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not-neverland06 · 2 days ago

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𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: Ah, we've finally arrived. The last stop on this journey. I honestly thought I would feel more relieved saying goodbye to these two but it's a little bittersweet. Arthur is such an important character to me and one I've always held close to my heart. Being able to write this series for him is definitely one of my prouder moments as a fanfiction author. Thank you all for staying along for the ride and all of the love and support you've given me 🫶

Hell Hath No Fury Series (complete)

Summary: The past is behind you, all you have to do now is choose which path you'll follow.

The door before you is covered in a fresh coat of paint. An attempt at erasing the past that almost makes you laugh. There’s no amount of polish that can scrub away the memories and lives embedded in its frame. This estate, once pristine, holds no warmth for you, only the echoes of a childhood so distant you struggle to remember it.

Still, you know there were moments, brief fleeting moments of happiness before you knew better. Before you understood that love only had a place when it was currency, when it was useful, before you learned that you were just another debt to be collected.

The door creaks open, and a pair of green eyes scrutinizes you from within. “Mrs. Rowe?” The maid’s timid voice asks hesitantly.

You don’t know her name, after a while, they all blurred together. Each of them became the same spineless, faceless shadows that bent to your mother’s every whim. You consider correcting her, telling her to call you by your maiden name, but the thought goes sour in your mouth. That name was your father’s, and he had owned you just as much as your husband.

“Please,” you lift your chin, eyes narrowing at her, “I’m not Mrs. Rowe any longer,” you tell her curtly.

The maid frowns and the door opens a tad wider. Her nose wrinkles in distaste, but she says nothing, not bold enough to speak out against you. Instead, she bows her head and steps aside, holding the door open to you.

The scent of overpriced cigars and aged whiskey is thick in the air. Breathing in is like being thrown right back to days of racing through these halls, avoiding your mother’s scoldings and your father’s plotting. You almost feel the twitch of a smile as you peer up the banister of the stairs, where you know your old room is.

The house remains unchanged, the same ornate rugs swallow your footsteps as you follow the maid down the hall. Chandeliers drip with excess in a way that you always thought was gaudy but your mother claimed show class.

The maid stops in front of a familiar oak door, bowing her head once more before rushing off like a frightened mouse. Behind it, he’s waiting for you.

You push the knob down and step inside, your father sits at his desk, posture relaxed as if he were expecting you. A half-empty glass of bourbon rests in his hand, swirling it lazily as he watches you approach. You notice grays in his hair that you’d never seen before, signs of age, and the truth that even money can’t stop the relentless passage of time.

The lines around his face are deeper than you remember, but his eyes, still sharp and calculating, assessing you for your worth, haven’t changed at all.

“When I received word from my daughter after nearly a year of believing her to be dead, I certainly hadn’t thought you would have become an outlaw.” You don’t take a seat and don’t say a word. Standing a few feet back from his desk, you keep your face carefully blank. “Van der Linde gang, wasn’t it?”

You don’t bite and ask how he knows, demand for him to tell you how he’s keeping track of you. It’s better to know less about your father’s reach and influence. Besides, little tricks like this haven’t scared you since you were a child.

He waits for you to speak, huffing out a forced laugh when you don’t. “Finally returned back to me. I can only assume you want something.” He sets his glass down on his desk and leans back in his ornate leather chair. “I presume it has something to do with that outlaw lover of yours?”

Hands clenching reflexively around your purse and the revolver inside, your jaw clenches, the first tell you’ve given him. His lips curl, something cruel dancing behind his eyes. “If you hadn’t already been tainted by that useless husband of yours, I might just keep you here. Sell you to the next highest bidder.”

You don’t flinch and give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But you know he means every word. If you actually still held value or standing in society, he wouldn’t hesitate to put you back under lock and key, using any means necessary to cage you.

“You can try,” you say smoothly, tilting your head ever so slightly. “But that worthless husband you picked out for me has left me as quite the undesirable.”

Something flickers across his face, amusement, maybe even appreciation for the bite in your tone. That’s the game he plays. He has no tolerance for disobedience and no respect for someone who doesn’t fight back. Perpetually dissatisfied.

He leans back in his chair, eyes flicking over you. “What do you want, little bird?”

You take your time answering, stepping closer to the desk, glancing over the neatly stacked ledgers and letters. An old pen rests beside his arm, but he doesn’t seem to notice the black ink staining his shirt sleeve.

“I want Arthur Morgan and the others who escaped with him left alone,” you say, voice even. “The Pinkertons, Cornwall. Every last hunter that’s sniffing after them. I want them called off.”

He raises a brow, lips curling slightly at the corners. “What makes you think I have that sort of influence?”

Your lashes flutter innocently and a demure smile flits across your face. “I know about the deal you made last spring,” you tell him, watching as his face tightens with recognition. “The one that ended with all of those men floating face down in the bayou. You’re the one who taught me to be seen and not heard, father. I just learned to listen.” You let the weight of your words sink in, watching as something like a warning crosses his face. You lean against the edge of the desk, voice dropping to a whisper, “You’ll find the power, and you’ll get me what I want.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips and you draw back. “I always knew you were observant, listening in when I should have stopped you. Call it fatherly indulgence, but I didn’t think it would turn you into someone so conniving. I could almost say I’m proud if you weren’t such a disgrace to the family.”

Fists clenching by your side, you bite your lip and keep yourself quiet. It’s a waiting game, drawing the prey in to get what you want.

He drums his fingers against the wood, considering. Then, finally, he sighs, reaching for his bourbon. “Fine. The Pinkertons and Cornwall will lose interest in what's left of your little gang.” He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass. “But Dutch Van der Linde? The ones who followed him? I’m not lifting a finger for them.”

“Good, I wasn’t asking you to.”

That earns you a short, sharp laugh. “Cutthroat, I suppose becoming an outlaw finally gave you a spine. If only you discovered it sooner, it would have been much more entertaining to break you as a child.”

You swallow hard, taking another step back from him before you feel the urge to put a bullet between his eyes. “What else?” He presses, setting his drink down. “I assume you didn’t come all this way just for that.”

“I need a few high-profile bounty hunting jobs- on paper.”

He arches a brow, “For Morgan?”

You shrug, not willing to give away more than you have to. “For a friend.”

Understanding dawns over his face, followed quickly by an all too familiar smirk. “The sheriffs won’t let a woman collect their bounties, is that it?” You don’t dignify him with a response and he hums, tapping his fingers against the desk as he thinks. “Done.”

Relief unfurls in your chest but you don’t give it away. Nodding, you turn away, but his voice stops you at the door. “You’re a fool for choosing this life,” he tells you, tone light but laced with something darker. “You could have had everything.”

You look over your shoulder, barely meeting his eye. “We have different definitions of what that means,” you tell him simply, “I’d rather be free than a miserable miser like you.” His jaw snaps shut, eyes going cold, and you walk out the door, leaving him behind.

Arthur leaves Diablo to roam in the valley beside the cabin. When he’d gotten up this morning you were already gone, Lady nowhere to be found. He tried not to worry, he knows by now you’re smart enough to handle yourself. But there’s a lot of people who want to hurt you both right now. Not just the bounty hunters and the Pinkertons, but this land is infested with the Murfree brood.

Coming back from his hunt now, he can already see Lady trotting up to Diablo, and there on the porch, you sit. Your back is to him as he approaches, fingers tight around a letter in your hand. He vaguely recognizes the handwriting, but not enough to identify the author.

“Hey,” he mutters, taking a seat on the stoop beside you. You glance up at him, folding the letter away and smiling. “What’s that?” He asks, nodding toward the papers now tucked away.

Your smile shifts into something a little sadder and you glance out toward the water. “Charles finally wrote me back,” there’s a tone to your voice he can’t recognize, it’s bittersweet. “I think it might be the last letter I receive from him. He has plans to move to Canada. To start,” you hesitate before smiling fondly, “he’s going to start a family.”

Sucking in a deep breath you shrug and look toward him. “How was your ride?”

“Fine,” he dismisses quickly. “Where’d you go this mornin’?”

Your face morphs into something careful, guarded. “I had some business in the city,” he knows you don’t want him to press you further. It’s clear that whatever you were dealing with was something personal. As much as he worries about you, he won’t press, even if the curiosity is gnawing at him.

“You know it’s risky to go out on your own right now.”

You smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Trust me, I won’t be taking any more risks.”

The room is quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing beside him. Arthur lays on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling as his fingers drum a restless beat against his stomach. Moonlight spills through the window, illuminating the cabin with a soft silver glow.

Sleep has been harder and harder to find. It’s never come easy before, but he’d hoped it might be different now. He’s spent too many years with one eye open, waiting for a knife in the dark or gunfire to crack through the night. Even now, with no enemies nearby, no barking orders, and no campfire flickering just out of reach, his body refuses to believe he’s safe.

He supposes he isn’t. The Pinkertons will still be after him, he figures he’s probably got a hefty bounty on his head. Large enough for the more reckless hunters to go after him. Sometimes he thinks Dutch might even be out there, seething over Arthur’s betrayal, waiting to find him again.

Arthur sits up in bed, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. He reaches for the sketchbook resting on the nightstand beside him and flips it open. A piece of charcoal is already wedged between the worn pages and falls into his open palm as he settles against the headboard. Idly, he lets his hand start drawing a far too familiar form.

The curve of your jaw, the way your hair spills across your pillow, he barely has to look at you to draw it now. Still, he finds his eyes drawn toward your sleeping form, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. You shift, mumbling something incoherent, and sling your arm over his waist.

Arthur huffs out a quiet laugh, the warmth of your touch grounding in a way. He runs his hand along your arm, lacing your fingers together as you shift even closer to him. There’s not long to savor the moment before a loud whooping laugh shatters the silence outside.

His hand stills its idle sketching, body going rigid like a hunting dog who’s found his mark. He sits up straighter, ears straining to hear the night outside the cabin walls. The grating laughter moves closer, faster, and louder than he’s comfortable with.

He hears the distant sound of a bottle shattering and a sharp crack echoing through the night. Arthur swings his legs over the side of the bed, muscles tense, and catches the flickering glow of fire through the window. It almost sounds as if the horses are screaming in their pen.

He’s on his feet in an instant, rushing to the door and grabbing the rifle resting along the wall. You shoot up in bed, blinking the sleep out of your eyes, and watch him throw the door open. “Arthur?” You call out, voice thick with sleep but growing more alert.

“Stay low,” he warns you briefly, already moving through the door.

Heat licks at his skin as he steps outside. Wildflowers near the fence are ablaze, the flames stretching dangerously close to the horses’ pen. Lady and Diablo run around wildly, bucking at nothing as the fire stretches closer.

A group of men holler in the distance, growing closer as they circle around the property like wolves. Arthur sucks in a sharp breath, aiming the rifle at the closest one. Murfree boys, he should have known.

“Should’ve never come on our land!” One of them shouts, lifting another fire bottle, his match dangerously close to the fabric inside. Arthur doesn’t hesitate as he pulls the trigger, the boy and the bottle falling harmlessly to the ground as he slides off his saddle.

You rush past him, paying no heed to the men with their guns pointed at you. He tries to snatch your arm, but you’ve got a bucket of water in your hands and you’re trying to put the fire out. He sees the way you glance worriedly toward Lady as the flames consume more of the dry grass around you.

There’s a moment of stillness, the men stop moving and simply stare at Arthur. “He killed Mitch!” One of them shouts, the rest shouting something incomprehensible in rage. Gunfire erupts and Arthur curses, grabbing you and ducking behind the wall of the cabin. Arthur peers around the side and takes another shot before he ducks back into cover, reloading the rifle.

There aren’t many of them, and they aren’t good shots. But he’s worried about the fire, not the fools shooting at him. The fight doesn’t last long, a few more well-placed bullets and the last of the Murfree boys fall. The only sounds left are the frantic whinnies of the horses and the sound of water sizzling against flames.

He grabs another bucket and dips it into the lake, stomping out dying embers and putting to rest the remaining fire. When it’s finally out, you slump against him, chest heaving. His heart is still pounding in his ears, adrenaline thrumming in his veins.

“They’ll come back,” you mutter against his chest, voice quiet but sure.

Arthur swallows, watching the darkened tree line. They’re not known for letting go of grudges or forgiving the killing of one of their own. “I know,” he tells you, arm wrapping around you and pulling you close. His mind is already made up, he’s taking you somewhere else. And soon.

The wagon rocks slightly to the side as Arthur directs the horses over a small rock and you reach eagerly for the reigns. “Let me drive,” you demand, the same way he’s been listening to you do the whole ride.

Arthur snorts, shaking his head and tightening his grip. “Not a chance.”

You lean back on the bench, crossing your arms with a slightly amused tilt to your lips. “Oh, come on,” you admonish, “you act like I’m a bad driver.”

He gives you a flat look, thinking back to the cougar that nearly had you running the wagon off the side of a mountain. “You are a bad driver.”

“Yeah?” You taunt, something challenging in the way you narrow your eyes at him. “Who was it that broke the wheel clean off the last wagon?”

Arthur refuses to make eye contact with you, steering the horses around a rut in the dirt path. He shrugs, “That was different.”

You scoff incredulously, shoving at his shoulder. “How?”

Arthur shrugs, “That was Dutch’s wagon.”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning against his shoulder. “So? That makes it a bad wagon?”

“I ain’t sayin’ it makes it bad, I’m just sayin’ it don’t count.” You roll your eyes but he sees the fondness in your expression as you sit back. He knows you’re letting him win, you could argue with him for hours, running circles around him. Even though you are a bad driver.

The thick line of trees lining the road slowly thins and opens up. A field of purple wildflowers stretching toward the horizon lay before you. A small stream glimmers under the light of the late afternoon sun and winds its way through. In the distance, at the end of the small trail, he can see John, Abigail, and Jack waiting for the both of you.

Arthur makes his way up the rest of the off-road trail, nose already wrinkling in distaste at the spot John has chosen for him. He pulls the wagon to a stop and rounds the side, offering you his hand. You roll your eyes at the gesture, smiling playfully and letting him help you down even though you both know it’s unnecessary.

Arthur adjusts his hat, leveling John with a skeptical look. “You sure this is gonna work?”

John exhales sharply, leveling Arthur with a flat look. He steps forward, holding out Arthur’s cut from what he stole from Dutch. “Why’re you always doubtin’ me?”

Arthur takes the money and crosses his arms, shrugging, “‘Cause most of the time, you’re doin’ somethin’ worth doubtin’.” Abigail makes a noise of agreement, cutting John a sharp glare. You shift uncomfortably beside him and he lets out a sigh.

He’s never more grateful for you than when he watches John and Abigail interact. That woman wouldn’t be happy with him if he did do everything she asked him to, although he most definitely does not. She’s never going to trust that he can fully integrate into a normal life or make something of himself. Having someone behind you, always doubting you, always judging you, it would drive Arthur insane.

As much as you’ve gotten angry with him over the stupid choices he makes, you’ve always trusted him. He’s given you plenty of reason to doubt him, and still, you stand beside him. Even when he told you he had some half-baked plan to start a ranch on some cheap land Marston found for him, you followed him. And you trusted him when he told you he could take care of you. There’s no constant scrutinization of the man he used to be.

He lets Abigail and John bicker, looping his arm over your shoulder and leading you around them so you can get a good look at the land you’re about to be living on. You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him, and Arthur feels some of the weight on his shoulders ease.

The fire crackles softly outside the tent, casting a flickering light against the canvas walls. This tent is bigger than the one he’d had in camp, more spacious, and with wooden poles to hold it up. It has to be better until the actual house can be built, it’s what you’ll be living in for a long while.

You sit beside him on the cot, sewing up a hole in one of your pants while he looks through the plans for the house. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle drifts through the open flap along with the sound of the creatures in the forest beyond.

“I went to St. Denis,” you tell him, and somehow, he knows you mean the morning you disappeared.

Arthur’s expression pinches, he looks up from the paper, taking in the way your face is illuminated by the dim light. “Why?” He demands, frustration creeping around the edges of his tone. It’s one thing to have gone out on your own, it’s even worse that you went to a place swarming with Pinkertons and cops.

“I went to see my father,” you tell him, voice calm despite his tension. You place your sewing to the side and shift closer to him. “The Pinkertons, the bounty hunters,” you pause, eyes roaming over his face to gauge his reaction. “They’ll be leaving us alone now, all of them.”

Arthur rubs a hand down his face, biting back the urge to say something smart. It’s not as simple as that. Whatever you’ve done, whatever favor you’ve called on, men like your father don’t just let things go. He feels like he should be angry. Hell, a part of him is mad that you put yourself at risk.

But he sees the quiet determination on your face. You reached into your past, took the pieces that could be used against you, and turned it into something that could finally give you both a true clean slate. Arthur exhales, shaking his head.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he reaches forward, tugging you closer to him. “A whole new life, huh?”

You smile at him, leaning in until your lips are nearly brushing against his. “Yeah,” you whisper, “A whole new life.” Arthur leans forward, lips catching yours as he tugs you onto his lap. Maybe you acted a bit like a fool, but he can’t blame you. He would have done the same thing if it meant another chance with you.

A few years later

The morning air is crisp, as always it carries with it the distant scent of the animals around the ranch, and poppies and lilies. Boots creak softly against the wooden planks of the porch as you step outside, pausing for a moment to take in the sight before you.

Arthur sits in his rocking chair, the slow, steady rhythm of its movements in time with his easy breaths. His gaze remains fixed on the pasture, watching as the horses move lazily through the field, the cattle grazing beyond them. The sun is already high in the sky, warming the porch under your feet. Its golden light spills across the land, lighting up the stream beyond. Every morning, he watches it rise.

You move toward your chair beside him, settling into the familiar seat. He doesn’t look away from the horizon, but his hand finds yours, calloused fingers warm against your skin. His thumb drags slow circles over the back of your hand, a quiet steady reassurance.

Neither of you speak as there’s nothing to be said. No threats hang over your heads. No weight presses against your shoulders.

There is only this. The soft rustle of the grass in the breeze, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the gentle creaking of the rocking chair. And the two of you, the outlaw and the lady.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona @fleouris @soupvender00 @warmsideofthepillow03

@whimsiwitchy @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @martinys-world

#Arthur Morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x you #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 #Hell Hath No Fury

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proud-cloud · 3 days ago

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Three Cheers for sweet revenge plot song by song according to me

My credentials are that uhmm ive listened to this album like weekly since i was like 12 and uhm im taking english A-Level (crime and tragedy) sooooo

Full disclaimer i could do a line by line analysis on pretty much all of these songs but then this would be stupidly long so im just touching on the points or lyrics i think are most important for the plot! Oh and i cant spell and im trieddd of writing academic essays so im kinda yapping ngl

HELENA

honestly i barely have anything to say here but i imagine its the demo woman’s funeral (yes ik its abt Gerard ways grandma but let me cook) kind of setting the tone and exploring his grief, creating the circumstances for his deal with the devil - especially in the bridge.

GIVE EM HELL KID

Ok so here!! Is where i start to have more to say!! So in my head the man (im just gonna call them tje man and the woman or like he/she from here on) has accepted the deal with satan to kill 1000 evil men and is basically on a killing spree? So from my immense medical knowledge of watching house im preity sure epidrene is a steroid, which like gives him energy (interestingly ive been on them a few times for asthma and they have a long list of mental side effects such as uhhh mania (fall out boy whooo) anxiety and depression which maybe foreshadows his sorta insanity towards the end as his guilt haunts him) acting as a symbol of his immense motivation to see his wife again, so verse one especially is before his downfall where hes like yippee killing people to see my wife again!! The chorus i imagine is sang by both him and the woman in heaven as they both long for each other uhm and later on in the song it does seem as if hes begining to kind of loose it a bit due to his grief? kind of foreshadowing his well everything later on in the album. In the bridge i imagine hes kind of mocking their teenage selves (linking to im not okay later on) especially in the line “we are young and we dont care” criticicing their hopefullness by comparing it to their current circumstance - ironic as it only gets worse from here.

TO THE END

Now i know this is based on a rose for emily (i tried to read it and there were a LOT of slurs from what i remeber so that was yeah) but for the sake of my silly little narrative were kinda just not gonna touch on that. So here i believe the man has been set to kill this couple, just to find the wife has killed her husband (with the “cyanide you drank” i assume) which drives him into a sort of crisis, questioning if this was what would have happened to him and his wife if she had lived and they had stayed married for this long (fueling his sexuality crisis in prison). I could go so much further into this, especially language wise but for the sake of everyones sanity ill leave it here :)

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DO TO GUYS LIKE US IN PRISION

so hes literally in the middle of a gunfight in the centre of a resturant and the police come and theyre like come with ur arms raised high and ok so!!! Theres many people who could explain this better than me but the man gets arrested for killing all these people and gets sent to jailllll. Ive heard some people talk about it as an allegory for SA in prison and others who talk abt it as him realising his gay/bi ect and honestly i can see both. I really like the line “too much to late or just not enough of this, pain in my heart for your dying wish, i kiss your lips again!” Which, running with the latter intrepretation, suggests hes feeling regret for all the murdering hes done and is questioning if he ever did love his wife this much, and if he should move on and fix his mistakes. So to make a long story short he has a sexuality crisis in prision! Toward the end, he escapes prision and with his “friends” from jail, lilely from setting it on “fire” (i got the friends bit from the lyric “but ill go down with my friends”) escaping jail but at the cost of further loosing his sanity and grasp on morality.

IM NOT OKAY (I PROMISE)

for conveniences sake he either gets knocked out (the giggles at the end of prision i guess beinf from a concussion or something?) or just like goes to sleep somehwhere after the prison break with the other ex inmates and has a flashback to his time in high school, when he fell in love with his wife. As an audienve were kinds like dude she did not like you back then calm down which makes us question the morality of his mission, but for him it reminds him of what hes fighting for and erases the doubt he had in their love in to the end and prison. I will say im kinda pidgenholing this in with the flashback but uhm yeah!

THE GHOST OF YOU

This song acts as a continuation of his grief, back in the present day after im not okay made him remember what he was doing this all for. This basically confirms his belief that killing all these people is right because he needs to see her again. He battles with his morality knowing that she should be “never coming home” cause shes dead but then considering the deal with satan and its morality asking himself “could i? Should i?”. Towards the end, it seems like he decides killing the men to bring her back is the right thing to do. the line “If i fall, down” seems to show his commitment to her regardless of morality, hes willing to ‘fall down’ to hell if it means he gets more time with her which is ironic as he later does go to hell, but never gets to see her again.

THE JETSET LIFE IS GONNA KILL YOU

and hes back to killing again!! I think “her killing jar” is a metaphor for his fixation on his wife and the things its driving him to do. Hes trapped as if he was in a jar by the deal he made with satan for her. Its kind of difficult to explain but essentially hes assuring himself that hes doing it all for her and its all worth it as his sanity slowly dissipates, which i believe is demonstrated through the lyric “pull the plug” kinda symbolising hes giving up on himself and dedicating everything to her. Now this is obviously unhealthily obsessive and is the point where we definately start to question if what hes doing is right - is he not essentially playing god now? Should one man act as judge, jury and executioner?

INTERLUDE

ok its literally just the interlude but here i beleive he is praying for god, the “saints”, to “protect” his wife in heaven further showing his like motive? For all of his murders - his love for her however dangerously codependant.

THANK YOU FOR THE VENOM

HE KILLS MORE PEOPLE 🔥🔥 its almost like he has to kill 1000 evil men damn. BUT now hes starting to loose his grip on reality and is killing innocent people. I like to think he goes to the church he married his wife in and starts killing people - hence the line “sister im not much a poet but a criminal” - hes changed completely from the man he once was. They try to convince him to like stop saying its not what his wife would have wanted but he does not listen - in the lyric “preach all you want but whos gonna save me” - and continues to spiral into a life of crime and implied addiction (when in the chorus he says “give me all your posion and give me all your pills”)

HANG EM HIGH

THIS!! This is the one i can never fully figure out despite it being so good 🙏🙏 it feels like a cop out to say he suddenly becomes a cowboy or idk has to kill a cowboy but any other way i can interpret it is just the same old back to mourning his wife and dedicating his life to her so uhm yeah take any of those 3 or your own and run with it (please tell me if you know how to make this fit better than me)

ITS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT ITS A FUCKING DEATHWISH

Hes now so deep into his mission he cant quit despite the regret he feels. This kind of links back to his mocking of their younger selves in give em hell through the lyric “do you remeber back there when we met you told me this gets harder, well it did!”. Hes kind of pondering how his life got this bad wishing it didnt have to be this way. however he believes they will soon be reunited - evidenced through lines such as “im coming back from the dead” and the repeated references to resserection and him finding his wife, “your running out of places, to hide from me”. At the end, he says “i lost my fear of falling, i will be with you”, further showing he thinks he will soon see his wife again and simmilarly to the ghost of you shows hes willing to sacrafice his soul just to see her again

CEMETERY DRIVE

trust me the fake music video in my head for this goes HARD. So he visits the cemetary where his wife is buried to kinda tell her in a way? That hes almost finished and he’ll see her soon. And in my like the cool cinemetic imaganary music video he dances with her ghost but uhm plot wise hes kinda lamenting how much he misses here as the chorus goes “i miss you, so far”. Now theres some confusion as to how she died as here it says “and they found you on the bathroom floor” but in i never told you it says “they gave us two shots to the back of the head” so i imagine he got caught up in some like bad stuff and they killed her in their home - the bathroom - which does add some depth to his grief as he feels responsable for her death hence why he wants to bring her back so bad. His dedication to her is reinforced through the lyric “so i wont stop lying wont stop dying” which as ive said a lottt shows his like questionably large levels of motivation in this mission from satan. The repetition of “way down” at the end foreshadows the twist in the next song - that he's going to hell - and this idea has been building up throughout the narrative but its reaching its peak now and we begin to see it as a serious possibility considering the innocent people he has killed alongside the guilty ones.

I NEVER TOLD YOU WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING

Aaaaand im realising ive made it all the way through this without even having to check the tracklist which shows that i lack a life! But anyways this song communicates the concept so well and i genuienly could line by line delve into it but for the sake of conciceness as i have been i will just cover the basic concept

OK SO! Hes metholodically getting through this list (im inferring he has a list from the line “i keep a book of the names”) kind of rushing through them, seen through the fast pace of the first verse, in my head it resembles a video montage of the murder of multiple people off of the list. This is further evidenced through the lyric “another knife in my hands” showing this has somehow become his everyday life as hes become so detached from normalicy in his grief. NOW NOW NOW the lyric “a stain that never comes off the sheets” is an allusion to lady Macbeth (I FREAKING LOVE SHAKESPEARE) (im a hamlet girl tho honestly) where she couldnt wash the blood off of her hands which is a common literary symbol for guilt showing his mission has taken a massive toll on him mentally if we did not already realise this. “It aint the money and it sure as hell aint just for the fame” implies he does not enjoy killing these people despite the fact hes killed probably over a thousand people which againnnn shows his dedication to his wife. Now i know ive said that about a billion times but thats important to consider when we take into account that he does not get to see her again - everything he did was essentially worthless, in fact if anything everything he did just sealed his fate. Therefore, if we view him as a tragic hero (i can go so much more into this but thats for another day) then his hamartia is his love for her, his loyalty which kinda gave him tunnel vision meaning he could not see the flaws his plan and the way he was being exploited by satan.

now theres so much symbolism in the lyrics i could discuss (I LOVE THIS SONG) but i will refrain and kinda skip forward to the bridge/the end. I like to think he turns the last page in his book of names to just see his own name and then begins to spiral - this is where the song goes “and we all fall down”. Im preitty sure gerard ways like screams say “i tried” which like furthers this breakdown as he comes to understand all the wrong he has done and his inevatatable damnation. After a large moral debate he thinks it would have been better if they were both killed together originally “never again / they gave us two shots to the back of the head” and he shoots himself in the hope he will eventually be with her in the afterlife, and if not then a life without her is not a life worth living anyways. It ends with the lyric “were all dead now” (which they are) which reminds me of the rhyme/ game from when i was a kid ring a rosies (which i swear is about the plauge) and how that ends by saying “we all fall down” kinda showing the corruption he brought into the world and that everything must come to an end. This is typical of a tragic hero - his anagorisis (realisation of his flaw / mistake) and then his death - which is why i personally do veiw this album as mostly conforming to troupes of traditional greek tragedy :).

aaaaand thats it!! I dont count bury me in black or desert song as part of the album plot uhhh if anyone else does id love to hear how that sounds so cool but yeah!!! Oh and sorry again for any typos and spelling errors i cannot spell for the life of me uhmm this could be so incoherent for all i know (if so sorry!!) but i hope not 😛

lmk if you’d actualy wanna hear the full yap poetry annotation style for a song cause i love nothing more if not talking i might do the same for danger days if i feel like it so watch out 🔥🔥

#my chemical romance #three cheers for sweet revenge #three cheers for sweet revenge plot #tcfsr #mcr #Essay #kind of #meta post #I THINK IM NOT SURE THO #how do i tag this #writing #My chem

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kangshxrtie · 1 day ago

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Fourteen | Professionals

"Now my tummy hurts, she's in love with her But for what it's worth They'd make beautiful babies" - Tummy Hurts, Reneé Rapp

your videography group was having its last meeting, wrapping up filming and sorting out the final details.

"have you two practiced for the kissing scene yet?" chaewon asked, her tone casual but curious.

"no, we're just gonna wing it when we film," you replied without much thought.

"are you sure that's gonna work?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

you shrugged. "i mean, we were chosen as the actors for a reason. we're professionals."

"i'll trust y'all," chaewon said, though she didn't seem entirely convinced.

she quickly moved on, checking in with everyone else about their respective duties.

once the meeting wrapped up, you wasted no time trying to get out of there. you had barely texted yunjin since that day, and she knew something was up. the constant voicemails asking why you were ignoring her made that obvious.

luckily, her rule about not speaking to you in public still applied. if she really needed to know that bad, she'd break it.

you speed-walked to your car as soon as you were out of the building. the moment your phone connected, two messages came in at the same time. the first one made you want to turn your phone off entirely, but the other? that one you needed to reply to.

huh yunjin (01) are u going home? can i come to u?

nien are u gone already? i wanna hang out y/n NO NOT YET where are u nien i'm standing at my car rn y/n u want me to come to u?

nien u can we can come back & pick up ur car l8r y/n OKAY heading over now

you shut off your car, taking your keys with you as you made your way across the parking lot to nien's car. on the way, you passed chaewon and yunjin walking together. without missing a beat, you made a big show of hugging nien once you reached her, and of course, she played along perfectly.

as you walked around to the passenger side, you caught yunjin's eyes. she was staring at you in disbelief while chaewon looked at her, utterly confused.

nien started the car, handing you her phone so you could pick the music. yunjin could never.

"hitting them would be double points," you muttered, eyeing nien's backup camera.

"i don't need my intrusive thoughts voiced out loud like this," she said, shaking her head.

"maybe it's a sign," you joked.

"damn, they moved too fast," nien sighed, finally able to back out.

once you two were out of the parking lot, you let yourself relax, only to immediately get another text from the one person you didn't wanna hear from.

huh yunjin (01) so u can leave w nien but can't tmb? y/n y/l/n she texted me to hang out first huh yunjin (01) so she's more important than ur actual gf now mayb u 2 are playing ur roles a lil too well y/n y/l/n weren't u leaving w chaewon anyways 🤔

huh yunjin (01) i was js giving her a ride home i was gonna go to urs right afterwards y/n y/l/n js hang out w chaewon huh yunjin (01) ur acting weird y/n y/l/n i gotta go hanging out w nien yk huh yunjin (01) we're gonna hv to talk abt this

"was it yunjin?" nien asked, noticing how annoyed you looked while typing.

"yeah, she's mad i left with you instead of hanging out with her," you replied, sighing.

"aww, you chose me over her? i feel special," nien teased.

"well, i would've chosen literally anyone over yunjin right now," you admitted.

"i can turn around and take you back, then," nien said, nodding toward the direction you came from. "go hang out with your other hoes."

"wait, no," you protested. "i wanna hang out with my favorite."

"i'm your favorite?" nien glanced at you for a second before turning back to the road.

"yeah. my favorite hoe," you finished with a grin.

"as long as i'm your favorite in something," she muttered.

"okay, you can't say it like that—now i feel bad," you said, frowning.

"i'm just speaking my truth," nien shrugged.

"honestly, though... you've been my favorite person lately," you admitted.

"yet you still won't date me," she sighed dramatically.

"stop joking, you don't actually wanna date me," you said, shaking your head.

"i'm serious," nien said, voice softer. "i'm literally just waiting for you."

you stared at her for a moment before shaking your head again. "i'm gonna pretend you didn't say that, and we're just gonna be good friends for the rest of the day."

"whatever you want, y/n," nien said with a small smile.

you rolled your eyes at nien's little smile, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to the music playing through the speakers.

"where are we even going?" you asked, realizing you never actually planned anything.

"hmm... dunno, i just wanted to steal you away," nien said, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. "but now that i have you, i guess we should figure something out."

"you kidnapped me without a destination?" you teased.

"excuse me, but you willingly got in here," nien pointed out.

"no proof of that," you shot back without missing a beat.

"i have witnesses and text messages," she countered, glancing at you with a smirk.

"yeah? well, they're not here," you said smugly, folding your arms.

nien rolled her eyes. "okay, luckily i don't wanna talk to my witnesses."

you chuckled before tilting your head. "so, what exactly are we doing now?"

"well, since we already ate, we could get dessert," she suggested.

"that works," you agreed with a nod.

nien pulled into the parking lot of a small ice cream shop, the neon sign glowing softly in the evening light. she parked and turned off the engine before glancing at you.

“you’re paying, right?” she asked with a grin.

“you asked me to hang out,” you said, giving her a look. “i think that means you owe me ice cream.”

she sighed dramatically. “fine, but only because you’re my favorite.”

you raised an eyebrow. “your favorite what?”

nien smirked. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

you rolled your eyes but felt the warmth creeping up your neck as you both got out of the car.

as you stood in line, nien nudged you. “what are you getting?”

“i don’t know yet,” you said, scanning the menu. “maybe something classic. you?”

“something that makes me look hot while eating it,” she joked, flipping her hair dramatically.

you laughed. “yeah, good luck with that.”

nien smirked. “what, you don’t think i could pull it off?”

you scoffed. “i think i’d be too busy cringing.”

she gasped, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know, i’m very good at looking attractive while eating ice cream.”

“okay, now i have to see this,” you said, crossing your arms.

“luckily, i’m a professional.,” nien quipped, stepping up to the counter to order.

you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as you placed your order after her.

a few minutes later, you both sat outside at one of the small tables, ice cream in hand. you took a bite of yours, but your attention flickered to nien when you heard her make a satisfied sound.

you glanced over just in time to see her take a slow, exaggerated lick of her ice cream, her gaze meeting yours with a knowing look.

“okay, stop,” you said, nearly choking on your spoon.

“what?” she asked innocently, licking her ice cream again, just as obnoxiously slow.

“that is not how normal people eat ice cream,” you said, covering your face with one hand.

“well, i never said i was normal,” she teased. “and you asked for this, remember?”

“oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head.

nien just laughed, taking a normal bite this time. “alright, i’ll behave… for now.”

you shot her a look. “i can’t believe this is what i’ve been missing out by not becoming friends with you all these years.”

“glad we’re here now,” she said with a satisfied grin. you hated how true that was.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. the two of you sat there for a moment, the warm evening air settling around you as the soft hum of passing cars and distant laughter filled the silence.

nien absentmindedly twirled her spoon between her fingers before looking at you. “so, are you regretting it?”

“regretting what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“letting me steal you away tonight,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “not really.”

her lips curved into a knowing smile. “see? i’m not so bad.”

“i never said you were,” you admitted, stabbing at your ice cream with your spoon.

nien leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you. “you could’ve gone with yunjin.”

you sighed, looking down at your cup. “yeah… i could’ve.”

“but you didn’t.”

you looked up at her, and for once, she wasn’t teasing or smirking. just looking at you—like she was waiting for you to say something you weren’t sure you were ready to admit.

you exhaled, shaking your head lightly before meeting her gaze again. “no… i didn’t.”

she held your stare for a moment longer, then smiled, small, but genuine. “of course you chose me. i’m just better.”

you huffed a quiet laugh, unable to stop yourself from smiling back.

it was the last day of filming; aka, you and nien's final day on the project until it was time to present the video.

you and nien sat off to the side, running over your script one last time while soobin and yeonjun set up the scene. across the room, chaewon and yunjin were directing them on what to do, while keeho and intak adjusted the cameras and perfected the angles.

"you two ready?" soobin asked once everything was in place.

"yeah," nien nodded, climbing onto the bed beside you.

"just remember, act natural. we're not filming a porno, just a kissing scene," yeonjun said.

"i didn't think we were," you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"just had to make sure you knew," he shrugged.

you and nien laughed before locking in. you two had to focus and get the scene done.

Masterlist ــــــﮩ٨ـ Next

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 day ago

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i can't get over how mc is Caleb's everything and he's so dependent on her and so afraid to lose her and is so scared she'll never want him anymore and throw him out so he's left alone but it's not like that in the slightest, like mc wants him and NEEDS him just as much as he wants and NEEDS her, the myth proves it!! the story proves it, NOTHING will ever make her turn away from him, no matter what he does to her!! i can't wait till more of his cards come out so we can learn more abt them and see their relationship develop

exactly it makes me feel like a wet dog shaking in the cold when i think about it. he can be so self-depricating when it comes to her in such a specific and punishing way and yet the myth just outright reveals how deeply important they are to each other. like mc is so vulnerable with caleb. and i honestly think if caleb saw how mc acted with other people and esp other guys like it might actually dawn on him but that wont happen bc the storylines are seperated etc etc but . GODDDD

i literally will crumble and foam at the mouth when we get a caleb horny card u just know it will be INSANEEEEE

#return to sender #ari plays lads #a.caleb

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macabre-crab · 1 day ago

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i could’ve sworn i’ve posted this before but i can’t seem to find it so maybe i deleted it so ill post it again but. there was something very beautiful about my experience playing persona 5 first and then persona 3 (reload, to be specific)

like anyone who even just glances at my blog can see from a mile away that goro akechi is one of my favorite characters of all time and is extremely important to me for many many reasons. and when i was 15 seeing his death for the first time, i really didn’t want it to be true

and some can argue that it Isn’t true, what with the post credit scene and all. but back then i was all for the post canon aus and the happy happy endings where shuake could be together for the rest of time and etc etc etc. it was far too painful to imagine any other way

but then i played persona 3. and everything about how i approached akechis character and his relationship with joker Changed. it sounds stupid, but p3 helped me fully accept a reality where akechi is truly dead. truly Gone. which, most people probably felt with p5r and the third semester, but honestly i needed more to realize it 😭 what i get for sympathizing/relating so much with maruki i suppose-

but the truth is, there is no happy ending with marriage and domestic bliss. not for akechi. sometimes, we lose people we love. we lose people who are very dear to us, people we would do anything to go back and save, but we Can’t. sometimes, reality is so sad you want to rip your heart out and smash it with a hammer so you can stop feeling but you Can’t do that. you have to keep living, in respect and love for the dead and gone. whether they’re really dead or you only perceive them as such…

and, anyways. accepting that fact did a lot for me. it’s very important, very Special… and i’m grateful for that. so from now on, in any of my writings or aus, akechi is truly dead. and it hurts, and it’s sad, and it’s unfair. but it makes for a better story, a better lesson, a more Realistic world. and i’m grateful for that

#i still feel like i didn’t word this well enough… to really Get To The Point of what it all means to me #i guess it’s also hard to really Feel the growth/change if you didn’t know me pre playing p3 reload #but it’s there. and it means a lot #into the microphone #persona 5 #persona 3 #goro akechi #akeshu #shuake

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fanganfessions · 2 days ago

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I personally don't like Project Eden's Garden, and I feel like it's trying far too hard to not be Dangan Ronpa to the point that it seems frankly embarassed about having any association with it from its writing and its consistent attempts to try and subvert DR writing, from the characters to even the execution we've seen (that IMO, lacks the kind of "style" canon executions have in an attempt to be far more brutal and drawn out without anything actually interesting to it in an aesthetic sense. It feels gory for the sake of being gory, even moreso than another execution I'd criticize like V3-2) and like it's trying too hard to subvert the series it's inspired by to the point it genuinely doesn't feel all that fun to engage with.

Things like the idea of a character presenting themselves as an "Ultimate Liar" just feel, for lack of a better word, fanfiction-y. A lot of the actual meat of the project feels amateurish to me, likely a result of the project changing hands due to the fallout between the old director and the original writers parting ways due to abuse 3 years ago or so, like old plot points were left behind and people tried to make them work rather than scraping things that I personally think go against his attempts to make its characters more grounded or realistic.

I don't enjoy any of the characters as they are and feel no attachment towards them or their designs, and I think the decision to replace the mascot with a guy in a mask was a poor one in a somewhat misguided attempt to make the game feel more, I dunno, mature? But to me it just comes off as another attempt to distance itself from DR, which the game fails at anyway because the twist of "characters who seem important both die chapter one" is very much a DR-esque move, for example.

There's a lot I could get into, and these are just mismanaged thoughts, but I feel like the project lacks style and any affection for the original series, and also comes off as exceedingly pretentious at times. (I personally hate the orchestral soundtrack, and I feel like something like "here's a real life orchestral composition of our theme" feels a lot like showing off at that point) I also just don't see the project being sustainable, especially with the prediction of it taking another two years for the second chapter.

All in all, though, I just can't enjoy it personally because it comes off as a very generic Fangan dressed up with high production value that people aren't willing to criticize both for fear of being attacked by an honestly rabid fanbase, and because it's definitely the big kid on the block and it can be hard to criticize a fan project being done for free. I just find it to be, well, not that good, and unworthy of the massive amounts of praise it's been receiving, but I'm biased to finding it kind of irritating due to my own personal tastes and the large amounts of praise its been receiving I personally disagree with.

But beyond that, it just feels like it doesn't want to be Dangan Ronpa, and maybe it shouldn't be, and its attempts to distance itself from it while still being clearly derivative of it (SHSL talents, the artstyle, the format) come off as more irritating to me than anything. I just don't think it's that good or the second coming of Dangan Christ or whatever, and it falls into the same trappings I'd criticize pretty much every other Fangan, and even the official series for, but it sticks out even more due to how desperate it is to be not Dangan Ronpa, or more than just Dangan Ronpa. This one just has more budget.

⠀

#fanganfessions #project eden's garden #project edens garden #p:eg

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kikyoupdates · 3 days ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑦

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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“A-Are you really okay?” Present Mic asks, eyes wide with disbelief. He gingerly places his hand on your arm, making sure not to apply too much pressure. When you don’t wince or otherwise show that you’re in pain, he squeezes down a bit. “Does this hurt? If it hurts even a little bit, tell me, okay?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t hurt. My arm is fine now. Sorry for worrying you.”

A shuddering gasp leaves his lips. Poor guy. He really looked like he was about to pass out just a few moments ago.

Anyways, your arm isn’t broken anymore, which is great, because you very much rely on the function of your arms. You use those arms to hold up burgers and guide them towards your mouth. They serve a very important purpose.

“I never expected you to have such an amazing Quirk,” Present Mic remarks. Now that he’s calmed down a bit, he’s able to pat your head and smile again. “Thank goodness. I’m so relieved you’re okay.”

You frown. “What’s a Quirk?”

Come to think of it, Dr. Garaki used the same term before too, but you didn’t actually know what it meant.

“Hm?” Present Mic blinks repeatedly. “You really haven’t heard of Quirks before? I feel like pretty much everyone knows what they are...”

He stops himself then, remembering that your situation is rather unique, and there must be gaps in your memory. He can’t even begin to imagine how you were raised until now, and how much you must have suffered, so the least he can do is answer any questions you have.

Whether you don’t know something, or you’ve simply forgotten, he’ll be there to walk you through all of it.

“Quirks are special abilities,” he explains. “Like your ability to heal yourself. You fell from the tree and broke your arm, but your Quirk is what saved you.”

Huh. You didn’t realize it was something special. You didn’t question it when your injuries healed after Dr. Garaki inflicted them upon you, because you simply didn't have a baseline for what is or isn’t normal.

“Do you have a Quirk too, Mic?” you ask.

He grins and nods his head. “Sure do! Ah, but I probably shouldn’t demonstrate here. I’ll end up bursting all these poor kids’ eardrums.”

Present Mic offers you his hand and helps pull you to your feet. You spend a few moments dusting yourself off after the fall. There’s dirt sticking to your nice new clothes, which sucks, but you’re hoping it can be washed out.

“I promise I’m fine,” you reassure. “I won’t climb any more trees anymore, so can I stay and play with them for a while longer?”

Present Mic knits his brows together. “Honestly, kiddo, you scared me half to death back there, but it’s my fault for not paying more attention. This time I’ll be watching you like a hawk, and trees are absolutely out of the question.”

“I know,” you say. “I learned a valuable lesson today. I shouldn’t underestimate trees.”

“Er, I think the lesson is to just be more cautious in general.”

“Trees are bad. I get it now.”

Present Mic lets out a sigh, but he must realize you’re not willing to be dissuaded. It appears he trusts you enough to believe that you won’t try anything reckless like that again, but this time when he goes to sit back down on the bench, he really is watching you like a hawk.

That’s fine, though. You have nothing to hide. Your tree-climbing days are already a thing of the past.

“Anyways, I climbed it,” you say, finally turning back towards the blond kid who was heckling you earlier. “My Quirk saved me, but I fell, so that’s proof that climbing trees is dangerous. You shouldn’t try to force anyone to do it, otherwise they could get hurt really badly.”

None of the kids have budged an inch since they watched the whole incident unfold, mainly because they’re still trying to process everything.

“That—That Quirk,” Katsuki blinks. “Your arm was completely broken, and just like that, it’s not?”

“I guess so,” you nod.

“And you don’t feel anything anymore?”

“Nope. Well, I kind of remember how bad it hurt, but I don’t think I have any injuries left.” You pat your arm once more just to be certain, but sure enough, you’re fine.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. Just like everyone else, he’s still letting it all sink in. It’s not like a regeneration Quirk is entirely unheard of. There are, after all, countless different abilities out there, and every individual is unique.

But for your Quirk to be that strong already? Strong enough to restore a serious injury in the blink of an eye? Even though you’re just a kid?

It’s pretty damn impressive.

And unfortunately for Katsuki, the other kids realize it too.

“Wow!” one of his friends gushes. “Holy moly! That was so cool! Hey, Katsuki, don’t you think her Quirk is super strong? It’s like she’s indestructible!”

Katsuki feels his brow twitch. All of a sudden, everyone’s paying attention to you, instead of paying attention to him.

And being the arrogant, spoiled little brat that he is, it royally pisses him off.

The boys all flock around you, asking you all sorts of questions that you’re not quite sure how to respond to. They’re mostly in awe, praising you left and right, and since you’re rather fond of praise, you have to admit that you don’t mind it in the slightest.

But one of the boys is different from the rest. Even if he’s in awe of your Quirk, like the others, he’s the only one to ask you:

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s the curly-haired kid. The one with the freckles on his cheeks, and the big, green eyes. He knits his hands together as he asks the question, and based on the way his bottom lip is trembling, you get the sense that he’s worried, just like Present Mic was.

You’re not really sure why, though, because you thought you made it clear that you’re okay.

“I healed,” you tell him. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine now.”

He shakes his head. “I-I know that, but... like you said, you still remember how badly it hurt. And it must have been scary. So, I just wanted to check that you’re feeling alright. Even strong people like you probably still get scared...”

You blink, and even though he’s hardly made a big discovery or anything, for some reason, just the fact that he’s expressing so much concern resonates deep within your heart.

It’s true. You can get hurt over and over again, and you’ll probably heal every single time. You know this because of what Dr. Garaki did to you. He said you were sturdy. He sounded confident that you wouldn’t break.

But just because you can get hurt doesn’t meant that you should. And just because you’ll heal doesn’t mean you won’t experience any fear or pain.

While everyone gushes over your impressive ability, this boy is the only one who actually stops to consider your wellbeing.

“Thank you,” you blurt, and this seems to take him by surprise, because he jolts in place. “Um. Thank you for worrying about me, like Mic did. I’m all healed, but... it was scary. And I don’t want it to happen again. So, thank you. For caring.”

It’s criminal how quick he is to sport a blush on those freckled cheeks of his. He nods his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut because he’s too flustered to meet your gaze.

“I-I-It's nothing!” he squeaks. “I just... wanted to make sure. I’m glad that you’re okay. Really, really glad.”

He’s a nice person, just like Aizawa and Present Mic. Even though you haven’t known him for very long, that’s what your gut is telling you.

This boy is the kind of person you'd like to have as a friend.

“I’m [Name],” you smile. “What’s your name?”

“Huh? O-Oh. I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he introduces. He’s still blushing, and it’s clear that he’s rather shy, if the way he keeps stammering out his words is any indication.

“What about Deku?” you frown, and at this, he bristles.

“Wh-What about it?”

“That boy over there called you that earlier. Isn’t that your name? Or is it a codename, like what Aizawa and Mic have?”

“It’s a—”

“It’s basically his real name,” Katsuki rudely interrupts. He shoves Izuku out of the way, then openly glares at you. “His name is Deku, because he’s a good-for-nothing Quirkless loser. You can read Izuku as Deku too, and it suits him way better, since he can’t ever do anything right.”

Izuku bows his head shamefully, and the sight makes your heart clench.

“So, it’s not a codename,” you clarify. “You’re just calling him something mean and teasing him. Why would you do that?”

“Uh, did you not just hear what I said? He’s Quirkless. He’s weaker than everyone else. Of course I’ll make fun of him for it.”

You arch a brow. “What does it mean if he’s Quirkless?”

“It means he doesn’t have a Quirk, even though everyone else does. He doesn’t have a cool power like the rest of us.”

Katsuki emphasizes his statement by creating little explosions in the palms of his hands. So, that must be his Quirk, then. And it sounds like most people have them, but for some reason, Izuku doesn’t.

You frown. Izuku refuses to look you in the eye anymore, and his cheeks are still bright red, but this time, they’re flushed from shame. He assumes that just like everyone else he’s ever met, you’re going to ridicule him for being different.

Needless to say, that’s not going to happen.

Up until a few minutes ago, you didn’t even know what a Quirk was. And there's no way you would ever judge him from being ‘different’, not when you’re a walking anomaly who’d never even taken their first breath until a few days ago.

"Okay,” you merely shrug. “So?”

Katsuki instantly deflates. That’s... not the reaction he was expecting. Why are you so unfazed? Come to think of it, how did you not even know about terms like ‘Quirk’ and ‘Quirkless’? Every kid in the world knows what they mean, and it’s not like you’re a toddler who’s just learning how to speak.

“He doesn’t have a Quirk,” Katsuki reiterates, feeling increasingly frustrated. “And he’s never going to get one either, because all Quirks manifest by the age of four. He’s going to be a loser for the rest of his life. Don’t you get it?”

Not really. You don’t get what the big fuss is about. So, Izuku won’t ever be able to heal from any injuries like yours or create explosions. But does anyone really need to do those things? It worked out for you because you got hurt, but it’s not like you’re going to go around looking for trouble just because you can heal. It’s better to just be safe in the first place.

“I don’t care,” you say. “Mic was cool even before I knew he had a Quirk. And Izuku is cool too. He’s nice and got worried about me. It kind of feels like you’re the loser. You make fun of people for no reason, and that gets on my nerves.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, and at the same time, Katsuki’s mouth parts in disbelief.

One of the boys is immeasurably happy, meanwhile, the other is livid beyond his wildest dreams.

“Nobody calls me a loser!” Katsuki cries out, and he creates an explosion in his fist, ready to punch you with it.

But he doesn’t get the chance, because Present Mic stops him.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” he frowns. “I came over because I heard some yelling, and now I see you trying to punch this sweet little girl? Give me a break, kid. Don’t make me call your parents. I’m really good at complaining, you know.”

Katsuki grits his teeth and flails hopelessly, trying to pry his hand out of Present Mic’s grip. “Let go of me, you old bastard! Let me go, goddammit!”

“Old bastard?! I’m in my early twenties, for crying out loud!”

Present Mic eventually does let go, and then he steps in front of you to block Katsuki off. The blond is still seething, practically hissing, even, like some kind of rabid cat. You shake your head disappointedly. He’s really just embarrassing himself at this point.

“Where are your parents?” Present Mic sighs tiredly. “You can’t just go around picking fights for no reason. You’re too young to be picking up all these bad habits.”

“Eat shit,” Katsuki sneers.

“Did he just tell me to eat shit?! Seriously, who is this kid?”

You tug on Present Mic’s sleeve. “I’m okay, Mic. He didn’t hurt me. But I kind of want to go now. I don’t like that kid. His behavior offends me.”

“Yeah, well, your face offends me!” Katsuki claps back. It’s a childish retort, but then again, he is only six years old.

“Alright,” Present Mic nods. “I guess I shouldn’t waste my time trying to track his parents down. But whoever they are, they’re doing a terrible job of raising him. Anyways, if you’re ready to go, let’s head home!”

“Can I get a burger on the way back?”

“Pfft. Like you even need to ask.”

Present Mic grabs your hand and starts leading you along. But before you leave, you make sure to flash the curly-haired boy a big smile.

“Bye-bye, Izuku. It was nice meeting you. I hope we can play together again someday.”

“O-Okay!” he chirps. “It was... it was really nice meeting you too!”

He’s blushing again, but it’s nice to see him matching your smile with one of his own. He looks so much better with a smile. If not for that brute Katsuki, you’re positive he would smile a lot more.

"And bye-bye to the rest of the kids whose names I don’t know,” you continue, waving your hand. “Except for the rude blond kid who I don’t like. He doesn’t get a bye-bye.”

The rude blond kid in question mashes his teeth, downright fuming. He’s so indignant that he even cries out to you while you’re walking away.

“I have a name, you idiot! It’s Bakugou Katsuki!”

You ignore him, which just pisses him off even more, and in that moment, he designates you as his rival. His archnemesis, even. He swears that if the two of you ever cross paths again, he’s going to humiliate you and make you admit just how strong and cool he actually is.

Spoiler alert: neither of those things will ever happen.

“Listen up, [Name],” Present Mic instructs. “I kind of messed up by not doing a good job of watching you earlier today. If I’d been more careful, you would never have fallen from that tree to begin with. So, let’s keep what happened a little secret, okay? Just between the two of us. If Aizawa finds out I let you get hurt, he’s going to beat the snot out of me.”

You frown. “Does that mean you want me to lie to Aizawa?”

“It’s not really lying. We’re just choosing to omit certain parts,” he chuckles nervously.

Well, okay. Present Mic is a good guy, and you’re not trying to get him in trouble. Perhaps it’s better that Aizawa doesn’t know, so that he won’t get worried for no reason. You’re perfectly fine, after all. There's no need to cause him any undue grief.

Present Mic flashes you one of his trademark smiles, unlocks the door, and then you step into the apartment.

Aizawa is already there. He must have finished with his hero duties a little while ago.

“How was it?” he asks. “Mic told me you went to a playground today. Did you have fun?”

You nod earnestly. “Mhm! I met other kids there. One of them was really nice, and one of them was kind of a bully. And I also found out what Quirks are! I didn’t know that so many people also have special powers like mine.”

Aizawa frowns. “Huh. I guess we never stopped to wonder about what kind of Quirk you might have. And you say you only just learned what Quirks are... but that’s fine. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, so it’s okay if you’ve forgotten some things. So, what exactly is your Quirk?”

“I can heal,” you say proudly, and without thinking it through, you extend your arm out and grin. “I broke my arm earlier, but as you can see, it’s completely back to normal now!”

Aizawa’s jaw drops open, and beside you, Present Mic clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from screeching.

“You broke... your arm?” Aizawa blinks repeatedly. There’s a glare settling upon his features, and it’s getting harsher by the second. “What does she mean by that? Hey. Explain it to me, Mic. Explain it to me right now.”

Oops.

You really weren’t trying to throw him under the bus. It’s just that you got all excited about revealing your Quirk to Aizawa, and before you knew it, you’d spilled the beans.

“Um. I didn’t mention the tree,” you whisper into Present Mic’s ear.

“What tree?!” Aizawa cries out.

“How did you hear me, Aizawa? I was whispering.”

Present Mic splutters out the beginnings of a protest. “W-Wait! Calm down, man! It’s not what you think!”

“Oh, really?” Aizawa glowers, grabbing onto the collar of Present Mic’s shirt and pulling him in. He brings his face impossibly close, enough to make Present Mic sweat bullets. “Because to me, it sounds like you made a royal mess of things while I wasn’t around.”

“U-Ugh. Okay, well, maybe it is kind of what you think.” Present Mic lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll admit that I let my guard down for a few seconds, and that was all it took for [Name] to get hurt. I was incredibly negligent, but I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll never make such a grave mistake.”

“We’re her guardians now,” Aizawa scowls. “I don’t think you realize that we’re liable in case anything happens to her, and it’s our responsibility to keep her safe. Forget getting in trouble, she’s just a little kid, and she’s supposed to be able to rely on us.”

“I know. I messed up big-time. I can’t apologize for it enough, but I mean it when I say I’ll never let something like this happen again.”

You tap Aizawa’s arm. “Don’t be mad at Mic,” you plead. “It’s not his fault. I shouldn’t have climbed the tree in the first place. It’s all that mean blond kid’s fault. He’s the one who kept trying to pressure everyone into doing it.”

Your puppy eyes must have done their job, because after a few moments, Aizawa sighs and releases Present Mic, then kneels down next to you.

“Just because someone is telling you to do something doesn’t mean you should do it,” he says. “There will be all kinds of people like that in life. People that try to pressure you into doing stupid things. It’s up to you to discern which people are looking out for you, and which people are leading you down the wrong path. But I understand that you’re still young, and kids at your age are really impressionable. Still, do your best to make safe choices. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

He pats your head, and thankfully, his smile returns too. It doesn’t seem like he’s too upset anymore. He was just worried about you, the same as Present Mic.

“I’ll be safe,” you reassure. “I promise. I know trees are dangerous now. No way will I ever climb one again.”

“Good. That’s good.” Aizawa pauses for a few moments, then frowns. “So... you say that you broke your arm after falling from that tree, and sure enough, it looks good as new. It really healed completely? It doesn’t hurt at all anymore?”

You nod. “It’s fine now. My arm works just fine. See?” You wiggle your arm around for emphasis, and it’s obvious that you don’t feel any pain while doing it.

“A healing Quirk. I guess that’s a good thing. Kids are reckless, and they tend to get all kinds of scrapes and bruises, so at least in your case, you won’t have to deal with those kinds of injuries long-term.”

He’s relieved that you’re okay. If any other kid had broken their arm, it would have been a guaranteed trip to the hospital. Perhaps he should still bring you in another day just to make sure everything is in order, but this certainly spares him a lot of the trouble and heartache.

Aizawa is relieved.

But then, all of a sudden, he isn’t.

He’s just realized something. Something that makes him sick to his goddamn stomach.

You said that the bad man hurt you. He hurt you, and now Aizawa has just discovered that your Quirk allows you to heal.

How many times did that man hurt you, then? How many times must he have made you suffer? Dr. Iwase couldn’t find any signs of abuse, but of course he wouldn’t have been able to, not if your body mended itself after every violent assault.

Aizawa doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t dare ask, out of the fear that he might trigger traumatic memories.

All he can do is pull you into his arms and hold you close.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles. He can feel his shoulders trembling as he strokes your hair. “It’s okay, [Name]. “We’re here for you now.”

You’re not sure where all of this is coming from. Is he still worried that you’re in pain? Your arm is feeling just fine. Falling from a tree and breaking one of your limbs was admittedly terrifying, but you’ve learned what not to do, so you’re confident history won’t repeat itself.

And yet, even though Aizawa is clearly trying to comfort you, it almost feels like he’s the one who needs to be consoled.

“I’m doing just fine,” you beam, patting his back. After a few moments, even Present Mic wordlessly drops to his knees and wraps his arms around you. They’ve initiated a group hug all of a sudden. Well, not that you mind.

Yeah. You don’t mind this one bit.

A few days after your check-up at the hospital, Aizawa receives a call. He yawns and presses the phone against his ear, only half-awake.

“Hello?”

“Um, hello there. This is Dr. Iwase calling. I’m speaking to Aizawa, correct?”

“That’s me,” Aizawa nods. He adjusts the phone slightly. “What is it? Is this about that child psychologist you mentioned last time? Because to be honest, I think it’s a good idea. It sounds like she’s had it even worse than I first thought.”

“I’m actually calling about a different matter. We received the results of [Name]’s blood test, you see.” He swallows thickly, almost as if he’s not quite sure how to frame his next words. “And, um... it was strange, for lack of a better word. Honestly, I’m not even sure how to describe it.”

Aizawa stiffens. “How so?”

“It’s difficult to explain. From a non-medical standpoint, everything would seem perfectly fine. But her blood, well... it doesn’t exactly behave the way normal blood does. All of her readings fell outside of the normal range, despite the fact that she seemed perfectly healthy when I examined her. This is the sort of thing you might find in someone incredibly sick. A terminally ill patient, perhaps. Not a functional child.”

Aizawa doesn’t know what to say. He’s at a total loss. However, one thing is certain.

You aren’t an ordinary kid.

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xfeiteism · 3 days ago

Text

thump thump | liu xiao

for already being familiar with the multiple sides of liu xiao's nature, you're sure impressed by yourself for still falling for it.

w.c: 1.1k

a.n: is it bad that i would defend liu xiao to hell and back even tho i can name at least three characters that objectively deserve to point a gun to his head? yes but i had to write this

liu xiao doesn't give a shit about pool. maybe he has a knack for it, and maybe he likes having the upper hand in the sport, but it's not as though he makes it a weekly routine to aim a cue stick against a billiards ball.

and yet, he's never been as terribly entertained by a game of pool like he is tonight.

all too mutually familiar to one another, it had been hard to miss each other upon fleetingly walking past each other – only for a brief moment and within the distraction of your respective companies, but it was simply impossible to not stop in your tracks and lock eyes.

you should've known better than to accept his invitiation for a game while wearing that on-brand smile.

halfway through, the game wasn't a game anymore. or maybe it was, but definitely not in pool and extremely much to his one-sided entertainment.

you're multiple vacant pool tables away from the people you both had initially arrived with. in the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder how visible you are to their attentions, the room solely lit up by dimmed lights hanging over each table.

on the long edge of yours, you're leaning back against it, hands clawing onto the wood hard enough for your knuckles to whiten and nails almost break.

the conversation that had diverted you away from the game had been one that should in no way reach the ears of others; exchanging matters involving individual field of works kept secret from most of those in your surroundings, clearly of importance and yet, you can hardly remember a single word of it. not in this situation.

you'd subconsciously left your cue stick across the table. liu xiao rests his palm on the tip of his own, the free palm keeping his weight up on the edge, right next to your own. he's leaning forwards, very much so, to such extent you can feel his even breath fan your skin.

"it's a shame that you don't want to negotiate. i'm sure we'd benefit equally of it," liu xiao sighs, but he hardly sounds upset by your firm rejection. you can tell, because he's still showing you that pleased smile. "i don't enjoy forcing people into business though, so i won't bother you any further about it."

"if you get that, move back already," you croak out, trying to stay as composed as possible despite being completely betrayed by your eyes refusing to meet his.

"why?"

unbelievable question, really, but nothing shocking when it comes from liu xiao.

"i believe we've already made it clear that i'm not interested in business–" your sorry excuse of an argument is interrupted by a quiet gasp when he leans in even closer. "a-also, this looks really weird to the rest."

"that's funny." his smile widens, and the smugness in it makes you wonder if it'd be a bad idea to hockey-check him into the closest wall. "you've never struck me as someone who cares about what others think – not that they can see anything from here anyway."

"they have no idea we already know each other and it's better like that. i don't want them to get the wrong idea."

"about what?"

"y–you know what i mean! it's not like we're close to begin with," you hiss back at him. you can tell your confidence is slowly but surely starting to shatter though and you attempt to swerve the topic before he can push it any further, "besides, i want to finish the game already."

liu xiao briefly raises an eyebrow at this. his hand leaves the edge of the table and you just can't help but flinch when you suddenly feel his fingertips over the skin of your cheek.

coming from him, the touch could be anything from a threat to a way of entertaining himself even more. whichever it is – because you honestly can't tell this time – you're left frozen beneath it. it doesn't help when the digits ghost down your jaw and by the time the tip of his index finger rests under your chin, you can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"even though you've never cared a bit about pool?" liu xiao taunts, his finger sinking lower alongside your neck with each word he speaks. "i was actually surprised to see you here – you must really want to keep your true colors a secret from your friends, no?"

"isn't that just–"

you cut yourself short when he slowly drags his finger across the curve of your collarbone. shoulders hunching even more, your head sinks lower, as if you care so much more about the old, shoe print-stained wooden floor than the fact that you can almost feel his forehead against your own.

it may undoubtedly be in liu xiao's nature to play with any functioning part of one's brain – god forbid you already don't know that – but at the very least, he knows what lines to not cross; the digit doesn't travel any further than right below your collarbone, showing no signs of departing from your absolutely blazing skin, but humbly staying in place.

that could be great and all, in fact you could even appreciate the thought, had it not been for the realization slowly sinking in the longer the touch lingers within that area.

it finally hits you, how your heartbeat isn't only hammering in your ears, but in his as well. your eyes widening is enough to reveal your new knowledge.

"what's wrong? i know it's way out of my ability to get you scared – you're not angry with me, are you?" your silence drags out a chuckle from him that he doesn't as much as try to hide. "or is it something else? i'd love to find out, you know?"

cat got your tongue. your thoughts, your sanity, composure, confidence, guts and everythig. that said, you're hyperaware of the half-lidded eyes behind the glasses boring into your own, tips of your noses grazing against each other and the way you can feel his lips almost, almost touch yours–

"y/n, are you done? we're leaving soon!"

you can only faintly hear your company calling out to you from the other side of the room, but it's just enough to get your mind together. your painfully tight grip releases the table, yet they barely have the strength to push him aside by his chest. when your shoulder bumps into his, you don't care the slightest about turning around to face him and apologize, opting to instead let your rushed feet drag you away from there. while reuniting with your friends, you do your best to ignore liu xiao far behind you.

"it was nice seeing you again," you hear him call out, and you make out that stupid smile lacing his words, "let's finish our game next time."

#link click #link click imagines #link click x reader #link click fluff #liu xiao #link click liu xiao

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