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dreamingangelwolf · 7 months ago

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Hello tumblr, I am not dead yet *fist pump*

Finally answering one of two tagging things from @aranict - this is long overdue, to say the least…!

3 Ships:

1. Dabi/Hawks from My Hero Academia. Literally one interaction was all it took for me to go ‘oh god I ship it’ and, damn, I ship it hard. It may not be canon, but the potential for it is unreal - the snark, the parallels, the tension, the drama, that delicious enemies-to-lovers foundation, yesssss. Helps that each of them has a very attractive voice to me, too, haha X) This latest season is going to hurt me, I can tell…

2. Rowan Whitethorn/Aelin Galathynius from the Throne of Glass series. As much as I wanted these two to be much more of a slow burn than they actually were, I can forgive that when they work so well together as a couple. Crying shame also that we never got to see them literally fighting side by side, but we got “To whatever end” instead and y’know what? Iconic.

3. Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII. I have loved these two for nigh on 15 years now. I found FFVII because of them. I love the innocence of their fledgling relationship, I love the tragedy that it fell victim to, but mostly I adore how happy they made each other, and how complimentary their personalities were. (I have just reached Gongaga in Rebirth too and when I say I spent 50% of this part of the game clutching my chest over my heart - augh. The Feels.)

First Ship: Had to stretch my memory back a bit, but I’m pretty sure it would have been Lenne and Shuyin from Final Fantasy X-2. That was my first ever FF game (criminal, I know, but fight me) and their story grabbed my 14-year-old heartstrings like nothing else at the time. In retrospect, it might have been the tragedy of it again, and that was probably the first tragic romance that really resonated with me? Admittedly, ‘1,000 Words’ probably helped with that, heh (still love that song).

Last Song: ‘Choke’ by The Warning, whom I discovered in the last few days and damn. Talk about fresh talent. There are very few bands for me where I prefer the live version of a song to the recorded one but these girls are breaking all my expectations. Will also recommend ‘Hell You Call A Dream’, which is the song I was recommended and that got me hooked!

Last Movie: The Crow (1994), which my local cinema put on now that trailers of the remake with Bill Skarsgård are making the rounds. To my friends’ exasperation, it was a bit lost on me. I like the concept and the basis of the story, but I didn’t quite dig the goth-ness of it (eternal apologies, Brandon Lee - it’s no slight on you, I promise). I can appreciate it as a cult classic, and for its importance at the time, but personally it wasn’t what I want from a film nowadays. Can I still call myself a 90s kid

Currently Reading: House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas. I’m about 1/3 the way through, off the top of my head, and while it’s not gripping me like ToG (or even, dare I say it, ACOTAR) did, I’m liking it so far. It has, however, spurned a SJM Bingo Card between me and my two friends (who have also read the entirety of SJM’s books and are cheerleading my foray into Crescent City), which is proving to be highly amusing X)

Currently Craving: udon noodles in some kind of broth. Preferably a light, beefy one. Sick as I currently am, I just want the warm, thick, soft noodly goodness as a source of comfort and a way to flush out my sinuses. I curse my lack of takeaway options and my inability to cook one of my favourite foods for myself.

Okay I’m not tagging anyone else because I’m running on my last few brain cells and still need to get myself to bed, so I’ll wrap up with a thanks to aranict for the tag and a promise to get to the next one soon!

#personal me #tagging thing #ships chosen off my last AO3 obsessions lol #I unapologetically love FFX-2 though sorry not sorry #please somebody get me udon noodle soup and a solid non-feverish night of sleep

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totallyexhausted · 1 year ago

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Sick Mob with caring Reigen/ Ritsu...

Just small notes on one of the ff’s in case my computer deletes the files again (so I have like a triple backup)...

(Just random-ass notes for right now to have a back-up back-up for myself) - feel free to comment or motivate me lol jk brb crying....

Title: I’m A Product of My Anger

Mob, I hope you’re listening. Look how much you’ve grown up…

So if Mob passes out basically every time he exerts himself, where does that leave him after loosing control?

Mob hurt/ sick

Reigen caring and self-reflection

“This rejection- this hurt you feel, will pass, Mob,” Reigen said, clasping his hand against the teenager’s shoulder again as the ladder continued to cry. The older man bit his lip as he resisted the urge to pull him into a hug- he wasn’t one to lend out physical touch nor was Mob one to accept it often. Reigen sighed, running a hand through the 14-year’s hair, “How about some Udon, yeah? My treat?”

The 14-year-old nodded slowly, wiping at the tears and snot plastered against his sweaty face as he continued to cry; the sunflower dropping from his hand as he pressed his palms against his eyes- hoping to stop the dam broken inside him. He felt wrong. Hurt. Sick. His body seemed alien and yet so very his; and the air around him was getting hard to suck into lungs between blurry surroundings and tearful gasps. But perhaps that was just heartbreak- or his heart literally breaking. Because that’s what it felt like.

“Mob! What’s happening? What’s wrong!”

“Dimple?”

“Eh!? Do I look like a floating thesaurus for all things Esper? I mean- I mean it could be the fallout from his body losing control. Or perhaps this is the first real emotion Shigeo is willing himself to feel and that is bringing everything else to the surface? Maybe-”

“Like how he passes out every time he overexerts himself…”

“-then again, perhaps it’s the rejection causing his body to flip into overdrive. I mean I’m no expert on Espers, let alone Shigeo-”

“Dimple. Shut it.”

“Mob?” Reigen asked, pressing his hand against the teenager’s shoulder blades gently.

The boy lurched, gagging harshly as vomit splattered against the cracked pavement, and Reigen grimaced as the sound reached his ears; his own stomach turning. Mob retched again, his hands forced against the damaged ground, bile squishing between his fingers as his stomach continued to bring up anything it could find. His arms shook, and he panted, tears still trailing down his face as Tsubomi crossed his mind.

“Shigeo?” Reigen said softly, pulling the 14-year-old against him as he went limp in the older man’s arms. Reigen stretched his left leg outward, wincing as his sore muscles and twisted ankle protested, and he anchored Mob’s body against his own, letting the boy lean against his chest as he peered down to get a better look.

Reigen gasped harshly, his eyes tracing over cuts and bruises he hadn’t seen before, blood oozing down the teenager’s temple, passed his pale features, lining his hairline.

“Nii-Nii-san!”

Ritsu’s knees trembled as he dropped, his hands pressed against the burning pavement as he tried to focus on his brother’s limp body in Reigen’s arms. Tears flooded his vision as he traced over the cuts and bruises, blood splattered against holes in black clothing. Tattered shreds of his uniform, of his brother, and Ritsu let out a loud sob as Reigen readjusted the older boy’s weight in his arms. His head lolled slightly before dropping back, his hair falling away from his face, bloody trails marking up his face, mixing in his hair before dropping against the pavement. His left arm hanging loosely; his movements still, except for the wind gently nudging against his body, his clothes.

“Ritsu,” Dimple appeared beside him, floating above loud sobs breaking free from the 13-year-old’s throat. The teenager reached a hand towards his brother as Reigen stopped next to him, and the ladder cried for his older brother again..

Dimple filled the younger boy’s vision, “Ritsu. Shigeo isn’t dead- he’s just unconscious.”

Ritsu choked, tears falling faster, harder as Ritsu looked back down at the ground; his hands digging against black pavement, his fingers hurting from pressure and blood oozing past cuts that were beginning to clot. He sobbed again as a small smile broke out across his face, relief flooding him as he tried to calm himself. Shigeo was okay- he’d be okay. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t gone… Ritsu hadn’t lost him. This time.

After a few moments, Ritsu’s sobs

“It looks like you forgot to evacuate everyone,” Reigen said, eyeing the officer as they passed, “These boys were left behind.”

“Mom a-and Dad… they need to know- to see him-”

“Not like this,” Reigen interjected harshly, wiping away some of the blood splattered against Mob’s hairline, “They don’t need to see him like this.”

“What! They’re our-”

“They are, and they’ll love you no matter what- but I’ve known Mob long enough to know, he wouldn’t want them to see him like this.”

“Tsk, I’m his brother!”

“And you understand what happened- what he was like. You saw. I’ll take Mob back when he wakes up; when he can explain and talk to them. Otherwise, seeing their oldest son beaten, bruised, bleeding- will make them realize just how much of himself he hides. That could have a worse effect on them- on him- than what happened today.”

“I-I,” Ritsu shut his mouth, glaring towards the windows as sunlight bled through the tiny slats in the blinds. He hadn’t thought about his parents seeing Mob as he was now- bleeding, broken, unconscious. And so very still. The fact that Mob hid himself away for years, locked his true feelings inside himself, holding back everything he felt or thought- hurt. He couldn’t talk to Ritsu not because the younger hadn’t tried but because it was easier for the 14-year-old to keep his pain to himself than bother others. To burden them… If Mom and Dad knew, if they saw all the damage his emotions had done to the town, to others… to himself… well he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be the same- and neither would Mob.

“Sh-Shishou?”

“I-I can’t move well,” Mob’s voice was weak, his eyebrows coming together as his eyes fluttered…

“You’re okay, Mob. Don’t worry- I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“I-I,” Mob started before gagging loudly, clenching his eyes as he tried to will his body to move with no avail… Reigen pulled him up gently until Mob was in a semi-sitting position, his head leaning against the older man’s shoulder, and Reigen glanced at Ritsu and motioning towards the wastebin next to his desk. The 13-year-old….

“Easy, Mob, easy. You’re alright…”

“M’so tired, Shishou.”

Ritsu had never seen this side of Reigen before. The softer, nurturing side. He always assumed the older man only saw Mob as a profit, an asset- someone he could use for his own benefit. He was a liar after all- a fake, a fraud, and the fact that Shigeo didn’t see the older man that way, pissed Ritsu off. But now… perhaps, the 13-year-old had only seen one side of Reigen- had believed Reigen would never put his brother before his own self-actions or desires. Was he wrong?

“Y-you’re bleeding!” Ritsu said gently, pointing towards the older man’s arm as blood continued to soak the gray material of his suit. Reigen hummed in response, bandaging several cuts on Mob’s fingers…

“Yeah, I know. Pretty sure some of my ribs are broken too- your brother didn’t exactly go easy on me,” Reigen chuckled softly as he pressed the cold compress against Mob’s forehead, “but that’s okay. I’ll take care of it after I know you and him are safe.”

“Dimple, Ritsu, keep an eye of Mob for a few minutes, will you?”

“Where are you going?”

“Across the street to see if the convenience store clerk made it back yet. The evacuation has been lifted, and I can’t get ahold of Serizawa.”

Ritsu pressed his forehead against his brother’s, wincing as heat burned against his own temple. Is this what he went through every time? Every time his powers got away from him? His emotions?

“Nii-san,”

“My-?” Ritsu stopped, looking down at his clothes. Sure, he had several bruises- but he wasn’t bleeding. At least, he wasn’t bleeding like Reigen.

Shigeo and Mob were two separate entities. They had to be. They needed to be. Because together, accepting of each other, they were dangerous.

“This isn’t good, Conman!”

“Dimple!” Reigen growled, glaring in his direction, and Dimple faltered as the older man’s eyes met his. His stare cold and

“Shh, Mob, it’s alright,”

“Nngh. My head,” Mob…

In one fluid movement, Ritsu flicked his hand towards the window before the curtains moved, covering the windows and blocking out the sun filling the small office.

Ritsu hold Mob’s hand--

“I’m sorry, Shishou, I-I don’t feel well,”

“I know. It’s alright. Just close your eyes and rest.”

“Ritsu, you should eat something.”

“No.”

“You’re no use to your brother if you’re drained.”

Reigen thoughts in bathroom inspecting his injuries. His parents had always wanted perfect. Ever since his older sister died. They always expected everything…. They weren’t the reason Reigen was a fuck-up, but they didn’t help. Truth is, Reigen blamed himself more than anything. There was too much guilt there. Too much bad blood he’d spilt. And he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forgive himself. He was too fucked up.

“Eh!? Reigen!?”

“I-I’m fine. Just,” Reigen wiped the back of his hand against his eyes, hoping to scrape any remaining tears, “Just give me a moment.”

Reigen bounced his leg as he leaned forward in his chair, staring at the dust collecting in the air as he listened to the oldest Kayama() brother’s breathing. He needed a cigarette… bad. But he’d been trying to quit as it had made exercising difficult, but right now, right now he needed a distraction. Something to bring him down, ground him. Besides smoking was better than some of his past vices… safer.

#sick mob #sick shiego #mob psycho #reigen arataka #Ritsu Kageyama #shigeo kageyama #set after s3 #sickfic

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ajwinter-is-a-nerd · 2 years ago

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Deadman's Stand In

A Given Fan Fiction

Okay, so I have been extremely sick this week and watched Given and read the manga and have not yet recovered from the intense level of angst I feel from this show. So I wrote a fanfiction to help me deal with some of my unresolved feelings.

Summary:

Post anime, within the final chapters of the Manga.

Uenoyama deals with the fact that he doesn’t feel like his own person. His friendships and relationship currently revolve around him being a shadow of who Yuki used to be.

This FF focuses on Uneoyama's hurt that I didn't feel were acknowledged enough. The feelings of inadequacy, of being second strung, and just so fucking hurt that you can’t figure out what to do because the person you love won’t talk to you and… who do you have left?

Charcoal clouds covered the night sky, their dull grey reflected in glacier blue eyes. If he stared intently enough, perhaps he’d see the reminiscent twinkle of a far off star.

His forlorn sigh fogged up the glass before him. With a click of his tongue he let out a wry laugh. The irony of the ghost-like image was not lost on his train of thoughts. Blowing on the glass, he enlarged the opaquing white.

Before he wrote his message onto glass, his phone started buzzing once again. Dejected, he decided he should finally answer it.

“Dude, are you okay?” Haruki forever played the role of band mother.

“I was just about to head to bed. Why?” Uenoyama forced his throat to swallow the growl that was clawing at the surface.

“This new song… it… are you and Mafuyu… okay?”

Uenoyama knew that the first line of worry would be the band. It was his and Mafuyu’s promise going into it, of course. They knew there would be problems, but they’d get through them together. Or, so he thought.

The reality, though, is everytime Uenoyama struggles, with himself or in the relationship, Mafuyu pulls away. He doesn’t know where to turn to, who to talk to. All of his friends are Mafuyu’s friends now too, and they might be even worse, at times.

“We’re the same as last week.” Uenoyama squeaked his finger through the lingering blur of white. “As far as I know, at least.”

“I’m just saying… this song… it’s, it’s amazing!”

Uenoyama could practically see Haruki frantically waving his hands, as if his own words had lit a fire before his face.

“Were you and Akihiko able to layer your parts then?” Uenoyama assumed that they would organize it together. They basically lived and breathed each other, Uenoyama doubted Haruki even hit play before sharing an earbud with his boyfriend. It must be nice to be connected to someone like that.

“Oh, uh, Akihiko is working on his part right now… but it’s… do you think Mafuyu will want to sing to this beat? Isn’t it usually, um, backwards? From how you guys usually do it? Has he started his la-la-la’s and udon noo-oodles yet?”

“It can be a demo or an extra track. I don’t… I don’t really want him to know about this one, okay?” Uenoyama clenched his eyes shut, the reality blinding. “At least not until it’s done.”

“NO! You two aren’t breaking up are you? What happened?! I told you this would happen! Ugh what were we thinking?” His voice trailed to a muffled mumble.

“We’re the same as last week, I already told you.” Uenoyama breathed against the window pane to reanimate his colouring board.

“You both seem off…”

“Are you coming to my show?” Uenoyama diverted courses. He didn’t want to talk about his relationship anymore. A part of him hoped he could actually just discuss music with Haruki, but nothing’s ever quite that easy.

“Yeah, of course.” There was a distant sadness that carried through the phone.

“Is Mafuyu coming with you?” Uenoyama cursed his chest for the sudden spike in his heart rate.

He always held onto the hope that Mafuyu would come, would take initiative to mend what keeps falling into oblivion.

“Oh, I - uh - I don’t know?”

But he never does.

“Wouldn’t you know, Uenoyama?”

Because as much as Mafuyu sees fragments of his reflection.

“Hello?”

Uenoyama can never be Yuki.

Tears dotted the page as he focused on the missing pieces. Of course Hiiragi would ask him to finish the song. He has the one piece that the others don’t.

He’s writing about the man he loves.

From the inspiration of a lost soul.

Uenoyama might have been able to say no, but he didn’t want to risk losing this gig. In reality, probably the only reason they brought him on was because of his relationship with Mafuyu. They’ve told him between jokes and sets how much he reminds them of Yuki.

So he keeps his head down. And he keeps writing. It’s not hard to see what Yuki saw in him. His sparkling eyes that soak in the world around him. So fragile yet so insurmountable at the same time. He just wishes that the first time he brought these words to paper, they could really be played from his heart.

Instead they go through the filter of what Yuki would have thought. How he would have sang.

Uenoyama spent countless hours researching the man and the music.

Mafuyu only ever looks at Uenoyama like that when he plays guitar.

Those must be the moments he’s most reminded of Yuki.

No matter the season, the sun basks through the windows, warming the platform of the stairs. Uenoyama collapses towards the surface, his body starting to fail him. His brain is fogged, his movements languid, even his breath is raspy.

The crashing descent from his knees to his hips, to his chest, is barely noticed as his body lingers in the first stage of sleep.

His brain has been on overdrive, writing Yuki’s love song. Part of him hopes that Mafuyu will hear it and finally see Uenoyama through the shards. But that doubt fuelled the rhythm of the song in Haruki’s possession.

In all likelihood, it was the blend of writing, waiting, and unyielding loneliness that created the concoction of his exhausted state. Not the added half an hour cramming for the test that he’d told himself it was.

As his mind fell deeper into sleep, he could hear Mafuyu’s laugh. Uenoyama squinted to make out the words that started to leave his lips. The sentence was distorted, but the message was clear. ‘I love you’.

Uenoyama woke in a jolt of sweat, his breath whistling out of his throat.

“Are you okay?” The voice was as distorted as his vision as tears fell without regard, while his chest heaved in rhythm. “Uenoyama? R-Ritsuka?”

Mayfuyu’s voice sliced through the delirium.

Uenoyama assumed he must still be dreaming. Sobbing, he dropped his forehead to the ground, and let the pain fall through him. Down to his very toes. Everything hurt.

A gentle hand stroked his hair, but it didn’t stop the pain. Somehow, the realization that this was reality, only made the pain worse.

Is love always this lonely?

I walk the path paved for someone else

Echoes

Of adoration and laughter

Beloved by all

Echoes of scars

Against my skin

Echoes of lips

Stained by tears

I live as a dead man’s stand in

“Wh-what is this?” Mafuyu looked up from his phone screen.

Uenoyama’s brow furrowed as he looked up at his boyfriend then back to Haruki, who’s face set ablaze.

“What?” Uenoyama’s back straightened, as if he already knew the answer. He was carefully setting his guitar beside him, preparing for a fight, a cry, or simply to escape.

“I’m sorry, I - oh no.” Haruki’s voice turned to gravel as he muffled his lips into the palm of his hand.

“Is this… is this how you feel, Uenoyama?” Mafuyu’s eyes teared, his fingers trembled around his phone.

“I- I’m so sorry!” Uenoyama collapsed to his knees, but Mafuyu was already leaving.

Whenever Mafuyu left it felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest. But how can you lose someone you never truly had?

The spotlights burned his skin as the crowd roared. He prayed that Mafuyu was there. Maybe then he’d understand. He poured his soul into Yuki’s song. For Mafuyu could have his goodbye… so that Mafuyu could have another moment with the one he loved.

Sweat beaded down Uenoyama’s brow as his heart lit aflame. Nothing else mattered. At this moment, on stage, he let out every sour emotion and fragment of dread to burn under the stage lights.

Mafuyu ran backstage, headed directly to Uenoyama who slouched happily in his seat. Before Uenoyama could react to the rehead’s presence, Mafuyu gripped the man’s collar in his fist and yelled a proclamation towards him. “I want to sing! And make music with you!”

Uenoyama’s heart pounded in his ears. Did this mean he forgave him? Or was it a shadow of feelings left lingered from Yuki’s song?

“For the rest of my life!” Mafuyu added, the words louder than the amps had been during Uenoyama’s show.

“Huh?” Uenoyama was lost for words. The battle of mediocrity played in his head as Mafuyu stared into him. Was he honestly seeing him?

“I promise.” Mafuyu’s grip continued to twist at Uenoyama’s black shirt.

“Sorry… come again?” Uenoyama stammered; he couldn’t comprehend the reasoning behind Mafuyu’s actions. Was he forgiving Uenoyama? Was he apologizing for the distance? Why can’t anything just be clear?!

“I will never let you regret it!”

The collar on Uenoyama’s shirt threatened to strangle him.

Mafuyu’s eyes were intense, his chest heaving while he kept his face inches from Uenoyama’s.

“Hold it right there!” Hiiragi screamed. “You… what do you think you’re doing in someone’s dressing room dropping - like - a proposal?”

Uenoyama met Mafuyu’s weeping eyes. For once, he truly believed, they only saw him.

“You came.” Uenoyama ignored Hiiragi, speaking to Mafuyu with soft words. His hands worked of their own accord, reaching out for Mafuyu.

“Of course, of course I did.” Tears ran freely as Mafuyu held Uenoyama’s hand against his flushed cheek.

Biting his own lip, Uenoyama struggled with his own emotional eruption. Mafuyu rarely ever cried off stage. Yet…

“Thank you.” Uenoyama whispered, brushing kisses against shuddering lips as he pulled Mafuyu onto his lap.

“Why? Why did you do that to yourself? Why’d you finish Yuki’s song?” Mafuyu’s voice was hoarse as he fired questions between kisses.

“Because he would have wanted you to hear it.” Uenoyama’s floodgate broke. His tears flowed without regard while his thumb caressed those of his partners.

“You… you…” Mafuyu stammered, drowning under his own tears.

Concerned glacier eyes sparkled under crystal lakes towards Mafuyu, who offered a half smirk in return. He couldn’t respond, instead, the redhead wrapped his legs around Uenoyama as they pushed their foreheads together.

Salty tears of heartache, forgiveness, and understanding.

Tears that belonged to just them.

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