” “Oh my god, the meteor shower happens every year. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity!” “I’m sure I’ll have other chances,” you muttered, absently playing with the cover of a book. “He said he’d be thinking of me tonight.” “Oh my,” Robin chuckled. Nami rolled her eyes. “Would you rather him be thinking about you, or making love to you niiice and slow like you’ve been—” You blushed furiously. “Woah, woah, woah! That’s not—” Nami raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?” Your blush deepened. “An office romance would only be a distraction.” “Good. ‘Cause you sure need one.” “You work too much, [Name],” Robin agreed. Nami grasped your shoulders, forcing you to look her in the eye. “You two are meant to be, [Name], I just know it.” She let go and sighed. “Just promise me you’ll at least call him? Let him know you’re still interested. Hell, maybe you can watch your damn meteor shower together and make love under the stars—” “OKAY!” you interrupted before Nami could go into too much detail about your non-existent sex life. “Nami, you know I don’t believe in all that destiny crap.” You caved under her disapproving look. “But I’ll call him tomorrow. Promise. Now, I gotta go.” Robin waved you off as you hurried out of the library, Nami calling after you. “I’ll hold you to that!” You shook your head, knowing she was dead serious, and made a mental note to call Law the next day. The drive home was uneventful and by the time you reached your house on the outskirts of town, the sun had already begun to set. You made yourself a quick dinner of leftovers, and put on a pot of coffee for the long night ahead. The night was quiet as you set up your telescope in the highest window in the attic, a steaming cup of coffee close at hand. The window faced west, offering a spectacular view of the setting sun and allowing you to look out over your generous backyard and the forest beyond. The trees stretched away for miles, which is why you had chosen the attic as your viewing position. The rest of the town lay in the opposite direction, so the forest meant no light pollution to dampen the effects of the shower. Unfortunately, this year the peak of the shower happened to coincide with the full moon, which would mean your viewing would be limited to before moonrise and a small window before dawn, but you weren’t about to let that dissuade you. As you were lining the scope up with the stretch of clear sky above the forest, a streak of light crossed your vision—there and gone again in a moment. You pulled back and frowned. That was odd. You shouldn’t be able to even see any meteors for another few hours yet at least. You stuck your head out of the window and looked up. To your surprise, a bright object was hurtling across the sky, far too close to be one of the smaller meteors you had been expecting. Most were so small that they burned up in the upper atmosphere before they could even reach the ground. But not this one. It blazed brighter and swept overhead, leaving behind it a streak of smoke against the darkening sky. You weren’t sure, but at its current trajectory and the speed it was travelling… It’s going to crash in the forest! With a flash of light and a low rumble that shook the foundations of your house, it impacted and you were left stunned, staring out into the dark trees. What the hell was that?! Without a second though, you snatched up your coat as you raced out the back door and through the yard. You switched on the flashlight app on your phone and made your way under the cover of the trees. You shuddered as the shadow of the forest enveloped you. You had practically grown up in these woods and you knew its many trails and hidden tracks like the back of your hand, but you still held your father’s warning clear in your mind. ”Never go into the woods alone after dark!” Once when you were younger, you had been playing in the woods and lost track of time. Before you knew it, the sun had started to set and in your panic to get home, you’d lost sight of the path. You recalled the way the shadows had lengthened in the rapidly fading light, making the trees appear to be closing in around you. For a few, terrifying moments, you though the forest would swallow you whole, until your father had heard your crying and come to the rescue. You cast off the uneasiness that began to creep up now and forged on ahead, following the well beaten path into the heart of the woods. You could smell a faint aroma of smoke in the air and all you needed to do was follow your nose to its source. It wasn’t long before the trail you were following became overgrown and difficult to see by the light of your phone. The light bounced off the tree trunks, making everything appear oddly flat to your eyes, and messed with your depth perception. You felt the seeds of a panic begin to take root in your mind, but pushed your doubts aside. You had a good sense of direction. You were certain you could make it back out again. Besides, from the smell of it, you had almost reached the site of impact. Up ahead, you saw the yellow flickering of fire. The acrid smell of burning was now almost overwhelming in your nostrils. Smoke stung your eyes and you pulled a handkerchief out of your pocket to hold over your mouth and nose as you entered the clearing. The first thing you noticed was the crater: the earth in the clearing was scorched black and smoking, and small spot fires burned where patches of grass had once been. You kicked dirt over them and stamped them out as you made your way through the clearing, halting the flames in their tracks before you had a wildfire on your hands. The second thing you noticed were the feathers—some the length of your forearm and longer, blackened with soot and smouldering at the edges. Your first thought was that the meteor (or whatever it was) had hit a bird’s nest as it crashed through the canopy, but the feathers were far too large for any bird native to the area. Or any bird ever for that matter. You watched them smoulder in the dirt, curling in on themselves before disintegrating into ash. The third thing you noticed was the object at the centre of the crater as you peered over the edge. It wasn’t deep, but it was wide, and at it’s very centre lay something half buried in the earth. You screwed your eyes shut and opened them again. It was a man. The largest man you had ever seen. You pinched yourself for you could only have been dreaming, but instead of waking up in your cosy bed at home, you were still there, the impossible right in front of you. You looked closer, peering through the smoke. He was definitely a man. Standing he must have been over ten feet tall. And he was very much naked. You turned away, eyes wide and face reddening. Never mind the fact you had just found a human being in a crater in your backyard, but he was naked as the day he was born too. You took a deep breath, almost choking as you breathed a lungful of smoke, and turned back to face him. His eyes were closed. From this distance, you could not tell if he was alive or dead. Surely he couldn’t have survived a fall like that? There was only one way to find out. You jumped over the edge of the crater, charred earth sizzling beneath the soles of your trainers as you approached the stranger warily. He didn’t move. When you reached him, you kneeled down beside him, determinedly keeping your gaze above the waist as you searched for signs of life. He was covered head to toe in soot, but he seemed, for the most part, unharmed. He didn’t appear to be breathing. You hovered your ear close to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief when you heard a steady heartbeat. You pulled back. Now you had determined you didn’t have a dead body to deal with (much to your relief; you didn’t much fancy trying to explain this to the police) you debated what to do. You could call the authorities, but again, how were you going to explain that a giant naked man fell out of the sky and crash landed in the forest behind your house? No, you couldn’t call anyone. They’d only think you were crazy. That left only one option: you had to get him back to your house. Which was a feat in and of itself. A man of his size must weigh near half a ton. As you were debating what to do, a movement caught your eye. Thinking that the man might be waking up (which posed a whole lot of other questions and dilemmas over what you should do) you fell back slightly, heart pounding as you waited to see what happened. But instead of waking up, right before your very eyes, he began to shrink. You blinked. Surely you were imagining things? But after a few seconds, there before you was a man of normal size (and by ‘normal’ you meant still well over six foot), still very much unconscious and naked in the middle of your forest. But at least now you thought you might have a chance of getting him home. You contemplated how you should best approach the task. There was no way in hell you’d be able to carry him all by yourself. Perhaps you could drag him? Yes, that could work. If you could hook your arms beneath his armpits, you could probably manage the distance back to your house. You paused, considering his current state and cringed. Maybe dragging him over scorched ground and through a forest was not the best of ideas. You thought of the tarp you kept stored in the garden shed at the back of the yard. But you weren’t confident you could find your way back to the clearing again without the flames to guide you. Perhaps you could fashion some sort of sled out of branches? Well, it was worth a try. It took you the better part of an hour to gather the materials you needed, and all that time, the man slept on. He remained disturbingly unmoving and you felt the need to check to ensure his heart was beating every so often, but it was always there, slow and steady and completely at odds with the rest of his appearance. When you had finished your work, you had a sled of questionable durability, but it was the best you could do. Now came the question of how the hell you were supposed to complete the next task. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you looked to the man in the crater below. You had since discarded your jacket and placed it over his waist to preserve his modesty (hey, it was hard to work with that staring right at you). “Well, nothing to do about it,” you muttered. Hesitantly, you rolled him onto his side and gasped at what you saw. You had previously thought him to be unharmed, but you had been wrong. His back was caked in drying blood and two long, jagged wounds ran parallel from his shoulder blades almost to his hips. You could see the white edges of bone peeking out from between the ragged edges. You frowned. It almost looked like… wings? You could still see tufts of bloodied feathers clinging to the wounds. No way. Nope. You refused to believe it. Clearly there was a logical, sensible reason for all of this, you just couldn’t see it in your dazed and disoriented state. This was a matter to debate in the morning when you’d had a good night’s rest and a cup of coffee. The bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped, so you put the thought out of your mind for the time being and focused on getting him home. Getting the man onto the sled was perhaps not one of your finest moments (you weren’t quite sure where you should put your hands) but you made it work, and soon you were on your way back to the house. You were exhausted, and you were certain you had missed the start of the meteor shower, but right now you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to take a long shower and go straight to bed—if sleep was even a possibility with a naked stranger in your house. You still hadn’t decided what to do about that. You figured you’d let him sleep and when he woke up, he would explain everything and return to his life just as you would return to yours. You prayed he wasn’t some sort of criminal on the run from the authorities. Although you had no idea what kind of criminal would be lying naked at the bottom of a crater in the middle of the woods. Maybe he was some kind of pervert? Were you making a mistake bringing this man into your house? You shook your head. These were all problems for when he woke up. He couldn’t possibly be a threat to anyone right now. As you left the cover of the trees, you looked up to the sky. The full moon was at its peak, flooding the yard with cold, white light. The stars winked at you from where they hung amongst the thousands, every so often a faint streak of light passing between them as the Earth hurtled through the cloud of comet rubble on its path around the sun. Could it even be possible that a man could have fallen from those stars? Every fibre of your being said it shouldn’t be possible. Couldn’t be possible. And yet… You made up the bed in the spare room on the ground floor for him, ensuring you cleaned him up and bandaged his wounds as best you could before laying him down beneath the crisp white sheets. Now that his face was free of soot and dirt, you could see that he was quite handsome, with sharp features and pale, platinum blonde hair. By the time you had finished, your hands were shaking violently—from exhaustion or shock, you couldn’t be sure. You took a shower as hot as you could stand it and watched the ash and grime and blood that caked your hands be washed away by the scalding stream of water. The strange man’s blood was red like yours, but something told you he was not what he seemed. Before you retired for the night, you took your father’s pistol from the locked drawer in his old office and loaded it, placing it on the night stand by your bed. You hoped you would never need to use it.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 257: New Year’s Party and All Might Feels

Previously on BnHA: The kids ate some yummy cotton candy and got to demolish a bunch of robots in flashy and expensive ways, because U.A. is every child’s dream school and All Might is getting closer to finally achieving his goal of being The Cool, Fun Teacher. There was also some cute Kirimina and Izuocha stuff, and also some panels of All Might watching Deku with a wistful dad smile which was both heartwarming and also makes me slightly terrified for his chances of surviving to the end of this series, but what else is new. Anyway so after class we cut to Aizawa and Mic who were all “we’re still sad fyi” until the Big Three interrupted them to get Aizawa to come help with Eri’s quirk. Meanwhile, All Might sat down with Deku and Kacchan and gave Deku a notebook all about THE PAST SUCCESSORS AND THE SIXQUIRKS. And we’d better be covering that pronto in this chapter because holy shit I had to wait two weeks after that cliffhanger and that was not fucking fair.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan and Deku read about the one quirk user WE ALREADY FUCKING KNEW ABOUT before they get bored and decide that WE DON’T NEED TO HEAR ANY MORE ABOUT ANY OF THOSE OTHER LAME QUIRKS APPARENTLY. In an effort to console me, All Might reveals that Shimura Nana’s quirk was THE POWER OF FUCKING FLYING YEAH BITCHES, which does admittedly warm my heart. Also Deku and Kacchan have an entire page of going back and forth at each other like the squabbling siblings they are and that helps too. Also we then cut to all of the 1-A kids having a New Year’s party, and yeah, Horikoshi admittedly knows how to play me like a goddamn fiddle I guess. The chapter then takes a sudden swerve for the nostalgic, with Deku and pals reminiscing about how much they’ve grown and how lucky they are, before we cut to All Might who’s sitting on a bench having Winter Night Angst until he’s comforted by Aizawa of all people, because this chapter is actually fucking great. And then we cut to THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER LMAOOOO [blows noisemaker] SHIGARACALYPSE 2020 COMING ATCHA KIDS. WOOP WOOP.

okay so I have been persuaded to try out the fan scanlation this week! for several reasons: (1) the new scanlators have had a few weeks now to improve their game and I’m curious to see what the quality is like, (2) there are already spoilers all over my dashboard lol and I’m tired of trying to dodge them, and finally (3) I have nothing else to do this afternoon and I wanna read it. SO IMMA READ IT. BRING ON THE SIXQUIRKS OF DEKU THE NINTH

-- GOD DAMMIT ALL MIGHT

I assume that those are the two shadowy ones, then? Bakushadow and PonytailShadow? goddammit. meanwhile even if we didn’t have that whole mystery, the second user would still be the one I’m most curious about, because (s)he was the first one to actually get OFA handed down to them, and to say that I’m curious about how exactly that went down would be putting it mildly. like how the hell did Lil Bro figure out that he could pass his fucking quirk down to people. and what exactly was the trial and error process involved, if any. was he just like. “dude, come here, I want to try something okay? this is gonna sound really fucking weird but hear me out... I want you to eat my hair” 

sob, honestly a time-traveling Bakugou who already knows how The Whole Deal Works might honestly be the least bizarre explanation. I have so many questions ughh

btw I do also want to call attention to the fact that this chapter is titled “make it your own”, a.k.a. the mantra that Kacchan has been trying to get Deku to adopt since the provisional license exam. so this I do like. that is very promising

hmmMMMMMMMM

motherfuckin time travel is starting to sound more and more likely you guys. oh my god. but how?? someone’s quirk?? or maybe they can just get Mei to build them a machine. fuck it, she’s already upgraded Deku’s costume ten thousand times with random crap, what’s one more. you read it here first, Deku’s next upgrade will be gloves that carry him back and forth in time

lmao Katsuki

on the one hand that is very rude, but on the other hand I too would like him to get to talking about the ones whose quirks he actually did learn about. so yeah. [taps watch] we gonna do this All Might, or

lmao Deku’s asking about Blackwhip and meanwhile Katsuki’s just PICKING UP THE NOTEBOOK, WITHOUT EVEN ASKING, YOINK

(ETA: Kacchan with a normal face is such a rare Charizard of a panel that I just have to stop for a moment to appreciate it. take a good look everyone, we probably won’t get this again for another 50 chapters.)

fucking thank you Kacchan. holy shit. I mean All Might worked hard on it, might as well make use of it. and never mind the explicit “FOR YOUNG MIDORIYA” plastered on the cover I guess lol

also!! BALDY FINALLY GOT HIMSELF A NAME OMGGGGG. “LARIAT.” we’ll see how Caleb translates that tomorrow, I guess. I have no idea what it means but I’m excited!!! yay naaaames

OH THAT’S JUST HIS ALIAS HE’S GOT A REAL NAME TOO OH SNAP

(ETA: also there’s the expected “go” since he’s #5. so that’s apparently still a thing, meaning the mystery behind nos. 2 and 3 is still as perplexing as ever. maybe a bit of a stretch, but does anyone suppose that the “己” at the end of Katsuki’s given name could be interpreted as kind of looking like the Arabic numeral for two? eh? eh??)

seems to be causing a whole lot of collateral damage, but hey, price you pay for being a badass

oh my god my sons are bickering

(ETA: but lmao though at Katsuki being all “YOU THINK EVERY FUCKING QUIRK IS AMAZING” because sob it’s true.)

Katsuki please. first of all WHY WOULD YOU ONLY GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT THE ONE FUCKING QUIRK WE ALREADY KNEW, and two, I kinda need at least one of those quirks to be at least a little bit badass, because fucking shit you guys, uhhhh. [gestures frantically to the last page of chapter 255]  nyghhnghh. and also!! [gestures to the last two pages of chapter 245] ...

hmm so All Might says that Kacchan is right, and that it makes sense that most of the quirks would be weak ones because AFO made it his business to stomp out any strong quirk users on account of the whole “he’s fucking evil” thing and all of that world domination biz

look how evil

oh wow

goddamn that’s one hell of an image. all these fallen heroes desperately trying to make sure that their power, the world’s only hope, doesn’t die out with them

so then from the way All Might makes it sound, it seems like some of the successors maybe weren’t carefully selected at all, but instead they were just the ones who happened to be in the right (wrong??) place at the right time. maybe some of them were fellow soldiers in the war against AFO, and when their comrades fell they were there to pick up the gauntlet. that actually makes a hell of a lot of sense

and also the way they seem to be passing on the quirk appears to be the blood-on-blood method rather than the hair-eating method, so that also potentially addresses my snarky rambling earlier in this very recap lol. Lil Bro may not have meant to pass it on at all; he might have just been gripping some spiky-haired passerby’s hand while mortally wounded, and knowing that his time was up, and hoping against hope that this MYSTERIOUS KACCHAN-LOOKING STRANGER would somehow be able to take up the fight and continue what he started. and then lo and behold

-- motherFUCKER HE REALLY JUST PUT IT BACK DOWN ON THE TABLE LIKE

SO, I GUESS WE JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF THE OTHER QUIRKS THEN! WELL FINE. let’s just never talk about anything I’m dying to know about again ever!!

“seems they’ve all died young” WELL ISN’T THAT JUST FINE AND FUCKING DANDY. what a wonderful legacy All Might has bequeathed unto our sprightly green protagonist. what a barrel of laughs this has turned out to be

sob my son literally doesn’t know how to take his foot off the gas

but I guess it’s not necessarily a bad thing to have someone there who only relentlessly knows how to go forward, forward, forward

SDFLKSHDOGIHSOGISHLGKSDLFJ

EXCUSE ME, MCFUCKING WHAT DID YOU SAY?! SO YOU’RE TELLING ME MY BEST GIRL COULD FUCKING FLY, IS THAT IT?? AM I READING THIS RIGHT?? WAIT -- HOW DO YOU BREATHE, AGAIN?? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, I

LOL WHAT THE FUCK

(ETA: I left the edges of his speech bubble in while cropping this so everyone can appreciate just how spiky it is.)

me too kid!! you were playing quirk bingo, right? it was only a matter of time before someone came along with flying powers and we all knew it. I’ve been saying it and saying it, Deku was born to touch the sky

lulz he’s screaming at Deku that he can already fly with his explosions, so now while Deku works on mastering his own flying quirk, Katsuki will pull ahead of him SO THAT MAKES HIM THE WINNER I GUESS. lol honestly this speech is one of the nerdiest things he’s ever done and I almost wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d ended it with “OWNED!!!” watch him look around for a mic to drop

oh my god

this isn’t even rival energy, this is sibling energy. like, this one panel is some of the rawest fucking sibling energy I’ve ever seen. the relentless shittalking, the competition over absolutely nothing, the ridiculous faces... just, wow

anyway so I have a ton of thoughts about Katsuki’s current feelings toward Deku ever since the Endeavor and Natsuo “you don’t have to forgive me” thing, but the short version is that I think Katsuki lately has actually been really worried about upsetting the status quo with Deku, and, well... “losing” Deku, so to speak. I think during the internship he finally clued in to the fact that he actually had been a real certified jerkweiner to Deku, but more importantly he woke up to the realization that he doesn’t know for sure if Deku actually has forgiven him. like, he’s been going around thinking that it’s in the past, that it doesn’t matter, and then along come the Todorokis with all their drama, and he sees that and he realizes oh shit, sometimes people secretly have tons of resentment that’s just burning away at them underneath and shit!

and so the thought is kind of eating at him now that Deku might not have actually forgiven him, and he’s actually really scared of that, and so he’s reacting in two different ways: one, by being irrationally annoyed/angry with Deku for having that power over him (the power to either forgive him or not), even though that’s his own fault; and two, by trying in his own way to aggressively push things toward being the way they were back when they were little kids before their whole falling out. which, in his mind, means them being rivals. like, in the second character book, there’s a section that’s all about the characters’ relationships with each other, and in for Deku it says he views his and Kacchan’s relationship as “childhood friends”, but from Katsuki’s perspective, their relationship is listed as “childhood rivals.” so yeah

anyway so I guess I lied about this being “the short version” (I’m gonna have to essay about this more in a separate post I think), but basically I think that in Katsuki’s mind this kind of juvenile making-faces-and-egging-each-other-on thing is how he interprets their friendship, and he’s very awkwardly trying to get back to that

anyway! I got hella sidetracked there so let’s get back to the plot shall we. there’s a sweet panel of All Might smiling at the two of them because I think he also sees that this scene is somehow heartwarming in its own bizarre way lol

and then WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE DORMS YESSSSSS

(ETA: stray thought -- it’s an absolute fucking delight to see all of the male characters cooking for once while the girls, as far as I can see, are just sitting around chilling in the living area. like I’m sure they are helping as well, but you have no idea how fucking refreshing it is to not have the girl characters be all “WE’LL COOK FOR YOU BOYS SINCE YOU’RE SO HOPELESS AND/OR YOU’RE WORKING SO HARD TEEHEE.” holy shit. it’s great.)

to answer your question, Sero, they’ve been having secret powwows with All Might and discussing things like how Kacchan is objectively better than Deku it’s science, and how to make Deku fly. what have you all been doing

OH I SEE YOU ARE HAVING DINNER

is that Tokoyami running like a Hanna-Barbera character in the background. every time I think I have a handle on his character Horikoshi has a new twist ready to keep me on my toes. also lol at Kirishima remembering how Kacchan did jackall to help during the Christmas party, and making sure he does his part this time IF HE WANTS TO EAT

(ETA: lol so after rereading this that’s clearly Deku in the background. I still think it looks more like Tokoyami though! but obviously the two of them are the only ones still in their uniforms, so.)

OH BOY OH BOY NOW THIS CHAPTER IS CRACKIN’

TODOROKI SHOUTO!! YOU HAVE BROUGHT SHAME UNTO YOUR FAMILY! lmao he’s so quick to answer “IT WAS ME I DID IT” with his two fucking exclamation points too lol. I don’t know why that’s so amusing to me but it is and I love it

meanwhile Horikoshi got a little too playful when drawing that Momochako page there huh. drew the back of her head but was then like “BUT THEN YOU CAN’T SEE HER ADORABLE SMILE” but he couldn’t be assed to redraw it so he improvised. IT’S CALLED ART

ahhhhhhh class B is joining them yesssss!! and Kodai’s bringing a couch oh my god such an excellent and practical application of her Ant-Man quirk to make sure everyone has someplace to sit these children are so cooperative and wise

YAY WHOLESOME NEW YEAR’S PARTY ANTICS

KATSUKI HAS UPGRADED FROM SANTA GRUMP TO SITTING NICELY WITH HIS SQUAD!! SHOUJI IS WEARING ANOTHER OF HIS LEGENDARY PONCHOS!! TSUYU JUST SAVED MINA’S LIFE!! KOUDA BROUGHT HIS BUNNY BECAUSE BUNNY DESERVES TO PARTY TOO!! AND AOYAMA IS PROBABLY WEARING A ROBE, BUT I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT IT’S A DRESS AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME!! NEW YEAR NEW HIM YES CHEERS

oh my god they’re starting to reminisce, no my emotions were not ready for this please chill out kids

look at them talking like they’re all grown up now

you do realize you all are still just babies right. “it was a crazy ride... back then we were so young...” is that Joe Cocker’s version of With a Little Help from My Friends I hear playing in the background. why has the film quality gone all grainy. what is this what’s happening

THANK YOU IIDA

as expected from the resident 40-year-old. please tell these children to get a grip. they’re out here talking about which Roth IRAs they’re going to get and how much their lower backs hurt

also, this scanlation hasn’t been too bad so far, but I feel like knowing it’s “Iida” and not “Lida” is like the bare minimum of translating a chapter of BnHA. like at least get the names right. but anyway I cropped that part of the panel out regardless because Mineta’s face was ruining the atmosphere so it’s all good

oh no. oh shit wait. what’s going on here

do not tell me this is one of those “calm before the storm/AND THAT WAS THE LAST TIME EVERYONE WAS ALL TOGETHER AND HAPPY EVER AGAIN” things. please no. please tell me I’m overreacting and grossly misinterpreting the general vibe here. fuck

also though, you see that bit in the Kacchan panel though lol. so yeah their relationship is just like that. it’s weird but they like it

jesus christ now Deku is sitting there saying “I’m very fortunate” with this face like he’s just DARING fate to come on over and punch him in the balls. DEKU!!

no!!!! [swipes at the air in an attempt to ward off the oncoming plot] go away! shoo!

and interestingly, Tokoyami is watching him!

do you want in on this plot too buddy. is that it. well your mentor has gotten himself all wound up in this spider’s web by this point, so why not. if we’re gonna have angst I guess the more the merrier

LMAO NEVER MIND, THE VERY NEXT PANEL HE’S ASKING DEKU TO PASS THE FUCKING PONZU AGAIN. DEKU COULD YOU FUCKING SNAP TO IT ALREADY HOW MANY GODDAMN TIMES DOES HE HAVE TO ASK

NOW ALL MIGHT IS SITTING ALONE ON A BENCH OUTSIDE THE TEACHER’S DORMS AND AIZAWA IS THERE SUDDENLY

is he going to talk to him about Eri. or the whole Noumu thing. ahhhhhhh

someone please tell All Might he needs to stop acting like he’s about to die. holy shit. this is reaching unacceptable levels. the fond smile while watching Deku’s progress. another fond smile while seeing him and Bakugou going back and forth, perhaps feeling reassured that someone else will be there to look out for Deku once he’s gone. giving Deku a notebook with everything he knows about OFA. and now SITTING ON A BENCH ALONE IN THE DARK IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER WITH HIS HANDS FOLDED IN HIS LAP JUST THINKING THOUGHTS!! AND AIZAWA’S ALL “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” AND HE’S ALL “NOTHING... JUST...” HOLY FUCKING SHIT ALL MIGHT COULD YOU PLEASE NOT

but anyways so what’s this you say about training Eri now

fffFFFFFS HE’S DOING IT AGAIN

he doesn’t know if he’ll be here come springtime, that’s what’s up. the clock is ticking on Nighteye’s prophecy, and even though he swore he’d live and punch fate in the mouth, you never know though and shit but this is depressing. anyway if my guess is right he may be about to share the secret of OFA with Aizawa though, because that’s what I’d do if I thought I was possibly gonna die and my student might need someone to continue mentoring him once I was gone. so, you know, still a bummer but also YES ALL MIGHT DO ITTTTT

oh nope nevermind he’s just rambling and Aizawa doesn’t have a clue wtf he’s on about

fffff this is some prime grade A All Might angst right here, the gods have blessed us after so long oh snap oh dang

so then maybe he doesn’t think he’s dying lol. well whatever. I think it’s probably a little of column A, a little of column B, that sort of thing but hey

yo you guys, Aizawa bonding with All Might is just. [chef’s kiss] it’s been so long. I don’t think we’ve had a long scene between them since the parent teacher meetings oh my god. Aizawa definitely respects him so much more now and it’s great

totally off subject btw, but the third light novel has a chapter where the teachers all meet up at a local bar and get trashed and talk about all kinds of crap, and Aizawa drunkenly tells All Might he respects the hell out of him, and it’s an absolute delight and everyone should read it. here’s the link to the Viz edition. it’s easily the best of the light novels (though I haven’t read the fourth one which is coming out in March), and an enjoyable read from start to finish. anyways thus ends my unsponsored plug, now back to our regularly scheduled programming

yep. safe to say the days when he thought All Might was an attention-loving media whore are long gone. fuck I love this

oh my god oh my fucking god

wow. just. ...shit. this is a message that I think everyone should hear, first of all, and this is easily one of the most gorgeous and profound panels this manga has ever had. like holy shit I almost cried

and second of all, tell me something, how is Aizawa the most comforting, gentle, supportive, encouraging man in the universe, and how did we get so lucky, and can you believe this man wasn’t even planning to become a teacher holy shit. we can’t afford to lose him, ever

OH FUCK ALL MIGHT, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU START CRYING HERE --

let me tell you I did not need that flashback panel of Nighteye TODAY OF ALL DAYS, HOLY SHIT. THE HELL KIND OF TIMING IS THAT. HE KNEW WHAT EPISODE WAS AIRING THIS WEEKEND, HE DOES SKETCHES FOR THEM EVERY WEEK, THIS WAS FULLY INTENTIONAL AND I FEEL AGGRIEVED

my god All Might is pinching the corners of his eyes and apologizing I can’t. STOP OFFLOADING ALL OF THESE ALL MIGHT FEELS ON ME. even now, after everything he’s given, he still feels like it’s not enough. it’s in his nature to feel restless, to want to do more. he’s earned the right to rest -- earned it more than anyone in the world -- but he can’t, and he feels guilty and helpless because the burden he shouldered for so long has been passed on to everyone else now, and he knows how heavy it is, and he was so willing to carry it even if it destroyed him, but he can’t anymore! and then to have someone come along and say “it’s okay, you’ve done enough, you’re doing enough, you are enough,” just. shit shit shit shit shit. I can hear Horikoshi’s truck beeping as it backs up to dump YET MORE FEELS all over my goddamn house. there are feels being tossed out of an airplane door overhead with little parachutes. fucking paperboys are riding by on their bicycles and whipping them at my face screaming “EXTRA! EXTRA!” fucking...

-- HOLY SHIT!?!?

well my jaw just dropped. um. [peeks at calendar] do you mean to tell me that we’re just CUTTING STRAIGHT TO THE PARTY NOW, JUST LIKE THAT

WELL FUCK, LMAO. BEEN NICE KNOWING Y’ALL

sDFLKSHGLKH

Horikoshi: [poking his head in the door] hey what’s up guys just thought I’d toss in this panel of Ujiko here to remind you all that Spring is when --

everyone: JESUS CHRIST WE KNOW

-- WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK LOL, WHAT

well I guess it’s nice to know that those feelings of impending doom were apparently RIGHT ON THE MONEY sob. NOTHING TO SEE HERE, JUST THE END OF ALL HEROES!! JUST UJIKO ROAMING THE HALLS OF HIS LOCAL HOSPITAL BEING ALL “HO HO” BECAUSE HE’S FINISHED HIS WINTER PROJECT OF TURNING TOMURA INTO ONE OF THE FOUR HORSEMEN AND HE’S FEELING REALLY FUCKING GREAT ABOUT LIFE. JUST THE MANGA JUMPING AHEAD THREE FUCKING MONTHS JUST LIKE THAT, AND DROPPING US BACK IN BARELY A WEEK BEFORE THE START OF THE KIDS’ SECOND YEAR, A.K.A. “YEAR OF THE SHINSOU”, A.K.A. “YEAR THAT KACCHAN FINALLY REVEALS HIS HERO NAME BECAUSE HOLY SHIT SON YOU REALLY FUCKING SAT ON THAT FOR THREE MORE FUCKING MONTHS!?”, A.K.A. “THE YEAR ALL MIGHT BETTER NOT FUCKING DIE”, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, A.K.A. “[GESTURES FRANTICALLY TO CHAPTER 245 AGAIN]”

lol. here I was hoping we had at least a little more time before the whole “we’re fucked” thing kicked in, but I guess the apocalypse waits for no one. gentlemen it has been a privilege playing with you tonight