#follow up ideas now that ive read the manga

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

i'd love to hear about manmaru metadede !!! i heard it's really Gay but no one ever details it. not a lot of it is translated too, as far as i know, but i really like it.. any excuse to talk about something you like is good too

NO YEA not a lot is translated and the manga itself is already more niche compared to like, mopupupu so its not too well known. translation efforts have really started picking up the past year though (shoutout to @/kirby-manga-translated they do great work). if it needed to be restated for new followers since i havent tl'd in a while, i know a decent amount of japanese so i read them on my own :)c

shoutout to my guy @/rosakikoza as well for giving me his scans hehe. the majority of images below are his or taken from his scans. the rest are mine

*deep breath* the tangent. im gonna need to put this under a cut dont mind me 😍😍😍 did i say 3 paragraphs? i meant 20. like 20 paragraphs

meta knight is absolutely pathetic and incredibly down bad for dedede this manga. its adorable. multiple people ive talked to or seen have come to the conclusion it seems like he has a huge crush on him. a quick brief for those who dont know but this mangas meta is admittedly Veryyyyy different from how you'd expect a meta knight to be. uncharacteristically friendly and cheerful and. pathetic is really the best word for it. hes kinda a loser. incredibly protective of dedede, he switches between two modes of fussing over him quite a bit and semi-often going into incredible rage bloodlust modes over protecting him or his image (youll see a good amount of jp fanwork depict this version of him as a yandere for that reason)

theres also been more than one occasion where meta knight tries to commit seppuku upon accidently doing something he sees as unforgivable towards his king (its in the chapter i just screenshotted above too, another time he broke dededes clock and freaked out about it). i-. dont consider this a cute ship thing for the record im just stating it to emphasize the extent of metas obsession towards dedede this manga. the mans got Problems...

apart from that, also quite differing from most interpretations of both of them, both of them seem to genuinely really like spending time around each other all the time. it comes off as casually domestic and is very cute...

regardless of my attempts to brief it, i dont feel like im explaining this very well so lemme just show you a frankly ridiculous amount of reasons for why i keep feeling like this mangaka ships metadede

-fake kiss: self explanatory

-fake proposal: also self explanatory

mk: Will you marry me!?

ddd: Yes!

context for this scene is that theyre rehearsing for a play, but actually its later revealed that meta knight is playing the princess while dedede is playing the male protag so im not exactly sure it makes sense that hes the one proposing here. my speculation is that to make the proposal seem legit for the gag they Had to use meta LMAO but thats just my take

also to be noted, right after kirby hears the proposal he immediately runs off and tries to tell everyone the news before ddd+mk stop him and explain that its fake. hes not thrown off or weirded out at the idea that they could be getting married in the slightest. kirby says gay rights Real i love him sm

-this one is from what i call the memory loss chapter:

dedede loses his memories from getting hit in the head too hard. the gang figures out that beating dedede up or otherwise causing him injury causes him to regain some of them back though, to which kirby attempts to harm him with increasingly violent means, much to meta knights horror. mk spends the entire chapter trying to protect dedede from him, and it doesnt work obviously, but after a particularly hard hit dedede remembers everyone again... except for meta knight. to which meta knight gets upset about and lets kirby lay into dedede for real. you see where people get the yandere personality from now right. i dont recall this trait coming out too often but ill talk more about it later

-the whole chapter thats a cinderella retelling with dedede and meta knight. also also self explanatory COME ON LOOK AT THIS ONE. LOOK AT IT.

mk: Y…You're…

ddd: Wow, he's so beautiful!! It's like I'm dreaming…!

-theres the mangaka chapter which is a more recent one

the gang makes manga for dedede. meta knight's manga is about how cool, brave, and heroic dedede is. mysteriously enough however the only thing hes good at is drawing dededes face and nothing else. the implications of this one drive me absolutely insane. is it supposed to imply that meta knight stares at his face all day?? admires his appearance??? he looks at him so much he basically has his face memorized????? HUH???????? theres no heterosexual explanation for this. acting like a teenager with a crush out here got damn

=various images im sharing out of context because they r cute

head pats. holding hands and reaching the goal together. peak.

KNIGHT DRESSUP FOR THE KNIGHT. AHAAHGH

ddd: Hoho, pretty spiffy don'cha think?

mk: Ohh!? It suits you!!

fellas is it gay to shout "OHH! META KNIGHT!!" with a dopey grin on your face upon being saved like a damsel in distress

sometimes meta knight acts domestic as fuck too. his copy abilities as he states are: cook! clean!! and sleep!!!

regarding my thoughts on their dynamic in this series overall, i think theyre absolutely adorable. meta knight emits dog energy in this one. eager golden retriever towards dedede, though dedede has his sweet moments towards meta knight too. (viewing it with a shipping lens just for this post ofc) while meta is the more active crusher, some of the stuff above seems to imply that dedede has feelings in return as well :') they just get along really well too its great. theres a different chapter where they perform as a comedy duo. theyve done plays in multiple chapters. its my hc for these versions of them that they love doing performances of all kinds together and do a lot of rehearsals and writing in their free time...

and the yandere stuff i feel like i should address as well. i try not to take some aspects Too seriously because its to be expected things are over emphasized for the sake of the joke with gag mangas. but oh man the man definitely has problems. he needs therapy. i tried to be transparent in listing those aspects as well so people can make their own conclusions on it But theres one more thing id like to mention regarding that

meta knights personality has been shifting to be different from what i listed, as of the most recent volume. my beloved forgotten land arc... a first for this series in that, while the chapters still retain their gag humor and dont take themselves that seriously, its a serialized story that mostly follows along with the game plot that lasts nearly the whole volume (as opposed to other game arcs in this manga being episodic stories, using the games as their theme rather than a full on setting). with the more serious tone of the serialized story, theres a frankly startling hint of character development i never wouldve expected from a gag manga at the end of it

kirby gets ko'd the first round of the meta knight cup so meta knight joins the meta knight cup instead. turns out when he does that the final boss of the cup is dedede. meta knight Really doesnt want to hurt dedede and so dedede promptly kicks his ass without a second thought and wins the tournament. while the crowd cheers for dedede's victory, meta and dedede have a small talk where dedede tells him he doesnt need to fuss so much about hurting him/him getting hurt. presumably this is supposed to mark the end of meta knights intense overprotectiveness because (its never been clear-cut due to the nature of the manga previously, so its a lil hard to say) dededes shown he can handle himself, or like, isnt some fragile thing. i really hope itll stick around because i think its a great addition to both of their characters. the meta-knights have also been appearing way more frequently as of very recent chapters (ones that havent been compiled into a volume yet) which seem to also hint to meta knight getting more independence to his character from dedede's loyal servant. im very excited to see where it goes :D

and like, last last disclaimer if anyone needed it; even tho i love metadede and i like to see things through ship glasses sometimes i absolutely try my best to keep my biases out of my translations. putting out accurate translations means a lot to me! this entire post is me purposely putting the ship glasses on so please dont take it as "omg metadede is canon in this manga". you know way back when i was the only active translator for this manga someone tweeted at the mangaka on twitter mentioning that there were english translations around and he replied to that person. didnt respond to the fan translation thing specifically but the fact that he could know who i am definitely kinda terrifies me. if anyone goes around saying that his manga is the metadede manga because of me and he even has the slightest sliver of a chance of seeing that i will kill yall fr LOL

[bisquuet]

hi! still alive! AN UPDATE: LONG READ :D no new devlin content since im focusing on my oc comic :( ( speaking of comics. remember that other comic i posted here like once and never talked about it again?? yeah.. ) - lets talk about that. will i ever go back to that comic? -yes, when? i don't know.. i realized i went into the comic very.. unprepared.. or less prepared than i thought i was. so it got me second guessing things and getting confused..!! i have a VAGUE idea of how I want it to go, or atleast i DID, now im not so sure.. I think i need to sit down, splurge out my thoughts and ideas and go from there,, now i technically have a WHOLE post that is done that was supposed to be dropped shortly after the first one. but i thought to myself, oh ill just work on the next update and once im halfway THEN ill drop the second one! i never got halfway. i ended up just sketching more up ahead and adjusting and ''fixing'' things in the second update. making me loose track of time and getting behind, not only i had school to deal with too! so i just have a LOT of storyboarding of pages...that im slighlty afraid of looking at cuz i know that ill want to fix it but ill be unmotivated to actually fix it.. (bad rawr!!) eventually i have to get to it..!! >< ANOTHER major factor of the delay was my confidence, i wasn't satisifed and even frustrated at times when something didnt come out as good as it did in my head. i REALLY like the first update pages! especially devlins scene! but i think i got too ahead of myself and put WAY too much onto my plate, raising expections, of others and myself, mostly myself.... and I was trying to copy to a manga style, rather than convert my style normally into a manga setting, if that makes any sense. so i wasnt.... 'comfortable' drawing.. i dont know how else to describe it! but ever since then and even before, ive been getting less confident with my art and my style, feeling like its ugly or its getting worse. forcing myself to keep drawing, straining myself trying to make something that looks good to me. i have lots of fun and joy drawing for others, the reason i draw is BECUZ i just want to share what i make! as shallow as it sounds i like creating content for others to enjoy! it makes me happy and proud of what i draw! so. when i make something i dont like, i cant bring myself to show it cuz I dont like it.. others may, but that wouldnt change how i would feel about it. i felt that way deeply with the second update, which is why i kept tweaking it,,, and so I just let myself get caught up with other things.. feeling upset and guilty that I kinda just.. abandonded the comic..! saying that ill pracitce and oh ill do that , i Need to do this and this and this when i havent even done ANYTHING! i think, and i genuinely mean this, i think ive only recently started to ACTUALLY do things.! like development for my OC comic, writing for it, making content and sharing about them to whoever would lend an ear! so in a way the seewar comic walked so that my OC comic could run, hopefully.. so, unfortunately ill be focsuing more of my attention on my OC comic, and i honestly can't promise anything. the only thing i CAN say is that i will share the second update that i finished long ago.., no matter how much internal rawr doesnt want to, i feel like thats the first step to overcoming this fear and dread ive associate with the comic, which is something i DONT want. ill be scheudling to drop this weekend since ill be away.. i dont know when ill actively start working on the seewar comic again becuz i genuinely want to finish it and share it, i just have to not be too ambitious and plan out whats necessary. anyways.. now that school is out im finally paying all of my debts and owed art.. its rough but it has to be done. thanks if you have read all of this,, i greatly appreacite the support, from friends and followers, fossils, (thats what my fans are called wink wink) love yall fr <3

[stunie]

Your Narumi fic was so good! I follow the manga but I’ve never really been that into Narumi (I’m more of a Hoshina girlie) but now I’m looking at him with a new perspective lol. You wrote him so well and the smut was very hot!

-🍒

AAAA my adorable 🍒 you read it ?!? you liked it ?!? i feel so insane talking sm about that fic today but i am so happy to hear that!! u have no idea >: i’ve been fiddling my thumbs all day aghhhahs im so happy u read it for me 😭

ALSO !! ur so real bc i was the same. unfortunately up until one of my moots converted me and now narumi is a fave 🙂���↕️ but yk who ive been kinda eyeing lately ????

him.. what do u think cherry ….

[harapeveco]

heyy so ive loved eves songs for a while now and i really wanna delve into their lore. so far ive seen the names of the characters from his mvs, but is there a story? what are the characters like? im so curious and i would love to know where to start reading into it. thank you!! c:

Oof well gotta be honest with you bestie that is a very difficult question…the simpler answer to that is yes and no

The more complicated answer is it depends on how you see those MVs, everything it’s pretty much up to your interpretation. There are some MVs however that are connected to each other to some extent, those being Nonsense Bungaku, Dramaturgy, Outsider and Last Dance all of these make a reference to the characters that appear in each one so most fans agree they are part of the same story. There are two other MVs that are undoubtedly related, these being Inochi no Tabekata and Fight Song, the second one being a sequel to the first. Another interesting case is the one of Tokyo Ghetto that also has cameos of characters from the aforementioned songs and its main character appearing on Inochi no Tabekata several times, which makes everyone believe they are connected…as far as a “story” goes related to his MVs that’s the most I can give you

As of lore there’s a bit of it. You probably have noticed how in every MV there’s a human and a creature/monster like thing with said human. Those creatures are called Zingai and they can be described as the physical manifestation of a person’s heart (if you’ve ever played a Persona game it’s literally the same thing). Usually Zingai are friendly with their human and pretty much do whatever their human wants them to do but there are times where they become unstable and attack their humans. Good examples of this are the end of Dramaturgy and Tokyo Ghetto

There’s more I could explain ofc but where’s the fun of that when you can read it yourself and make your own theories too! Idk if you are aware but Eve has two mangas! One of them is Kara no Kioku which is the story of a complete new character discovering what Zingai are (which explains better the whole human/zingai dynamic) and another one called Inochi no Tabekata which as you can assume follows the MVs’ protagonist and his origin story (this manga also has a light novel counterpart you can find the first two volumes translated here on tumblr). There’s a third one but it’s more of a gag type 4koma manga called Tobi to Ryuuko which is about the two characters from Fight Sing vibing together

That’s all I can say regarding this tbh. Most of the lore or story (not taking the mangas and light novel into consideration) is mostly your own interpretation. Some people like to say some MVs are canon while others aren’t bc they don’t see them fitting their idea of continuity while others (like me) like to believe every MV is related to some extent. I think that’s the best aspect of being an Eve fan, you can just put your own thoughts on it and you won’t be wrong

[jils-things]

happy new year! ; my farewell letter to 2023.

last year, ive written a similar farewell letter to 2022 and i want to make this a little tradition - so here's my second one <3

okay, so - wow. first of all, just wow.

this might be incredibly bold to say, but i think this has been my best year to be alive (i promise you i do not want to sound corny about it, but i really think 2023 was amazing for me.) of course, many things happened. im at my last year of senior high before i go to college, which is very scary but i hope i can be brave for it. school has been actually very generous to me recently, despite a few minor setbacks that looked very major when i was going through it, but overall it was very generous to me. but irl rambling is boring, so let's talk about my selfshipping blog!

last year, i had a verrrry firm grip on a previous f/o that im 100% sure old followers know - though im a little sad I can't find that spark to focus on him again - the shift in media has helped me find new f/os that i can say has been incredibly memorable to me. as we all know, im in a very INSANE pokemon brainrot since november or october(?) of 2022 and it has still remained heavily active in my head right now - which i honestly didn't even know i had the full capacity of doing! I don't know what magic this game did to me but i promise you im so happy i revisited this game again.

i would talk about how grateful i am to everyone has been supportive and sweet about my romantic f/os but i think the best highlight of my blog is my newfound love for my familial f/os - before that, i never had a single one on my list because i was simply quite disconnected to the family love concept, but after indulging myself in pokemon - i would come to discover pokemon adve.ntures, or poke.spe for short hehe. i have so many fond memories of finding myself wanting to read more and MORE - i would have every chapter downloaded beforehand just so that i can read it in my spare time, not even school that demanded my attention would stop me from sneaking my phone to quickly read through the manga LMAOO - but consuming the media itself wasn't enough, i needed people to understand the ROLLERCOASTER of emotions i had while reading and well, i think its very clear who those people were, the ones who came to save my miserable ass from (insert shocking scene in poke.spe) AHSJHSHSJSJS you know who you are and i appreciate you forever and they - i kid you not, helped me create something wonderful!

but of course, the video games were just as amazing. would you believe me if i told you i played gens 1 to 7 in one year? that's how much i adore the game and i still have yet to catch up to other games like the spin offs :] im not sure how to end this statement but. im so happy appleshipping and memoryshipping exists 🥹 i usually don't like thinking that they'll be with me forever because i believe nothing lasts for eternity but i just wanna say that they were just ... im just so contented 🥹 again, all of this actually would not have been so impactful to me if it weren't for my awesome mutuals hearing me out about it and supplying me with even more ideas - these mutuals would also end up becoming such loving friends of mine that helped me get out of my comfort zone and im still happy they're around (hi guys!) 💚

oh! and, what a surprise, i never thought id have an oc f/o! i initially thought that this was so impossible to do but?!??;?! it just happened i guess!!!! i keep surprising myself this year 😭

ok now here's the obligatory art summary for the year 💥

literally the best thing i ever done with my art is try using csp and it actually really helped me change the way i draw, and i even managed to cross out a few items in my last year's resolution thanks to it! i still bounce between using ibispaint and csp but i certainly improved!

the last thing im forever grateful about are the people who has been consistently supportive of my art - especially the commissions, i can't stress it enough how much it has helped me outside and it allowed me to go beyond my comfort zone when it comes to my drawing skills :']] thank you all so much

and finally, big thank you to everyone who sent me nice letters to my tree 🥹💚 its a gentle reminder that im actually ... pretty cool ig 🥹 and if you didn't send one, that's also ok!! you're still cool for reading this mwamwa

again im so bad at ending posts like these but cheers to a new year and let's hope it'll be better for everyone. 💚🫡 goodbye 2023!

[millionsknives]

ive absorbed so much trigun content through you and i still have no idea what it is about. what is it about please

ok so basically. there’s this manga which you can read here and also two tv shows (1998’s Trigun and 2023’s TRIGUN: Stampede) but so far i’ve only seen the 2023 reboot. ‘98 came out before the manga was done so it’s not the most accurate, but it has like a cowboy bebop vibe i’m told. i haven’t even read the manga (yet) (call me a fake fan if u want) but basically it’s like this: desert planet, space western, pacifism, christian imagery, PAIN, sibling relationships that will make u tear out your hair, fighting over resources, the nature of humanity, worms, love and peace and mercy.

most of the following character descriptions will be skewed towards stampede because that’s all i’ve got for now, but here are the main guys:

Vash the Stampede (aliases: the humanoid typhoon, babygirl, el wiwi, vashie, my beautiful girlfriend) has every mental illness inshallah and is wanted in 12 different jurisdictions for Crimes, but he loves people so much and he’s the sweetest staunchest pacifist the world has ever seen and he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt and he suffers for it like jesus.

Wolfwood, Nicholas D., (aliases: the punisher, el woowoo, ww, nico, nick, crucifix jim, (and unfortunately, Bigolas Dickolas)) is goth in the desert and carries a giant cross on his back. while this rips severely (<- factual) it is purely symbolic and certainly isn’t a giant gun that shoots lasers (<- lying). i can’t tell you things about him without spoilers. in the manga he’s a priest, in stampede he’s an undertaker.

Meryl Stryfe, our audience surrogate, is either a reporter or an insurance agent depending on the version of the story, but regardless of her occupation she’s trying to find vash for work-related reasons. area woman won’t stop collecting random shady men from the desert to add to her found family (and sometimes hitting them with her car)

Nai, or Millions Knives, is (one of) our main antagonist(s) and the absolute madman plays the piano and wears either 1) basically nothing or 2) a clothing item that can only be described as an evil snuggie made out of knives. i am not making this up. he’s a massive hater and he wants all humans to die btw but i actually love him and he’s got a specific sauce that makes him far from your regular boring evil villain

supporting characters in stampede include a kid made out of bugs, meryl’s drunk coworker, [REDACTED]’s little brother, the world’s best foster mom #1, the world’s best foster mom #2, blue-hair-and-pronouns, a mad scientist, and brad.

to my limited knowledge stampede functions as something of a prequel (?) to parts of the manga so i would suggest starting with stampede (beautiful) (only 12 episodes) and then tackling the manga (what i plan to do) if you want to give trigun a shot (so to speak).

or just talk to spacekrakens idk she got me into this mess and she knows more than me

[everythingsinred]

what follows is a long, rambly, and possibly sappy thank you note to the best fandom ive ever involved myself in. if you have ever sent me an ask, commented on my fics, or replied to a post i made (or even liked it tbh)--then this post is for you. (and this is most certainly not a good-bye or even close; i just occasionally get into sappy moods)

i want to start working on a career that i like, and my mom’s recommendation was to start a writing blog (she insisted i dont call it that though--to call it a “website” so it sounds more professional when i apply for writing gigs). its not the first time shes given me that advice but i have for some reason always resisted that idea before. “nobody would read it” was always the bottom line. that whole “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has always been my outlook on anything i produce. its why i feel so poorly whenever i post a new chapter of a fic or any art ever. its why im taking so long on the next batch of ga essays. its why ive never formally submitted any writing ever for publishing. why would anyone read anything i have to write, especially with no dead fandom to prompt them? who would choose me out of all the aspiring writers out there?

for ga it was a bit easier after a bit of breaking through the initial anxiety of sharing bits of myself. its a small fandom. not much content going around. theyd take anything right? even if it was from me! 

but something really weird happened these past few years in the ga fandom. i started writing essays and became more vocal, posting my thoughts, writing a long, dark, fucked up fanfic. i got feedback from people who wanted more from me. theyd ask me my thoughts on things, when id never considered myself an authority on anything or even very interesting to talk to (a lifetime of being the substitute friend will do that to you). ppl sent me asks about questions. they replied to my posts to further discuss things. me! what on earth?

then it got weirder. i posted my weird messed up little fic and now every once in a while ill get a comment from a person that says that my fic is their favorite, not just in the fandom, but ever. EVER. what? a couple of people have told me that they’d read anything i wrote, even if it had nothing to do with gakuen alice.

that they’d read something just because it was me.

this isnt a rant or a vent. something has changed in my self esteem in the past few years because today, when my mom told me i should start a “writing website” and post weekly writing, it actually sounded like a decent idea. no part of her advice was different than it had ever been, but i was. i could for the first time imagine starting a blog (website) and picture someone actually liking what they found there. and that’s bc of the ga fandom and bc of the writing ive done it for it and SPECIFICALLY the writing ive actually had the guts to share. 

none of it has been perfect. im lazy when it comes to self-editing and when i finish writing a chapter im eager to just throw it out there instead of rereading it once, let alone twice. a lot of it has been imperfect, but you guys still read it. you enjoyed it, even. “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has never been a problem for you. for whatever reason, quite a few of you like me, like my writing, like my ideas and thoughts. a couple of years ago i wouldnt have been able to fathom that, not even in my wildest dreams. 

im proud of myself for taking those first steps a couple years back, for posting those first couple posts and letting myself get involved in the fandom for a manga ive loved for half my life. im proud because if i hadnt done that, then maybe my self esteem wouldnt have developed like this. maybe i wouldnt have been able to picture a career in publishing as clearly as i can now. i obviously still have issues as far as my self esteem is concerned. i second-guess myself. i talk down to myself. i put off rereading bc i dont want to hate what i create. but you guys have helped me like my writing and helped me see that other people can like it too.

i am beyond grateful for that. i dont get a lot of traction or feedback like i would if i were in a larger fandom, but i dont mind. the feedback that i do get is of such good quality and has meant so much to me that it has potentially changed my life. i just needed you all to know that. that the people who have sent me asks, both on and off anon, requesting my thoughts on any topic; the people who leave comments on ffn and ao3, giving support ranging from long paragraphs to a brief sentence; the people who dm me or message me to share their thoughts on my work; the people who commented on my natsumikan essays telling me that ive helped them see something from a different perspective--you all have helped me see that there’s value in the things i create. 

i just want to say thank you. it has meant so much to me so far to be able to feel so confident in my writing. i really didnt even notice the change until today. how bizarre is it that something so important can change without you even noticing? i look forward to sharing more with you, from more fics to the mikan essay (which still has to be perfect, just maybe not as perfect as it wouldve had to be a few years ago lol). 

don’t be nervous that this a good-bye. it is not. it’s strange because whenever i’ve said anything like this (sent a message of adoration to a person i love, for example), people think it’s a bad sign. that i’m saying good-bye, or that it’s somehow a sign of something unsaid. i understand. this kind of nonsense sappiness (like all that stuff i wrote up there ^) is usually saved for the ffn bio when someone is leaving the site, for the good-bye post when someone decides to leave a fandom. “you’ve all meant so much to me and i’m leaving now.” that’s because usually people save all the important things for the end. you only say how you’ve felt when you say farewell. i don’t think life should be that way. i’m not saying good-bye, i’m saying i love you. i think people should say that more. i want people to feel good about themselves for what they’ve done, however small, to make my life--and undoubtedly the lives of others--a little brighter. and you have. you should know and i don’t intend to keep it to myself until i say good-bye (whenever or even if that happens). 

tldr; i love you gakuen alice fandom <3 youre not dead because dead things cant give life the way you have.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Somebody asked me how I write my stories...

Referencing my DeviantArt account.

Despite not a lot of engagement, I get a lot of compliments. Which is weird considering engagement helps accounts grow. But whatevs.

They've talked to me about several variations of writing process told in high school, college, and writers workshops, and despite seemingly good quality content (again, my engagement suggests otherwise) It appears as if I follow my own drum beat.

That's partially true. I started writing fiction in High School, and I've been to several writing classes, including Technical Writing courses (the kind of writing engineers and PhD students do)

And Ive had to write a lot of content in professional settings as well.

So I have a plethora of writing experience and training to pull from. I have a good idea of how to portray information to people in a quick and professional manner from writing Journal Entries and Documenting Mechanical fixes for aircraft, and being very detailed when needed, and less detailed when it isn't pertinent.

I have a vast knowledge of how books are written as well, from reading intensely during the Scholastic Scholarship programs grade schools offer in America, to being chronically online and reading everything Cracked.Com to Wikipedia rabbit holes, to tutorials for PhotoShop and VideoGame strategy guides, including Nintendo power, Game Informed, and more modern Discord Guides and even responsible for engaging in communities to write my own.

This is where most of my ability to write comes from, but I tend not to edit my stuff after writing them, which tends to lead to confusion... Usually because I'm not getting paid for it, so who cares really.

My process of writing tends to surprise myself with where it ends up. So while I have an idea of how my stories should end up; I tend to write them front to back, in order to avoid writing on plot holes or myself into a corner.

Because I don't have all the details of what should happen, just a general idea of where it's going this helps to maintain the illusion that I have an idea of what I'm writing.

So while I start with a kernel, including an idea of who I want characters to be, or how world building should be, or whatever; the characters and world takes on a mind of their own.

This, I think, is closer to how MangaKai (Japanese Comic Book Authors) tend to do their workflow. And why they're often quoted as saying "I actually have no idea where the story is heading".

And why most Manga tend to run long, because; similar to a sitcom; There isn't an intentionally ending until funding runs out.

And since I'm not being funded, I don't really have to worry about Sales or an audience, or a lot of the limitations other authors and artists might have.

The obvious drawback is that I also tend to work at my own pace, and seemingly aloof-ly with no goals except to write a well crafted story.

I'm writing with the long term goal that I make something that inspires people; and if I'm lucky, there will be a demand for my style of art later. Which I can afford right now thanks to disability.

I see it as a kind of investment.

Each page I'm increasing my skills while creating idea after idea that can be combined together like puzzle, or read in nearly any order.

I'm writing something I want to read. And so, I'm reading it as I write it. Which is kind of antithetical to the standardized practices. You know; that necessity to get paid and all.

Anyway; I'm just hoping it's a good investment.

[introvertedwolf]

i think this is hilarious with no context but honestly 03 is killing me dead. i have so many questions. FMA 03 spoilers below. and above, honestly. its too late for you if that was a concern

ive seen this series at least twice before and every time i get more questions. this time, its about what mustang and hohenheim have to do with each other.

because they DO know each other. for SURE. we know that. that's in the text.

we KNOW that (in 03), after trisha got sick, edward, alphonse, and pinnaco got out all the cards and letters hoho had sent them, and they sent letters to each return address in hopes of finding hohenheim and letting him know trisha was dying.

one of the return addresses was mustangs, at least in the present. the screenshot above is from the episode where he first shows up, saying he was responding to the mail he got. the name on the mail is clearly listed as "James Herlert," which first and foremost means mustang is a criminal who opens other peoples mail, which is a felony AND a shitty thing to do.

it ALSO isnt hohenheims name, even though the rockbell/elric family were clearly writing to hoho. they wouldve addressed him on the letter.

the obvious and most likely answer is that it was a mistake, the artists are likely japanese, they might not have known english, and it might've just missed quality control even if they did. writing like this is often not taken too seriously, nobody expects you to read it, its just there so your brain can fill in the details.

but, if you wanna make everything fit, the hoho in 03 steals the bodies of other people to continue his own life. its not a big stretch that he'd assume the identity of whoever he took over, and James Herlert could just be the name of the man who he's "possessing" (for lack of a better term). it'd be the body's legal name, the same name that any housing lease would have listed, and increase the chance of him getting the letter.

the thing that gets me is that it's mustangs address. and mustang knows who he is. maybe hohenheim was a prior tenant, but that'd be weird considering it seems to be military housing. mustang's only comment in this episode so far is that They (i assume the military) have been looking for hoho for a while and found nothing.

now theres another episode coming up where the two of them bump into each other and i might have more to say when i rewatch that one, but iirc, they werent outright hostile. they were like. fine. mustang didnt try to arrest him, didnt react like he was in danger, they were Fine. maybe even amiable. please note, he came to resembool because of winry, because of his guilt for killing her parents, not because of hohenheim.

03 is way looser with its timeline than brotherhood (not to disparage 03, 03 doesnt need to be good in the same ways as BH, its incredible in its own right) so its a little weird trying to figure out when they wouldve had time to meet. if we borrow some ideas from BH, mustang probably entered the military when he was around 18 and the Ishvalan genocide would follow within a couple years. that doesnt leave them a ton of time to meet or interact.

maybe, because of the age thing, they could just barely interact enough for hoho to teach mustang about alchemy? that has no evidence at all, its just one of any interaction they could have based on their vague ages and affinities. we have 0 context about mustangs life outside of the military, no comment on the family and friends he has in brotherhood and the manga, so truly it could be anything.

for all we know, hoho got picked up off the street by mustang like ed picked up ling in BH. the lack of answers is killing me. what are you two doing over there. led to the third segment, maybe mustang a hoho were friends and mustang gave him a couch to sleep on. at least mustang has a reason to be affiliated with the military living quarters. if hoho was on the run, maybe he just picked a new identity, using a new name to write his letters.

notably, in BH, mustang and hoho seem to have not met until after Ed was fuckin around in the military. we cant really transplant ideas from brotherhood in this case, simply because theres no analogous situation in brotherhood.

i have no clue what these two were doing. i can guess and joke around but i've got nothing substantial. i'd love to hear fan theories if anyones got them

discuss.

[lagtrain]

why is kagerou project so hard to get into

[mazojo]

Fall 2021 Anime Opinions

As I always do, ranking the anime I watched this season, I’ll do it a bit different this time leaving my overview at the top and more thoughts under the cut ^^ if you are offended easily I recommend you maybe skip this one I understand my takes are not everyone’s taste xdd

Deep Insanity: The Lost Child

I dont know if this is fair because I only watched one and a half episodes of this but it was very bad. The premise sounds amazing and then the final product just,,,,,, very disappointing rip.

Komi-san wa, Comyushou desu.

I dont think i've felt this infuriated about an anime since Yesterday wo Utatte. I really want to like Komi Cant Communicate, hell if I were to rank it based on the first ep it would easily go in the first tiers. But my problem with this anime comes from a more rutted dislike of the portrayal of the characters more than anything in the following episodes. Specifically episode 4 with the whole kidnapping Tadano plot line where the queer coded character was psychotic and obsessive to a very yikers point,,,,, idk man kinda left me with a sour taste. Not to say the anime itself is bad, it has cute moments and characters here and there (shoutout to Tadano and Najimi being the best things of this anime) but my anger towards the portrayal of something I feel very connected towards like social anxiety and other thematics just left me ://

Takt Op. Destiny

I think Takt Op is an example of how we can confuse something stunning and artistically beautiful for a good anime. Imo from what i've watched (because I am not caught up) its painfully generic and although it has some cool scenes and stuff no character stands out and being categorized into the music genre seems like a big stretch but alas, if you enjoy it thats fine, the visuals are beautiful.

Platinum End

I don't know If this should above or below Takt Op but ive watched more episodes of this so hey maybe thats an indicator of hooking. I really don't have much to say about platinum end, I don't think its trash, I dont think its good either,,,, I feel like the concept is kinda neat although a bit overdone but yeah its fine. I liked this moment I put on the gif tho, that was very cool animated.

Sankaku Mado no Sotogawa wa Yoru

Objectively this should be lower but I liked the blonde with the piercing so it goes higher lmaoo. This is..... This.... I dont know? ASDFGHJK Its about..... exorcism? They..... Fuck each others souls or something? I have no idea what is going on half of the time in this but I feel like the source material had potential because some story plots are actually very interesting (like main blonde guy's backstory) but idk, I haven't read the manga so I wouldn't know.

Tsuki to Laika to Nosferatu

How can something with such an interesting premise be so painfully.... bland. Theres not much to say about this one, the pacing is very bad imo and the characters aren't substantial enough to hold interest. I watch this at x2 speed and idk.... The visuals are pretty and I do think eventually it will arrive to a cool arc and conclusion but for what ive seen its just very average. (also like this was the only gif I could find?? like?? asdfghj)

Visual Prison

Visual prison is definetely not for everyone sdfghjk I enjoy it for its premise and what not but I dont think the plot to anything about it is 100% the most original or intricate storytelling, its cute, its easy, nice visuals and boys, I take it Lmaooo. Tbh I am not the biggest fan of vampire themed shows, this is like I-Chu with Vampires and I dont really like vampires but I really like I-Chu so thats where we stand at.

Kyuuketsuki Sugu Shinu

Okay now onto the things I actually enjoyed asdfghj. I will start of saying this is not a show for everyone to enjoy tbh, its a comedy and its very raw and raunchy. John and Draluc are the best part of this and they are pretty faithful to the manga too. I think the gif is pretty self explanatory LMAOO.

Blue Period

I think most of what I would like to say about blue period has already been commented upon but wellp, I do agree the manga is better but the anime isnt the biggest piece of trash media to exist either. I think the animation lacks and the story got cut off at some points for the sake of rushing through the arc but the characters are there being cute and yatoyota my beloved so I enjoy it a lot ^^ Take this as an invitation to go read the manga ayeEEEe

Deji Meets Girl

You may find it unfair I rank a 2 minute episodic small animation but alas, I rank things based on what they offer and what they are and for what it is, Deji Meets Girl is absolutely beautiful and cute! Its an easy premise that I enjoy catching up to each week and the art is super cute, not much more to say on it. Rip Tumblr that has no gifs for them.

Mieruko-chan

Mieruko Chan was a show I wasnt even going to originally watch, I thought it would be fan service bait and I am not a big fan of that and although at some points it kinda is fan service bait, for what it is Mieruko Chan is one of the animes with better pacing I have ever watched. I dont know how to describe it but each episode hooks you even more and you cant look away and when I least expect it the ep is over and I am waiting to see what happens to poor Miko next week asdfghj I am defo picking up the manga.

Ousama Ranking

This is honestly tied with number one spot, Ousama Ranking absolutely destroyed my expectations for it and its a gem imo. This made me cried like a bitch and I think the simple animation adds way more than taking away and I just,,,,, I really dont wanna spoil it but if you like emotional symbolic stories defo watch this!!

Senpai ga Uzai Kouhai no Hanashi

Y'all dont know how much happiness watching this anime brings me asdfghj. Its adorable, the relationships are cute, the moments are wholesome,,,,, Its a very cute easy watch for those who enjoy romance anime and slice of life and I am definetely taking up the web manga afterwards ^^ Not much more on it other than I love it asdfgh

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 

You’re his only solace. 

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent. 

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 

It’s grim in its predictability. 

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?” 

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 

“Do you see now?” 

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch. 

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 

It bothers him— 

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 

All the same, the trim feels good. 

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!” 

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it. 

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree. 

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress. 

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart. 

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough. 

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night. 

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 

But you’re not in the common room. 

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more. 

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 

...

Keigo leaves the next morning. 

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 

All disgusting reminders. 

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?” 

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe. 

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

[specs-and-capelets]

awww!! thank u <3

of course i don’t mind! i’d be honored quite frankly 💕💓💖

obviously i mash two of my interests together

i gave patton a little cat hat, janus ourosboros earring and a triangle beauty mark, and logan uhhh a gun,, logun, if you will :)

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.

[oikawaplssteponme]

a question

“Midoriya?”

“Yeah Todoroki?”

“May I ask you a question? It’s important,” said Shoto. Izuku brought his full attention to Todoroki. He nodded.

“How do you know when you’re in love?”

Out of all the words that could have come out of Todoroki’s mouth, Deku was most shocked by those. He was sort of speechless. As if Deku knew anything about love.

“Well-uh- I’m not too sure…” mumbled Deku. He looked at Todoroki, who was now staring at something through the window. He followed Todoroki’s line of sight to see what he was looking at. Deku sighed.

You were sitting down at a picnic table, flipping through your notes and homework. It was a perfect day to get your school work done outside. You had your headphones plugged into your phone, playing your favorite song.

Izuku turned to face Shoto again.

“Look Todoroki, why don't you just talk to them? I’m sure they would love the company.”

Todoroki shook his head.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well that’s because I don’t know the answer...I just assumed that when you know, you know. You know?”

Todoroki furrowed his brow. He began to pack up his things, unsatisfied with Midoriya’s answer.

“I supposed I’ll just have to figure out the answer myself.”

Todoroki walked over to the library. He began to search through the endless piles of books.

He went to the research section.

Nothing.

He went to the non-fiction section.

Nothing

He even went to the romance manga section.

Nothing.

Todoroki sighed, feeling just as discouraged as before. He then sat down at one of the stationary computers. He opened the search engine and typed in the following:

How do you know when you are in love?

7,230,000,000 results. Most were from silly magazines or T.V. show specialists. Most of them repeated the same thing: You like this person. You crave this person. You are always thinking about this person. You want to say those three special words.

Todoroki nodded to himself as he read through the lists. While yes, he agreed with what the results said, he felt there had to be more. The way he felt about you didn’t even come close to what he read on the screen before him. There had to be more to it.

Then, Todoroki stumbled upon a list of seven signs to know if you are in love. He took these seven signs to heart, thinking to himself that they must be full proof.

So, began Shoto Todoroki’s quest to find what it means to be in love, and more specifically, what it means to be in love with you.

It took Todoroki far too long to figure out he had a crush on you in the first place. When he first got butterflies in his stomach from seeing your smile, he went to go see Recovery Girl, who proceeded to laugh and promise him that he’ll know what it means with time.

The second time Todoroki thought his feelings for you might not be platonic, was when you had sat next to him during lunch. He liked having you close, even if it made him a bit nervous. You had offered him some of your leftover soba, in which he took gratefully. His face always got a little red whenever you spoke to him, so he stared at you for a few seconds before answering.

The third time was when he found you crying in the common area. It was in the middle of the night and Shoto couldn’t sleep so he began to roam the halls. He froze when he saw you. You were sitting on the couch, bawling into the palms of your hands. He had no idea why you were sad, not like it mattered anyway. You were sad. That was enough for him to be upset too. Todoroki wasn’t completely sure what to do. So, he quietly sat down next to you. You looked up at him, salty tears falling from your eyes. All Shoto could think to do was open his arms for you. He didn’t say anything as you cried into his chest. He didn’t feel the need to. Seeing you sad broke his heart. He knew that if you were his, he would never make you feel like this.

All those events and more led Todoroki to now. He was determined to know whether or not he was in love with you. He hated being wrong, so he needed to be 100% sure before acting on these feelings. He also needed to know if you loved him too.

Hopefully that list of seven signs would lead him to the answer.

a/n: enjoy the first part of this little shoto piece ive been working on :)) i would love to hear your thoughts on it <3

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy ]

[astralwaifu]

congrats on 50 followers u deserve way more!!!!

id like a best friend match up from mha but id prefer if it was someone from the lov(i love them sm)

uhh so ive got a VERY big ego and i love tk be praised🤩 im extroverted and cheerful and i like to think i'm funny. i talk a lot but i also like to listen to ppl talk. if i like someone i'm very nice and caring to them but i can be brutally honest at times(my friends say im kind of mean) i like to gossip(ik it's bad but still😭) also im an enfj(im pretty sure not mistyped) and my zodiac sign is a leo.

i'm interested in crystals! i like reading literature and i like to read classics the most. i love baking and cooking but i can't cook or bake to save my life. i have a sweet tooth. i like watching anime and reading manga. my love language is phsycial touch and im touch starved😭

some of my kins are teruhashi,ranpo,hange, sasha,armin,reki.

im very scared of dogs and animals in general tbh. i like cats but im too scared to get close to one😭 i also don't like infps.

i love to talk about mbti and my obsessions!

i either wear all white or all black there is no in between and im 156 cms with long red hair.

i love to go out with my friends and i love parks and play grounds.

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ELSE TO SAY I THINK THATS ALL ABOUT MYSELF😭 HAVE A NICE DAY!

hii! ah, this is quite hard to pinpoint, bc I see you being friends with everyone in the league(i think i’ll add that to the hc), but i kinda have a hunch who your bestie would be…

I match you with your MHA best friend …

Toga Himiko!

Hc:

- I’m just going to say that she knew from the beginning you will be her bestie for life (accentuate the words FOR LIFE)

- You two really clicked in an instant, which kinda annoyed the other members of the league ( “Since when became the League a kindergarten?” yes, Dabi, thank you for your sarcasm)

- On mission, around the hideout, or simply going out to steal shop some clothes, the two of you are always together, basically joined to the hip at this point.

- You have weekly sleepovers, that in time became daily. You start by doing eachother’s hair (Toga especially loves your red locks, she thinks they are so beautiful and she is right), then painting your nails and bitching about literally anyone.

- Expect a lot of praise from her, you know how she is with people she loves!

- She likes that you are someone that understands her and you always have her back with your upbeat and funny personality. Really, she couldn’t even dream of a better friend!

- The others of the league were pretty worried about you two, since you took the expression: “partners in crime” to literally. The most suspicious were Shigaraki and Dabi.

- Really, what did a sunshine ball like yourself did there with them? At first you seemed so chatty and talkative, basically glowing in anyone’s presence.

- It was also weird, since you had mixed views over a lot of things, really! Shigaraki heard you saying that you like cats, but during a mission you got so scared by one of them. Man was kinda shocked and that says a lot.

- I’m not even starting on Dabi, you know how he is…

- Anyway, all the suspicions vanished into thin air when you started to quote from Dostoevsky during one of your weekly hangouts with Toga.

- Dabi was so impressed, he couldn’t articulate any words (and yes he knew what you were talking about, Endeavour made him read the book when he was 10). Shigaraki however thought that Fyodor Dostoevsky was an anime character (mind his poor soul).

- After that, they started to see how intelligent you are and how your opinions and ideas helped them in their plans so much. (Tbh you saved their asses a lot of times)

- Now they’re all your friends. Deal with it, you have like 6 criminals that are whipped after your bright, kind and smart aura. 😌

- Also expect random sweets from all of them after missions. They started to stock them up in a cupboard and just give you one daily, for existing in their lives.

bonus song: Stockholm Syndrome by 1D