#first half really isn’t worth reading unless you’re in a position where u need to highlight

[mortalfollies]

From a guardian article on Australian university encampments. Most of the article is spinning it as antisemitism.

“Students for Palestine organiser Shovan Bhattarai said the protest movement “unequivocally opposes discrimination and oppression”.

“A lot of Jewish students, some of the key organisers of the camps … totally disagree with their Jewish identity being weaponised,” she said.

Bhattarai said students would be prepared to “lower the temperature”, as Clare has urged, when the number of “bombs raining down on Gaza have lowered”.

“This situation taking place right now in Gaza is escalating,” she said. “Things are getting worse. The death toll is rising … the voices to stand up for Palestine should rise.”

The Jewish Council of Australia’s executive officer, Dr Max Kaiser, said protesters were “taking a brave and peaceful stand against genocide”, adding many Jews had been part of the campus encampments.”

Don’t let anyone tell you it’s antisemitism. Fuck Zionists & fuck the government & journalists trying to spin this into antisemitism.

[sabababa]

Goblin Slayer NSFW Alphabet

Goblin Slayer x Gender Neutral!Reader 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He likes to make sure you’re comfortable afterward, he’ll bring you a washcloth to clean yourself with, give you some comfy clothes if you wish, and cover you up with the blanket. He has this odd thought that after everything is done, you don’t want him to touch you anymore, but you always lie on top of his chest after he’s finished caring for you. He’s started to get used to the affection.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part isn’t physical, but he’s proud of his mind and how much knowledge he’s learned over the years, whether it be from goblin killing or random facts of ice cream making. Your hands are his favorite, he likes how gentle and smooth they are compared to his rough and calloused ones; it shows that you don’t have to put in too much effort fighting for the group and has proven his worth of protecting you from goblins.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He likes to cum on the outside and cover you in his seed; he even likes to rub it around. His goblin slaying mind kicks in and thinks the smell will keep goblins away, warning them that this is Goblin Slayer’s and that they should stay away, but any goblin that learned the smell would die soon anyway.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Goblin Slayer started having dirty thoughts about you way before you established your relationship. In admittance, he got a crush on you the first time you praised him and the dirty thoughts appeared not too long after. He always imagined you dominating and praising him; “Oh, Goblin Slayer, you did such a good job of killing the goblins, I’m so proud of you! Now, how about a little reward?” The thoughts often appeared after a successful quest or late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not experienced at all. You were his first, but that didn’t stop him from reading erotic novels he found in libraries while searching for goblin slaying information. He wasn’t amazing the first time, but he eventually found the right spot and got you to cum, with some guidance from you of course, but he’s definitely got it down now.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

It depends on whos topping whom. If he’s topping, he likes to sit on the bed, have you lie on your back, wrap his arms around your waist; raising your lower half, and then thrust into you while wrap your legs around him. If you’re topping, he likes to lie on his back and keep his hands away while you ride him, but most importantly he wants to see your face to see your reaction to everything he does.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s isn’t goofy. He’ll laugh along with you if you laugh about something, but he likes to keep the tone calm and sensual, he thinks it makes the pleasure better if you don’t focus on talking and instead focus on the sensations you’re feeling.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He never groomed before you, but now he likes to keep it nice and tidy for you so you can give oral without hairs getting in the way.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s pretty intense, but he doesn’t like to be rough in fear of hurting you. He likes to roam his hands all over your body and feel the smooth, hot, sweaty skin beneath his palms and feel the muscle twitch at random spots. He practically knows all your sweet spots now and likes to keep you as a panting, moaning mess. He’s very attentive and likes it when you’re vocal about certain spots striking pleasure.

J = Jerk Off (How often, what are they thinking about, …)

He did start jerking off a lot more when he first met you, those dirty thoughts would invade his mind and he couldn’t help himself, but now that you’re together he does it less, usually only does it at night when you’re not there.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He likes it when he’s being praised, but also likes bondage on himself. He likes it even more if he’s bound and can’t stop the sweet, sweet, torturous pleasure of overstimulation. His favorite fantasy is you tying him to a chair and jerking him off to your heart’s content, never stopping when he flinches and grunts from the sensitivity of pleasure that wracks his body, all the while you’re cooing; “You’re such a good boy, Goblin Slayer.” He also found out that he had a scent kink after getting a whiff of you after a bath. He didn’t know if it was because he was so used to the goblin stench that covered him everyday, but you smelled so divine. He managed to steal the cloth you used to bathe yourself with and held it to his nose as he pleasured himself.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He likes it in bed because if anyone ever walked in on you he could quickly cover you up and chase away the fiend that opened a door without knocking.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Simply praising him after a quest, leaning against him, and speaking the words ever so sweetly. Seriously, never stop praising this boy and he’ll be at it for hours. If you want to get him worked up for later, you just lean yourself against his body, whisper in his ear, and describe all the things you’d like him to do to you. He really gets off at your detailed descriptions of your sexual acts, it ties a knot in his stomach and makes a certain area flush.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NEVER do it in a small space, it reminds him of his first encounter with goblins and how he was weak and defenseless. He’ll also never tie you up or do any kind of pain play, it makes you look vulnerable and reminds him too much of how goblins treat girls.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He likes receiving, you’re so good at pleasing him, he loves how you have him wrapped around your finger. He likes to give you oral pleasure too, but he doesn’t think he’s very good at it, but it doesn’t stop him from trying and learning.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to take it slow, grind deeply into your core at each thrust, and speed up his pace when he feels you’re about to cum. But if you want it fast and rough he’s happy to oblige, he’ll do anything for your pleasure. His favorite is to just hold you against him and lazily grind his hips into yours when you both had a tough day and are exhausted, but need to blow off some steam.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s willing to do quickies in a private area, but a little wary if it’s in a semi-public area where you could be caught. But if you really want him that bad all you need to do is describe it to him. Him holding you up against a wall, your partially clothed bodies grinding against each other as he thrusts into you, you cooing in his ear about how much of a good boy he is- oh, we’re going to this secluded alley way over here?

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Goblin Slayer is usually a reckless person when it comes to battle. “But if it kills the goblins,” he’d say in defence. In bed is a different story, he likes to be careful, the aim here is to pleasure, not to harm. If you talk about it beforehand he may be willing, but it also depends on the subject of the risk.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go a few rounds if you want him to, he’ll do anything to keep pleasing you, even if he’s spent and shooting blanks, he loves the overstimulation (if you couldn’t tell by now). Tell him he’s a good boy for pleasing you and how pretty he looks with tears in his eyes and drool dribbling down the side of his face. He’ll do anything to keep hearing your compliments.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I assume there's not that many toys around this time period, but there is magic, so who knows what those naughty wizards and witches have come up with? He’s very willing to use toys if it increases your pleasure and his. He loves feeling the vibrating ones against the underside of the head of his shaft, but also loves seeing you twitch and moan when he uses it against particular spots of your body.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease unless you tell him to. He really likes to just watch you come undone as you cum in his mouth, or get his fingers slick with your juices. But feel free to tease him all you want, he’ll be good and won’t complain, he wants to show you how much of a good boy he is.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn’t very loud. Mostly grunts and groans, but it all depends on the act too. If you’re going down on him he’ll be more vocal because the pressure of your tongue against his head, the warm, wet feeling of your mouth engulfing him, and your hand kneading his balls makes him a little noisy, especially if you press a vibrator against his anus. The anticipation of whether or not you’d push it in would drive him crazy.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves how vulnerable he is around you. You break down his walls at the end of the day and he feels like a different, happier person. You’ve experienced so much with him and opened his mind to things and even helped him discover things about himself.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s actually pretty average. When it’s flaccid it looks small, but he’s a grower, so it grows to a length of at least 5 to 6 inches, and has a bit of girth on him too. He’s also uncircumsized, so he’s all the more sensitive. His head is a faint shade of pink against his pale skin tone and his shaft has a slight curve to it too so he’s able to hit that sweet spot nice and good.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s got an average sex drive, at least HE thinks he does. It goes up once you two start dating. Poor baby ignores it and thinks it’s the normal thing to do if you don’t seem in the mood. Once you learn this, you make sure he tells you when he gets horny and to not ignore it just because you haven’t expressed you want to make love to him. He always tells you from then on and it happens quite a few times during the week. The group has noticed that he even seems a bit more cheerful and relaxed.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually won’t fall asleep until you’re taken care of, but if you were topping that night and his legs were too weak to move, he’d be out like a light once you went to grab a cloth to clean him with.

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff and Recovery, The Boys Discovering Unbreakable Via Questionable Training Methods

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Content warning for nightmares and generally traumatic experiences (both only mentioned). Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Three days into U.A.’s new dorms, Bakugou hasn’t crossed Kirishima’s path a single time.

Don’t fuss, Kirishima had reminded himself that first night, crimson eyes following Bakugou as he slinks off to the elevators. Hands in his pockets, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his typical slouch executed to perfection – the same as always yet achingly out of place against the buzzing excitement of the dozen and a half heroes-to-be at his back.

Under his breath, Kirishima muttered, “Give him space”, as he heaved boxes of manga, multiple sets of weights and his punching bag into his room before dedicating all his attention to stuffing a suitcase worth of brightly patterned shirts into the standard issue closet U.A. provided them with. He worked for hours and hours, unpacking and reminiscing and decorating until the room was satisfyingly his and the gel in his hair drooped with how sweaty he got.

It’s fine, he thought, pinning the last poster to the wall he shares with Bakugou. It hadn’t quite sunken in yet that they’re neighbors, now. Bakugou is antisocial on the best of days. He’s fine.

The thought of the white headband he’d lost had been fleeting at most, a lamenting little sting as he wiped his brow and saw his roots were starting to show. It came back full force as he stepped out to join the others in the common room and found an identical one hooked on his knob, the tag still attached.

Right. Kirishima gave the door to his right a soft look, firmly shut as it was. The tag was snapped off with ease and the headband was back where it belonged.

It goes on like that for a while. With the administration accommodating their move and the new term weeks away, Kirishima invests his free time into catching up on his gaming hangouts with Kaminari and the re-watch of Fullmetal Alchemist he started with Sero before everything went haywire. He helps Mina sort through the abundance of gossip flooding in with everyone’s mundane habits and routines suddenly much more apparent, and talks to classmates he hasn’t had the time to get to know all that well over shared breakfasts and class-wide movie marathons.

It’s like he gained a whole new family overnight – a notion that’s healing in and of itself, the rift that disastrous training camp tore into them scarring shut with every moment spent together.

(Still, Kirishima misses his moms and Riot something fierce. Their goodbye had featured a total sum of zero dry eyes between them; Kirishima’s face had been a blotchy red mess for hours afterwards.)

And then there’s Bakugou.

The guy is like a ghost, those first days, his absence felt as much as the odd trace of his presence he leaves behind. A mug drying next to the sink in the mornings; the thrum of guitar riffs and double-base beats muffled to indistinctness by the thick concrete between them; carpet-dulled footsteps down the hallway, that stomp familiar even without an intended audience for its passive-aggressiveness.

Little bits and pieces of evidence Kirishima takes note of and memorizes just for the sake of it. For the moments that’s not enough, he texts.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

baku my man (sent 13:05)

got too many dorayaki by accident, u want some? (sent 13:05)

(from the store) (but still pretty yum) (sent 13:05)

nah (received 13:11)

ok no probs ❤️ (sent 13:11)

One time, he couldn’t come up with a valid enough excuse and spent minutes agonizing over the empty text box only to type a short u good bro? that was answered with an equally short fine a while later.

Kirishima is very, very glad Bakugou has dropped the habit of leaving him on read. This way, his frayed nerves only have to withstand the background stress of what if he’s downplaying it that seems moderate in comparison to–

Yup, not thinking about Kamino again. Moving on.

“Is he like… okay?”, Sero asks him eventually, YUI’s Again playing as they wait for the episode to start. He’s lying belly-down on his bed, his laptop positioned in a way Kirishima can see the screen from his chosen spot in the hammock. “Not gonna lie, it’s a bit freaky how quiet it’s been. When he’s around at all, which isn’t much.”

Not moving on, then.

Kirishima doesn't need any clarification who is meant. Sero isn’t the first (or the last, most likely) to approach him about this; for once, even Midoriya has been beaten to the punch by Todoroki. It doesn't matter who it is, though, the answer is always the same:

“I don’t know.”

A little hushed because it’s the truth and a confession at the same time. The mild surprise on Sero’s face makes Kirishima look down in search for words, his hands wringing the pocket of his threadbare hoodie just to have something to do. Half the intro flickers by in silence.

“Baku isn’t exactly a people person, y’know?” Kirishima scoffs at himself. What an understatement. “He likes to do stuff his way and fight his own battles, lone wolf style. So, it’s been a bit, uh, stressful for him. To have everyone – and I mean everyone, heroes, police, the media, you name it – be in his business and then have all of us around all the time, too.”

That’s pretty much what he can say without outright speculating or infringing upon the things Bakugou told him in confidence. No matter how much Kirishima appreciates Sero as his friend, his lips are sealed unless Bakugou decides otherwise.

About two minutes into the episode, Sero hits the space bar. The screen pauses on a frame of ambiguously European-looking buildings.

“Okay, sorry, it’s just. How is Bakugou the one with the biggest cryptid energy in 1-A right now? Even Tokoyami emerges from the shadows sometimes and being a cryptid is like, his whole deal.”

Wrapped in humor as it is, Sero’s concern brings a smile to Kirishima’s lips. It’s good to know he – and Todoroki, and Midoriya – care, even when Bakugou is being elusive and hard to reach on purpose. It’s what makes all the difference, sometimes.

“Dunno, he’s a pretty complex guy once you give him a chance. Plus, I’m pretty sure he spends 90% of his time either training or studying or thinking about training and studying so it’s not like he’s not doing stuff. It just doesn’t really involve any of us.”

A thumb on his chin, Sero muses: “Not a cryptid but a closet nerd, huh? That… makes a lot of sense actually. I always thought he’s some kinda genius but I guess even geniuses have to work hard to get good.”

“Dude, he’s such a nerd”, Kirishima agrees with an enthusiastic grin. “Like, I’m pretty sure he wakes up with the sun and gets right to it. Being around him is so motivating, I wanna shoot for the stars and achieve my dreams simply because he’s doing it, too.”

“Okay, I get it. Blasty’s the best.”

Kirishima nods so hard the hammock moves with it; Sero snickers and shakes his head. His smile dims, then, more pensive than before.

“Listen, man. I know it’s over and done with and like, getting bent out of shape over what ifs is pointless but – I wish I’d been there.” Sero traces the borders of his laptop, a repetitive and thoughtless motion. “To help him, I mean. Watching him fight for his life on TV was really freaking miserable, I was shaking the whole time. To think you guys were there as well and how much worse it could’ve gone… How bad things are, even now… I don’t know. It’s haunting, honestly.”

It’s entirely silent, for a while. Kirishima’s mouth is dry, his eyes starting to burn with how quiet Sero’s voice got towards the end there.

“I’ve, um. I’ve had nightmares about it, actually.” Admitting it feels right, despite the heaviness that doesn’t belong in a room smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings. “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say here. It’s all a blur anyways, I was freaking out until we got there and once we had him we just ran. But… We were there, hiding behind this wall with Midoriya doing his mumbling thing to figure out what the fuck to do. All for One was there, too.”

Just the memory makes Kirishima want to hurl. Images flash before his eyes, there and gone and seared into his retinas all the same. He looks at Sero, at eyes gone wide with worry.

“That guy’s presence… It felt like dying. I don’t know how else to describe it, it was like standing on a cliff knowing you’re about to lose balance and go splat and it wasn’t going away. Katsuki talked to him directly, fought villains outnumbered six-to-one with him right there.”

Somewhere in their periphery the laptop’s screen flickers to darkness. Kirishima takes a deep breath, mentally counting down on the exhale.

“I’m worried, too. I’m trying not to fuss because it makes Bakugou uncomfy when I do but it’s hard. He’s answering my texts, at least. And he, uh, didn’t mention all the embarrassing shit I sent him while he was gone. So, that’s something, I guess.”

That makes Sero’s brow perk up from a somber frown to vague curiosity. “Embarrassing shit?”

“Really embarrassing shit.” Kirishima’s face flushes so hard his cheeks practically glow with heat. “Full on you-might-be-dead-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-cope-with-that embarrassing. I was a total mess, dude.”

Sero breathes a sympathetic sort of noise. “Oh, that.” He reaches over to pat his head. “Yeah, you kind of were. It’s okay, though, Kiri. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to be a mess when your best friend– Well, y’know.”

“Mmh”, Kirishima makes, his hands framing his own face in a bid to cool it down a bit. “I swear if he ever brings it up I’ll perish on the spot. Goodbye sweet world, it was nice knowing ya.”

“Pressing F hard for you, man.” Sero nods along solemnly. “Don’t worry, I’ll let Riot know you loved him.”

“Thanks, bro!”

They share a grin, not as bright as it could be. Given the state of the world, it’s a damn miracle it’s there at all. Kirishima sighs a little and juts his chin at the laptop.

“C’mon. Let’s watch the Elrics do cool alchemy stuff and/or cry about how depressing their life is.”

Sero finger-guns at him, “You got it”, as a line of tape goes for the touch pad and the freeze frame comes unstuck. The rest of the night is lost to the comforting nostalgia of a story they both know by heart.

* 

Best Bakubro 💣💥

u ok? (sent 22:00)

yea (received 22:02)

oh!! ur awake (sent 22:02)

? (received 22:03)

hhhh isn’t it way past ur bedtime? (sent 22:03)

💦💦 (sent 22:03)

🖕 (received 22:11)

GASP (sent 22:11)

did you seriously just type out “gasp” (received 22:11)

uh yea??? this is an important moment (sent 22:12)

i’m so proud of u (sent 22:12)

fucking hell (received 22:12)

 go to sleep already (received 22:14)

aaa ok (sent 22:14)

night nitro!! (sent 22:14)

🔪 (received 22:17)

❤️ (sent 22:17) 

*

The alarm jolts Kirishima out of fitful sleep.

A hand searches the bedframe with clumsy pats, eyes squeezed in a bleary squint as the screen flashes to life in the dark. The notification reads Gym w/ B!!! besides a big, glowing 5:00.

Kirishima groans. It’s a critical hit to his still-recovering sleep deprivation, making his arms bend like limp noodles under his weight. He crashes back into bed and lets the void swallow him.

*

Knocking. Hard, incessant, escalating in volume and frequency until–

“Oi! Shark Teeth! Get up already!”

Kirishima is ripping the door open before he’s even aware he’s on his feet and awake enough to do so. A breathless “Bro!” fills the space the knocking occupied a moment before.

“About fucking time.”

In the shy light of a sun peeking over the horizon, the phantom of the 1-A dorm becomes solid and real in the shape of one grumpy-faced Bakugou Katsuki: a towel over his shoulder, a bottle of water hanging from two fingers by its handle, looking whole and rested and average amounts of ticked off and oh, Kirishima missed Bakugou.

Kirishima’s also staring. Which he realizes because Bakugou shuffles in place, gaze drifting to the side, a hand scratching his neck. “It’s Saturday”, he says a little awkwardly, offering nothing else to follow it up with.

Saturday. Gym day, which Kirishima’s phone remembered and Kirishima did, too, the night before when he’d wondered if that’s still a thing now that they moved together and Bakugou went into stealth mode and everything is constantly shifting under their feet.

Not everything. Most things, apparently not this one, this thing that’s been theirs since the start. Kirishima smiles, bright and relieved. He promises:

“Be right there. Two minutes!”

He runs because what if Bakugou changes his mind? What if he decides to go ahead without him, and Kirishima loses that glimpse only he gets, of Bakugou being in his element and relaxed and happy?

Then he’s back and Bakugou is still there, leaning against the wall and scrolling on his phone while he waits. A glance, lingering on the all-caps SWEATING print on his red tank top over neon aqua shorts – Kirishima flexes to show off his outfit properly. “Pretty rad, right?”

Bakugou blinks, slowly. The verbal jab Kirishima expects never comes. Instead, he gets a low, “You done or what?”

“Yeah, man! Let’s go.”

Maybe Bakugou missed him, too.

*

“Push it!”

Kirishima clenches his jaw, the serrated line of his teeth grinding to the point of pain. He pushes, skin pulling tight and muscles screaming as they bunch up and split apart in harsh ripples. His vision fractures into two, three distinct shards.

The blast engulfs him between one heartbeat and the next. Nitroglycerine-fueled flames lick over every inch of exposed skin, his arms and face and chest registering the heat before the pain, dull and frustratingly there.

It’s over in a flash. Bakugou wipes sweat off his chin with his arm, palms still smoldering. “And?”

“Still feelin’ it”, Kirishima rasps out. His quirk drops, leaves his body softer and aching; breathing is a bit of a challenge, inhales and exhales coming quick and hard. Arms crossed over his head, he lets out a groan, his voice dipping into a growl.

“I can go further! I know I can. It’s right there but I can’t. Quite. Grasp it. Urgh!”

“Fuck”, Bakugou mutters with feeling. Exactly, Kirishima thinks, fuming at himself. Fuck.

They’ve been at it for hours. Gym γ is in ruins, which is fine since Cementoss can fix it up in seconds once they’re done but still. By this point, Kirishima expects more progress than aggressive indoor renovation via explosions.

A hero’s Ultimate Move is supposed to be this grand, show-stopping technique to turn the tides and save the day. Finally, finally, they’re in the clear to develop their own. There’s an idea in Kirishima’s head, a concept he’s worked on for almost as long as his aesthetic as a hero. An extension there-of, in a sense.

It’s badass, it’s manly, it’s invincible–

It’s not this. Kirishima is starting to doubt he’ll ever get there.

“What’s wrong with me, man? Like, I see you coming and my quirk kicks up a notch ‘cause it’ll hurt if I don’t harden enough and then it just. Stops? Before it gets where I want it to be? Are explosions to the face not dangerous enough, or something?”

Bakugou is shaking out his hands and loosening his shoulders, a wince making his nose scrunch a little. “You’ve taken more of ‘em today than you could at the Festival”, he notes in that neutral tone he uses when he counters Kirishima’s whining with facts and logic. “Pretty sure any of the other extras would be dust by now, including that steel fucker.”

Kirishima appreciates the Bakugou-version of a pep talk, he really does, and he’s probably right (he usually is). But it’s not what he wants. He wants his Ultimate, and he wants it now.

And, eyeing Bakugou’s grenade bracers, he might know of one way to get there.

“Use those.”

“Hah?”

Kirishima pats one of the clunky devices, hand hardened just in case. Bakugou bares his teeth at him but doesn’t pull away. “These. Hit me with ‘em? Full blast.”

Bakugou’s expression sobers. Dead serious. “Don’t fuck with me. They’re not made for people.”

(And Midoriya is what, a house plant? Kirishima doesn’t voice that thought out loud. He has some sense of self-preservation, thank you very much.)

Besides, Bakugou didn’t say no. The possibility is there, if heavily guarded – and where there’s a chance, Kirishima will always at least try.

“Look, dude. For better or for worse I’m too used to anything else, and adrenaline alone is clearly not cutting it right now. I’m…” Kirishima laughs, a little embarrassed despite himself. “I remember what that explosion did to Ground β. Not gonna lie, it was pretty wild and I’m a bit, uh, scared. But I’m also ready. I can take it, I know I can.”

Bakugou is looking at him, intense in a different way, searching Kirishima’s face for… something. “You’re scared of me?”

What? Kirishima rewinds what he said in his head and oh no. He waves his hands in front of him, like he can physically wipe away the notion. “No. No, Katsuki, I’m scared of what I saw back then. You, I trust. With my life.”

Which is a sappy thing to say, even Kirishima will admit that, but it’s also true. Asking Bakugou to use the bracers on him is literally placing his life in his (very lethal) hands.

There is a line between sparring and actual combat, and while they’ve come close to it, have toed it and tested its give in pursuit of greater heights, they’ve never taken that leap. They’re back at it now, balancing on that edge, and Kirishima can guide Bakugou there but he won’t push him across because Bakugou is hesitating.

“Once I pull the pin, I can’t stop it”, Bakugou says, locking Kirishima’s eyes with own. “I can redirect the blast but it won’t stop.”

Kirishima nods. “I know.”

“They’re all the way full. It’s gonna be brutal.”

“I know”, he repeats, chest warm despite the tingle of nerves in his gut. “I can take it. I swear.”

Bakugou spits on the ground. “Fine. Fuck it. You better fucking push it this time or you’re literally dead.”

“Oof, did you have to put it that way?”

A cold look is all he gets. Kirishima stands a bit taller on instinct. No time to joke, got it. Bakugou rolls his neck and explosion-jumps a good twenty yards away before turning back towards him. His right bracer is checked over in brisk and efficient moves.

“Get ready. I’ll count down from five. On go, you go. Plus fucking ultra.”

Legs apart, knees locked, back in a straight line. The stance comes to Kirishima as easy as breathing, as does the rigid feeling of his quirk taking hold. He braces his arms, hands up with his fingers sharp and claw-like.

A grim smile. “Plus ultra”, Kirishima confirms.

The safety slides off with an audible click. The pin emerges, Bakugou’s index limp on the trigger. “Five.”

Inhale.

“Four.”

Kirishima knocks his hands together, the rock-like smack reassuringly familiar.

“Three.”

Exhale. His limbs go stiff, his skin having long lost feeling as the keratin in it grows solid. Tough. Bulletproof.

“Two.”

Harder. Harder. Like a mountain. Like granite. Like raw fucking diamonds. Harder than that.

“One.”

Inhale, inhale, inhale. Kirishima’s chest locks into place, his heart pumping away as his innermost remains unchanged and everything else goes rigid. Be strong. Be invincible–

“Go!”

 A hiss, a spark, flames – the explosion roars to life and Kirishima roars back, sees it coming in a wave of light and destruction coming for him and only him. It’s not enough, more, more, but his quirk is buckling as it crashes into that wall inside him he can’t break–

“Push it, Kirishima! Push it, damn you!!”

He’s in Kamino, back to the wall and head full of death. Himself, dead, his classmates, dead, Bakugou, dead dead dead–

Never!

A second before impact and it fractures, splits apart. Time passes in slow motion as his vision bursts into a thousand unique and unknowable shades and–

Everything is so sharp, fragmented and crystalline and bright. The explosion hits, a kaleidoscope of red-yellow-orange that makes sense, somehow. Kirishima watches as it rolls over his hands and wrists and arms; it pushes against his chest like a gust of wind, playful, almost, like it could carry his weight if he leans into it, so he does.

One step. His body is heavy, so heavy, rumbling and grinding against itself at every point of contact – at his joints, between his fingers, along the knife’s edge of his teeth. Another step, again, again, moving through it like it’s the ocean lazily lapping at his legs in molten waves headed to shore.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Kirishima doesn’t register it’s over until he catches a shouted “Eijirou!” and Bakugou is there, sliding to a stop right in front of him. There’s shock written all across his face.

“Holy shit.”

Maybe Kirishima died, after all? It’s hard to tell with him being head-to-toe numb – he is pretty sure that feeling in his chest is his heart beating like the wings of a caged hummingbird. His lungs are screaming for breath, actually, and Kirishima tries but breathing is not working right now, which is fine. He opens his mouth all the same.

“Did it work?”

His voice is this low rumble that he himself barely recognizes. It’s okay, Bakugou understands him. Bakugou laughs, in fact, a short, incredulous huff of air.

“Did it work?! Did it fucking–”

A gasp, like Bakugou realized in that exact moment it’s Kirishima in front of him. Then he grins, big and toothy and so excited it’s making Kirishima dizzy.

“Holy shit, it worked! You fucking survived! And you’re a dragon! Or something! You have claws and fucking fangs and– That’s so badass, what the fuck!”

“What?!”

“YEAH!”

Kirishima looks down at his hands – his claws, long as daggers and curved inwards. “Oh fuck. Is it cool? Dude, I can’t see myself! Is it cool?!”

“You’re a fucking dragon of course it’s fucking cool”, Bakugou yells at him in one breath. “Shit, wait. Wait, wait, where the fuck is my–”

He takes off his cloves and fumbles for his pockets, like fumbling is something Bakugou does. The world is still weirdly precise and crystal-like and starting to spin, uh oh, that can’t be good. Bakugou’s got his phone out and Kirishima smiles, a Pavlovian response to being in front of a camera, and his jaw creaks with the movement.

Creaking is not a noise a human body should do. Then again, surviving a blast like that is also something that should be impossible.

Holy shit indeed.

“I made it.” Kirishima continues to stare down at himself, at the jagged plains of his chest where he tore through his shirt. It doesn’t feel real but it is. “I’m alive. I got my Ultimate.”

Bakugou is back and closer than before, his face mere inches from Kirishima’s. “Fucking woah, dude. Not a single scratch. This is insane.” The grin is still there, his voice quieter and dripping with pride. “Did ya feel it at all? How’s your mobility? Is there a time limit to this or–”

It’s getting hard to focus, Bakugou’s words running into each other and flying right by without his brain processing any of it. His spiked vision is blotted out in places, increasingly stained in black ink dots.

“I think I’m… I’m about to pass out.”

“Wha– Drop it. Kiri, drop your quirk!”

I’m trying, he wants to tell him but there’s no air left to say it with. Kirishima goes to his knees an instance later, his stiffened body resisting the way he wants to fold forward. Sounds are muffled, the darkness closing in–

By impending unconsciousness or by command, it doesn’t really matter: Kirishima feels his quirk fade and his entire body soften. He’s falling over until he’s not, strong hands catching him around the shoulders. A moment later, a semi-gentle slap to his cheek reminds him that there’s something he should be doing.

Kirishima breathes.

It feels really good, even if it hurts, too. His chest is flexible enough to expand now but clearly not happy about it while his lungs lurch for every bit of oxygen they can get. Breathing is a lot of work, then, but it’s worth it. Kirishima has an Ultimate Move, and he knows how to turn it off. Kind of.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t fucking breathe in it?!”

“Ah”, Kirishima mumbles, in-between pathetic pants of air, “That would be… because… I didn’t know… I couldn’t… Wow, I’m so dizzy.”

Bakugou groans. “Yeah, it’s almost like you just nearly suffocated yourself to death. Sit your ass down, idiot.”

A flick to Kirishima’s cheek has him whining. Every inch of himself is prickling with oversensitivity, the polar opposite to how it felt to exist in that explosion.

Because he did that. That happened.

By now he’s aware he’s leaning on Bakugou, his legs wobbling even as he’s held steady until he can plant his butt on the floor. Bakugou doesn’t push him off after he sits right next to him, either; he nudges him aside to take off his bracers and his collar but otherwise, Kirishima is free to stay where he is.

Kirishima takes the invitation for what it is and lets himself rest against his shoulder, thoroughly exhausted. “It felt so cool”, he tells Bakugou once he can inhale without shaking out of his own skin.

“Like. My vision went nuts just before the blast hit, I think that’s when I activated it. Everything was all bright and, like, broken apart? Kind of like shards of glass or something, it sounds weird now but it made sense in that moment. I was standing in the explosion and it barely moved me.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows go all the way up. “Seriously? That shit usually levels a whole building.”

“Yeah! I walked a bit, too, so that’s what I’ll work on next. Breathing would be good as well, I guess. Just have to get used to, well, everything.”

Looking down at his naked arms and the red outline around his right wrist, Bakugou nods, pensive. “Were you scared?”

Kirishima winces. Still thinking about that, huh? He almost regrets mentioning it at all, even if it’s the truth and part of them. Their starting point, all those months ago.

“At first, yeah. And then it was gone. Like, I feel I can face down anything when I’m like that, y’know? I won’t break no matter what. It’s exactly I wanted.”

Kirishima’s laugh comes out wheezy. There’s a headache pounding away at his temples, his throat raw from yelling and everything else. “Unbreakable. That’s what I called it when I thought of it. And it’s reality now.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” A shake of Bakugou’s head. He digs out his phone again, flicking to the most recent entry in his camera roll. “Here. That’s how it looks like.”

What he sees wipes the smile off Kirishima’s face entirely. He gestures to the phone and Bakugou shrugs, dropping it in his hand. Kirishima holds it close to his face, almost cross-eyed with his need to drink in all the details. The red spikes of his hair. His eyes all intense and turned to stone. The teeth, holy hell. Layers and layers of armored skin shifting over each other like tectonic plates.

No wonder he sounded like rocks tumbling down the mountainside in that form.

Bakugou nudges his side. “Okay, spill. What’s the sad face for this time?”

“I don’t know.” Kirishima swallows. “It’s scary, isn’t it? I know why you got dragon from this and it is cool. It feels cool, too. But is it something people would feel safe around?”

“Uh, yeah?” The device is snatched back. “Civilians are morons and fickle as fuck but if this is standing between them and certain death, fuck yeah they’ll feel safe. Besides, you’re like Riot.”

“The dog or the hero?”

“Fucking both but I mean the dog. You’re like, stupid friendly and all”, a vague gesture to his face, “wholesome and shit, whoever doesn’t immediately get ‘hero’ from that is dumb as hell and deserves to die.”

“Okay, okay, I hear ya.” Kirishima chuckles, rubbing the back of his head under the praise. He hurries to say: “Well, minus the wishing-civilians-dead part.”

“Nope. They can definitely die.”

“Dude.”

Bakugou is grinning, though, knocking his phone against Kirishima’s forehead. “Get your head outta your ass already. That Ultimate is badass as fuck. We’re trying my AP shot on it, next time.”

“You mean the one that goes through concrete?”

“Ye-up, that’s the one. Now get off me, you’re all sweaty and gross.”

Kirishima oofs as he’s pushed to the ground. He stays there, for a minute or two. Staring up at the far ceiling and musing how okay things feel right now. Hoping that they’ll stay that way, for a little while at least.

Then Bakugou is standing over him, offering him a hand. “I’m not carrying you back, asshole. Get up.”

Kirishima groans as he’s pulled up. The tingling has firmly settled into soreness and it’s everywhere. Still, when Bakugou makes to let go, he holds on tighter.

“Bro, wait.”

A questioning glance.

“We gotta do the thing!”

The glance turns almost concerned, a silent have-you-finally-lost-your-marbles sort of look. “The… thing?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima imitates an explosion between their hands. “The sparking off thing!”

All confusion disappears. “Ah”, Bakugou says. Then he turns around and marches right out the gym.

“Baku, no! Don’t leave a bro hanging like that!”

(In the end, Kirishima gets his handshake. Bakugou complains about his ‘shitty ass puppy eyes’ being ‘effective as all fuck’ the whole way to the dorm.)

>>Chapter 7.

[bi-and-happy]

i dare u to answer all the questions on the pride ask game ☺️☺️

Oh boy, here we go!

1. I am bisexual and I use she/her pronouns

2. I first realised I like girls when I was about ten years old, when I started secondary school. Because I also liked boys, I did some classic Repression^TM and convinced myself I was straight, which included a lot of internal homophobia, biphobia and bi erasure. It wasn’t until my second year of uni when I had my first boyfriend that I realised I was never going to have a good and healthy relationship with anyone, let along myself, if I didn’t come to terms with my sexuality and eventually come out

3. I am cisgender and I don’t look particularly androgynous so I have never been misgendered (except one time by a very embarrassed pizza delivery man)

4. The first person I told was my ex-boyfriend (see answer 2!) We had actually been broken up for about 8 months by that point but we were still friends at the time and he’s pansexual, so I knew he’d understand. He was annoyingly nonchalant about it and immediately made inappropriate comments but that actually worked out because we were in an airport so I couldn’t really have an emotional breakdown!

5. When I first came out (and then when I came out to my parents six months later) it was like I’d spent all this time and effort trying to hide this side of myself, and the effort of hiding just got too much. When I told my best friend (who’s a lesbian) it was super chill - I didn’t want it to be a massive deal so I found a time to slip it in, she was very excited that I’d finally told her (she’d known for about two years longer than I did!) and we immediately started talking about all the girls we had crushes on

6. I’ve kind of brushed on some people, but there were two main reactions: “That does not surprise me, I’ve suspected/known for a while” and “Wait? You like men?! I thought you were gay?” The only person who was surprised was my mum. She was very very quiet for a long time (although she gave me a hug so I knew she wasn’t mad) and let my dad do the talking (she did have some not-so-great things to say but it was nothing I hadn’t heard her say before so I had answers prepared). The next day, we had another chat, and she was a bit more positive then. It’s also worth mentioning that this is an ongoing process. I came out to them two and a half years ago now, and we’re still working some things out but we’re in the right direction!

7. Honestly this doesn’t come up very much, mostly because the vast majority of my friends are also bi, and I study performing arts so everyone’s at least a little bit queer. The question I get asked more often is how I can be an openly LGBT+ Christian (which is a whole other conversation which I would be happy to have if anyone is interested!)

8. Flannel. So much flannel. Also birkenstocks in the summer and combat boots (with rainbow laces) in the winter. I sometimes wear dresses (especially in autumn), and I do like pretty dresses/ballgowns when the occasion calls for it (which again, performing arts - sometimes I feel like I live in concert dresses). But my everyday look is fairly semi-butch. I’m working on my top butch energy

9. WHERE TO START. Okay, Jack/Bitty from Check Please; Jack/Ianto from Torchwood; Patsy/Delia from Call the Midwife; Callie/Aaron from the Fosters; Merlin/Arthur from Merlin; Lena/Kara from Supergirl; and my guilty pleasure, Harry/Cedric from Harry Potter (don’t judge me!!)

10. I very rarely leave the house without eyeliner and mascara on, but I rarely wear anything else unless it’s a special occasion. I’m generally of the opinion that if I can start the day with some killer eyeliner wings, you can make that day your bitch

11. Nope! Never experienced dysphoria

12. This isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but it is stupid because it was said by a gay men. “All these kids these days, in their LGBTQWXYZ community... [goes on to deliberately misgender people]”. Again, I have lots of thoughts on the dynamics of this which I will not unpack unless someone asks me to.

13. My friends!! I only have about two straight friends. I love all my friends, and I love my queer friends, and I love how we’re always there for each other and we always support each other. Even if everyone needs to stop dating within the friendship group.

14. See answer 12! The politics about different identities really annoy me. Non-binary people exist! Ace and aro people are part of the LGBT+ community! Bi and pan are different but overlapping identities and neither is better or worse than the other! So much infighting! Bi girls will not leave lesbians for a man! So much infighting.

15. I have never been and I’m out of town this year as well and I’m absolutely heartbroken!! I usually spend my summers working on various week-long projects around the country, and they always manage to bugger up any pride plans I had!

16. Ooooh absolute favourite? Probably Stephanie Beatriz. Followed by Kristen Stewart. And Tom Daley.

17. I had a boyfriend for a short time in my second year, we met at uni. Otherwise, I’ve been a single pringle!

18. I HAVE SO MANY. Absolute, complete, 100% favourite? The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. YOU ALL HAVE TO READ THIS OH MY GOODNESS. 

19. I’ve experienced more discrimination as a woman than as a member of the LGBT+ community! That being said, I was bullied in years 7-9 which included lots of calling me a lesbian, because children aren’t creative in their bullying and this was 2006. That definitely taught me to be ashamed of my feelings for girls.

20. Pride!! I love that film. Also Torchwood!

21. I’ll admit I don’t follow that many LGBT+ bloggers/vloggers... sorry!!

22. Queer!!! (And whether or not it should be defined primarily as a slur is also up for debate; again, I’ll expand if anyone wants me to.)

23. Yes yes yes! I have been to a grand total of three gay bars and loved all of them. Especially that last one. Because that was the one where I got drunk and snogged a girl which was great.

24. I’m a cisgender woman, and most of my thoughts about my gender link with my reading into feminist reading and my constant striving to become a better intersectional feminist!

25. I like the thought of having children. I do not like the idea of being pregnant and giving birth. For me, children is always something that comes as part of a relationship and probably marriage (spot the Christian upbringing!). I’m not definite either way; it’s a decision I would want to make with a future partner, as we created a family.

26. Bi people exist! You’re one of them! Stop hating yourself! Stop using your Christian upbringing as an excuse to ignore anything relating to your sexuality!

27. Gender roles are complete bullshit. Every couple is different, the strengths each member of the couple brings will be different, and it’s up to them to find their dynamic, regardless of how closely it resembles traditional gender roles.

28. Not really! Only that since coming out I’ve felt less pressure to be feminine

29. It’s bloody hard. Even if we’re loud and proud and yelling about it and having a good time, each and every one of us has been through shit to get here.

30. Because it’s who I am! I’m proud to be LGBT+ because it’s who I am, and it’s a community that has come so far and is still making incredible strives forward but is subjected to so much pain and yet we keep going. Much love to you all!

Wow, I’m exhausted after that. Feel free to ask any questions about anything I said there! I touched on a lot of stuff. Much love!! xxx

[darling-archeron]

Going Home

Aka the holiday fic I never posted. Feyre is stranded in the airport on Christmas Eve, but luckily she runs into a familiar face. Modern AU, Feysand.

Everything was falling apart. 

I could feel the weight pressing on my chest as my eyes started burning with tears I refused to let fall.

This is fine this is fine. Breathe.

I tried to take calming breaths as I hurried through the airport, not sure where I was going.

The breakup and subsequent loss of my job had been bad to begin with. 

Then, Nesta and Elain had decided not to come to California since Dad’s health issues prevented him from joining them. At least, that was what Elain had said. Nesta probably hadn’t wanted to come in the first place.

So I had decided to fly to them last minute. The overpriced plane ticket cost money I couldn’t spare, but it would be worth it if I could see my friends and family in New York for the first time in ages.

The flight had a two-hour layover in Illinois, which shouldn’t have been a problem. Until the Illinois-New York flight was cancelled, leaving me hopelessly stranded in the Chicago airport. Even worse, on Christmas Eve.

After the initial panic, I had pulled myself together and rescheduled my flight for 3:30 tomorrow. But after the plane ticket, I definitely didn’t have enough money for a hotel stay unless I wanted to fall more behind on my student loan payments. Not an option.

I didn’t know anyone in the city, which left me with...what? Sleeping in the airport all night? 

Just then, my phone buzzed.

Nesta: Elain just told me you lost your job at Springfield.

Damn it. I had sworn her to secrecy after she had accidentally found out, but it was only a matter of time before my middle sister had let something slip. I had been hoping to keep it quiet until after Christmas. Nesta meant well, but she’d be badgering me about the details, about what I had done wrong, about why it had happened. It was easier to pretend I hadn’t been let go for unsavory reasons.

I was so tired, and the tears had finally spilled over. And somehow, I had ended up in the food court, standing there like an idiot. Exhausted, I sat down on the nearest bench, about to place my head in my hands when -

“Feyre?”

My head shot up at the familiar voice. In front of me stood a tall, dark-haired man I hadn’t seen in over a year.

“Rhysand?” My voice came out thick, my nose clogged up from the crying.

Of course. Of course I would run into Rhysand Noctis here, having a breakdown halfway between a Jimmy-Johns and a Taco Bell. Despite just getting off a flight, he looked strikingly handsome in black jeamss and a t-shirt. And as always, his hair didn’t have a strand out of place.

He laughed. “You don’t see me for a year and you call me Rhysand? I thought you would have known me better than that, darling.” 

The return of the old nickname was enough to bring the hint of a smile to my lips. We had known each other well in high school after he had ended up tutoring me when my English grades fell embarrassingly low. Though I hated him at first, we had gradually grown close. After high school, both of us attended colleges in California, making it easier to hang out occasionally – until these last few months, when we had lost touch.

I stood up, wiping my eyes in an attempt to look like I hadn’t spent the day travelling and on the verge of a breakdown. Rhys was frowning a bit, clearly wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

Concern lined Rhys’s face. “Travelling for the holidays?”

I nodded. “Yeah. My flight’s been cancelled, and the next one doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon.” I fished for something to say, some menial question or the small talk I had always been so awful at. “What about you - how have you been?”

He gave a half-shrug, pivoting the handle of his luggage as he talked. “It’s been a long year. But everything has improved now that I’ve stumbled across you again, Feyre darling.”

I rolled my eyes. “Flirt.”

Just then, my phone buzzed again, and I fished it out of my pocket. Elain this time.

Elain: Dad’s really disappointed that you can’t make it tonight. ): Where r u staying?

My middle sister’s well-meaning words somehow set something off in me. I had disappointed Dad once again, I didn’t have a place to stay….

I started to cry again – louder, this time, definitely enough to make people stare. I had never been one who was able to cry prettily. I felt myself sink back down onto the bench.

Rhys immediately sat down next to me, our knees only a few inches apart.

“What’s wrong, Feyre?”

I didn’t respond, trying to focus on my breathing, but too lost to do so.

“Is there something I can do, someone I can call to help?” My eyes weren’t focusing, my head was bowed. Concern coated his voice, but I shook my head, I couldn’t breathe –

“Feyre.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “Breathe.” Pure command, no room for argument. But my mind found anchor in his voice, and I shuddered, heaving great, even breaths from the depths of my lungs.

“Do you need to talk about it?” I had spent so long keeping it all inside, and the first rule of that was never to cry in public.

Rule number two was to deny anything was wrong. 

I had already broken both of those, and just talking about what had happened…it sounded more appealing than I was willing to admit.

”It’s just….a lot of crap. I went through a breakup, lost my job, and now I don’t have enough money for a decent hotel stay because I spent all of it on this flight. My family and I…. we went through a rough patch. I didn’t speak to them for a while. And just when we were closer to making things right…” My hands balled up, fingernails snagging on the fabric of my black leggings.

Rhys was silent for a moment. I studied his face, noticing his eyes were filled with more emotion than I was used to from him. And below them telltale dark circles.

His hand hovered above my shoulder, as if wanting to comfort me but not wanting to invade my space. 

“Come stay with me tonight.”

I looked up at him in surprise, ready to reject the offer. 

“I’m staying at my cousin Morrigan’s. You remember her, right?”

“Yes.” She had always been friendly towards me, and I had ended up crashing at her house once when things got bad at mine. Though I suspected that at times, her home life was worse than mine. 

But I wasn’t going to interfere in a family affair. “That’s ridiculous, Rhys. Mor and I haven’t seen each other in years, and I’m not going to barge in on your holiday. It’s a kind offer, but I’ll find some other place to stay.”

Rhys furrowed his brow, persisting. “Mor adores you, Feyre. I promise you wouldn’t be interrupting. Or if you’re not comfortable with it, I could loan you some cash. To get a hotel for the night.”

Interesting. His offer was genuine – I could read it in his words and in his unusually open face. But I wasn’t putting myself in more debt, even with someone like Rhys. And a hotel would still mean an empty room, filled with only the sounds of a microwave dinner and a bad movie in the background.

I had spent too many Christmases like that.

Staying at Mor’s sounded nice. And it was only for one night. “Alright, I’ll stay at Mor’s. But only if she’s okay with it. No showing up with me with no warning.”

A grin spread across his face, violet eyes bright and true.  “I’ll call her right now.”

He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, dialing her number. Mor answered almost immediately, and I listened as he explained my situation. Only the barest details, that my flight had been cancelled and I needed a place to crash. When Rhys told her that he had invited me to stay, I could hear her shriek of excitement from where I was standing.

It made me feel a little better about the whole thing, and I could feel a flutter of excitement in my belly at the prospect of seeing Mor again. 

The cousins chatted for a few more minutes, and I responded to Elain, letting her know I was staying with some friends. Nesta’s text I left alone, for now. It would be better to just discuss it face-to-face.

By the time we had left the airport and found a taxi, twenty minutes had passed. The weather was gradually worsening and the car wound up taking several detours to avoid closed roads and accidents. 

“So, what is Mor doing in Chicago?” I asked, watching the blur of buildings go by through the window. “I thought she was planning on college in New York?” Her father had been pushing for her to attend a prestigious private school.

“Her family was planning on her going there. Things got…complicated.” Rhysand’s tone was dark, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the rest of that particular story. “She’s in her last year at the University of Chicago now.” 

We sat in comfortable silence for a minute before I piped up again.

“What’s the rest of the crew up to now?” I asked. “I’ve lost touch with everyone.”

The question seemed to raise his spirits. “Cassian is still in the army – he isn’t able to be home for Christmas this year. Az just got promoted at the tech security company he works for. He’s flying in from New York to be at Mor’s tomorrow, actually. Amren is still working as a lawyer. She’s actually in Chicago as well, though it’s hard to say if she’ll drop in. You know how she is.”

I nodded, a faint smile on my lips. They had all been Rhys’s friends more than mine, but there were days when I was still surprised by how much I could miss their quips and banter. 

“And you? What have you kept yourself so busy with?”

Rhys shrugged. “I’ve been working in the California office for Illyria Tech.” He said slowly, naming the multi-million dollar company his father held a high position in. “Dad’s been pushing for me to come back home and work in the headquarters. Convinced I can get a better job there. But even though California hasn’t been easy –“ He furrowed his eyebrows. “I can’t bring myself to go back permanently – not yet. But I’m staying at Mor’s for a few days and then going home for New Year’s.” He paused. “I’ve been talking almost this whole ride. Tell me one thing about your year.” 

I nodded. “I know what you mean – about going home. My Dad thinks that us not fighting anymore means that I’m ready to swallow my pride and come home, that California was too big of a venture into the unknown for me. It’s true I needed to get out of LA for a while…. but I have to go back.” Heaven only knew there were certain places I still wouldn’t go back to in LA. The restaurant he had always taken me to. The parking lot across from the Macy’s where he had hit me for the first time and then apologized a thousand times afterwards. And I hated the smell of roses.

“For what it’s worth…I’m sorry about your breakup.” His voice was soft, as if he had known what I was thinking about.

“Don’t be. I’m glad it’s over.”

Rhys didn’t say anything, and I looked over to see him staring out of the window of the taxi. His sharp profile against the snowy windowpane would have made a stunning painting. He opened his mouth, about to say something else, when the taxi lurched to a halt in front of a small apartment building.

Despite his protests, I insisted we split the cost of the taxi. It was the least I could do.

The weather was beginning to get bad, wind whipping my hair out of its plait and snow stinging my skin as I hauled my suitcase up into the apartment building and into the elevator. 

Mor opened the door on Rhys’s first knock, squealing and throwing her arms around him. No sooner had she stepped away from her embrace with him then I found myself wrapped up in a hug tight enough to suck the air out of my lungs.

“Feyre! I’m so glad you and Rhys ran into each other!” She exclaimed. “Come in, come in.” She hustled me past her cousin, ignoring my protests as she pushed a mug of hot cocoa into my hands and urged me to sit down on the couch. “Rhys can put your bags in my guest room.” Mor said, shushing my protests.

“I’m expecting a mug of cocoa as payment for my services!” He called from the other room, voice sounding lighter than before. 

Mor rolled her eyes, plopping down next to me. “If he’s cold, it’s his own damn fault for not bringing a decent coat.”

Though I had felt exhausted earlier, the three of us talked for hours, the chatter blocking out the wind's howl. Anytime my fumbling words would send the conversation to an awkward halt, Rhys or Mor would pick it back up as if nothing had happened. As the posters and souvenirs around the room proved, Mor had practically been around the world and had endless stories about her travels that kept the conversation flowing long past midnight. I even surprised myself whenever I would let out a croak of laughter at something they said or did. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed.

At some point Mor brought went into the kitchen to get more wine, and I found myself alone on the couch with Rhys.

“Thank you – for inviting me here.” I said softly, looking him in the eye.

“Of course. You didn’t think I would let you spend Christmas stranded in an airport, did you, Feyre darling?” 

I smiled at that, wondering for the first time if my heart wasn’t as irreparably shattered as I had thought. “Merry Christmas, Rhys.”

[kyuu-rereads-umineko]

Ep6, Chapter 3 (End) & 4

I like how I ended the last post literally just before the end of the goddamn chapter.

Well, uh, anyways! Let’s see how far we can get before Chiru arrives officially.

(Also, shout-outs to everyone over on Rokkenjima for the warm welcome! <3)

Back on the gameboard itself, the typhoon’s started. “No longer would anyone be able to leave this island... and no longer would anyone be able to reach it. No one... unless blessed with a miracle.” Erika drags herself to her feet, cackles at the sky, and invites Battler to “entertain her.” here we go, chapter end

Like in Ep5, Erika’s welcomed as a guest, and everyone is enjoying a good conversation after dinner. Interesting - this is usually when Beato’s letter would surface from Maria or someone else, but this time, there’s no mention of such a thing.

“A strange family in a western mansion on an isolated island during a storm... Now that we have a detective stopping by to take shelter from the rain, we’ve got all the major factors lined up.” god damn it battler

Erika assures them that she’ll solve whatever crime might happen, and Krauss replies, “It almost sounds as though you want a bizarre crime to occur. I hope I don’t have to play the part of the victim.” ahaha oh man

and she goes off on a tangent about how there’s nothing new in the genre etc etc. y’know for a self-proclaimed detective she doesn’t seem to actually care much for mysteries does she

though i guess that’s kinda the point

“By that argument, wouldn’t it mean that romance was perfected back in Shakespeare’s time, so everything after that isn’t worth reading?” Erika replies yes, because of course she does.

“Just reading classics of the past and never anything new is being overly nostalgic, don’t you think? That sounds to me like the excuse of an old person who’s too lazy to read anything.” SHOTS FIRED

The conversation topic changes to Maria’s quiz book, and Erika starts rattling off the answers at an incredible rate. bern r u having fun

CHEESE RIDDLE

really though i don’t think i have much to say about this part other than it’s funny watching battler flail around while everyone else works it out

YOU CAN ONLY DO THIS BECAUSE IT’S CHEESE

Battler hitting upon his answer of one cut when the “correct” answer is three is interesting, though - it’s definitely not a conventional answer in any sense of the word, but in a way, I feel like that kind of thinking is how you need to approach Umineko itself. If you get caught up in the logistics of how the crimes could’ve been done, then you’re likely to miss the truth, even if you end up with “an answer.”

NOW I KNOW I’M READING TOO DEEP INTO THIS, GETTING MEANING OUT OF THE CHEESE RIDDLE

Erika is less than happy that Battler managed to figure out the “one slice” answer as well, though, heh.

Meanwhile, Ange concludes that Battler must’ve gotten it wrong, and Featherine just kinda laughs at her... before saying that the shape of the cheese isn’t specified in the rules. On the board, Battler says pretty much the same thing - while everyone else thought of a cheese wheel kind of thing immediately, he ended up thinking of sliced cheese.

“Since [the illustration of the cheese] hadn’t been shown, the interpretation of the cheese had been left to the answerer.”

Battler goes about demonstrating his answer. “With normal cheese, it’d break if you tried to fold it like this... but the rules say that this cheese can’t break unless you use a knife, right?” IT’S LIKE ALL THE RED TRUTH WORDPLAY

“We were thinking in three dimensions... but it looks like Battler-kun and Erika-chan were thinking in one dimension higher.” the magic of having a meta-world presence

Erika drops all pretenses of politeness at this point. “She was no longer a guest who would be staying until the storm passed. She had transformed into an annoying guest who wouldn’t leave until the storm passed...”

George tries changing the subject by springboarding off of the next puzzle (coins in cups), mentioning picking up coins with chopsticks, and Erika freaks out. lmao

And suddenly the narrative cuts back to meta-Battler in his logic error room from later on. I’d forgotten that it’s framed like this, to make it “concurrent” with the events on the gameboard.

In desperation, Battler runs into the bathroom, even though there’s no “exit” to speak of in there.

except of course smashing yourself to bits so you can fit down the bathtub drain (ryukishi why)

Next up, the windows, which have been clamped shut. I forgot just how chilling the atmosphere is during this whole sequence, not gonna lie...

Battler smashes a window open and tries sticking his arm out to break the window shutters... only for the glass to start growing and cutting into his arm. LOGIC ERRORS MAN

and there goes his finger jkfdshgjfkldhgfkljd

Back on the board, the cousins and Erika mention hearing a “clunking” sound. eep

At Erika’s prompting, Shannon mentions that there are guest rooms at the end of the hallway, though they aren’t being used. meta-battler would probably disagree

Erika and Battler trade a few jabs about her “role” as “detective”, while Shannon seems to be understandably spooked by it. kinda funny when, y’know, she’s the one killing everyone on the other boards

The cousins and Erika make their way to the front door, and as they pass by Beato’s portrait, Erika asks about it.

“Well, to be honest, I already know that it’s Beato’s portrait. Still, we only just walked past it in the last game, which is no fun.”

Shannon begins with “This is the Master’s benefactor, Beatrice-sama.” Interesting, was “benefactor” ever used to describe her in earlier Episodes? Let alone by any of the servants, or anyone who acknowledges her as a witch...

Oooh, this is interesting. Jessica brings up the ghost stories, and Battler recalls being afraid of them when he was younger. In response, Maria repeats the old adage of “she’s not scary if you respect her,” but this time, she also asks Shannon for her thoughts on the matter. On some level, Maria’s definitely aware that there’s some connection between Beato and Shannon (and Kanon), even if she just thinks “they’re friends” or some such.

Jessica giggles a bit, bringing up the story of the servant who got injured and quit. George joins in a bit, pointing out the main entrance staircase as being where said servant fell. spooky

I’m not quite sure how to express it in words here, but this is interesting - I do get the sense that Jessica and George are “in on something” in a way they weren’t before. Might just be confirmation bias, but hmm.

Erika asks for clarification on how the ghost stories and the portrait being put on display relate, and Shannon says that the ghost stories existed beforehand, but became more common once the portrait was put up.

And then, since she’s Erika, she dismisses it all as “worth less than the useless drivel of a half-sleeping nitwit,” much to Maria’s chagrin. In response, she just invites Beato to curse her, and Battler jokes about how having the detective killed right at the start is “a little too radical.” lmfao

Maria gets out her scorpion charms, Shannon remarks that spiderwebs are good as magic-repellants, and Maria says it’s because Beato’s “the incarnation of a butterfly.” Jessica responds in confusion that the spirits of Akujikishima were weak against spiders. Come to think of it, Ep6 is where we first start getting the hints that the “evil spirits” and “the ghost of the witch” tales combined to form Beato’s own mythology, isn’t it?

Everyone leaves the entrance hall... and chick!Beato arrives in front of the portrait of herself.

“Without a doubt, the figure depicted there was as like her as an image in a mirror. However, it felt as though its eyes and expression... were just a little different from hers.”

“Who... are you? ...Please tell me what kind of person you are... [...] ...Your wings should have existed for Father’s sake. ...Just when did you have one of those torn off... and end up so drastically different...?”

I’d completely forgotten this line, but now that I read it again, I absolutely love it.

Ahhh, right, this is where the narrative mentions that chick!Beato doesn’t have an adverse reaction to spiderwebs or scorpion charms.

Beato reaches out and touches the portrait, and it “ripples slightly.” something something Super Umineko 64

“...Yes. This is... a doorway. A doorway to the long path that would lead her to the Golden Witch, Beatrice...”

Chick!Beato falls through the portrait, and after resolving to “be born for Father’s sake,” she finds herself in the mansion’s entrance hall, face to face with... herself.

“That’s right... I wasn’t the only one born from the egg. She was also born. [...] ...Both of us are lacking something and immature. Yes. Both of us are chicks... but we are also... fragments of the true Beatrice.”

Elder Beato asks why chick Beato (I think I’m just gonna call them Chick and Elder from here on out) has the same face as her, and the narrative points out that she speaks the same way as the “true” Beato.

Elder’s profile is added to the menu at this point, and it’s pretty damn interesting - “A mysterious witch who existed even before the rules,” for one thing, as well as specifying her as the one who gave Shannon the gold butterfly brooch back in Ep2.

Elder posits herself as Chick’s older sister. I’d forgotten that it’s actually specified like this that “the witch of Rokkenjima” existed before Beato as we know her (i.e. the dress and hair).

Chick states that she wants to become “a complete Beatrice,” and Elder says that she herself was complete until Chick came along. Man, I’ve really forgotten everything about Ep6, haven’t I? This is a pretty obvious parallel to how Beato developed as one of Yasu’s characters, from pulling small pranks here and there to the Golden Witch herself.

Chick realizes that the portrait in the entrance hall is missing, meaning this has to be 1984 or earlier. She also puts herself forward as the ruler of the mansion at night, as other characters have said before.

The two of them head further into the mansion, with Elder planning on introducing Chick to her “boring everyday life.”