#happy dark academia season everyone!

[delicrieux]

. . . l'oeuf

˙⋆✮ summary. just another evening at henry's.

pairing. henry winter x f!reader warnings. smoking, swearing, mentioned drug use, bad aspirin use specifically, use of alcohol, +18 (p n v sex, no condom henry DOES NOT care, very minimal dirty talk), pretentiousness, an inkling of classicism, bunny™ wc. 6.9k ✧˖°.

author's note. happy october everyone ! i always wanted to write smth for the loml henry winter but i never had the patience to sit down and do it. well, now i did. this was written with prompt 1. thick, acrid smoke. feel free to rqs more for the prompty thingies! x . . . side note! the fic is named by this song since i listened to it while writing. you can draw a metaphor from it if willing

creds. hd., div.

mlist | buy me coffee ♡ྀ

it was at the start of october on that fateful senior year that you had found yourself in henry winter's illustrious townhouse. from the lacquered brazillian hardwood floorboards to the ivory plasterwork on the ceilings – every corner pertained a certain degree of finery that reflected poorly on the rest of its objects: a well-worn armchair perpetually stuck in henry’s physique and fraying at the edges, the trampled rug that snaked upstairs and held all of your secrets, the coffee table with too many wine stains. in the dim light, the dried rorschach looked like blood.

the present company consisted of six and was slowly dwindling. your dear friend francis, the only boy who had never cared to peek up your skirt in childhood tennis practice, was a moment from collapsing into himself like a weary, old star. holding a champagne coupe from which he exclusively drunk only campari, he had thrown himself over henry’s couch not unlike a discontent lead from a penny dreadful novel. his face kept twisting according to the sounds: bunny’s voice was met with pursed lips and a tightly shut eye (only one, closest to bunny’s person sat by the aforementioned coffee table), charles’ – with a look of defeated boredom, and in the odd bouts of silence and music, bliss.

you offered him a cigarette, and he barely managed to crane his neck to kiss the knuckles of a helping hand before he snatched it away and searched his pockets for a lighter.

sweet camilla sat by the fire, with her knees drawn to her chest. one black stocking was torn on the side, rippling up her calf and sneaking into her inner knee, an action bunny had noted and all had taken particular interest in. there had been a metaphor about literature resembling her glossy stockings – all that language and reference weaved into a fabric that stretched till it could no more, thus marking the end of innovation and intertextuality. a book can only fit so much, and as all of them cared for ancient greek only – a language that no one spoke, and so, could never refine past its perfect state – the topic soon waned in favor of more brandy.

bunny cowed a story about richard papen, the outsider that had joined their coterie, who was not present, as he had not been invited. he was a fine orator, had a specific sense of humor that, while not always understood, could charm an audience when fidgeted with enough. only bunny was too drunk, and his glass of whiskey kept spilling on his trousers till it left an undignified blotch crowned by cigarette ashes, which only painted him a blubbering buffoon. ‘the fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,’ came to mind as you admired the embers dancing in the halo of his blond hair.

then, there was charles, drunk as always, who had opted to lay by camilla’s feet, the place where bunny’s drunken attempts of metaphor had landed him.

lastly, there was henry, your own personal virgil, who had not wanted you to come, but allowed it still. he looked tired from across the room, an arm thrown over the cushions of the armchair in which he sat. in his left hand he held a book, a cover and a title too out of frame for your eyes to see; amber reflected in his wiry glasses, the color of his brandy bottle (half empty) before the orange glow of the fire burned it copper. a plume of cigarette smoke curled into the ceiling from his two fingers. only he could have full concentration among the chaotic symphony in the living room.

the record spun to silence, and you quickly abated your seat on the windowsill to pad to the cabinet and change the vinyl. the collection of classics had not increased since your last visit, which was roughly a week ago, and it had not changed since henry moved out the dorms during the winter of your junior year. there were chopin’s nocturnes and etudes, beethoven’s piano sonatas, and wagner’s tristan and isolda, just to name a few. something lulling, quiet. you picked debussy and placed the needle. lilting, soft and steady, like you supposed love would feel.

instantly, you were met with bunny’s ire.

“no, no,” a wave and a body too weak to stop you. you ensured he was gifted your most sly smile, “no, woman, put on somethin’, somethin’ grand,” a larger wave, like a poorly coordinated conductor, he smacked his hand too close to francis’ head. a groan from charles, as if he had grown nauseous from watching the motions, “somethin’ for me and charlie here,”

charles tried to turn away in his discontent, yet did not manage. camilla, concerned, laid a hand on his shoulder, “should we go? i think we should head home.”

“see?” bunny’s accusing tone found you once more, “you’re scaring the guests. put on some real music. like the... the...” he trailed off, lighting another cigarette. for good luck, one could imagine, “like goddamn— listen to led zeppelin, man! the rolling stones!”

you glanced to henry and found yourself surprised. a shared look.

“no such things in our humble repertoire,” you stated.

“mile davis, at least?”

“no,”

“i don’t believe you,”

“you’re free to check for yourself.”

amidst this small argument, which was much too common when dealing with bunny, camilla had somehow managed to wrestle charles into standing on his own two feet. unstable, he leaned onto his sister, the added weight making her stagger.

“goodness, take care of charles,” bunny whined, though his complaints never amounted to more than simple sulking. you chose not to pay them much mind.

it was henry that helped, carefully balancing his book on the armrest and coming to take charles from camilla’s embrace.

“should i drive you home?” he asked.

camilla shook her head, en route to retrieve her red scarf and new coat, “no, no, we’ll call a taxi.”

it was always mildly fascinating watching the two interact. camilla, never able to meet his gaze directly and for too long, and henry, who only ever extended wordless aid without prompt or reason to her only. what had she done to earn such favor was beyond you – beyond everyone, perhaps – but you were certain you weren’t the only one that saw this careful act of piety and kindness.

you observed them shuffle out after moments on the telephone, camilla’s hand ghosting henry’s arm, or grazing the bend of his elbow, and only when they disappeared past the large door to wait for the taxi did you look away.

loving henry winter was a sisyphean task, unworthy of the effort which it required. you thought yourself too smart for it, and thus, never cared to entertain the notion, not even when he kissed you.

you caught bunny staring at you: not scrutinizing, not calculating – simply staring. a curious leer that often fell on you after some semblance of mirth had worn down. almost shy, somewhat longing.

“this richard of yours,” you began, helping yourself to henry’s lucky strike. out of all the brands that you had smoked, this was the most bitter and always left a tart taste in the back of your throat. you craved it, “papen, was it?”

“yup,” bunny mumbled into his glass.

“and how is he?” your gaze jumped from him to francis.

“poor,” bunny said.

“californian,” francis tacked on.

“but he pretends he isn’t,” bunny continued.

“californian?” your brows rose. the smell, the taste – too powerful, almost choking.

“no, no,” bunny shook his head, disoriented for a moment, “rich. pretends to be rich. see, i didn’t tell you this, but,” and he reached for henry’s cigarettes, too, even if his own pack laid abandoned, two-three left untouched. he did this, at times, this odd mimicry: you smoked, he smoked what you did, you drank, he drank what you did, you decided a getaway to italy was your dream destination for a week and later learned he had haggled henry into buying tickets for the two of them, “but i, you know me: never judge a book by its cover, i say. invited him to dinner. the usual place, the one on-”

“god,” francis winced, and if he could move, surely he’d flee, “stop talking.”

“the lady asked, am i to deny her now? i thought he wouldn’t show, but he does, doesn’t he? with a goddamned tweed jacket, like i wouldn’t notice,” he hiccupped mid-explanation, the liquor long congealed into his system, “and, you know, me, i know people. i know people. i see them for what they are, and i knew he was a no good cheat from a mile away, but hey,” a straight spine, a bit proud, “i think to myself, you know what, old man, i’m gonna give this guy a chance. pop’s always-”

“aspirin,” francis interjected, this time directed at you, “bring me some, would you, juliet?”

you snorted, “a moment,”

“thank you, desdemona. you’re a midsummer night’s dream,”

“she’s from othello,”

“my point stands.”

you sauntered off into henry’s kitchen and scoured his cupboards for painkillers. the layout of this place you knew too well – perhaps, even, if you closed your eyes, you could discern each obstacle and map it in front of your eyes with the grace and certainty of a guidebook. you did just that.

behind you, a sudden coldness pierced through the humidity and a door shut harshly. the influx of fresh air was a brief slap to the face.

it’s been silent for a while now.

“what are you doing?” henry’s voice, not close, yet not too far. always observing at a distance, since closeness was never his intention. henry winter. what a fitting name.

“looking for aspirin.”

the tick of an unseen clock.

“top drawer,” there was no urgency; something you didn’t understand was what made him hurry to answer, “i hid them there. bunny keeps stealing my entire cabinet.”

your eyes fluttered open, “my, my. what a snitch,”

“don’t give him the aspirin,”

“it’s for francis,”

“very well.”

an impasse. you closed the cabinet and thought against bringing water with you, knowing it’s unneeded.

“may i?” henry asked, and when you turned to look at him, he was as always – unbreakable, unmovable. expectant, perhaps, his heavy gaze a familiar pressure upon your cheekbones, the curve of your jaw, your swollen mouth (from biting, not being kissed).

“they’re yours,” you said easily, turning the cap and spilling a few into the bed of your palm as he approached, “here.”

to make matters harder, there’s but a foot of space between the two of you. the smallest separation, every part of him and every part of you entangled into one odd constellation. an immensity of motion before him and an immensity of energy after.

“water?”

“whiskey.”

“is it also hidden?”

“no.”

so you retrieved him a glass, and then the bottle, and lastly you poured the amount enough to swallow in one gulp. when he took and drank, and you watched his adam’s apple bob, you wondered, briefly and hazily, was your act in any way similar to camilla’s. a star that constantly drew him into her orbit.

“you didn’t leave,” he uttered quietly, tired eyes flicking to the maw of the kitchen opening. down the foyer, the firelight danced. bunny’s voice rose in a toast, no doubt to shake francis out of his stupor.

“i did,” you said, a slow smile curling, “what you see before you is a specter. the delirious imaginings of an impoverished mind.”

“ridiculous,” the quirk of his eyebrows: mock-offended.

“amusing,” the narrow of your eyes: contagious, “was everything my spirit foretold the same as you saw it unfold?”

weariness. you looked for it and found it easy enough. his fingers flexed, his tongue went behind his teeth. the cogs turned. for all his genius, henry was too susceptible to fable and entirely too superstitious. he could ward himself off it well, yet when his inhibitions were down, there was a hint of something else, a spark of pious faith in the impossible, what not might come next. he kept looking at you for an extended moment, until the corner of his mouth, minutely, drew up into a not-quite-smile.

“hermia!” came francis’ voice from the other room, “i’m dying.”

henry said nothing.

you expected bunny drunkenly swinging an almost empty bottle around to try and cheer up francis (it rarely worked, unless it was wine), and yet, he wasn’t there. the living room felt very big, somehow, devoid of him and the makings of his gullible heart.

“and where is bun?” you questioned, almost scolding.

“bathroom,” francis succeeded sitting up, yet only just.

you heard henry curse under his breath. he disappeared, and soon you heard the continents of a stomach emptying down the hall and henry’s monotone behind a closed door.

“time to end this sabbath, me thinks,” you said. francis took the pills with a fresh glass of campari, nose scrunching from the taste.

“d’you think henry could drive me home?” francis asked.

“do you trust him with your life?”

“do you think he’d let me die?”

“depends,”

“no. i’ll cab it,”

“wise decision.”

henry returned, seemingly exhausted from his small adventure. no one followed after.

“bun?” you asked again, which seemed to displease him. he only shook his head. passed out, then. unfortunate, yet expected. if bunny could somehow gain authority over all of henry’s things – even the minute ones, the ones that don’t matter and exist in the peripherals without henry’s notice – he would. it was the same reason francis once insisted that bunny had been in love with you.

the incident occurred during your first year of college in early november. a rather somber and chilly day with leaves sticking to wet asphalt and stone walls amidst the rainy season. a monday. bunny had broken his ankle and complained terribly about it, and henry, who had become his caretaker, was sick of it and instead abhorred him. by accident and complete mischance, the handling of bunny corcoran had fallen onto your graceful shoulders, and in a single day – full of obsolete complaints and impulsive questions – the theorized affection was born.

if there was a way in which bunny’s countenance had changed in your presence, it was lost on you, for your attention, at the time, was solely pilfered by charles. he was, back then, the most handsome of the greek class, and oddly enough, the only one pleasant, thus you sought his favor. but charles never returned your fondness, no matter how minuscule it could be, and he never gave the impression of fleeting interest. only sometimes, when he thought you would not catch him, he would stare at you for a bit too long. you never got to figure out what he had thought in those moments.

instead, you figured yourself an actor – a pretty one at that – and decided to ignore this indelicate sort of charm and pursue a new mark. there were many, of course, plenty of faces to consider, yet the outcome was always the same. as it were, they were all terribly boring and reminded you greatly of the peers you’ve encountered in private schools, the self-proclaimed intellectuals of the new age that had too much time and too much heartbreak on their hands. good looks aside, not the slightest hint of culture nor comprehension, just money and nothing to show for it.

and then there was henry, of course, so quintessentially different that his existence, still, was hard to define. something outside the realm of you. something above or beyond, or perhaps below – always somewhere you could not reach. there was an irrecoverable arrogance to him and in his aloof demeanor. an inviolable space that never invited others.

yes, there had to be some appeal to the strangeness of him, yet never could you put your finger on what exactly it was. at least, not immediately. at first sight, though, there were more poetic reasons to it – of the tragic and of the divine kind, yet that was no truth but some novel-born whim, a pointless obsession, some meager infatuation. an involuntary fetish. he had not wanted you, which only made it so that you wanted him in turn. it wasn’t an ugly thing – it simply was.

he must’ve known. henry always seemed to possess the knowledge of things you had never dared to question or to think twice of. or, perhaps, maybe not: but, despite your inability to identify the cause of it, there was a certain change to your disposition upon entering his shared room. one, maybe, akin to the sudden fear brought by dark enclosed spaces, though a bit more subtle and complex.

it was, ironically, a winter’s night.

when you phoned the same taxi and requested it’s return, francis spoke in a hazy murmur, sluggishly trying to shrug on the coat you brought him, “god, i really need a cigarette.”

“hm?”

“do you see mine anywhere?”

a rueful search, hands grabbing the scattered glass and hardbound that littered the surface of the coffee table. a valiant attempt to move the couch cushions and dip fingers into the cracks.

“no,”

“well, fuck me,”

henry offered his, but francis refused. the living room lit up in that thick, acrid smoke anyway.

the foyer echoed with your footsteps. outside the townhouse, rain had started again. a few drops at first, tapping the windows, before quickly it grew and gained weight. soon, it was battering against the glass.

with your scarf in your hands you suddenly found yourself unsure what to do with it. the taxi was coming and it was time to go home and plead to a higher power for reprieve from the headache you knew would cripple you in the morning. perhaps, an afternoon tomorrow to mull around, dazed. yet there was no respite in any of that. you realized, then, with this abrupt trepidation, that the cause of your discomfort, or the cause that exacerbated it, was within this confided space. a chasm-deep disquiet, like an open mouth of a ravine, dark and shadowy, or the pull of a tide at sea, which was, as they say, irresistible to even the most levelheaded.

somewhat uneasily, you lingered by the coat hanger, and when francis ambled over, tripping over his own two feet, he downed the rest of his campari and shoved the glass into your useless hands. then, he kissed your cheek, quick and wet, before ripping the door open and shoving it closed behind you, hence halting your escape.

the house was deafened, and your palms itched. the overwhelming urge to twiddle with your scarf became unbearable, or it was because a pair of eyes bore into you from the depths of the room. the closest thing you’ve ever considered to a tangible aura: the smell of ozone and rain water and tobacco.

“don’t suppose he’s waiting in the rain, is he?” you said.

“no, i don’t think he is.”

it didn’t make sense, none of what happened afterward – the decision to face him instead of making off into the chilling night. your arms crossed in a quiet and peculiar motion, clutching the coupe a bit too tight.

“whiskey?” henry offered, and you felt like the silly ingénue in some high-brow noir thriller donning all that cashmere by the door, “or bourbon.”

“fine.”

a crease of his eyebrow – the sole indication of surprise. your jacket found its rightful place on the rack along with that dreaded scarf. hesitance was unfamiliar to you, as you had not known it growing up – neither a sense of propriety nor a loss of footing. the dandy act had been adopted and perfected to such a degree that to relinquish the mask itself was oddly relieving, the discomfort born merely by knowing that francis was aware of your unusual situation and the upcoming events that would take place once the theater was done. there was a brief thought to how henry might’ve perceived you then. perhaps the removal of a layer of pretense might’ve intrigued him, if anything.

you remained at a slight distance and watched him traverse his domain, stepping around the askew items left behind by bunny and a bottle of gin haphazardly upended by charles, warm by the fire. there was an anomalous sort of patience to him. the silence was an abrasion. so often, you found yourself chattering to fill the void, even with other men who took the shape of strangers.

“there’s quite a storm brewing,” you said, only to be met with more silence. when your words simpered, the feeling they left was inexplicably ominous. ‘all that is transitory is but a symbol,’ yet only a bad poet would dare to draw a soliloquy from henry’s figure by the flames.

thus, you sat down on the couch, still warm from francis, and held up the beloved champagne coupe. henry’s hand did not tremble as it poured, but your fingers quivered when his attention fell onto you.

“is it good?”

you never felt the alcohol, only the burning in the back of your throat.

“very,”

he found himself beside you, not too close. the distance was not unlike orpheus’ journey, or so it appeared in the dim firelight – the familiar pangs of the unwilling, the sudden, selfish urge of wanting to see him in his entirety, his visage unhindered

“may i?” you asked, meaning, of course, his cigarette. he acquiesced easily. the only telltale of his everlasting unbothered mien: his focus had, and always seemed to be, too acute. it was enough to unnerve anyone. flattering, perhaps, if only you could tell what he was thinking, but you never could.

in your lap, the half-empty coupe. you left a smudge of your lipstick on the cigarette butt. henry inhaled. it was not unlike a kiss.

“francis mentioned you didn’t want to see me,” you said.

“i didn’t,” he responded.

“a lie, was it then?”

“you assume to know?”

“yes.”

another drag. smoke parted his mouth, slow as molasses and heavy as clouds.

“you’ve changed,” you said.

conversation with henry had always been difficult, before and after your frequent follies in the dark. if you did speak, it was never about one another, or anything that resided past skin and bone, nestled somewhere in the marrow, only felt. in instances where you did find common ground it was only ever art – literature, specifically, and when he was in a good mood, painting. henry only had one fascination and refused to entertain others; here lied his fatal flaw. thus, in a crowd of three and more, you could exchange remarks that would seem and sound important but held no real meaning.

“what sort of change have you noticed?” henry murmured. the lighting cast shadows. his hands twitched.

you were not sure, as you remembered him in much more detail and color. here, ashen-faced and obscured, all you saw was the ghost of his image, as though he had grown morose in a way that a single season could not alter. the greek class had often suffered for the aesthetic – self-imposed punishments of grandeur and excess that to everyone outside their circle seemed quite ridiculous, along with their dark clothes and mysterious miens and enigmatic jokes. some said they were haunted or blessed, but none envied them. alas.

troubled is the closest you could find, though if you were to voice it, he might take you for a child. it was never good to seek out his vulnerability. he would say you could never find it, and, inevitably, it would end up being the truth. henry wasn’t good at love. no one of were.

you shrugged, “you’ve become quiet.”

“am i, now?”

“more so than you’ve been,”

“perhaps you’ve just gotten better at listening,”

“unlikely,”

henry cocked his head. his hand, once again, twitched and there was an urge to reach out and grasp his fingers – some sort of absolution or at least a consolation for something neither one of you might’ve cared to mention. never did the man in front of you appear unsure, yet somehow, despite his best effort to the contrary, you felt a similar trepidation of an undefined thing.

henry was impossible to read. not just a mystery, but undeciphered in ways so beyond the mundane. over the years, you had collected enough clues to form a humble dictionary, yet much of what was missing could only be determined through his own misfortune and complacency – things which would, then, by nature and by fate, stray into your arms.

it did not matter, not entirely, at least. you did not love henry, but you thought that camilla did, and he, in turn, her. once you exhausted your inspection, perhaps you would pass that glossary to her, though you doubted that she would ever find any use for it.

“well,” henry said, “i suppose that’s to be expected. anything else?”

“would you enjoy a dissection?”

henry hummed, perhaps in agreement or curiosity, but it was very possible that he thought you foolish.

“no need,” he said, “yours is transparent.”

“really?” you countered, “they never are. people, i mean.”

“who are you thinking of?”

your mind drifted to bunny, likely curled on the cold tiles of the bathroom. with the first few buttons of his shirt popped and tie loosened, there was the picture of one not withering away but merely on the incline of a steep and lonely hill. all quiet in the dark of a windowless room from which he couldn’t even turn his head and see the stars.

it felt as though he would wake soon and interrupt. his presence always breached spaces he did not occupy, and the anticipation of his arrival always lingered in the air, unspoken but palpable. perhaps bunny would always exist in the shadowy corner-room between you and henry, because, if what francis said was true, henry was the first to know of it and had you, still.

you wondered if he regretted it, if he felt like brutus sticking the first knife into caesar’s rib, closest to the heart. you considered asking: in that moment, the urge felt insurmountable. instead, you said, “a little bit of everyone.”

inclined, you caught his gaze. an abysmal color and a disorienting shade, as deep and gloomy as the woods surrounding mount cataract.

“and me?”

“of course,” you smiled and slid a bit closer, “it’s not like you to ask. have you become sentimental?”

“not exactly,” his eyes moved to his hands. then, the flecks in the fireplace, the piles on the floor, “i’ve been thinking.”

“care to elaborate?”

“no,” he said. you understood his need for privacy, and a small part of you could appreciate his effort, or maybe, rather, that you got something of an answer at all. he did, occasionally, tend to disappear in thought. he remained, despite his reluctance, sitting with you. this, in a way, spoke more to you than the words that could never leave his mouth.

“this weather makes a body wistful,” you told him, “and the greek have always liked their tragedies.”

he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth before lighting another cigarette, “what do you know of greek?”

always the same argument. always the same contradiction. your attraction was tempestuous, and so, it should have surprised you neither the sudden bite or the wicked sense of amusement.

“all that any student would, naturally,”

“so, nothing,”

“i suppose,” you would not admit, for he would win, “henry,”

something in his posture betrayed him, but it was not his eyes, nor his tone, “yes?”

you were close then, much closer than you were moments ago. his lips thinned in a brittle, noncommittal line and his eyes drooped – more of a warning than anything.

“are you going to kiss me?” you asked.

he wanted to, he must’ve, for it had been the only sensible action – you always pressed for what would hurt least. to drown and swallow poison. it was a favorite, and, for some reason, one he allowed, like an agreement reached. to your knowledge, he only ever let himself indulge in you.

henry only leaned in, which was enough for you. his mouth, a second, not any less tantalizing than the first. and you had kissed him with a brazen softness, enough that his hands snaked to grasp the back of your neck. another hit. the smoke and ash settled deep in your lungs. you had pushed it out in a groan when he dropped his hands to your thighs, pressing hard and confident as he had on those nights when you found each other too lonely. the ache he created was wonderful.

you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it until it untucked. he swallowed and whispered in a language you were familiar with but couldn’t speak, and lifted your skirt.

you kept the cigarette between your teeth as he mouthed down your jaw and neck. his finger traced the skin at the back of your knee and that tickling spot right below your ribs. goosebumps rose and followed his touch. he nipped at the crook of your neck and dragged you onto his lap.

“you are dressed far too heavily, and terribly,” you heard him say, and when his lips found the shell of your ear, you could not stifle the shiver. the whole room felt claustrophobic, hot and steamy, like the aftermath of a scalding bath. your breaths grew labored. you closed your eyes against it and clawed into his arm.

henry said, again, this time more slowly and with a dull emphasis, “terribly.”

“how dare you insult my taste,”

“would you allow for a remediation of my sins?”

“luckily, i’m in an agreeable mood.”

henry’s own sigh was long and somewhat labored, as though a great pressure had been taken off him. and his hands flexed, moving up and down your back. a rare instance, to find him restless. you could admire this in private.

the press of lips to your neck. the collarbone, jutting sharp in the firelight.

there was the urge, sudden and quite novel, to caress his face, cup his cheek, graze the edge of the scar of the eye that’s colder than its twin, that shrouds you in a mist. such an act was outlawed, naturally, thus, the opportunity came and went, carried away on a drafting wind of smoke. an irredeemable misfortune, and you flicked the cigarette into your abandoned coupe.

“are you comfortable?” the gentle cadence of his voice sent a wave through the warmest depths of your abdomen.

“yes.”

henry, having brushed away your stockings, stroked at the insides of your thighs. there was a light feeling in your head, an almost dizzying sway. a subtle rocking, like boats at port, from where the two of you were perched. his digits dug into the firm meat. beneath his hands, a stretch of burning skin and sinew. muscle clenched and quivered, “terribly inconvenient, by the way.”

“how do you mean?”

“all the layers,” he muttered.

“good,”

“never good,”

and then, suddenly: “are you wet?”

“if you touched me properly, you could tell,”

henry ignored your response. his hand climbed upward, and found a place between the gusset and the middle seam, rubbing, testing.

“recently,” you said, “i’ve become fascinated with joseph cornell.”

“you’re stalling,” henry informed you without inflection, slipping a finger through the damp center. a harsh noise of pleasure left you when his tongue slid between your lips. one, then two, circling and sinking with the utmost delicacy.

“why? are you not curious to hear what i think of his boxes?” you managed, halfway.

another stroke. his thumb rubbing, slow and considerate, in the spot that makes your toes curl, tight and demanding. when his eyes opened and found yours, it was almost comical – his fingers in you, mouth and mind on a completely different path, yet the connection was there all the same. even more so, while trying to be detached, fumbling over buttons and laces.

“no,”

“you might learn something,”

he quirked a brow, “you truly wish to waste time talking?”

“aren’t you?”

“i am taking an assessment of your willingness to submit,”

“are you certain it’s not the other way around?”

henry rarely responded with malice; each action was carefully devised and, in conjunction, quite merciless. in this case, he dropped his hand from the vee of your legs and tugged at his shirt collar. the emptiness was startling, as was the feeling of tension that coiled tightly in your gut. then, he grabbed his drink and sipped from the sparkling glass. petty revenge, something he always assured was beneath him.

sensing defeat, you decided to placate him. after a dramatic roll of your eyes, you slipped onto the ground and knelt.

“henry,” you began, and reached for the fly of his pants. the outline of his cock was obvious beneath the smooth fabric, thick and promising, “home ruler,” in one instance of drunken curiosity, the lot of you agonized the meaning of your names, that perhaps they, somehow, unknowingly dictated your fate, “unwilling to shed his crown. is the head not heavy? most kings lost theirs, you know.”

“flattery doesn’t suit you.”

“folly, then,” you replied, dragging the flat of your palm across his groin and taking pleasure in the strained hiss, “are you going to let me do as i please?”

“i think that is,” at the peak of his inhale, you reached into his trousers and curled your fingers around his stiff cock, “quite apparent.”

you grinned, lazy but triumphant, thumbing the blunt ridge. smudging the dribble of white at the leaking head and reveling in his restrained reactions: the minute tremors, the twitch of his jaw, a gasp caught in his throat. you would have kissed him, again. his face might’ve twitched, something uncontrollable that would’ve given away his longing, if only he hadn’t pushed it down.

with a slow pump, your hand traveled. the size was admirable, familiar, nearly to the point of nostalgia. henry had touched more parts of your body than some of the lovers you took as an earnest attempt for passion. you had begged him once, half-gone, half-wild with what you thought was need and impatience, to only fuck you – without his clever mouth and his careful hands, but he hadn’t said yes, no, had only grabbed your jaw and pressed a sucking kiss to the soft and sensitive skin beneath your ear. a promise, almost. and in a way, it had been.

“you remember?”

henry’s voice snapped you to attention, and when you looked up, his expression matched his darkened eyes, intense. something flared hot and needy in you, and with it, the desire to be open and dripping for him. he curled a hand in the small hairs on the back of your neck, stroking the skin there and, even briefly, allowed himself an indulgence in the pleasure he could get from a single touch, and rocked his hips.

“vividly,” you told him.

the flames, behind you, cast him entirely in silhouette, and his shadow projected forward and rose tall, stretched. a ruler, indeed.

his chest moved slow and purposefully, and when he released your hair, the lack of contact felt like a shock to the system. his hand closed around your forearm, “come here.”

the tone, hoarse and hushed and so quietly demanding, startled you, and you stood up so quickly that your head spun. henry placed his hands on your hips, steadying, ushering you back to where you belonged.

“just there.”

legs, parted, framing his waist. fabric, bunched between your thighs. breathing, slowed. a firm, calming weight, pinning you down. the firelight glinted in his eyes.

“henry,” you called. and the only thing to signal his movement was a bob of his adam’s apple. the cufflinks of his sleeves swayed and flickered. he hummed, neither affirmation nor disagreement and entered you with a grunt.

more. skin flushed. eyes crinkled and tightened. more. nails curled and scrabbled for purchase.

there, your name on his lips. it was disorienting – not so much a cry, or a whisper, but something between the two. henry always spoke carefully, as though each word should carry the most weight, so each syllable, in turn, he would construct and cut, meticulous and mathematical. but here, breathless and wanting, they rolled out in a steady litany, never faltering.

all fire and scorching, the pitch of it high and needy. to thrust and bruise, the idea fizzed bright and brilliant at the apex of your spine. with each snap of his hips, a part of him carved a piece of you out, and each ragged noise shook loose a piece of your skin. it would fit him perfectly. then he would slide right into those hollow spaces that swelled and throbbed, expanding beyond tolerance. in moments like these, you loved him – his body, his touch, his face, everything that could not be articulated.

“please,” you begged him, trying to curl around the ache, “i want-”

“i know, i know,” he murmured, with a tilt of his head. his hair, you noticed, had lost its immaculate shape, wild and frazzled by your fingers. your heart swelled and contracted: you wanted to do it again, over and over until his whole countenance resembled nothing more than that of a ravaged man. your power, the only thing you had over him. henry closed his eyes.

“spread your legs a little wider,”

a moan slipped when his tongue flicked and curled against the side of your neck, wet and sloppy. the sweet roll of his hips, his fingers pulling at the buttons of your attire and squeezing the fleshy swell of your buttocks. it was always too much.

you licked your lip, shaking when his teeth gently pinched. and, for a moment, the smell of pine permeated the room. as though it were his own sweat and the heady musk of his natural scent, and not a waning bottle of cologne.

“hold onto me,” henry whispered and allowed for nothing more, driving the movement out of your hands. the tempo spiraled upward. at the center, the tension was building. there was a moment of vertigo.

and it was easy enough, as things had always been between the two of you, to ignore the disjointed voices in the back of your mind. how when you two first kissed, it’d been without grace. how the rain fell, trickled, all around you, drowning the dryness in your throat. how the next day, he asked if you would regret what you’d done. and here, now, a different but striking feeling: the warm haze brought on by alcohol, his palms were hot, slick with sweat, his belt digging into you.

henry grunted and swore to a god neither of you had put much faith in. the flush on his cheeks was impossible not to reach out and touch, his eyebrow scarred with the same sort of smooth texture and fading red, his lashes, long and fine, flickering against the high edge of his cheekbones. i love you, you wanted to tell him, but the high struck you ruthlessly, turning you to liquid.

in the aftermath of this brief paradise, you shared a look.

“i still despise this weather,” you said.

henry’s mouth quirked. and what had been the impulsive dalliances of two desperate people became, once more, two lonely creatures with enough distance between to fill one of henry’s beloved epics. the quiet, in the wake of catharsis, was rather terrifying, and the clatter outside – the rain, the wind, and the cold – almost accusatory. he offered you a cigarette.

you took it without thank you and let him light it.

“should i drive you home?” he offered, voice raspy. his shirt had wrinkles and his collar sat funny. the skin beneath was pink, and there was the barest mark where you had sunk your teeth or dug a nail too hard. you bit the end of the filter, watching the flame waver before rising into ash.

“you’re drunk,” it felt necessary to remind him, though it never stopped him.

“do you want me to drive you home?” he asked again. a long pull and a thin veil of smoke.

“yes,” you said, “i’ll go wake bunny.”

“no,”

“no?”

“stop it.”

“stop what?”

“speaking of him,”

“has he done something?”

silence.

“henry?”

“leave it,” he said, but his tone was tight.

“alright. i’ll get my coat, then,”

“of course,” he murmured, standing slowly. you shouldn’t have seen him put his hand against the wall to steady himself, as though any drunken spell had fled, and with it, his equilibrium. the movement was both conscious and contrived, a fact of necessity, and not like the rest of him, braced by his surroundings and firm in stature. a self-constructed illusion, designed to project a set of attributes meant to create the atmosphere of authority. he embodied it well, but he was still, stripped of the mythos, simply human.

you watched him settle and raise his head with a gentle exhale. a mere lift of his shoulders, and he resembled a man in control, content, satisfied – everything henry was, and yet, within the façade, you could see the truth of his discomfort, recently, and without fault, brought upon by an uttered name.

in the upcoming months, you would understand and wonder if there was something you could have done or said to warn him of a future that was inevitable. no matter how many nights you had spent distressing over this question, the answer would always make itself obvious.

there was nothing you could have ever done.

thank you for reading !

[dragondawdles]

lurch

[bobastudy]

comfort and joy

[predestinatos]

'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

 You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

[starrycassi]

Sky + Viktor dynamic in my jayvik work for silco au

PART 1 - TEEN YEARS. BREAK UP AND RECONCILIATION.

Since I'm kinda "switching around" Jayce and Viktor's roles, Sky and Viktor did "date" in this au

For all of like three months. Gruesomely longs three monts

They were both the only zaunites on the academy, so, naturally, they bonded. Viktor in this au is a bit more social, since Silco has drilled into him the importance of having people work for you/follow you

Viktor is very much a homosexual but Sky did NOT realize this and still confessed

She was obvious as fuck with her love previously and thought that Viktor never refusing was him accepting + enjoying her attention. Like this is an academic rivals + childhood friends + dark academia au in her head and she's going for her man

NOW, headcanon time: I think Sky had a patron on Piltover, the House Young (hence why she has a last name being from Zaun). SHE was the one funding their ideas and projects, SHE was the one with some (minimal) topside connections

Viktor went "yeah why not" to himself and dated her

Their relationship became turbulent Really Fucking Fast. Viktor wasn't truly interested in her romantically, though he did acknowledge + respect her intellectual intelligence. He saw in her a possible equal. She adored him and was blinded to his (MANY) flaws. So a bad mix overall.

There's also a really wide gap in their view of politics. Sky wants to assimilate into Piltover, to learn how to play their games and to be One Of Them. She's young and still holds her dreams close to her chest.

Viktor, while deep down would love that, is aware that his place is in Zaun, helping his (their!) people. He's well aware of the dangers of Silco, but he plans on eventually coming back to Zaun To Help Everyone, if Heimerdinger manages to keep him safely away from all that mess and just... lets him study

He thought her selfish and delusional, while she was blinded by his "selflessness". Sky claimed to be The One who understood Viktor, but she was just seeing a very carefully filtered aspect of his personality. When he cracked under the pressure, she brushed it off as "stress attacks" and not his real attitude coming to the surface, which is what that was

Mind u, Viktor's stay in the academy was no longer than a full semester, since his charade was up as soon as exam season ended, so this was a quickly burning dumpster fire

Sky started trying to convince him to leave silco. He already wanted to, but having someone who very clearly adored him cheering him up helped a lot. She was the final push he needed to talk to heimerdinger

(that went horribly bad lol. Viktor's hate for Piltover is cemented and he returns to Silco's side like a wounded puppy. He becomes crueler towards his own ideals after this)

He eventually comes back to her room in the middle of the night like the boundary-ignoring weirdo Singed raised him to be, and asks her to come with him

Sky is distressed, but asks HIM to stay with HER

They argue in whispered screams, still somewhat civil. It's in the middle of it that Sky accidentally knocks over the badge the House Young gave her, revealing her name change when pressured by Viktor

And the whole thing comes falling down

Viktor tells her that she's sold her own soul to monsters, Sky hits backs and calls him out for doing virtually the same and that Silco is not that different from her employers. He's worse, if anything

Viktor doesn't care about silco but does care about winning fights, so he defends silco. The whole thing ends up with Viktor telling her that he's never loved her, and Sky telling him that she wishes she never did

Mind you they're like 17/18. Things get ugly.

One or two years down the line, Sky is the one who actually reaches out. She goes back down to the under city to search for Viktor. He's actually so fucking happy to see her, but pretends not to be.

Sky's been on the verge of breaking down for almost a month now (finals) and she realized that Pilties will, actually, never treat her as one of them. She ran for the only other person she knew would understand, even if he didn't want to admit it

They get DRUNK. Like, falling-face-first drunk. They actually have an honest moment with one another and talk things out. Sky asks Viktor if he has any "dick recs" now that she's single and they snort so badly they almost choke. There's a lot of tears (Viktor swears He Did Not Cry) over the words they tell each other. Viktor still stands in that Sky is stupid and naive and Sky calls him a self-righteous antisocial idiot.

Viktor has virtually no friends his age, neither does sky. They latch onto one another after this, meeting every so often. Viktor helps Sky with her workload from The Academy and Sky works on Viktor's notes. They stop asking what the work will be used for after Sky breaks down crying at the idea of helping her own people be poisoned by a highly addictive drug.

Sky starts absorbing Viktor's cynical worldview. She's still bubbly and kind and clumsy but she's far more clever on her feet and aggressive when she needs to be. Not saying she was incapable or soft before!! She just becomes sharper and a bit more open to corruption.

PART 2 - MOLE AND MATCHMAKER.

Sky becomes Heimerdinger's assistant, instead of Viktor. Don't fight me on this. She's clearly very smart and being aided by Viktor in this au, plus, she's energetic enough that I feel Heimer would actually really enjoy her company! She's not nearly as ambitious as Viktor and just wants a nice life without too much worries, so she's actually pretty happy with her work.

She knows and loves Jayce. Her favorite man in Piltover actually. He's always fair and nice to her, even with her being "gutter scum". They've sit down together in the lunch hall a couple times when they both have a late lunch and he's been nothing but a gentleman (if a bit annoying, but, oh well) to her every single time. He's not perfect but he treats her like everyone else and that's such a relief. When she goes to collect his shit, she's actually like really apologetic. They both kinda cry.

She's still in constant contact with Viktor (refuses to call him Herald (keeps him humble actually)) and they have grown into a solid pair of absolute best friends. Like yes Viktor's real close to sevika but it's more of an older sister thing. He's sharing girth size, tip color and filling flavor of his encounters with sky and she's sharing back. They do each other's nails and binge calculus books every other month.

When he decides to save Jayce and reaches out to her, she's 100% on board. He isn't even done with the idea and she's pulling her keys out. The alibi is that he stole them from her and they lock her in a closet with a few (consensual) punches to the face so they can bruise at the end of it all.

She's a big part of the plan. The layout, the schedule, everything comes down to her knowledge of the academy. Viktor oats himself on the back for his ability to keep his allies (none. She did that herself) for so long.

After all of this, they grow somewhat distant for a while. Viktor has his hands full with two depressed geniuses and one of them is His Actual Responsibility. Jinx doesn't let him sleep properly okay he can hear her screams on his nightmares lately. Sky is coddled for half The Academy, hailed as "one of the good ones" and generally more vigilance if put on her. She's well aware of Jayce being alive but makes sure to put up a grieving act for him, which everyone understands.

PART 3 - GENERAL AFTERWORDS

Sky is their one connection to The Academy in general. Both Jayce and Viktor understand this very clearly and don't want to risk her exposure any more than needed. Cutting her off would leave them like headless chicken when it comes to Piltover inner politics

She's somewhat present in their lives. After the whole mess she gets "rewarded" by her "loyalty" and gets more work + materials, so she's really busy. They're also trying to run a criminal empire + betray the boss of that criminal empire. Time is sparse and letters cannot be trusted.

She plays therapist to both of them and has considered killing them just so they stop whining about Viktor Looked At Someone Else or Jayce Is Too Popular for a second

Viktor and her never actually agree on their worldview. Like NEVER. They can both see each other's points and both think the other kinda stupid. This is fine and normal for them and would like it no other way. They're constantly on the edge of fighting over their political views but understand that, in the end, neither will actually get what they want. Very cynical with one another when drunk.

Idk man I just hate that Sky is used as merely a plot device in canon. Like we know nothing about her aside from her actions/feeling towards/with Viktor. I think they could've done so much more with having another Zaunite in The Academy who seems happy with her work (or at least we never see her complain) and overall optimistic. She feels so... disposable, sometimes? She's smart, in love with Viktor and (we can assume) resilient, since she managed a spot in a clearly elitist institution, but, aside from that... ??? We're left with absolutely nothing

Also Wanting To Belong is so real. I'm not trying to bash Sky here because, I, once, too, thought that being shy and small and talking lowly would get them to like me. So don't be mean in the comments or I'm hitting you with a frying pan

[linkspooky]

Hey. Long time follower here. Your metas, your discussions of "bad victims", your nuanced view of heroes and victims, your favoritism towards "losers"...not only did you heavily influence my own writing and my own favorites in different medias (I'm entirely blaming you for me being a Makima stan) but you helped through an extremely dark time in my life. I don't think that you just made me a better writer, you also sort of saved my life. I'll always be grateful for that.

There's something I want to ask. You answered to another ask that you don't regret reading MHA because focusing on what doesn't work about it made your writing stronger. Do you feel the same about Homestuck? Or about the more disappointing parts of Tokyo Ghoul (and, while we're being candid here, Avatar?).

Thank you for your compliments they're very encouraging to read.

At this point this blog is becoming the bad victim lovers support group where we all hug each other and cry over how MHA is treating all of its bad victims.

HOMESTUCK: Honestly, my main problem with Homestuck is that ACT 6 was so long and uneventful full of characters not doing anything that by the end of it the only character I was invested in was Vriska. ACT 6 also did go out of it's way to kill my enthusiasm for everything I liked in ACT 5, especially John Vriska. I've never seen a comic throw out all of its previous development that the audience was invested in and like everything that was foreshadowed - oh wait My Hero Academia. Unfortunately Vriska is an all-time-fave so I still write Homestuck Fanfic about her to this day. I used to like think the finale of Homestuck was one big "meh" but after years to reflect upon it, I do like Vriska's arc ending on a final note of Terezi searching for her in the void, possibly forever, and the ambiguity of whether they'll reunite.

TOKYO GHOUL: I remember being mad about Kaneki getting a happy ending that he didn't earn. Kaneki was a character that really frustrated me for a long time, but I came to realize that if you like remove Kaneki from his group of codependent enablers he's actually a really interesting character when he's alone. So he's a character I love to explore in fic, even if I disliked what they did with him in canon. Also, Tokyo Ghoul killed off its biggest victims Furuta and Rize in a really cruel way, but it didn't kill off every single victim so it just disappoints me instead of making me sick to my stomach like MHA does.

ATLA: I actually think the Avatar the Last Airbender ending is fine. Which like, isn't saying much because I think the Season 1 finale and Season 2 finales are some of the best things ever put to television. The worst sin that the ending does is number one lack of foreshadowing in earlier in the season and number two rushed plot points. Aang not wanting to kill the Fire Lord makes sense. I think the reason a lot of people criticize this and call it an ass pull is that it's not even BROUGHT UP until the finale. Vash the Stampede is pacifist and one of my favorite characters, but it's established from episode 1 that Vash is constantly up against people who want to kill him and he either has to run away or find a way to fight back nonlethally. Azula's insanity and mental instability could have been a thing, but it's not foreshadowed at all so all it ends up doing is conveniently nerf Azula for Zuko, and also being ableist. The worst problem is while there are epic fights it doesn't feel like an ending, because everyone's character arcs are 3/4ths of the way through. ESPECIALLY ZUKO's. Like people say Zuko is acting out of character in the comics, but I think Zuko is the only person in character in the comics because that's how Zuko without a proper end to his character arc would act. It really feels like they had plans for a fourth season that they didn't get, and their solution was to cram an entire season worth of development in everything post the eclipse on season 3. The fact that Azula is left as such a hanging thread is like proof of that, and the fact that Azula's last shot in the series is just her crying and screaming with like no follow up afterwards is something I've been bitter about for fourteen years.

I could write an entire post about how Zuko's redemption arc is unfinished though. It's like the same problem as Catra. I like both characters and I'm glad they got redeemed but they crammed in the entire redemption arc into 1/2 of the last season and that simply wasn't enough time.

[inthegoodbooks]

newcastle pride book haul

Today, I was delighted to go to Newastle Pride with my sister and we had an absolutely lovely time. My favourite part was of course picking up two new books from the wonderful Book Wyrm who had a stall in the family area.

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle - I have had this on my radar since I read Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle last year. Given that it was one of my favourite books of 2023, it is pretty clear how excited I was about Bury Your Gays being published this year. Although it would be cool to read it during October for Halloween, I know I'm not going to be able to... I can see it being a summer read for sure.

Mrs S by K Patrick - This was a book I saw recommended on Gay's the Word's Instagram page from their top books of 2023. As it was only out in hardback then, I kept a note of it in my head to look this up when it was out in paperback and here it was! I can't wait to get my head back into some dark academia-esque themed fiction, and sapphic dark academia at that. Very much looking forward to reading this in the next couple of months.

I know Newcastle is a little later than everywhere else, but as far as I am concerned all year is Pride season so without further ado: happy Pride everyone! Hope your books are gay and fantastic all year round.

[todomitoukei]

My Hero Academia: Animation Exhibition

Quickly rising from the grave to share some pictures from the My Hero Academia exhibition that is currently being held in Japan!

It's called My Hero Academia: ANIMATION, an exhibition that highlights some of the biggest moments from season 6 through various forms of art. 99.9% of the photos I took are villain only of course but obviously the exhibition features the heroes too. So if you would like to see them just keep reading!

Outside the exhibition were two posters to promote the exhibition. The photo on the left is the villain poster. The photo on the right is the ticket and a character sheet that everyone gets. The character you get is random so I was SO lucky that I got Toga!

Inside the exhibition, they start out with a compilation video of the season. Then, you get to the main part of the exhibition, where they have various ways of highlighting some of the most important scenes of the season.

They start out with a cardboard cutout of a few hero characters before having this screenshot compilation to have you be sad right away.

After that you turn a corner and look... I don't like him, but this was actually such a cool display! The feathers were hanging down on a string so they had actual movements!

Moving on we get to one of my favorite parts of the exhibition! They had a screen where they had a tribute to Twice and Toga, with a screen that played some of their shared scenes accompanied by sad music. Around it were panels of them and pieces of dialog they exchanged was hanging around the screen as well... (the second one reads "thank you for saving me"

I think after that they had some sketches from the season, but you're not allowed to take photos of those so skipping to the better part:

Fun fact: right after this they had the tank Shigaraki is in on the wall as a photo spot and one of the employees pointed at it and was offering to take a photo so I said thanks and quickly escaped to the next part lol. So you go to this small hallway and on the walls to the left and right they had these panels from little Tenko which was suuper cool. I was a big fan of the fact they had all these 3D (is that what you call this?) versions, which made it feel more real.

And going straight you walk right up to him.

Shortly after they had a screen showing Shigaraki fighting against the heroes. Right next to the screen they had cardboard cutouts of Deku and Endvr, and on the left they had cardboard cutouts of Shouto and Bakugou, with light effects choreographed in tune with the music of the fight! I had like a split second to take this shot.

They also had this panel and quote compilation afterwards:

Then, we get ✨the girls✨

And now... moving on to the one and only:

After this short scene introduction they had the COOLEST thing ever and I need to own this for personal reasons. It's a Touya cutout, with LED-lit light to really bring his flames to light. In the background it has the "the past never dies" quote and an image of each of his family members. The light was going dark and bright which was really cool and I took a video of that too but here are some photos:

I was really glad they also included Dadpress!

They had some moments from Touya's backstory highlighted as well, but I HAD to take a photo of this summary, because at the end it says that he is "standing up once more from Shouto and his family's words" - standing up is just not the word I would've used for the guy's pathetic reaction but suuuuure.

Anyway, that was it for the villain moments in the exhibition. At the very end they had this huge Deku figure and I had to take a photo because it looks like he's about to beat me up.

Fortunately, he didn't land a blow so I made it out safely, where I was walking up to see the gang:

And yes, they also had a merch section, where I got some nice stuff!

Overall, it was a fun little exhibition and I was happy to see the villains being included so much. Unfortunately, merch-wise it was mainly Shigaraki, Touya, and Toga but I got a villain washi tape, which has one screenshot of each LoV member so that's super cute!

That's it - hope you guys enjoyed the few photos. It was definitely cooler in person and it was difficult to edit some of the photos due to the lighting in the exhibition, but I hope this post somewhat conveys the atmosphere.

[danihow]

Flowers and flames

Prohero!Shoto Todoroki x Florist!Reader Boku no hero academia

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You never planned on having a reunion with your ex boyfriend, and never in a million years you thought it would be in a victim-pro hero situation.

Warnings: Language, robbery, flower quirk reader, bad written drama, fire, kiribaku, and fluff? Idk.

A/N: Funny story is I started it LONG ago, like, season 4 was barely our and all, and I havent kept on watching the show so this is written as far as my knowledge goes, idk if anybody is dead, so im sorry there, literally publishing this like 3 years after but who cares.

In some cases, just sometimes, they were the right person, they were the one you were meant to be with for the rest of your life, the one whose arms ressemble a home, a safe place where nothing could keep on haunting you and your heart flutters, finally relaxing in happiness. They are, indeed, your soulmate.

Still, even if they are the most amazing person you've ever met, even if they are the one, in cases the timing makes you thing otherwise, that they were not what your heart made you think and they get away, the path of their life no longer colliding with yours in the way it did before. They are not longer your life, your everything, they are just strangers again, stranger with memories.

And it hurts at the beginning, the light in your chest is deemed away, the days take longer to pass by, the time stops but... not in the good way, time seems to be stuck in the middle of everything and nothing, giving eternal seconds to your heartbreak to eat you alive and tear, piece by piece, the strings that connected you to your will of living.

It all seems to be like a never ending snowstorm.

But now, winter has passed, your heart was alive again, your memories were tossed to the back of your brain as you welcomed a new light in your life: you were staring to love again but this time, yourself.

A bit more than six years have gone by since that realtionship ended. Around two thousand, two hundred a fifty days of your emotional healing process. The sun shining behind the tall building, just about in the angle that provided the earth with some beautiful orange hues of light that gave everything around you a little bit more of life.

You were alive, you were breathing, you were happy, and you were relieved.

Your work at the flower shop just ended, closing time making its way around. Just ten more minutes and then you could go back home. It had been a busy but provechous day, since August is the month with the most birthdays the amount of bouquet orders this month have been insane. Your hands have crafted a ton of bouquets today, all kind of bouquet, from formal bouquets that contained monotoned flowers to the most colorful mix everyone could imagine. But you didn't felt tired, you felt happy of making others happy.

The ring of the doorbell woke you from your memories, a tall man in a suit walking in the shop, his red eyes wandering the place with calm, eyeing the peonies, the roses, the sunflowers and the chrystaseums.

"Hi sir! How can I help you today?" Your voice came out in a friendly tone once the man standed right infront of the register.

"Hi, I have a dat- Y/N?" Your name dropping of this stranger's mouth made you look at him now with more concern that friendliness washing over your face.

Your eyes began to wander over his face, the gears in your brain starting to spin as he rang some memory in the back of your head. He was tall, muscular, a defined jaw that dragged the attention to his face, prominent cheekbones that went well with the wildness in his blonde hair and remarked the power behind those dark red eyes... Red eyes.

"Bakugo?"

"It's been way too long since the last time I saw you." He muttered, his eyes inspecting the facial features of his long time friend.

"Uh, y-yeah. Like six years I think. What brings you to my flowershop?"

"Oh, right. I need a bouquet with some pink flowers that kinda looks like a pom-pom." He says, his hands trying to imitate the size and shape of the flower he's thinking about, your mind instantly getting what he means.

"What color do you want for the pom-pom flowers?"

Your steps were still light as he remembered them to be when you dated his friend. "I was thinking of white pom-pom flowers with some red peonies."

"You are one lucky man Bakugo, these right here are the last peonies I will have for the rest of the week." You giggle, taking some white alliums in between your hands, along with some peonies and yellow yarrows to the crafting table.

"What can I say, luck has always been on my side." He says with a smirk. The blond being less agressive than you remembered him to be at 18.

"May I ask who is the lucky person receiving flowers from you?"

"I'm gifting them to my boyfriend, Kirishima, it's our four year anniversary today."

"You finally got with Kiri? That's awesome Katsuki! Congrats!" You happily cheer in him, a soft blush in his ears and nose as he laughs your words aside.

"Thanks Y/N." He mutters, eyes fixated in the bouquet you are working on. "I'm really lucky to have him actually. Pro hero life is such a fucking mess all the time, he's the only one keeping me sane."

"Is great to see you happy and sane, Bakugo. It really is." You smile at him, finishing the bouquet. "It would be five thousand yen, sir." You say, the man handing you the money while taking the flowers.

"Thank you, it's really pretty, Y/N." He smiles, taking small steps towards the door, stopping with his hand in the handle. "Can I ask you somtheing?"

"Sure."

"What happened? Why... Why did you distanced yourself from us? From him?"

Your heart sunk a bit, a train of memories going through your head and heart.

"It... wasn't working, Katsuki, I didn't belonged there in your world, I am not a hero, I was just a person with a stupid flower quirk." You laugh it off, the pain, the heartache that settled in the middle of you, roots of stinging memories encaging your heart. "Distancing was an easy was of cowarding, of getting away from the routine, the emotional danger I would put Shoto in."

"...okay." He nodded his head, accepting how you felt. "I know it isn't easy to break a relationship like the one you had, you are not a coward, you know? It takes a lot of courage to distance yourself from those who you love." Katsuki gifts you a comforting smile, his hand taking out a small card from his pocket and placing it in a shelf near him. "There's my number if you ever need help from a hero, or a friend."

"Thank you, Bakugou, it really means a lot." You smiled at him, looking at his face and the sfot yet still somehow harsh gaze in his eyes, his small playful smile made it seem as if he was a whole new person, and it made you happy to look at him this happy even for a hero, Kiri must be doing some good ass work as his boyfriend. "See you later, have a good day!" You said to the blonde who returned your smile and waved back before the door closed.

With a little smile you sighed, your heart felt torned against the memories this little reunion has brought back. You started picking up the mess the flowers let on the counter top, you took the broom and started swiping the dust from the floor, then you cleaned and put everything in its place, a bit more than half an hour later you were done and ready to go home.

You took your keys and your belonging, tossing a rose that was about to bloom in your bag so you could put it in you nightstand and it would last a bit longer, walking out the door of your shop and when you were just about to take the keys out someone muttered from behind you. "Open up again, and give me all in the cashier, if you don't I will not hesitate to kill you."

You slowly turned around, seeing a man with his blue hand laid to you, ready to shoot something if you didn't obey. "You want money?"

"Of course I want the money, what kind of stupid ass question is that." He snarled, signaling at you to reenter the shop.

"Yeah, yeah right." You nodded, any type of quirk he had it did not seemed to be very friendly.

Rather quick for your shaking hands you managed to get the keys again in the door and open it, walking inside with the robber behind.

"I don't have all day, just do as I say and you will not get hurt." You nodded and he smiled. "Put your things aside, I don't want you calling nobody while I'm here, sweetheart."

Putting your keys and bag aside in the floor you did as they said. "Now, walk your ass to the register and put all the money in this bag and no funny bussiness while doing that." He ordered, tossing a black bag at you.

How the fuck did no one noticed him in the shop? There was still some deam light from the sunset, it was nearly impossible for him to threaten you like that and no one to take it in and do something. But you were not going to let him rob all your money that easy.

While doing what he said in and oddly slow manner, you concentrated your self to using your quirk with that one rose you had put in your bag to make it grow enough for it to reach your phone, feeling how the rose moved slowly and with its stem you tried dialing any number in your phone, the last one saved being Bakugou's.

"Hello?" He ask, your number not saved in his contacts. "Who's this?" Even if he was talking rather loudly it was muffled by your bag, thanking the gods for that.

"Can't you do it faster? At this rate I will be taking the money myself you useless scumbag." The man was getting desperate, he actively didn't wanted to get caught by any heroes today.

"I'm sorry, sir." You answered rather loydly for anyone the rose dialed to hear.

"Y/N?" Bakugou asked, hearing carefully to the voices.

"That's all you got in that register? Really?"

"I mean, you are robbing a flowershop, ain't you?"

"Oh they must be stupid." Bakugou muttered hanging up and calling back to his agency to notify any heores near the shop to help you.

"Shut up okay?! Look at the back or something, I'm not leaving until I got some money."

You nodded, your mouth shutting as you walked to the back of the shop and he followed you just to make sure you didn0t called someone or did something suspicious.

You took longer to open the emergency monsey suplly, and even longer putting the money in the bag as he asked. Each second that passes made you more nervous.

What if the flowers didn't do anything? What if they didn't answer?

The thought of losing it all rolling around your mind over and over again, hands trembling to the point the bills were falling out of your hands onto the floor, spreading around the floor.

"are you stupid?" The man asked, picking you up by the shirt, tossing you around as he took over the money handling, sparks leaving out of his hands as he did.

In a matter of seconds a scandal was heard from outside, a siren far away. "You called smeone?" He asked in a shout, turning towards you. "You dumb bitch." He said, a weak snapping from his fingers shocking you lightly, enough for pain to flow around your body and a yelp escape your lips. "Shut up. Now, you ain't getting out of here." He says, manhandling you until he could tie you to the metallic beam that supported the wall.

You pleaded him to let you go, you couldn't do anything, your quirk was useless, but he didn't even spared a look at you, his quirk setting some of your paperwork on fire, himself running out to the front door.

Panicked, you stare at the papers in fire, rapidly becoming bigger and bigger, spreading to the boxes full of wrapping suplies.

"Shit, shit, shit." You say, trying hard to get out of the tie. Maybe, maybe you could still use your quirk with your flowers. The thought inmediately making you concentrate, fire spreading throught the wooden ceiling to the front of the store, smoke coming bewteen the glass doors.

You were trying, really hard, to make your plants grow, the cracking of the flames making hard to hear the growning crowd outside, smoke engulfing the little back room. You started yelling for help, in hope of anyone hearing you from outside or the stores besides.

"Please, please someone." You pleaded, coughing fits interrupting your yelling, you felt lightheaded, unable to keep on yelling. You tried again to use your quirk, hoping atleast one flower was still intact out there in your shelves. Soon, your mind was everywhere and anywhere, memories of today vagantly flowing through it.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice yell, steps louder, the fire and the smoke making your eyes teary, difficulting even seeing clearly.

Maybe it's bakugo. You though to yourself, trying to find some strength between you to yeel again, only to end up coughing.

"Y/N." Your blurry eyes barely picked on the sillouete, a tall fram ecoming in, coldness spreading from it, a warm hand picking you up and snapping the tie around your wrists, helping you get to your feet.

The next couple of minute were a blur, being dragged out to the street, multiple voices surrounding you, fresh air making your lungs ache, as if you were breathing pure alcohol and your lungs were open wounds.

"You okay?" The familiar voice asks again, your eyes finally clearing and being met by a mismatched pair.

"Shoto?" You ask, hand extending you touch his face, in case your dazed mind was playing tricks on you.

"It's me, y7n, you're okay, it's okay." His hand gentle on your shoulder to help you get seated. "The ambulance is on their way, don't force yourself."

"My shop..." You say, staring at it engulfed in flames, windows broken, not a signal of anything intact in it. A deep sadness fulfilling you, the fear, the anger, the dissapointment all filing you and exploiting, fat tears flooding from your face.

"Does something hurt?" Shoto asks, worry deep in his features at the sight of you crying.

You can't find it in you to answer, hand clapped against your mouth to muffle your ugly cries.

You don't know how much time passes, but it feel eternal as the paramedics are checking you, giving you oxygen and checking your light burns.

"Where's Y/N?" You hear Kirishima's voice from the distance, him and Bakugo both making their way to the scene, a relieved look on their faces as they spot you seated with the paramedics. "Are you okay? Where did the fire came from?" They ask, the bouquet you made earlier in Kirishima's hands, making you smile lightly.

"I'm fine, unemployed, but fine." You mutter. "Now get back to your date, it's okay." You signal to the, both sharing a look before sighing.

"Why do you have a phone if you won't answer?" Bakugo asked, the angry tone he put to masquerade his worry made you chuckle, reminding you of your high school years.

You knew yu didn't have to asnwer, and seeing Bakugo overreact and Kirishima calm him infront of you made you chuckle louder.

Maybe you do have missed them.

Once the paramedics cleared you out and treated your burns you went over to Shoto who just finished talking to the police.

"Shoto" You called, he barely heard you as he turned around t oface you, an awkard smile on his face now that eberything was cleared.

"Hi..." He mutters, nodding to you.

"Thank you." You say, finally looking at him rightly. Paying attention to his matured features, jaw more prominent, frame wider and he seemed taller, hair a bit mure ruffled and longer than you remembered, eyes looking at you as softly as your memories recalled. "Seriously."

"It's my job, it's nothing." h¿He dismisses, nodding again. "I'm... uh, relieved that you're fine."

"Thanks." You nod, fiddling with your hands. "I'll go."

"Can we talk for a second? I mean, a few more." He says abruptly, eyes never leaving yours. After you nodded and stayed, he kept on talking. "I always had this question ever since you broke up with me and... seeing you now may be the only chance i'll have to clear it out." He started, looking deeply into your face in search of anything that told him you didn0t wanted to hear him out.

"The thing i want to say is... why did you do it? I- I thought we were doing great and I never stood where I went wrong."

"You never went wrong. I did." You started, unable to look him in the eye as you were spitting out what happened. "I-I was scared, everything was so wrong even though it felt so right. You were always in the spotlight, always being chased after, and after eberything that happened I got scared i was weakening you." You said, not looking at the way Shoto's features formed a face of sadness. "I never wanted to intefere with your job, I loved you too much to keep you from moving forward. I... just felt like a weight, you were much safer without me around."

"Why didn't you talk it with me?" He muttered, searching for your eyes. "You did worse by leaving than staying."

"That aint true. We dont know that, we dont know what the villains could do to us if we were kept together." You thought you would feel sad, but surpisingly, you were relieved as everything was finally spilled.

"what happened with what i felt?" His words slow, careful. "You mever stopped to wonder if I wanted you around even through out all the risks? It was selfish I know, but you were keeping me sane, keeping me alive."

"I'm sorry, I know it was wrong, but look at you now." You signal to the enitre of him. "You are an amizing hero, you fulfilled your dreams, you didnt needed me for that."

"But i wanted you there." He sighed. "I couldnt help but wonder, all these years, what if you talked to me, what if you were still with me?"

"I was a weakness, Shoto."

"No, you were my strength, you kept me grounded." He snaps, tears forming n his eyes. "After I lost you I thought I lost everything, I didnt have you to protect, to keep on foghting."

"But you kept pushing forward didnt you"

"Ueh but... That was because I knew you were stillout there, I found strength in the thought of protecting everything in case you were there."

"Shoto..."

"Its been six years, y/n. What if..." He stops midway, taking berak to gather some air. "What if we try again, as adults?"

"Its not that easy."

"My life will never be easy, we know that, but, maybe, we can try." His hands are ithcing to hold yours now. "If you seriously are over me, if you really dont want me near, say it now; but i know, i stilll want you."

"Sho..."

"This time, I want an answer.¿, I want to hear you out, I want you to say to me what you think."

His words dug deep into your heart, pain coming out of wound you didnt knew you had, but the thought of him made you flutter a bit, something you thought as dead coming back to life inside of you again.

Was it now the right time?

"What if we dont work out?" You scarely ask.

"Then, I'll let you go, but I'll let you go knowing that I fought for you." You didnt know what happened to him, but hearing him talk like that ignited a little flame in your heart.

"Let's try then. But we have to get to know each other again."

"Sure."

[anartisicandautisticstararcher]

Welp...it's time.

After working on this AU for 2 years, I'm happy to announce my upcoming Rewrite AU for My Hero Academia.

My Hero Academia: Rewritten Sparks

Mild Spoilers Ahead

*****

It follows the story of Izuku as he finds himself reliving his life all over again after dying at the hands of All for One. But he notices that things are different than before. From Bakugou being friendly with him to his homeroom teacher suddenly having an eccentric personality.

And it's all thanks to this mysterious entity that revived him. But that's not the only thing that's changed. Izuku suddenly has his own quirk. Sort of.

The mysterious entity knew that Izuku couldn’t face All for One again without an ace up his sleeve, so it decided to give him one.

In the form of a Zhao. A quirk that manifests in 5% of the Earth’s population and is based on the interests, dreams, aspirations, etc. of its user. The mysterious entity created Zhaos using the Illuminating Spark, an ancient relic known to shape worlds like Izuku’s in different ways.

Unfortunately for the entity, the Illuminating Spark seemed to have disappeared in Izuku’s new world, resulting in an unstable power balance.

With the help of a team of new yet familiar faces, Izuku must find the Illuminating Spark and stop All for One from finding it.

*****

And now ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, and out of bounds, we have the first character bio sheet of one of the main characters.

Time to properly introduce the man who inspired it all. Give it up for...

*****

The Songbird Hero: Sunny Day

Full Name: Yamada Himawari

Age: 30

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Transfeminine Man

Main Color: Golden Yellow

Occupation(s): English Teacher of UA; Pro Hero/Child Rescue Hero; Lead Singer in J-Pop Idol group Hands Up! Present!

Affiliations(s): The Peacemaker

Quirk: Voice

Quirk Explanation: Voice allows Sunny to manipulate the volume, pitch, bass, and frequency of her voice. She uses her quirk to help calm kids down with soothing melodies or to incapacitate villains with painful wails.

Zhao: Cockatiel

Zhao Explanation: Cockatiel gives Sunny the physical attributes and instincts of a cockatiel. She can summon her wings at will and fly in the air. Whenever she uses her Zhao, the tips of her hair gain a gray and white ombre at the tips.

Relationship(s):

Volante Tafoya-Litvinov/The Vampiric Hero: Stryxxxer [Aizawa's Timeline counterpart]

Relation: Spouse/Teammate

Yagi Toshinori/The Inspiring Spark Hero: One Almighty Star

Relation: Colleague/Leader

Kayama Nemuri/The Alluring Mist Hero: Mystique

Relation: High School Friend/Teammate

Shirokumo Oboro/The Thundering Hero: Loud Cloud

Relation: High School Friend/Teammate

Personality: Sunny is nothing like her past self. While she's just as bright and outgoing as Mic, Sunny's mostly shy and introverted. She mainly keeps to herself unless she needs to say something important. Sunny is great with kids and is happy to help a child in need. She's also overprotective when it comes to a kid's safety, to the point where she goes feral on anyone who abuses a child.

Backstory: Sunny is well known in Japan under her hero title. From singing songs with her band to saving innocent children from villain attacks. It's no wonder why she's almost as popular as One Almighty Star. But underneath that bubbly persona, Sunny is a nervous wreck of a man. She isn't great at speaking her mind and gets flustered easily. She's the only one in the group that doesn't remember her past life's memories. She only gains memories after events happen in front of her. She does remember the previous timeline and being Present Mic, but specific details are a blur. As she teams up with Izuku and Co., Sunny tries to look more into her past, which unveils a dark conspiracy behind Mic's death.

*****

See you guys later!

Alrighty! With that all done, I'm going to be working on the first season. The official release date is July 7th, 2024, MHA'S 10th Anniversary.

[lady-of-imladris]

Hey hey! For the ask game!

what do you think of when you hear the word "home"?

are you a spiritual person?

say 3 things about someone you love

Fave season and why?

do you trust easily?

tell a story about your childhood

Hii!

When I think of home I think of being a little girl and crawling into my mom's bed during a thunderstorm, curling up on the sofa next to my cat, late night studying with a warm cup of tea and the smell of my grandma's house 🥺

I don't think I am a spiritual person at all

3 things about someone I love:

My mom: probably has ADHD. She is the person in the whole world I rely on the most because she is ALWAYS there for me. And my mom is my drinking buddy!

Fave season and why: AUTUMN. The pretty orange leaves, overcast skies, rain, cute clothes, fluffy blankets, warm drinks, comfort food, dark academia vibes!!!

I think if I trust easily really depends on the person and their vibe. If they seem nice then yes, I trust them almost immediately. But COMPLETELY trust? There are very few people I trust completely. Not to be dramatic but I have been betrayed too often to trust someone fully.

Tell a story about your childhood: I am gonna tell a the story of how I got my first cat!

Ok so I was about 8 or 9 years old and it was December. I was a super happy kid, loved the colour pink and had been BEGGING my parents for a pet. My mom always said no. December 21st, my sister's best friend picked my sister up for school at like 6am and she said that there was a kitten meowing. It was a freezing cold winter, we had -20C frequently that year and it was so stormy that morning. The little kitten just DASHED into the house and it was the most pitiful little creature I had ever seen. My sister SCREAMED at my mom to get that damn thing out of the house and I BEGGED to keep her and obviously we kept her. We put her in the utility room for a few hours until everyone was back from work, making sure she had foody water and a litterbox. I named her Lily and she was my absolute best friend. She had to sleep in the basement for a few weeks but one night we came home late and heard her meowing and I asked my mom if the cat could stay with me and from that day on Lily slept in my bed every single night. The first night she slept on my pillow and I got ZERO sleep because she kept curling up right against my head or licking my face 😂

[commiecricket]

Candela Obscura S2 - Thoughts So Far

Spoiler-Free!

i had the pleasure of seeing the premiere in theatres and it was PHENOMENAL. im gonna get right into it.

first off! you don’t necessarily have to watch the first season. i think you’ll have a bit of a better grasp on things and it’s also just fucking fantastic so i highly recommend. but no, you don’t have to in order to enjoy this campaign.

everyone embodies their characters so well. you can absolutely feel the love and detail put into them. you can feel them getting into their roles as the episode goes on and by the end, you’re completely attached.

it definitely starts off a lot quicker than season 1. we get right into the good stuff with a cold open directly to action. it starts off strong and ends with a bang.

HELL of a first episode, i’ll tell you that.

the vibe is definitely different from matthew mercer’s campaign. spenser has a unique GM style that took a minute to get used to. threwe off a bit at first, but i think it fits the narrative so far.

i pulled together an auggie cosplay just for the hell of it. did some makeup inspired by s1e3 and got dolled up in my best paperboy attire.

unfortunately i was literally the only one dressed up (+ my sibling in just general dark academia clothing). i also had to walk around a very busy store beforehand. so that was a bit awkward but honestly, i was so excited i didn’t care.

all in all, it was incredible. if you enjoyed the first season or are into any kind of body horror or thrillers, give it a try.

and now.. for the details.

SPOILERS under the cut!

i cant wait to see more of their backstories. im super happy with the amount of backstory we got this episode. not too much or too little. just enough to be intriguing and get you invested, while still leaving some mystery.

starting the episode into immediate action was a bit off putting, ngl. i was startled by the pretty significant difference in how spenser is GMs in contrast to matt. i adore his play style but it took a second to get used to. as the episode progressed i could tell it was working really well for this campaign, which is pleasing.

im immediately drawn to sean and marion. i loved auggie and have a fixation on newsies so i obviously have a specific character type i enjoy LMAO. their personalities and interactions with everyone are fantastic.

the PTSD-flashback-type scenes were a great addition imo. it added a lot to their characters. plus that interaction when marion gets his scar? 100/10, gorgeous, tore me apart. i will be watching that scene again when it gets posted and that is a threat.

marion’s breakdown shattered my heart and the other party members had such interesting reactions. im hoping we have more moments like that sprinkled throughout.

of course i love everyone so far. auntie b’s complex history with each party member, nathaniel’s bits of family history, jean’s struggle beginning to shine through, sean’s internal battle with trauma / vague history, marion’s conflict with his own abilities… its all so good.

needless to say i think we’re going to be fed well this season.

my sibling was crying during a few parts but i only really teared up when jean said goodbye to her dad. i knew it was coming but damn it still tugged at my heartstrings.

that entire last scene was just so. GOOD. the entire theatre was losing their fucking minds. you could hear whispering, gasping, nervous giggling. jean’s gilded 6 was wild.

my favorite part of the night was probably when jean was investigating the body and pulled an eye from his heart. as spenser revealed what she found, a loud cough/hacking sound came from the back of the theatre.

you could tell it was probably just a coincidence but after a few seconds of silence people started to laugh. it was just a silly moment that made me really appreciate the atmosphere. as someone who rarely watches films in theatre (or at all tbh), it was a pleasant experience.

anyway i fucking LOVE co and have not stopped thinking about it since the last season ended. so i am very obviously hyped. cant wait to see whats next!

spenser sparke, taliesin jaffe, chris lockey, shaun ellis, matthew mercer, the party members of both seasons, and everyone else who has had a hand in this series — thank you. youve created something viscerally beautiful.

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧: ask me any question/let's play some common tumblr games!

cym as different holidays! 💗

11 holidays for 11 mutuals!

christmas (dec 25) is @sw34terw34ther : i always see you chatting with your mutuals! you seem like the person who hosts the best holiday parties and can make their own seasonal drinks. plus with that voice of yours, i could totally see you going carolling. getting tagged in your posts is like a little christmas present.

new year's day (jan 1) is @sub-text : bro is my fucking favorite. i would clean up bottles with you on new year's day. you're so nice it makes me want to cry. i always get sentimental on new years and your writing makes me so sappy and soft bro. you write with such dedication to detail and i can't get enough of it. when i tell you my entire world reset after reading "the bet," i'm sirius serious.

valentine's day (feb 14) is @fairydxll : thanks for this ask btw! imma be honest i tried to urban dictionary what cym was but i'm hoping i got it right and it's "cast your mutuals." (UD was no help i used tumblr.) anyway, you're pink, sparkly, and precious, and you quite literally sent me a heart. i envison you as just the sweetest person ever.

johnny appleseed day (march 11) is @emmaev : i love this johnny dude. tbh no clue if he's real, but as a kid i read a book about him and it was great plus you make me just as happy as i feel when i'm apple picking. you're so insanely supportive and kind and seem down-to-earth and i think johnny would admire your thoughtfulness.

april fool's day (april 1) is @yourallihave : my tumblr wife, obviously. i appreciate you so much. your blog is bright pink and spunky, seeing your name in my notifs always makes me smile, and you have the rare ability to actually make me laugh from something i read online. not just one of those huffs or snorts, yknow?

may day (may 1) is @prettylestrange : colorful hair, colorful blog, and glowing personality. you're like the epitome of spring. i've only ever seen american may day, but it's always full of floral skirts, flower crowns, and the pole with the ribbons and stuff and if midsommar weren't a horror movie, you'd be the may queen.

national apple strudel day (june 17) is @forourmoons : (*said like timothee chalamet in don't look up*) i fucking love apple struedel just likei fucking love you. i'm your biggest fan. you're so talented and you're so interactive with everyone that it feels like you're the perfect flaky pastry crust gordon ramsey would approve of.

national bagelfest day (july 26) is @vendettaparker : if i have extra time in the morning, i'll sit down and grab a bagel before school. your writing is so indulgent and part of the reason i started writing so thank you very much i love you very much. it actually took me a long time to start liking bagels, but when i tried soft bagels for the first time dear god i ascended discovering your blog literally awakened a new jenny.

world plant milk day (aug 22) is @munsonsreputation : hear me out. i'm very passionate about soymilk, but my adoration for your blog comes close second. the way you write with such a balance of artistry, fourth-wall-defying humor, and an understanding of characters makes you as cool as plant milk imo.

dear diary day (sep 22) is @masivechaos : nobody pulls off dark academia like you do. you remind me of hand-me-down sweaters, scrapbook journals, and chocolate covered coffee beans. you're friendly and courteous and i think anyone would feel comfortable talking to you.

halloween (oct 31) is @omenhel : the whole black and white theme fits the vibe and all, but most importantly you seem like someone bold, lighthearted, and who values trying to stay true to themselves. plus you send me asks and it's like getting trick-or-treaters at my door.

(no th*nksg*v*ng on this blog boooo colonization boooo)

[nineratsinatrenchcoat]

Fic Glossary

(approximately ten of them because I do not write that much. Do I write that much? yeah, I think.)

Below the cut!!

1. Leap Through a Box

Fandom: Amphibia

Summary: What if Marcy had fallen into the portal with Anne and the Plantars after being stabbed? Canon Divergence with heaps of angst-with-happy-ending, plus a dark twist to make everyone suffer.

2. Hooty’s Lullaby

Fandom: The Owl House

Summary: Two lost, scared children show up at the Owl House thirty years apart. Hooty does what a good parent should.

3. Dinosaur's Best Friend

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary: Bumpy has an eventful day, and each of the campers are dragged along for the ride. Luckily for them, she's an exceptionally good listener. As long as you give her food, anyway.

In which Bumpy gets some TLC and the campers get some time to think. Takes place between Seasons 2 and 3.

4. You are One in a Krillion

Fandom: Happy Feet 2

Summary: Bill and Will are adapting to life under the ice; a life free from danger. But the nightmares remain.

5. The Right to Hope

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Endeavor is on a mission to legalize gay marriage in Japan.

Hizashi Yamada and Shota Aizawa have dodged questions about their relationship for twelve years. Their future could be brighter than they had ever imagined, but will they allow themselves to believe that?

Directly inspired by and takes place in the same universe as The Right To Be by Strawhat_Pirate.

6. The Girl at the Railing

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary: Yaz finds something to draw on the ferry to Isla Nublar. Or, rather, someone. Created for Day 2 of Yasammy Week: Sketchbook.

7. The Beaver of Love: A Buc-ee’s Adventure

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary: Sammy teaches Yaz the in and outs of Buc-ee’s. Created for Day 7 of Yasammy Week: Free Day.

8. you're a great girl, and I like you, but...

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary: Ben tries to let Yaz down easy when he realizes (thinks) she has a crush on him. He tells her something that he's been keeping in for a while.

9. Just a Cow

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary:

There were two important things that Bessie was 100%, absolutely sure of:

1. Four out of five of the Gutierrez family members would NOT give her chips. 2. One would give her chips. And scratches, and fruit loops, and whatever else she wanted.

Until, one day, Sammy Gutierrez disappeared.

Alternatively: Bessie, and the Gutierrez family at large, try to make sense of tragedy.

10. what you deserve

Fandom: Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous

Summary:

Daniel Kon was a logical man. Every business decision, every investor, every employee had been selected with precision, with surety, and Kash Langford was no exception. He hadn't exactly been hired for his technical skills, but what he lacked in those was made up by his... interpersonal ones.

Daniel just hadn't expected the man to seize control of Mantah Corp island. That was unforgivable.

[justaglooomygirl]

Black Butler. I repeat, Black Butler.

Like, what the fuck are you doing in an anime/manga which has (deep inhale) cannibalism, murder, arson, pedophile, physical abuse, sexual abuse, child abuse, sexualized childeren, gore, blood, violence, sex scenes, incest, bullying, shotacon things, LGBTQ characters, dark grey main characters, satanic rituals, and a devil himself IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WİTH THEM AT ALL? WHY?? (phew) Stop torturing yourself. Go watch something else for gods sake. All you are doing is talk shit about it and whine, it looks weird.

And don't even make me start with Sebaciel. DUDE, They are canon, they were since the beginning and always going to be canon. Anyone who analyzes Yana's blog and the original art can understand this if they have braincells. You don't have to like it but you can't harass people who ship it when it's literally THE MAIN STORY OF THE MANGA. You can't harass people who enjoy what the author is doing. If it's not meant for you, ıf it makes you go upset, do not read or watch it. End of story.

Sincerely, go watch something else (you probably won't find any good fantastic anime without those things but give it a try.)

-Skip to Loafer is a peaceful and fun slice of life anime for instance. It's funny and cute.

-ALL GHİBLİ MOVİES are made from gold ♥️ (and most of them are in fantasy anime genre)

-Toilet Bound Hanako Kun is good too but it has blood and mild gore in it soooooo...your choice.

-Little Witch Academia maybe?

-The boy and the beast. Fantastic 🤌

-Any sport anime (most of them are 'safe' ıdk if you are getting 'triggered' by LGBTQ stuff but we are in 2024 bro 🙄. Idk if every sport anime has LGBTQ characters in it but some does. )

-Mashle Magic and Muscles. Harry Potter vibe this means BB season 4 vibe. Enjoy.

-My Happy Marriage. Romance stuff.

-Dungeon Meshi maybe? Are you allergic to monsters? Then don't watch. (Blood and FLESHHHH 🥩)

That's all I can recommend. You can't always find animes which don't have those "disgusting" stuff, at least they are rare in my list.

If you are a minor I don't recommend BB in any way, but I can't control you so you can do whatever you like. Still, it's wise to look at the age range when watching something, you might get traumatized from it. Everything on the internet is not meant for you, and it's fine. You shouldn't rush yourself to learn and watch every damn thing, it's pointless. The internet is not a book to be finished. The amount of blogs, wikipedias, and knowledge in it is infinive and not everything is made for you. I myself started anime at 14 and my first anime was Hunter x Hunter without looking up anything about it, I thought it was a simple kid anime like Tsubasa or Sailor Moon all fun and games and oh boy the amount of blood in the following seasons made me want to puke. Like, some buff guy in Spider Gang BITE A MAN'S HEAD LİKE BİTİNG A DAMN APPLE AND CHEW İT "CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH" THEN SPİTED A PİECE OF SKULL TO ANOTHER MAN AND IT BLOWED HİS HEAD OFF LİKE A BULLET. I was like "😨". I made a poker face because my big sis was next to me, If she would have looked at what I was watching she would be mad at me since IT WASN'T something a 14 year old girl would watch. I kinda regret not watching something softer back then, cuz now I don't like HxH at all. It really is a shame cuz it's a good anime. Though I still love the characters, I just can't help but feel weird when I try to watch it. I didn't even finish it, it's the only anime I didn't finish it (and it doesn't even have anything to do with its length). It's a shame really. You should be aware of a show's age rating or at least the warnings it contains.

If you are an adult, nothing changes, don't watch something you are not okay with.

Anyway, just go watch things like those animes I recommend instead of Black Butler if the show is too much for you. Everyone has their limits and preferences, determine yours. You don't have to watch or like every anime that has a new season or a big comeback like Black Butler does. Don't force yourself on that, and use internet efficiency while respecting other users as you should.

I can list so many fandoms rn

[oyyhoyy]

Spring 2023 Anime Preview: The Best Shows to Watch

The spring 2023 anime season is here, and there are a ton of new shows to get excited about! From action-packed adventures to heartwarming comedies, there's something for everyone in this season's lineup. Here are some of the best shows to watch this spring:

My Hero Academia Season 6

Fans of the popular superhero anime will be thrilled to see the return of My Hero Academia. Season 6 promises to be just as action-packed as its predecessors, as Deku and his classmates face off against new villains and hone their powers.

Jujutsu Kaisen 0 Movie

While Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 won't be airing until later this year, fans can still get their fix with the Jujutsu Kaisen 0 movie. This prequel delves into the backstory of fan-favorite character Gojo Satoru, and is sure to be a hit with both longtime fans and newcomers to the series.

Fruits Basket: The Final Season

Fruits Basket has been a beloved anime since its first season aired in 2019, and fans have been eagerly awaiting the final season. The emotional story of Tohru and the Sohma family will come to a conclusion in this season, and it's sure to be a tearjerker.

Shadows House

Shadows House is a dark and intriguing mystery anime that follows the story of a young girl named Emilico, who lives in a strange mansion with a family of shadowy figures. As Emilico unravels the secrets of the mansion and its inhabitants, she realizes that her own past may be more complicated than she thought.

The Way of the Househusband Part 2

The Way of the Househusband is a hilarious comedy about a former yakuza member who becomes a stay-at-home husband. Part 2 picks up where the first season left off, as Tatsu continues to navigate the challenges of domestic life while trying to keep his former life a secret.

These are just a few of the great anime shows to watch this spring. Whether you're a fan of action, comedy, or drama, there's something for everyone in this season's lineup. Happy watching!