#i am actually screaming from the top of my lungs

[theemporium]

CHLOE I AM SOBBING??? THIS IS AMAZING??? IT IS JUST??? THIS TUGGED ON MY HEART STRINGS IN FIFTY BILLION DIFFERENT WAYS AND I AM NOT OKAY 

how we survive | azriel

summary; you and rhysand keep one another sane under the mountain, until you can return to your mate, at long last. word count; 5143 notes; yeah, listen, this is rough. obvious trigger warnings for UTM stuff, not just for rhys but reader too. it's hard going. this is pretty much pure angst. also, it's not romantically rhys, but there's honestly more rhys than az, I think. it's just an angsty little piece, so, roll with it. please take caution when reading though, there are quite a few sensitive triggers in it.

If there was one thing Rhysand had both hated and loved in his time Under the Mountain, it had been your presence. He'd been reluctant to take you to the party at all; the party he'd prepared to go to and never leave, the party at which he'd planned to commit his biggest sin of all. And yet, he hadn't been able to stop you, when he'd banned all of his friends from attending in his company, and you'd laid your own invitation on the dinner table before him. Amarantha had wanted you both, and not bringing you would have risen suspicions from the start. And so, the Night Court's favourite courtier, the infamous star in the dark, the woman known to bring kingdoms to her knees with a well-placed smile, had bowed with mock politeness before the red-haired Queen at his side.

For ten years after that fateful night, Rhysand had told you how he hated himself every day for allowing you to come with him, let his chin wobble in rare moments alone as he apologised profusely. In the eleventh year, even that small part of his restraint had broken. He'd clung to you, sobbing endlessly until his knees had given way, until the two of you had been slumped against the wall in one of your hidden nooks, crying in one another's arms. He'd confessed his pain, that over that last couple of years he'd stopped feeling guilty at all, he'd stopped wishing he could go back and change that day, change the way it all happened. 

You'd watched his face crumble as he confessed he wasn't sorry at all anymore, that he thought himself selfish and heartless, for thanking the Mother you had come, that he had someone, a friend he cared for so much, a friend he loved so dearly, just one person who knew he wasn't truly a monster, even on the days he thought he was slowly becoming one. You'd cried too, and told him he was your only remaining tether to your heart, that as everything else was slowly becoming stone as cold and hard as the walls confining you both, he was your star in the dark.

For forty years after that day, you had shared Rhysand's bed. Every night he wasn't held by Amarantha until morning, he'd crawl back into his bed, into your arms, and cry silently into your neck until he fell asleep. Every night you weren't expected to play the seductive courtier, the role Amarantha had carved for you, a prize she'd reward for loyalty, the only thing keeping you safe, you crawled back to him. And he held you, soothing your hiccuping sobs with soft murmurs, playing with your hair until you dozed off. Every night, you held one another, tethered one another, found new ways, every way possible to stop the other's soul from shattering entirely. 

He would use those lingering pieces of his powers to show you memories of Azriel, when so many decades had passed you'd both begun to forget what their faces looked like, the emotions held in every snapshot warmed you both through. Every story you whispered in the dark, the same ones over and over of your family back home, never failed to bring either of you back from the brink. Jokes from Cassian that you both knew word for word, tales Azriel would tell of all the wonderful places he'd see on his travels, stories from Mor of her parties, myths from Amren, everything that stitched the broken pieces of you both together, holding tight, as long as you could. 

You'd whisper to him, as his head lay on your chest and your fingers combed through dark hair, what it felt like to have a mate. And somehow, despite all the darkness, the smile that would paint his lips let you know that he believed it when you told him he'd have that one day. When you were overwhelmed, when the façade became too much, Rhysand would sweep you up into dances to keep away the filthy hands of those males that always slipped too far, and he'd waltz you across the floor until you could no longer stand. He'd make sure to stay sober on the nights you drank, to keep an eye on you as you sent yourself into oblivion to simply forget it, and you'd do the same for him on the nights he could no longer bare it. He kept you warm, he kept you whole, he kept you sane, as you did for him.

The day he had woken up, gasping for breath and jerking so violently in your arms that it stirred you too, he spilt all about that first dream; when he'd first seen that woman. He told you every morning, as you shared a pillow, with soft smiles before the day truly started, he'd recount every detail of what he'd seen the mysterious woman in his dreams do. He told you about the flowers on the table, the scenes of a forest he didn't recognise, a human town and what it was like. He told you of the night he sent something back, the night sky image he'd pushed to her, the glint in his eyes that had been missing for almost half a century was finally back.

That night, when the two of you recalled one of the many well-worn tales Cassian would tell when drunk, instead of merely smiling fondly, the two of you had laughed. Laughed so hard and loud that tears spilled from your eyes, you'd been clutching one another, gasping for breath at the amusement of old memories. And you'd stayed awake all night, talking and sharing jokes, until the silent halls outside the doors had filled with sound once again. 

He'd come back shaking from his trip to Calanmai, wound up in such a frenzy that when he fell into bed that night you'd had to spread your entire body across the top of his to hold his shaking down. The night after, when he'd returned looking stricken and pale from his visit to Spring Court, he'd thrown up every bite of dinner the two of you had shared, he’d cried his way through three bottles of wine as he told you about how he just knew that woman, the woman from his dreams, the one he'd met, was his mate. How he'd never see her again, but was so grateful for such a gift. You were sure it was breaking the final parts of your heart, as he clung to you that night so tightly, in a way he hadn't done since the first few years of seeking comfort in one another.

When you'd watched his face fall apart as Feyre, her name finally known to you both, had been dragged into the main hall, you'd done what you do best, what you'd done for months-shy of fifty years. You gave your everything to hold Rhys together. When you watched the last threads begin to fray, you'd pressed a drink into his hand, and stood behind his chair, running your fingers through his hair and crooned mocking words at his mate that only made Amarantha laugh; you'd felt Rhys jerk away from your touch in anger at you for saying such wicked things, but you knew it was best. His fear turned to anger, his emotions were directed at you and not his mate, and it saved his life. 

You let him be angry, that night you had let him seethe, you had let him turn away from you in your shared bed, let him sleep so far from your body that not even his wings touched you, even if it broke your heart. The following morning, you did the same, you grinned and giggled as Amarantha practically tortured Feyre, and Rhysand wore his usual mask, the anger broiling at you fuelling all of it. You saved his life, again. He did not come to bed at all that night. In the morning, his smell was in the bathroom, the door locked, as he scrubbed away the scent of Amarantha that lingered in the air. 

And upon the day of Feyre's first trial, you sowed the seeds as he fretted over his mate. You lounged, and gambled on her success to incite others against the Queen, you danced with any male bold enough to try and get his hands on you only to whisper into his ear your own misgivings. When murmurings of Feyre possibly breaking the curse reached Rhysand's ears from the crowd by the end of the night, you watched something spark in his eyes. 

When he came to bed that night, he smelt of the dampness of the mountain dungeons, of blood and of humans, and he collapsed down tiredly with his cheek pressed to your shoulder, whispering his apologies, begging for forgiveness. And you held him, you answered by wrapping your arms so tightly around him he shuddered with suppressed sobs, because you'd felt that craze, that pain, that longing, with your own mate. The one you were so desperate to see once again someday, and you hoped Feyre was the key.

She was. You watched her die to break the curse, you watched Rhysand prepare to give his life with her, and you prepared to give your own to stop him. It took every shred of strength that you'd had to hold him back, everything you had when he'd clawed and fought at you to let him go when he'd watched Amarantha snap her neck, and he'd collapsed to the floor in shock, staring at you in agony and betrayal as the breaking sound of her neck echoed the cavernous room.

You'd cupped his face, fingers smoothing over the tears on his cheeks to clear them, the sounds of Tamlin tearing Amarantha to shreds falling away as background noise. "Hold the bond, Rhysand. Grip it tight, use that power that's coming back, and hold on. Do not let her go, you can keep her with you." And so he had, he hadn't blinked, hadn't flinched, while you'd held his eye and wiped away every tear, until he'd gasped on a hoarse throat, lips flickering at the edges. "I've got her." He had whispered. 

Everything had been a blur after that, watching all of the high Lords bring her back, Rhys' fingers had never left your own for even a second once he'd taken your hand. Everything was changing, too much, too fast from the way it had sat stagnant and rotting for fifty years, and you were both afraid to let the other go. Afraid that if you did, the other would disappear. On the balcony, as he called to her, to make sure she was alright and that everything would begin to fall as it should, he finally let you go, but only when you felt his mind wrap around yours wholly; no walls, nothing between you both now as it had been for so long. With his power back, he dared to, he dared to let his hand leave yours just to step a few metres away onto the balcony, to take a breath of fresh air, as he clung to your mind with his own. A safety net, a reassurance. 

He'd panicked, you'd felt the snapping of his mate bond in his chest, felt it ricochet through his connection to you, and before you’d known it, the two of you were gone. His hands were gripping your shoulders as pure night unfurled around you both, and when you could see again, you were home. 

Walls you thought you'd never lay eyes on again, paintings you'd forgotten the colours of, people whose faces you'd forgotten, smells that had long since faded from your nose, it all came crashing down. Mor had been the first there, and she'd caught Rhysand as he collapsed, mumbling about his mate, the utterly numbing feeling that washed over your whole body when that bond snapped, you'd felt it yourself. And for the first time in fifty years, you felt your bond hum, pulse, and jump-start within your chest. A dead thread as heavy as chains that had been wrapped around your heart with the suppression of that mountain, that curse, it finally came back to life. You felt the pull, so hard and fast you stumbled forward, knees hitting the ground so harshly you winced, your palms shooting out to catch yourself before you hit the tiles. 

You never reached them, though, your shoulders jerked as you were caught, cold shadows whipping as space and time were wrenched open, and then a warm body was holding you. You gasped, a heaving breath, nails scraping over thick leather as you tried to haul heavy breaths into lungs that refused to open. Your head was spinning, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The smells, that same comforting smell you'd forgotten so long ago were now washing over you in waves, every taut muscle went loose as you collapsed into his chest. 

Your mate, your husband, your love. 

His arms circled you, strong and warm and safe, so much like the way Rhysand had held you but never enough, never the same, he hadn't been Azriel. No, now you had him, and he shushed you, his entire body trembling almost as much as yours did, crying as hard and as loudly as you did, gripping with the same fierceness. You were shrouded with darkness, his wings wrapping around you, a warmth that no fire or blanket could ever bring, shadows swirling faster and faster until you were practically concealed inside of a bubble only for the two of you. 

Nothing was said, not as the bond between you both finally sang, a feeling you'd once worried would never come back, a feeling you'd accepted was lost to you years ago, it was back. You felt every burst of Azriel's emotions, crashing in vicious collisions with yours, both of you left breathless to finally be able to feel one another again. That bond was pulling tight, strumming between your two hearts in absolute ecstasy.

When you'd finally been able to pull away, you'd had no strength at all. You'd remained slumped on the floor, surrounded by his wings and a thick wall of shadows, but you mustered enough strength. Enough to cup his face, to run your thumbs over his cheeks, to memorise the way he looked once again, to commit every single piece of him to heart, to promise never again to forget the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he finally smiled, to never forget the shine in those amber eyes, to never forget the curl of his lips as he whispered your name. 

It was hours before his shadows finally calmed enough to free the two of you, to let the light of the home slip back in. Hours of whispered conversations, hours of confessions and tears, hours of long stretches of silence that consisted of merely holding one another, drowning in one another once again. 

When the light started to leak in, conversation from outside of that bubble was returned, and your chest swelled full of emotions you thought you'd cried out. It was back, great tidal waves of it as you set your eyes on Cassian, who'd dropped to his knees so fast you thought they'd crack, and swept you into a hug so crushing you'd feel it for days. You cried with him, and held him, with Azriel's fingers never quite leaving you, always there, always touching. 

When Mor had taken Cassian's place, Azriel had hovered, finally standing, stretching out legs that had lost sensation, flexing tight wings, his hand resting in your hair as he rubbed soothingly at your scalp. No matter how long passed, he'd never forgotten just how to give you exactly what you needed. Then Amren, she had always been cold, always composed, and yet even she had offered a smile, a thick swallow with a nod of her head, and a hug that lasted barely a few seconds but held everything you needed to know. Even Amren had missed you both.

Dinner that night was quiet, and tense, with everyone waiting for you or Rhys to say something, everyone waiting for someone else to break the silence. You'd taken a seat next to your friend, your best friend, on instinct. Azriel had a hand resting over your knee, on the back of your chair, always touching you in some way. Yet those skittish touches had paused when Rhysand had reached out, instinctively, taking your hand during one of Cassian's stories and lacing your fingers together, hidden under the table to sit on his thigh. You'd felt confusion, and hurt, echo down the bond, as shadows swirled possessively of their own accord around your wrist, tugging at Rhysand’s impatiently.

You squeezed your friend’s hand tighter, and sent nothing but love down the bond to your mate. It was hard, to snap out of a mentality that you'd grown so used to over fifty years. You were lost, sinking in it all, you couldn't breathe, like you were being pulled down through the thick lakes in Oorid. No matter how much you loved your friends, no matter how much you had missed them, it was too much, all at once. 

Your breathing got shallower and shallower, and you could feel Rhysand's pulse beating faster and faster against your own as he felt the same. The night was running on, but the food was tasting like ash in your mouth and the wine was bitter and made you cringe, and you were gripping one another's hands so tightly that each of your knuckles were white. 

Rhysand had snapped first, standing abruptly and taking your hand with him, everyone's gaze closing in on it, and he dropped it a second too late. He said he needed his quiet, he needed some space, needed to think. They understood, and you could have cried when they bid you a soft farewell, before Azriel had winnowed you both home. Home to a bedroom you barely recognised anymore, to unfamiliar smells. A bedroom with windows, the light of the night pouring in, the sounds of happiness in the streets buzzing in your ears. 

Silence, was all that was left after Azriel drew the curtains, and prepared to change for bed. You were frozen, in the middle of the room, because you couldn't remember. You couldn't remember your own home now, you couldn't remember where your pyjamas were, or which side of the bed was yours, or even what your address was. 

And something broke. Tears streamed wordlessly, soundlessly, down your cheeks as you stared at the bed, a bed you hardly remembered. The longer you looked, the harder your chest heaved. It was made of pale wood, covered by thick blue sheets made of cotton and pillows that were fresh and crisp and white. But, dark silk taunted you behind your eyes, mountains of maroon pillows on a black frame, the wicked curve of red lips as you recalled the room Amarantha had given to you, given to both you and Rhysand, a sick gift as she promised you that you could 'have her dripping leftovers' back each night. A game, just another one she'd played with you, as she tested how far she could push you and Rhys, to see if you'd ever both truly snap.

Azriel approached, slowly and cautiously, one hand looping loosely around your waist, the other coming up to weave into your hair, moving until your face was pressed to his neck. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," There was so much wrong, so much you couldn't remember, couldn't shake away, so much you hated about yourself and what had happened that you would never be able to leave behind. Things you may never be able to voice.

"I-I could smell it - him - on you as soon as I held you." His voice cracked, and confusion filled you, sadness of his own meeting yours in a twist between your hearts. Worst of all, came the crushing guilt, because you'd always imagined that coming home to Azriel would be nothing short of perfection, and yet the routine you'd formed with Rhysand was jarring in its absence now. "It's okay, it was so long. He was all you had, and it's okay. I can feel that you still love me, as I still love you. It's okay if you love him too."

"Azriel. Az, my love. Rhysand, he held me together when I missed you so much I thought I'd never-" You choked on a sob, and he only nodded, head moving as it lay atop yours to tell you he understood, you didn't have to say it. "I love him, I love him more than anything, and he gave me everything he had under that mountain, as I gave him everything I had, to keep one another whole. But please, believe me, trust me, and rest assured when I say that I have never been in love with anyone other than you."

He pressed a kiss to your temple, head dipping to kiss your cheeks, your nose, everywhere he could reach, before he was pausing with his lips brushing your own. He believed you, you knew, you felt it, and when his lips closed softly over your own, a fresh batch of tears poured from both of you. It was soft, and delicate, learning the taste of one another once again, and when he pulled back, it was like he was taking all of your thoughts with him. "It's okay. We can learn it all again, everything, I'll show you it all. You are home, you are back with me, and I will not let you go again."

"I was worried this was a dream," you whispered, voice thick as he guided you slowly towards the bed, and you tried to blink back any more tears. Your throat was raw, your eyes burned and your skin was stinging from how much you cried today. You didn't want anymore. you couldn't. "But I know that it's not a dream. I know, because I had forgotten the smallest details of your face, the way you smelled, and how it felt to be held by you. I know it's not a dream, because my mind had lost the ability to conjure you like this for comfort so long ago."

You sat nervously on the side of the bed that he directed you to, and it felt familiar. It felt reassuring, your fingers brushing over the bedside table on this side as it all started to come back to you. You watched as he silently moved to the dresser against the wall. One with a vase full of fresh flowers, you did remember that, you loved those fresh flowers, it had been your pride to get new ones for the bedroom every week, and you'd missed flowers so much when you'd been where none would grow. He opened a drawer, pulling out a set of pyjamas you didn't remember owning, but the fact he'd never packed your things away, they'd always sat here waiting for you, made you settle so much you felt weightless.

"I want to-" You didn't know, didn't know how to say that you couldn't wear those, that they no longer belonged to you, they weren't what you wanted, or needed. Some kind of base need thrummed down the bond, instinctive and subconscious, but the flare of his wings told you that Azriel understood. Slowly, he reached behind himself, unbuttoning the clasps of his leathers, stripping off that top layer and discarding it to the floor. A soft but worn t-shirt sat underneath, stuck to his skin and falling loose with every heavy breath. He undid that too, but rather than throwing it, he held it out.

It was warm, the heat of his body keeping it so as it fell into your hands, and you clutched the bundle up to your nose, taking a deep breath, and feeling the last of the tension drip from your body. Standing on weak and shaky legs, you stripped off your clothes, uncaring of the eyes that never left your form. Your body hadn't been your own for a long time now, simply another possession of Amarantha's, and you were too tired to care about his stare. Even as he took in every new bruise or scar, even as he took in every fresh new whorl of ink on your skin, and itched to know what kind of bargains you'd had to make that branded you. 

When you tugged his shirt over your head, feeling the brush of the warm cotton, drenched in his scent, your head spun. And for the first time in the whole night, you finally felt truly at home. You could breathe, lungs filling all the way up, a rush through your blood. Seconds later, Azriel's knuckles were brushing your back, quietly doing up the clasps to hold the material closed, despite the gaping patches from your lack of wings. When he finished, you fell into bed, puffing up the pillows and watching tiredly as he changed himself. He did not bother with a shirt, despite the chill in the air, and you both knew why. 

He plunged the room into darkness before joining you in bed, and the second he was within reach under the covers, you plastered your body to his. He chuckled lightly, though no humour filled it, and his hands gripped you just as tightly as you held him. 

It was within that same tight embrace that you fell asleep. It was soundless sleep, one of exhaustion and weariness that not even nightmares could find you, but the second your subconscious felt Azriel moving, you were snapped from it so violently your stomach churned. 

Your hand flew out to his side of the bed, warm still, fingers grasping the sheets as panic rose. It was dark, so dark, you couldn't see a thing and for a second you were sure you had dreamt it all. You were alone again, wrapped in taunting silk in a horrid shade of red as Rhys was detained by Amarantha again, and it was as you were gulping in harsh breaths that you heard it. Knocking, loud and reverberating through your home from the wooden front door. Shadows whispered across your cheeks as your hand flung out, illuminating the faelight on the bedside table. Your hand crashed into the lamp, knocking it into the wall. 

Swirls of darkness remained around you even as the room was lit, and you took a deep breath. They were comforting, weaving through your hair and nudging across your cheeks to wipe away tears, a sure sign that your mate hadn't been ripped from you once again, but it didn't stop the fear. Nothing stopped it, until he returned, the banging stopped, and he reappeared sleepily in the open bedroom doorway, slipping inside. As you set your eyes on him, you could finally breathe again, and he rubbed tiredly at his face, but rigidly alert the second he took in the tear tracks on your cheeks in the faint glow of the room.

"What happened, my love?"

"You- you can't-" Your heart stammered, chest aching at the tightness, and you held hard onto his hands to tug him closer as soon as his knees hit the bed. "You can't leave me. You can't go. Anywhere. I thought- I was alone again, don't leave me, Azriel, don't go, don't-"

He shook his head, closing in enough to press a shaky kiss to your lips, and when you calmed enough to twist back to your pillows, you realised he hadn't returned alone. Lingering in the doorway was Rhysand, dried tear stains on his own cheeks, feet bare as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. 

"I'm sorry for coming here." He whispered, shrugging helplessly as a laugh so hollow and self-deprecating left him your own heart ached. You could feel the agony washing down the bond from Azriel, as he took in his long-lost brother. "I... I can't sleep without you. I can't sleep alone. I'm too scared to get in my bed. It's too big, and cold, and-"

You shifted further into the large bed toward the middle, toward Azriel's side, then lifted the covers, and Rhysand cut himself off with a sniffle, holding back his tears like you were trying to do. He shuffled across the room, stumbling in a way so un-lordlike you committed it to memory, until one day, maybe, you'd be healed enough to tease him for it. He settled into the bed, and you tucked the blankets around his body as he settled into the mattress, finally losing a sigh, that carried away everything he'd been holding onto. 

"I'm sorry, Azriel."

Your mate settled in behind you, one arm curling under your body to pull you flush to his back, the other reaching over you, beyond you, to settle a comforting weight on Rhysand's shoulder. The lord's eyes lined with silver, and he squeezed them shut. "You have nothing to be sorry for, brother. You kept my mate alive, you stopped her from breaking, and you brought her home to me. I am happy that you found solace in one another, and that you are both home. If it had to happen, I would not wish it to have happened any other way. If this is what you need, then this is what you shall have."

You settled one hand over Azriel's where it held you tightly to his body, and the other reached out, settling over Rhys' and weaving your friend's fingers through your own from where it sat on his pillow. He gripped back tightly, sniffing back tears once again. "Thank you." He whispered, voice unable to go any louder. 

He winked out the lamp once again, three sets of breaths harmonising in the room as true peace fell over you all. "Thank you, for taking care of her, Rhysand. One day, when you find your mate, I hope I'll somehow be able to repay that debt. But this? You can have this for as long as you need. We are yours for as long as you need us."

Rhys whispered his thanks, the words hanging in the air, and he tapped at your mental shields. You squeezed, knowing what he wanted, and he gave a soft scrape in silent thanks. He wasn't ready to tell them yet, to tell the rest of your family that he had met his mate, that he knew her and lost her, but he would one day. Until then, you'd keep his secret, and you'd slowly heal, together, now that you were home.

[skitskatdacat63]

Sorry guys for being completely unhinged this weekend 🙏 but I can't help it and I refuse to be normal about it

[housederiva]

In reference to a reblog so you interacted with where you were confused with what they said, that person was alluding to you being on the Community Council

asdfghjkl BioWare knows I never shut up and I love attention, I could never. (BioWare if you see this I can be trusted with your little secrets please trust me with your little secrets) I'm not on anything besides Tumblr.com

[stabyou]

being online makes me feel so isolated because i cant reach out to a single soul without feeling terrified of the rejection. im too tired to be any kind of meaningful friend or even mutual, but i have absolutely no one in real life. i come online for my crumbs of socialization and human interaction that i desperately crave, but once i have it i just feel more lonely. like people talk to me out of pity, out of feeling sorry, or just that they will always have people they like more. i feel like a baby. i feel like someone who will always be watching everyone else live the life i desperately want through the lens of social media while i rot alone in the house that killed me before i was born

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Me posting: HEY!! I LOVE SPAM LIKERS!!! LOVE TO SEE YOU AROUND!!! FANDOM IS A COMMUNITY AND WE ARE SHARING THIS SPACE TOGETHER AND ITS FUN AND GREAT AND MAKES ME SMILE!!! AND PEOPLE PUTTING STUFF IN THE TAGS?? I SEE YOU TOO AND I LOVE YOU AND-

Me reblogging: Ohhh I'm so sorry for the spam tags oohhhh :( I'm so sorry I'm such a nuisance sometimes oh noes I'm sorry it will happen again and the spam liking is such a bad habit and oh no-

I'm wondering if someone hits me on the head hard enough if I'll go back to not giving a shit. Because this is Tumblr. Who give a shit?

This is your reminder that if you love to see it, then you should let yourself give it too. Anxiety can go suck one.

[stupidpop]

folie à deux............

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?�� Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[henry7931]

Haunted By A Horny Ghost

Travis:

6 months ago, I purchased my house and I got an amazing deal for it. Granted I’ve heard some of the rumors about it being haunted but I don’t really believe in that stuff. Or I didn’t until now!

I’d hear an occasional creaking of the stairs or some noise in the hallway. I always told myself that I’m just getting worked up from some made up story. And at no point did I actually see any evidence, no shadow figures, objects floating, idk things ghost do.

And I have a lot of personal stuff going on, being single and young can be tough. And I have a lot of bills to pay.

But a few weeks ago, my step dad’s nephew Brad (or my step cousin) came to me after a bad break up and needing somewhere to live— I figured a roommate for a little bit could help me save up some cash.

Brad is your typical straight guy, loves sports, goes to sport bars at night when he’s not at his construction job.

I figured living with him couldn’t be that bad. That said, in practicality he’s a bit of a slob at home and his room is a mess. Dirty laundry laying everywhere, he brings over his buds and girls over for late night hook ups. He can be a bit of a pain at times but I have to remember that I’m getting half of my mortgage paid right now.

But one night, Brad came home late like 2 in the morning. I was still up myself. I was supposed to have a guy come over that night since I knew I had the place to myself but unfortunately he cancelled last minute.

So I was a little drunk and horny. When I heard the Brad’s Uber pull up, I peaked out the window to see if he brought anyone home. Luckily, it was just him clumsy climbing out of the car.

As I watch him approach the door, I see him struggling to get it open.

I roll my eyes, I guess I’ll help him out.

I head to the stairs, when I hear the door finally open up. I start to turn back around when out of nowhere I hear Brad screaming on the top of his lungs.

I rush down the stairs only to see something that I never thought I’d ever see…

Brad is standing by the shut door while astral smoke shaped like a person forces itself down his throat.

Unsure what to do, I stood frozen in one spot. I watched whatever was forcing itself into Brad go all the way into him.

His eyes close… and then reopen. He takes a deep breath of air.

“God it feels so good to breathe again! Wait a minute, am I drunk??”

He starts laughing to myself and I try to back up. I take my back leg and try to step backwards. But the floor are wooden and old. As I step back, he hears it and looks directly at me.

“Oh it’s you! Travis right?”

“Ahhh shit!!!”

I rush up the stairs running in a panic. All I can hear in the background is Brad’s voice saying, “Wait!!! Stop running!!”

I get to my bedroom, I lock the door and try to think of a game plan to get out.

I look around my room, think to myself— I could tie my sheets together and go out the window.

That’s when I hear a knock.

“Travis, it’s me. I don’t know what all you saw but can we talk?”

What can I do? Risk the chance of breaking my neck by going out the window or reason with the ghost now inhabiting Brad not to kill me.

“Travis! I promise I’m not going to hurt you!! Please open up!” he says banging louder.

I look around my room for something I could use as a weapon but unfortunately the only thing I can find is a clothing hanger.

“Hey im going to open up but you better not try anything funny!” I say back to him holding the hanger in hand.

“You have my word, I won’t harm you.”

With the coat hanger in one hand, I carefully unlock the door and open it.

Standing outside of the door is Brad’s body, grinning at me.

“Well hi, what are you going to do with that coat hanger?”

“Protect myself!” I blurt out.

He starts laughing at me and says, “well fyi if you hit me with it you’re just hurting this guy. Plus, he’s a lot taller than you.”

“Fuck, fine.”

I lower the coat hanger and let him come in.

He glides into the room and he seems to be enjoying himself.

I watch him and he eventually says to me, “so ask the question you want to know the answer to.”

“Huh?”

“I know you want answers, so ask.”

“Okay… are you a ghost?”

“Yes”

“And is Brad still alive?”

“Also, yes— he’s in here but in like a dormant state while I drive.”

I feel somewhat realized to know that Brad’s okay.

“So why are you possessing Brad when I’ve been here longer.”

“Well who’s to say I haven’t possessed you?”

“WHAT?!?”

“Kidding, no Brad’s my first time taking over someone. I honestly wasn’t sure if it was due able but I did it! The real question you should be asking is what made me choose tonight to try and take over Brad.”

“Okay, why tonight?”

“Well… Travis, I’ve been watching you since you moved in. I hope that’s not too creepy. Being a ghost and stuck inside a house, leaves me with very little to do. But you and I have a lot in common. Both of us are gay, we share a lot of the same interests. Hell you and I even like the same porn. I guess what I’m saying is that, I have a bit of a crush on you. And after seeing you get stood up tonight, I felt like you deserve someone to uhh— keep you company.”

I was shocked, not only has a gay ghost been watching me for over six months but he’s now flirting with me?

“Sorry if this is a bit much but I find you to be so attractive. And now that I have a body, I was hoping you would be down to have a little fun together.”

“Uhhh I don’t know what to say, it’s a bit strange since that is Brad’s body.”

“Oh really? So you didn’t sneak into his room the other week and take his dirty socks just to jerk off while inhaling them.”

“Oh god you saw me do that?”

“Yeah and it was hot as fuck! Listen, I know Brad’s body may not be your first choice but he’s straight guy cute. And I know you’ve thought about him in ways you’d normally wouldn’t admit. But right now, I’m in control of him and you can do whatever you want with me.”

He starts pulling off all of Brad’s clothes until he’s fully naked. I can’t help but stare at Brad’s massive dick swinging between his legs.

He gets into my bed and reaches for Brad’s cock. He gingerly play with it while watching me.

“Travis, please join me. This cock is so eager right now, you can smell my big stinky feet. I haven’t bathed all day…”

He runs brads fingers between his taint and balls. He lifts up his hand and sniffs it.

“Fuccccckkk, you need to come get a whiff of my balls.”

I’m so hard now. I walk over to him and out for Brad’s left foot. I bring it up to my face and sniff it.

I feel myself slowly lose control of the situation and just accept all of the lust running through me.

“I knew you like these feet Trav. Here come taste this cock.”

He holds it up like a prize, I take it out of his hands and press the head of it to my lips.

It’s so warm… I lick the tip of it and rub my tongue down his shaft. When I get to his balls, I take in a breath. Just consuming the smell of them.

“That’s it, doesn’t that smell so good.”

“Mhmmm…”

I pull off my clothes and I notice his eyes go straight to my dick.

“You wanna touch it?” I say to him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch it.”

I come closer to him and he gently touches my dick. He makes a moaning sound and I notice pre-cum leaks out of Brad’s dick.

“You have the handsomest dick I’ve ever seen,” he says to me.

“Thanks haha.”

“No I mean it. You’re so cute Travis. Between your green eyes, brown curly hair, that freckle right above your happy trail, your sexy hairy legs, and those beautiful feet. Can I see them?”

“Sure.”

I let him take my feet into his hands and watch him press them against his face.

I let him lick my soles for a minute before he stops to say, “ you wanna take this up a notch?”

I nod my head and he pulls me in for a kiss. I can taste the whiskey Brad was drinking earlier.

We start making out and both of us are tangled up, our feet rubbing up and down on one another’s legs. Both of us have each other’s junk in our hand.

I feel around until I grab on to one of his butt cheeks.

He let’s do so much to him. Suck on his toes, sniff his pits, play with his nipples… and in return u let him do the same.

By the end, it’s morning. We’ve spent the entire night just edging each other.

By this point, he has Brad’s toes wrapped around my dick and I try to hold back but my cock has been toyed with for over 4 hours now.

I let out this loud moan and streams of cum squirt onto Brad’s feet.

He keeps stroking it with his toes until every last drop has been drained out of me.

He takes Brad’s cum soaked feet and licks every inch of them off.

He calls for me gesturing for me to finish him off.

I grab his dick and force it down my throat. I do it over and over until he immediately comes down it.

Both of us exhausted, lay back in my bed. I cuddled up to him and say, “hey thanks for tonight. By the way, what’s your actual name?”

“It’s Sebastian but you can call me Seb.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Seb.”

I curl up to him and soon pass out.

By one the next day, I wake up and thought last night may have been a weird dream. I look over and Seb isn’t in bed with me.

I get up to go pee and walk past Brad’s room. But to my surprise he’s not in bed.

I walk to the bathroom and see Brad naked looking at himself in the mirror.

He turns around to me and says, “Yo! What the hell Trav, have you heard of knocking?”

“Oh sorry Brad!”

“HAHAHA just messing with you! It’s me Seb.”

I feel blood rushing to my dick knowing that last night wasn’t a dream after all.

I walk over to pee and peak over at Seb.

He’s checking Brad’s body out in the mirror and starts flexing.

“I tried to leave his body this morning but I don’t really know how to…”

“Oh,” I say to him.

“Not that I’m in a rush to leave but I guess I really didn’t think this one through.”

“Well I don’t mind having you around.” I say to him.

I finish peeing and turn around to him. My eyes focus on Brad’s bubbly butt.

I grab his cheek and he lets out a yelping noise. I press my morning wood on his ass and he grins.

“Someone’s perky this morning.”

“I guess I’m just excited to have some more fun with my new ghost friend.”

“Well I have nothing better to do in the after life so I’m all yours for the day.”

I kiss him on his back and say, “whenever you’re done with the mirror come to my room.”

Seb follow me and we start an entire day of fooling around and talking.

I spend hours with his feet with my head at the end of the bed while does the same with mine. Both of us rubbing and playing with each toe. I just love how hairy and smelly they are.

Seb tells me about his previous life, how he used to live here and died from a freak accident one day. He seems like he’s been lonely all of these years.

“It was so refreshing seeing you move in, I was so bored for so long Trav. Then walks in this handsome guy.”

“Well my life hasn’t been too exciting either, I guess you can I’ve been lonely too.”

I feel him tickle my sole.

“Hey!”

“Sorry couldn’t resist!”

Days passed and Seb still could not figure out how to get out of Brad. Which I didn’t know if he was lying or not. I honestly didn’t want him to leave.

And by a month, Seb figured out Brad’s job and all of the things he needed to know to pretend to be him.

3 months in and we’re officially together. Seb loves all of the new video games he’s missed over the last 20 years while I just love watching him.

And we get soooo kinky! I’ll suck him off while he plays some game.

He even lets me tie him up. Which is sooo hot to me.

I’d like to think of that night as a fresh start for the both of us. And I couldn’t be happier with my horny ghost boyfriend!

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men act in and after a fight

Pairing: Gojo x reader, Megumi x reader, Nanami x reader

Word Count: 4,1k (a big baby)

Warnings: obviously hurt in every part but also a loooot of fluff, Megumi being as inexperienced as he is lol, Nanami's part is pure fan service, you're very welcome

Notes: I consider writing part ll of that with Choso, Geto and maybe Toji. If you're down for that, just leave me a comment or a like <3 as always thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you give me, I truly don't deserve it <3

Part ll with Geto, Choso and Yuji can be found here

Tags: @ifuckfictionalmen @sanicsmut

Gojo Satoru

“So you think I’m being ridiculous? I saw the way she looked at you and how her hand brushed against yours way too often”, you hiss, whole body trembling in pure rage.

“Oh, so every woman that touches me is apparently into me, now I get it”, he sarcastically remarks.

You bite your tongue, desperately trying to stop yourself from crying. Why is he not able to understand that you don’t feel comfortable with that situation at all? You told him over and over, especially when she completely ignored your presence on your first meeting. How does he not see all of this?

“You…You transferred money to her. A lot, actually. And all of that after she completely ignored me when you introduced me”

“Just like I do for you-“

“I’m your wife, moron!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

Satoru’s face is twisted in annoyance. He thought he’d come home to your loving arms, cuddling on the couch after a stressful day. But this? You stormed into him the second he opened the door, holding up bank statements. Over the past weeks, this happened way too often, interrupting your otherwise very peaceful marriage in a way Satoru can’t take any longer.

“So what? We’re colleagues, (y/n). You are my wife, why don’t you get that I am forced to work with other women from time to time?”, he questions.

The way he rolls his blue orbs at you sends you over the edge completely.

“So colleagues transfer money, hold deep eye contact and touch each other oh so casually when having a conversation? Don’t fuck with me, Satoru. I told you over and over that it bugs me, that I’m concerned. And you do absolutely nothing about it.”

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”, he cries out in frustration.

Your heart sinks immediately when is words hit you with full force. Even though your relationship with Satoru does get pretty heated from time to time, he never called you names. Never.

Not until now, when it comes to that woman.

You need to get off his sight, away from his stinging presence. Without saying another word, you storm into your shared bedroom and lock the door behind you before he’s able to follow you.

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”

His stinging words repeat themselves over and over in your head while you can’t hold back your tears any longer. This is so unfair. Why is he too blind to see the way she hunts after him, that she wants him to be more than a simple colleague? All you want him is to understand how uncomfortable this situation is for you, that you feel somehow betrayed.

“Open the door, (y/n)”, his clear voice is heard from behind the door.

Satoru knew he overdid it the second he saw the devastated look on your face. No matter how ridiculous this whole topic is, you don’t deserve his anger towards you. Mei isn’t more than a colleague for him though, a woman he has worked with on missions for years. She surely doesn’t like him like that, it’s simply impossible-

His phone vibrates in his pants, making him take a look at the screen.

What do you think about dinner tonight? Just the two of us.

He signs at her message, realization hitting him like a wall. Fuck, what did he do? The countless times her touch brushed over him, the messages she sent him not work related at all every night and how she always avoided the conversation when it came to you flood his mind uncontrollably. How could he make you feel this way? You told him over and over that you feel uncomfortable with this situation, asked him for compromises. And now…

Now he made you feel unwanted, delusional and dumb. You are his wife, the love of his life, the one thing that keeps him going in this world full of madness.

“Can you let me in, (y/n)? I’m sorry…”, he hushes against the closed door.

You can’t catch your breath, dry sobs hunt your body down when a new wave of sorrow washes over you. Does he even love you? All this time you thought you were the love of his life, his pride. But now…It feels like he chose that woman over you, that he cares about her opinion and feelings more than yours.

“I’m coming in”, he softly announces.

Of course, a simple closed door can’t keep him out if he doesn’t want to.

The second he lays his eyes on your crumpled on the floor figure, his heart completely breaks. Instantly, he kneels down in front of you and embraces you in his arms while your sobs make him hate himself even more.

“I’m so unbelievable sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it like that at all. It’s just that in my world, there’s only you and no one else. I never understood how you even get the idea of me liking another woman because this scenario is ridiculous to me. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that. I’m so so sorry…”, he mumbles against your ear.

Despite his words still haunt your mind, you can’t help but let yourself fall at least a little into his inviting arms, tears staining his uniform.

“I will talk to her and make clear that you are the one and only for me, I promise.”

It’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. You wrap your longing arms around him, forehead pressed against his.

“So you understand my point?”, you mutter.

“I do and I’m sorry for making you feel this way. You are the only woman in my life and I love you more than anything else”, he reassures you once again.

You definitely won’t get him away this easily. After all, words mean nothing without action. But this is a step in the right direction and for now, you can definitely live with that.

“Now, please stop crying, I’ll call her right away and we’ll watch your favorite show and order some food after, what do you think?”

“Only if you pay”, you sniff.

Megumi Fushiguro

“Oh, where are you going?”, you question when your boyfriend Megumi gets up from the bed so early in the morning that it’s still dark outside.

The last few weeks were like a trip to hell and back, it seems like your relationship consists of Megumi going on missions while you have to stay behind. Before this night, you haven’t seen him for one whole week and while you do understand his responsibly as a jujutsu sorcerer, you can’t help but feel hurt.

“On a mission of course”, he remarks dryly.

Your eyes begin to burn as your heart sinks. It’s like you don’t know him anymore, as if he’s only the shell of the man you used to love. Is he so sick of you that he doesn’t want to spend a single day on your side? Is all of this on purpose? You can’t hold back any longer.

“You’re always leaving me”, you blurt out.

It shouldn’t bother you. After all, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Despite being Shoko’s trainee you should be aware of the fact that this job is a mess and means you have to dedicate your whole life to it.

But still you can’t help but fell hurt. Hurt because your boyfriend doesn’t even smile anymore when he returns, hurt because he comes and goes without saying a word, hurt because you feel like you lost him.

“What was that?”, he grumbles.

“Do you think I do this on purpose?”

“I just feel like you’re never here. And I miss you.”

“Not all of us have an easy job like you, (y/n).”

You swallow hard. Wow, that is new. And extremely painful. Even though you aren’t out there fighting, you still have a lot to do, working your ass off so everyone survives, day and night ready if something happens. This is just not fair.

“You think my job is easy? Stitch yourself up next time, then”, you hiss and cross your arms over your chest.

“Don’t come at me. You started this whole thing!”

“Yeah, I ‘started this whole thing’ because you are my boyfriend and I love you, and I…I fucking miss you! But fine, if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave.”

It’s ridiculous and you know it, mind screaming violently, begging you to stay. But your heart can’t. This was simply too much. You can’t stay here with a boy that treats you like this.

“If you leave now-“

“Then what?”, you interrupt him immediately, cold eyes glaring at him while your hand rests on the door.

“You’ll leave? You leave every time, Megumi. See you around…Or not.”

And with that, you leave him standing in his room alone, staring at the door like an idiot. What the hell has gotten into you? Since when are you acting up like that? He doesn’t know you like that. But still, your words do make him wonder if you’re somehow right…

He shakes his head violently. No, you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you need to sleep in and you’ll figure this out as soon as he returns.

But one things for sure: Megumi definitely won’t make the first move.

And so days pass until finally weeks begin to pass without both of you saying a single word to each other. Every time you see him you feel like dying inside, heart screaming at you in agony to stop your stubbornness, to approach him and say sorry. But you can’t. You simply can’t over the fact that he let you go like that, not even looking your direction when you cross each other. It’s like he doesn’t know you anymore despite all the nights you shared with each other, despite the intimate moments you’ve had.

No, it seems like he doesn’t care at all.

“Hey (y/n)!”, Nobara greets you.

“Hey, I’m in a bit of a rush”, you explain briefly, already on your way to assist Shoko in an autopsy of a curse.

“It’s just…(y/n), are you and Megumi okay?”, Nobara mutters, her face twisted in concern like you’ve never seen before.

You stop in your tracks, a new wave of grief washing over you. No, nothing is okay, absolutely nothing to be exact. You want to scream it into her face, break down crying, let all your feelings out. But instead, you just gift her an empty smile and say:

“Sure.”

‘Sure’ as if he never raised his voice at you, ‘sure’ as if Megumi would care about you feeling lonely and missing him, ‘sure’ as if you actually meant something to him

“I mean it’s none of my business but…You guys haven’t talk for what feels like an eternity, you are no longer there and I’m just worried that he messed things up with you, y’know…Well, let me know if I can help you with something, okay?”

She gently places her hand on your shoulder while you have to force yourself to not shed a tear. Oh, if she only knew. If she only knew that the last weeks were absolute hell, that you feel like dying inside. But this is something you and Megumi have to deal with alone. Even Nobara can’t help you with that.

You say goodbye to her and walk towards the laboratory, tears still stinging threatening in your eyes. How much you long for talking to him, to tell him how much his words really hurt you. But you can’t bring yourself to make the first step. After all, you tried to talk this out multiple times only for him to not even listen. No, this time he’ll have to make the first move if he wants you back.

If…

“(y/n).”

That voice. That oh so familiar voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Megumi”, you breathe out, slowly turning around to face him.

There he stands, scratching his head while looking at your feet, eyes not meeting your gaze.

“How…how you’ve been?”

Even a blind man would see the blush creeping up his face…Is he embarrassed? Painfully awkward silence hangs between you two as all you can do is stare at him, your blood slowly but surely boiling up. Is he really asking you how you’ve been after not talking to you for weeks, ignoring you every time he saw you?

“You have some fucking nerves”, you spit at him, closing the gap between you two with a rushed movement.

“You’re not talking with me for weeks and now you’re asking how I’ve been? I’ve been miserable, Megumi. I felt like dying every time you ignored me!”

Fuck, don’t cry. Don’t let him see how you really feel. Your trembling hands frantically wipe away the threatening tears, eyes darted towards him.

“I just couldn’t, (y/n). It’s just…I…”, he stumbles over his very own words, fingers over and over running through his hair.

“I was able to see it until I thought about it. I’ve been a horrible boyfriend, (y/n). So horrible that I thought you’d be better off without me. But I’m simply too selfish to let you go. I’m sorry for not making time for you, I’m sorry for treating you like shit, I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t love you when in reality, all I was able to think about was you and how much I missed you sleeping besides me”, he suddenly blurts out, leaving you completely speechless.

This is everything. Everything you longed for, ever single word you graved so deeply. Did this thick silence really change the way he sees your relationship now? A look into his sorrow – filled eyes is enough to realize that he’s telling the truth, making your heart jump up and down.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I know I’m not the boy you deserve and I’d fully understand if you’re having enough of me. I just wanted to let you know that I can see it now and that I want to give you what you deserve if you let me.”

The glistening in his eyes literally begs you for a second chance while your very own heart screams at you. Of course you want him back, Megumi is everything you ever wanted. But he’ll have to show that it’s really different this time.

“Promise me something”, you announce.

He tilts his head to his side, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me today, that we’ll spend time together. No mission, no obligations.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need, as long as you want me around, (y/n). This time without you hurt like hell, I simply don’t want to let you go again”, he hushes, his tender fingertips brushing over your arms.

“That sounds good…”, you mutter, resting your head against his chest.

God, how much you missed that feeling. Even though your relationship had its ups and downs, you always admired the way Megumi was able to calm you down in an instant with a simple touch of his hand.

Maybe you will figure it out now. And maybe him not having time for you stays in the past forever.

Kento Nanami

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

You’re on your way home after a pretty ugly mission. And even though Shoko already stitched you up, you feel like dying. Everything just hurts, it’s hard to even walk.

The thought of your husband at home makes your guts turn. Not because you don’t love him or aren’t longing to see him, but because of your recent conversation.

“It can’t go on like this, (y/n). You’re always injured and it’s starting to concern me. Maybe I have to talk t-“

“No”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Please don’t. I’ll be careful from now on. I promise.”

“Fine. But if this happens again, I’ll have a talk with the elders.”

And it happened again. All these missions one after another really took their toll on your concentration. One moment of unwariness was enough to sweep you off your feet, thigh sliced open in the nastiest way you’ve ever seen. Shoko told you it will take some time to heal entirely, but if Kento gets to see this…

“Maybe I should call Nanami to pick you up. You really can’t walk like that (y/n).”

“No, please don’t!”, you begged Shoko for dear life.

“I don’t want this to cause trouble. It’s fine, really!”

“You almost died, (y/n)”, she remembered you dryly.

“And I will definitely die if you tell him. Please Shoko.”

She signed.

“Fine. Just be careful and visit me tomorrow…”

You swallow. A fight seems inevitable if you won’t hide your wound from him.

You take a deep breath, keys trembling in your sweaty palms. Fuck, why does this have to ache so badly? Shoko gave so some pain killers, you shouldn’t feel a single thing.

No, focus. Pain is only in your head. But Kento is very real.

With one last stolen glance at your injured leg you open the door, forcing a smile on your face. Where is he? Your heart beats out of your chest, hands so sweaty that you have to wipe them on your coat.

“Kento?”, you shout into the quiet living room, closing the door behind you gently.

“There you are, sweetheart”, his voice coos out of the bedroom.

Your breath hitches, eyes wide open at the sight in front of you. There he stands, your loving husband. Dressed in nothing but his pants, bare chest immediately captivating you. Oh god, he looks so delicious that you feel like fainting, hungry eyes roaming over his tight muscles as if you haven’t seen him like that hundreds of times before.

“Where have you been? A mission like that shouldn’t take this long.”

He begins to approach you elegantly, staring at you with a small smile on his delicate lips.

“Y-yeah…Still had something to…y’know…say…to Shoko”, you stutter.

Why does he have to look so absolutely delicious? And why does your leg suddenly feel so…wet?

“Are you alright? You seem a little unfocused today. Did you get hurt?”

His eyes scan over your body without any mercy, forcing you to hide your leg behind the other.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine”, you press out.

No, you’re anything but fine. The way your other leg brushes against your injured one makes you see stars. You feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time, sweat running down your forehead uncontrollably. You need medication – now.

“I planned something very excited for us today. Something you might like”, he purrs, closing the distance between your bodies.

His hand grabs your waist passionately while your mixed emotions take your breath away. God, how much you love the way his arms wrap themselves around you, knowing exactly that this leads you directly into the bedroom.

But that means…

“Oh yeah?”, you chuckle nervously.

That means he’ll see the wound you’re so desperately trying to hide.

“Absolutely”, he breathes against your ear.

Oh god, this is so good…No, it’s not good at all. You need to get away from him, out of this misery, into t-

A toe-curling scream escapes your lips before you even realize what is happening, body stumbling backwards.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami mutters, eyes wide open.

He squeezed your leg like he always does and just the way you like it. Why on earth are you acting like that? That haunted look on your face almost makes it seem as if he hurt you.

Lost in thoughts, he looks down at his hand.

His blood-smeared hand.

It slowly dawns to him. No, it isn’t because he did something you don’t like. It’s because you’re injured again. And you decided to lie into his face about it.

“What is this?”

Your husband’s voice sounds as unpromising as you imagined it in this situation, eyes widen in horror while you’re still panting in agony.

Fuck. Your heart drops immediately by the sight of his blood smeared hand. Kento is an outstanding smart man, too clever to be considered an idiot by your actions.

“You promised me to stay safe. And that you lie to be about being injured...”

“(y/n), look at me”, he insists, grabbing your chin.

His eyes seem to stare right through your soul as he glances down at you, jaw tightened.

“I can’t believe you lied to me.”

“Only because you’d freak out”, you reply in your own defense.

“Like I should! I told you over and over to look out for yourself, to skip a few missions before you get seriously hurt. And what is that, huh?”

He points at your wounded leg, blood now soaking through the fabric of your skirt.

“You are severely injured. Just like I predicted.”

You feel like a child being scolded by her parents. Even though Kento never raises his voice at you aggressively, you can tell by the way his whole body tenses up and that glistening in his gaze that he’s absolutely furious.

“I am able to look after myself. I know what’s best for me”, you remark annoyed.

Fuck, you’re so damn tired. All you want is to bandage yourself up and go to sleep.

“Yes, I can see that.”

Something about his sarcastic tone and the way he stares down at you while shaking his head makes you snap.

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t need you to look after me like a damn child! Mind your own business, Kento!”

“You are my business. You are my wife. It’s my responsibility to take care of you!”, he barks back.

“But I don’t want you to take care of me, I want you to leave me alone!”, you spit into his face, making him drop his shoulders immediately.

God, you want to take that back straightaway, knowing damn well how your comment hurt his feelings. But at the moment, all you can think about is a warm bed and finally some rest.

You drag yourself into the bedroom and let your trembling body fall onto the mattress. This is not fair, right? After all, you aren’t a child anymore, you are able to look after yourself…right?

You close your eyes, the disappointed look on Kento’s face lingering through your mind. It wasn’t fair to snap at him, though. He is your husband, always caring about you. No, he certainly doesn’t deserve you to treat him like this.

Three soft knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”, his damped voice questions.

“Sure”, you mumble.

You can’t even look at him when he enters the room in silence, elegant steps leading him to the bed where he sits down next to you. Suddenly, he begins to rip open a package of bandages, catching your attention.

“What are you doing?”

“I take care of you. May I?”

His gaze wanders to your skirt, eyes asking you for permission to pull it up.

“Sure…”, you mutter, a slight blush creeping up your face when his fingers brush over your panties.

“How did this happen?”, he asks softly while his skilled fingers remove the blood soaked bandage.

“I don’t know exactly. Wasn’t paying full attention and got hit by a curse.”

“I see.”

Despite all the things you said to him, despite the way you hurt him a few minutes ago, your man kneels in front of you and caresses your wound with so much affection that it doesn’t hurt at all. Your eyes wander over him, how his gaze is focused exclusively on your thigh, skilled fingers working wonders.

“I’m sorry for lashing out and not telling you”, you let out, not able to hold in your bad conscience any longer.

“I understand that I put you in an uncomfortable position when I threatened to talk to the elders about this and I’m very sorry for that. But it can’t go on like this, (y/n). This is the 5th serious injury within three weeks and I’m truly worried about you. I don’t want you to end like-“

He stops himself from finishing that sentence but oh you know exactly what he means and it shatters your heart. Without hesitation, your fingers grab his face gently, eyes locking with yours.

“I love you, Kento. And I see that you’re right. I’ll talk to the elders tomorrow myself about that”, you assure him.

A small but precious smile appears on his face, free hand caressing your cheek with so much affection that you have to hold back a tear.

“You’re my everything, sweetheart. Let’s stitch you up and go to bed.”

[gladiatorcunt]

- ICEBREAKER / III.

i am the sun, you know you need me

cw: kinktober prompt (boot worship-ish), yandere behavior, confinement, mob boss!sunday, pet play without actually acting like a pet, canon typical controlling sunday, reader has a pussy, slight dehumanization, mean mean mean husband sunday but he loves you really, stockholm syndrome, pretend all the flowers & stuffed mentioned actually exist in hsr, sunday wins!au, one mention of halovian!reader

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

The invisible thread connecting you to Sunday has been spun into gold when you were not aware. You think you might’ve snuck in his cobblestone heart and done it in your sleep. It is an unspoken thing that festers within and eats you up from the inside until baby blue and white flower petals float down from your mouth, pleasantly aromatic bile becoming a fervent garden in your lungs. Overgrown but visually decadent and overwrought with confectionery and symbolism. Soul Glad spiked with an Aeon’s ichor.

Violets, baby’s breath, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, sweet williams.

Not a single speck of dust is ever on him, and that includes his shoes. Dark brown leather and custom made, a gift he bought for himself that he was happy to say really came from you. A leader of a wealthy criminal organization could buy himself anything he wants, but it warms his icy heart to attach your name to it in his mind.

“You know I would never have you lick them if they were dirty, dove.” Sunday purrs, chin propped on his palm. “This isn’t to degrade you, you’d know what my vitriol would feel like. You’ve seen it directed towards less worthy patrons.”

He strokes a thumb down one of the wings on your head, fluffing the feathers and preening you as you “clean” his spotless shoe.

“Mmfh!” You slip your tongue in the grooves of his shoe, embracing the abrasions and coarse texture. “Yes, sir, I have.”

Interrogations, horrid screams, pleas for the gift of life and promises to pay back the money they owe, loud gunshots and his men dragging their bodies away. To be tossed over the edge of the dreamscape into the lilac depths. They’re always missing from the dream pools, a second death on the second day.

You’re slobbering now, your palms flat on your bare thighs as you work your mouth along the bottom of his left shoe.

Sunday chuckles and reaches out to wipe some of your drool away from the corner of your mouth, “Messy angel, you’re better than that.”

You’re not, the dampness seeping through your panties has you dead to rights. The wings on Sunday’s head flutter in amusement, nothing escapes his sight, he knows you down to the sparks of energy that make up your entire being. You’re the center of his eternal dream, his shining monument to what one would do for love.

“Teething on my shoes, you’re darling.” His even tone is basked in all the pleasure a man with the world at his feet (quite literally) could feel.

He nudges your jaw with the end of his right wing tip shoe, raising your head to make eye contact with you. You’re teary, but you still lap your tongue over the top of his left shoe, sucking it off like it’s a cock as you stay perfectly still. There’s always an unspoken test to see if you’ll give in to your baser urges and hump your slutty cunt against nothing.

But he does adore watching you squirm, his beloved pet rat in a golden maze of his own design.

You keep eye contact and lick a strip up the side of his shoe, tenderly kissing the tip before whining and moving your head after the one under your jaw.

“P-please, sir, let me finish my task before your next meeting. I don’t want you to be stressed.”

Sunday casts his gaze towards the oak doors, his wings tensing at the oncoming headache of his men surrounding him and awaiting his orders on how to further micromanage their territory. No matter, that’s the future, and he would much rather drift in the more pleasant present moment.

“The fish swim in the river however I tell them to. Take your time, my love.”

He can offer anything to you, whatever you want appearing before you in a flash, kept under lock and key at his extravagant manor. You never ask questions about what exactly he does or where he goes, but you don’t have to, he whispers it all to you freely. The truth holds no power over him when Sunday lives every day with the absence of lies.

You dot kisses on the leather toe of his right shoe, one your hands comes up to run your fingers in circles over his ankle. What makes this even better is that you ask for these sessions more than he orders them, an anxious little thing, being subservient helps quiet your racing thoughts and cabin fever.

Sunday feels generous, he taps his shoe against your cheek and takes it away, setting his foot firmly on the floor.

He beckons you with a come hither motion, “What would truly calm my nerves is to see my pet fall to pieces on my shoe. I’ll even let you get this pair messy with your spend, your scent would only make them my favorite.”

You hold in a happy squeal and eagerly straddle his foot, humping your panties down on the cool leather. The motion is slightly awkward, the friction brings you only a fraction of what you’re after. But the look in Sunday’s eyes as he watches you debase yourself for your husband, the thrill of doing such an act in a room that causes so much harm to everyone but you.

“That’s it, dove, dancing so beautifully for me.” He coos and keeps his foot still, content to be an audience member to the debauched show you’re putting on.

You whine, speeding up your movements and slicking up his shoe and the marbled floor beneath you. It’s not enough without him actively touching you, Sunday knows, so he shushes you and keeps patting your head rhythmically. Accompanying you on a fruitless journey towards an unsatisfying climax.

Sunday would never edge you, not when he could drown you and ply you with orgasm after orgasm. He would also never let you properly feel good without his touch. His lips quirk up as you whimper and come on the strip of skin where his ankle and foot disappears into his shoe. You keep pumping your hips, slipping and sliding with your come splattered on the leather and easing the glide.

If he takes them off after he sends you off to bed with a pat to your ass, and sniffs the soles, then that’s no one’s business but his. Another scene in the dream.

[v7lgar]

for @star4daisy, this is very late but happy birthday!

trans!reg tw: dubcon, taking virginity, blood mention and dirty talk

“You can trust me,” James breathed right under Regulus’ ear. He pressed soft kisses and it tickled. “I got you, baby.”

Regulus trusted him but at the same time, he didn't want to trust him. He wanted James to do whatever he wants to do to him. He didn't want to have a saying in it. He wanted him to look at him and think, Yeah, no. I am doing it on my way.

Maybe they didn't talk about this often but he was sure he hinted a few times that what he actually wanted. What he needed desperately. Because it was a sensitive subject to be vocal about. He didn't want to tell James beforehand. He wanted him to take a fucking hint.

“Look at this pretty hole,” James spread his ass cheeks and slapped one of them playfully, “I want to ruin it.”

Fuck, yes.

Regulus grabbed his legs under his knees and pulled them until he showed both his holes, waiting to be fucked hard. But that was the thing, he was still a virgin.

He could sense the animal that is sleeping in James. He just needed to poke it until it woke up. He didn't want to be desperate for it, because it would kill all the fun. But there wasn't much he could do too.

“Fuck, you are soaking wet.”

James pressed his veiny cock between Regulus’ wet folds and slowly grind between them and fuck. He was so close to seeing the stars.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”

James didn't answer, he spit on his cock that is between Regulus’ swollen pussy lips. And he spread it to his clit by using his dick.

“What if you get hurt? Have you ever thought about it?”

James wasn't concerned, he was just really curious.

Regulus grabbed him by his neck and pulled him down until his lips touched his ear.

“I don't fucking care.”

And James laughed, slowly standing straight, his eyes were devouring his cunt and Regulus wanted more.

“Oh, you shouldn't have told me that.”

Regulus moaned when he started moving his hips, gliding between his swollen folds, he could feel that he was leaking on the bed but he didn't care. He wanted to get fucked, he wanted to make it hurt. He was addicted to it.

“Why?” He breathed hardly.

“Because of this.”

With a quick, sudden move James pulled back until he directed the tip of his cock to Regulus’ virgin pussy and pushed all the way in.

And Regulus screamed from the top of his lungs. He never experienced this kind of pain, ever.

“FUCK!”

“Yeah, that's right baby. Such a tight pussy you have here. Gonna make it worth it to make you bleed.”

Regulus’ was in shock, the pain was all he could feel and James fucking did what he was thinking all night. What he was thinking all the time whenever they were making out. He took his virginity without asking him or making it awfully slow. He took it like it was his birthright.

And that turned him on so much that he felt his body was descending to heaven.

“James.”

“Fuck, I've been dreaming about your pussy since the day I saw you.”

Regulus felt like dying.

“Oh, fuck—”

James pulled back and slammed hard, pounding into his virgin hole as if it belonged to him only. The sound of their skins slapping against each other made his blood boil.

“James, James, James!”

“Fuck, the way you are clenching around me. Do you want me to stuff you with my cock before sleeping? Because I can do that, love. I can fill you with my cum and feed it to your cunt all night. Even when you are sleeping.”

“Oh, fuck— fuck, yes!”

“Fuck, look at this,” He pulled out and spit on his bleeding cunt and shoved his cock in a one ruthless move. Regulus kept screaming his name over and over again.

“This,” He grabbed him by the chin and make him look into his eyes and thrusted inside of him hard, “Fucking belongs to me, do you hear me?”

“Yes, yes! He is yours, I am yours. Fuck me harder, I want it more.”

James laughed and it was sinister, “Greedy, are you?”

Regulus could not answer, he only kept screaming his name everytime he pushed all the way inside. The pain turned into a masochistic pleasure. And he was so close, he was already right there when James took his virginity without asking.

“Gonna fuck you so good, make it bleed like its the first time over and over again. Do you hear me?”

Regulus could only scream, “Yes!”

[just-a-ghost00]

A message from a beloved soul 🕊️

Recently, I felt called to ask for advice from passed on artists that have greatly impacted my life. A few months ago, my role model and most beloved artist passed away suddenly. I never thought this day would come. Or rather I didn’t want to think about it. And lately I feel his energy very strongly. I thought that maybe some of you could need some advice from an artist you miss dearly as well. I’m sorry if this triggers anybody. I thank these beautiful souls that have provided us with light and love for all these years for their messages and I hope that wherever they are in the Universe, their soul is at peace. ❤️

Group 1

Letters : B Y I T J S L G K M U A P G D F Words : guys, tails, mask, Sag, just, Jiluka, Atsuki, July, Aug, days, pay, gay, Yumi, Yuki, Bad guy, kid, must play, guita(r), fly, BSK, family, silk, ask my pals if I still must (???), stalk, dumb, Mt Fuji

Tissue box messages : Singer, blue eyes, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Capricorn I CREATE Jan 20 to Feb 16, 6th house daily life I LOVE, 12th house Spiritual life I DREAM

Their channeled message to you :

Baby the world is yours to take. Fate is yours to create. No matter the pain, no matter the fears, no matter the obstacles, you must live on. Do you hear me? Live. Scream at the top of your lungs. You can cry too. But don’t give up. I am with you every step of the way. My wings will carry you for as long as I can.

Clarifications - 10 of swords, Black Numen, King of cups, King of wands, 10 of pentacles, 10 of cups

This artist that you are asking about knows that you are going through a hard time and that a part of you doesn’t believe in your ability to make it through but they want to reassure you because not only do you have what it takes but the outcome is going to be much more brighter than you could ever imagine. You’re getting there. You’re so close to reaching your goal. I believe that there are actually two artists that are surrounding you with their love. They are both encouraging you to keep moving, though you may not understand where this will lead you, though you may not see the bigger picture. Because after this period of grieving and emotional turmoil, of hardships and uncertainty, awaits a bright and warm future, full of joy and abundance. While one helps you heal your wounds and deal with possible depression/mental health issues, the other is helping you manifest success in all areas of your life by fueling your fire and inspiring you. You may feel like your creativity is boosted and your mind is fuming with new ideas. Both of them are masculine in their energy. One of them may especially connect with you through your dreams while the other would rather put on your way resources and people that are beneficial to your growth. The channeled message you received was from the one you were asking about. But the other artist still wanted to silently show their support. I believe that in their living time this person wasn’t very talkative but would instead show their love through actions. They remained the same in the after life.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 2

Letters : A V U S E I F S V N A U I M K P Words : miss u, veins, pain, pause, Suki, fave, fame, pave, Mana, Aki, naive, invasive, Nivea, niveau (French for level), suave, Kaname, kiss me, five men, fans, vie (life/live), Pisa

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, creative soul, dorky/quirky, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Ophiuchus I HEAL Nov 29 to Dec 17, 1st house awareness of self I AM

Their message to you :

My Jade ~ You are so beautiful. Your soul is so beautiful it shines all the way to heaven. God and the angels are so pleased with you. Seeing you grow so much has been my biggest joy and pride. I believe that you can light up this world and save so many people from themselves. But first make sure to save yourself, okay?! Love you ❤️

Clarifications - 9 of pentacles, The Lovers, Knight of cups, Judgment, King of cups, 6 of cups

You must prioritize yourself by choosing to give yourself the love you so willingly give to others. That much is clear. When the time is right and balance is restored, a soulmate will be sent to you to pour more love into your cup. They will come to you slowly but surely. You will recognize them by their piercing gaze and their powerful voice. You know them already. Wow that was very specific. There are a lot of water related cards, three of which can be associated with Scorpio. Then there is also Gemini energy and Taurus energy. I believe that in their living time the artist you asked about was a very generous and wise person. They were probably an old soul and had a hard time finding people they could deeply connect with. I get the feeling that you followed this person since you were a child and you looked up to them. They are a soulmate of yours. Their energy feels very balanced. I believe this person was very spiritual and always did their best to do the right choice and be the bigger person. They would always think of their loved ones before anything else and maybe that is one thing that caused this person a lot of sadness. Which is why they urge you to prioritize yourself. They know too well the cost of overgiving to others only to be left with so little.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 3

Letters : C N L C Z E K U V O T B E A V M Words : clean, zen, luck, black, block me, metal, zone, cat, melon, love u, meat, meet u at ten, note, bone, tune, name, bake, cake, Ameba, volcano, Kubo, Kobe,

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, bookworm, unconventional, Leo I SHINE Aug 10 to Sept 16, Taurus I PROTECT May 13 to June 21, Sagittarius I KNOW Dec 17 to Jan 20

Their message :

Dear friend,

I am so glad the universe has sent me to you. I am so proud of you for fighting for your dreams and doing your best every day to be a better person. You have no idea how much this means to me that you are working so hard to walk in my footsteps. My soul is filled with warmth because of you. Thank you so much.❤️ I love you too!

Clarifications - 6 of cups, 6 of swords, King of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Queen of pentacles, High priestess

This artist is a soulmate of yours. They had to leave for you to thrive. It was part of their journey to pass on to the other side for you to grow and for them to guide you. It was necessary because their departure triggered an awakening in you. Your gifts wouldn’t have woken up the way they are now otherwise. It was their duty to contribute to your accession to your throne. By that I mean that in order to claim your power and rise up to their level, they had to eclipse themselves and now evolve in the « dark » or in other words on the other side of the curtain. You and this artist mirror each other, especially when it comes to your careers. I would even go as far as to say that for some of you they are a divine counterpart. You are the High priestess. And I saw behind her the Magician. They were the spark and you are the torch that will pass on the knowledge. They’ve taught you everything they had to while they were living. Now is your turn to do the same. You can connect with this person through hard work but also by working on your gifts, especially your intuition. When they were living, they were very intuitive too. They were known as a hard worker and a force to be reckoned with. They inspired people to leave behind what didn’t serve them. And they are now trying to help you do the same thing they did : be a mentor and a guide for others, especially younger souls.

[kanmom51]

PJM2 is coming

MUSE

I literally cannot contain my excitiement.

Sitting her, at work may I say, putting these words on paper, so to speak, because f***ing hell, wtf JM?

Where to start?

The colour concepts? The choice of name? Choice of font (That JM popping to eye)? The flower? The links to TTU (notes sheet and flower)? The whole play with Closer than this? The dropped lyrics?

This man is a friggin genius (not that we didn't know this already)...

There is so much to talk about, and he hasn't even started with the promotions, and we haven't even seen the concept photos or the album and the songs. Name, colours, 2 lines of lyrics and we have our hands full already. They certainly know what they are doing.

Before I jump in, I want to, once again, state very loudly and clearly that everything written here are my opinions, which are based on what we've been handed so far, and could change the more we are shown.

So, let's get it...

JM fetching this from the purple locker (which we don't see are purple off the bat and only when the lights turn on). Notes for The Truth Untold.

His wittle thumb with his crescent moon.

The notes title : La lettra - The letter. Hmm... interesting.

And then this:

We have the flower:

and this that makes me believe that yes indeed, it is the silhouette of a Smeralso.

Some of this I am yet to see where is going. like the referencing of "the letter", The truth untold, the flower... (she says, all while thinking of the choice this Festa to stream LY Seoul final with said song and the changes that JM and JK chose to make to it)...

All that and more in one little short clip.

And then we have that little 'chat' opened up by BH, and those lyrics. Oh, those lyrics.

All references that indeed can be connected with army. I mean, that's what JM is king of.

All also a clear reference to a one Jeon Jungkook, if you are only willing to look and see.

Rain

Snow

Crying

We have this:

Which they have BOTH chose to bring up once again in 2023, JK happening to do so during JM's Face promos, not to mention the rain reference in SNTY (and of course, goes without saying Still with you, but that's back in 2020, while they have both managed to bring it up and reference it once again in 2023).

Remember this?

Oh, and what about this?

And then we have these:

Remember JM tearing up after winning MMA for BS&T ?

JM getting emotional and crying only followed by JK tearing up.

*If you haven't seen this one yet, go watch the full live.

And who can forget JK during MOTS ONE as well, seeing JM crying, distress clearly showing on his face, just waiting for the moment he can go and comfort JM.

If these are actual lyrics for a song to come or lyrics that were dropped, one thing we know, and that these words, these lines, they were written by JM, and he made a clear choice to share them with us.

And in doing so, sorry, I'm still not believing this all while sitting here gushing and knowing this was coming (no, I didn't know this specifically was coming, but the feeling that they were going big or going home, that I've had ever since July 2023... took some time and many tribulations, but we are getting there folks). Sidetracked as I always am, lol.

Back on track.... in doing so, JM is basically standing on a rooftop screaming at the top of his lungs:

Not 1, not 2, but 3 JK references in that little shared piece of lyrics clearly written by JM, for an album we are yet to see and hear.

Anyone, and I mean anyone that is a BTS army, that has seen original content, that has followed their Twitter account or seen older tweets, that are open and willing to see it, will KNOW that these lyrics are JAYKAY!!!!!

And let me backtrack a second here...

Cause I did mention that these references could be understood as if they are made for army, right?

So yeah. Army references or JK references? I am going to say both, leaning very much to the JK side of it. Cause that's how they do it. Time after time after time.

Let's mention the colour choices as well.

We have the background colours.

We have the yellow.

And then we have the album concepts.

2 concepts.

Blooming

and Serenade.

Which happens to be Yellow, same colour threaded through Serendipity.

And we even have purple thrown in there too.

Notice how all the lockers are painted purple. The colour of army you may say, but also JK's colour (so again, army and JK?).

And he's pulling out the music sheet from this purple locker.

Those lockers representing his inspiration for his music perhaps?

Giving us these lyrics, then telling us the album is called Muse (or telling us the name of the album and it's meaning and then dropping those lyrics, take your pick regarding the timing, cause basically, same same), showing us the music being extracted from those purple lockers... ya think his muse is that entity he's talking about in those lyrics perhaps (even more so if we see the references as both for army and JK)?

Rhetorical question, btw.

And then we have the mint green.

Perhaps this is what JM was talking about when he told us in his birthday live, if memory serves me right, about going to the starting point, or more so starting from the beginning trying to figure out himself as an artist?

Also, cannot help but think of this image here:

I cannot wait to see his concept photos, and where this is all going.

We talked about JK being so loud during 2023 (well, he's had his super loud moments before that, but 2023 and his lives were smoking). And JM, well it felt (and I say felt, cause it's not really true, and I'll explain why) was quieter, more subdued, especially during JK's Golden promotions.

But here's the thing.

JM and JK have their own special oh so different ways of being loud and showing us themselves (and it shows even more so seeing that JK, for whatever reasons he had for it, did not write his songs for Golden - not saying he did not have influence on the lyrics or choice of songs with lyrics he wanted). JK did it through his choices in his photo shoots and styling for his songs and album. He did it with his lives and his total fanboying over JM. And JM, he does it through his art, which includes also but not only his lyrics.

Those two are both loud as fuck. And JM, well if these sneak lyrics are a promo of more to come (which, they probably are seeing that we have Face to fall back on as an example), then he's as loud as a frigging foghorn.

And last but not least, before I go:

Lookie here...

D-31

[c28hunter]

You call me a bich like it's a bad thing

Paring: Rockstar-reader X ex-Lance Stroll, Rockstar-reader X Max Verstappen

Face claim: Lzzy Hale

Summary: Y/N broke up with Lance and everyone thought that she won't be back in the paddock. They were wrong.

Final info: it's all fake and not meant to be treated seriously! It's also my first work in such a format so keep that in mind

y/nl/n_official

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 54 870 more

y/nl/n_official: Amsterdam you were 🔥FIRE🔥 last night! Thank you so much for screaming my newest single from the top of your lungs, couldn't have expected a better song release! "You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing" now available on every streaming platform!

see the comments:

y/n'sbich: I WAS IN AMSTERDAM SHE SMILED AT ME PEOPLE SHE SMILED AT ME

l/n4life: I lost my voice in Amsterdam, has anyone found it? liked by y/nl/n_official

y/ns_version: OKAY but can we talk about how she absolutely DESTROYED Lance Stroll in that song, like, QUEEN YOU ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

mskmberly: YES!!! Like, calling his house a "little crib"?! Girls just fok smashed his door

livelaughlancestroll: I mean, doesn't it just mean that she's still obsessed with him 😒

mskmberly: she just publicly destroyed his ass, do you think she really wants him back?

amy.y/nsfan: I'm so happy she broke up with that guy, they haven't even matched each other

stroll_army: bruh why was she even invited to the paddock in the first place? She can't even sing

landos1stfan: eat shit and die

megfanartist: she's the most accurate celebrity to be invited to the paddock, since she's been an F1 fan. And she ACTUALLY knows what the sport is about

maxverstappen1: amazing concert! Can't believe it was real

y/nl/n_official: can't believe you were actually there!

y/nfanpage: OMG, MAX IN THE COMMENTS?!

f1arson: hello max???

verstappenfan: HUH?! HE WAS THERE WHAT THE FUCK?!

maxverstappen1 posted a new story

maxverstappen1: best shot of y/n that I got in Amsterdam last night

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

y/nl/n_official

Liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 50 876 more

y/nl/n_official: Gald to be back in the paddock, you have no idea how much I missed this 🙏 Thanks to the @/redbullracing team for an invitation! Keep pushing guys!

see the comments

georgerussell63: good to have you back in the paddock!

y/nl/n_official: good to sing a duet with you again!

britneyf1: THAT. WAS. THE. MOST. HILARIOUS. THING. EVER.

rassell2.0: PLEASE MAKE A DUET!

winvictor: GEORGE MAKE A COVER OF Y/N'S NEWEST SONG

redbullracing: thank you for your visit! We hope to see you for the next race ❤️

y/nl/n_official: 🫡

y/nsversion: she's always been a redbull girlie I was right

maxverstappen1: paddle on Tuesday?

y/nl/n_official: just so you could beat me again? Sign me in

leclercs.verion: stop flirting in public, it's giving people diabetes

formula.formula: did you notice that she interacted with all teams APART FROM Aston Martin?

user56: well, she did have a chat with Alonso

george.the.mighty: you really thought she was going to go chit-chat with her ex AFTER releasing that new single?

~~~~~~~

y/nl/n_official & maxverstappen1

y/nl/n_official: New hair, new show, new companion. Thank you Milan, you were amazing!

see comments

maxverstappen1: 😘❤️

y/nl/n_official: 🥰

landonorris: so that's why you couldn't go play paddle with me huh 🤔

maxverstappen1: priorities man

landonorris: simp

y/nl/n_official: @/landonorris paddle on Wednesday?

landonorris: with you? always

maxverstappen1: 😑

byelando: them. on tour. together. I can't

ferrarisversion: can't believe he actually got her

redbullracing: but you will deliver our driver safely for the next race, right?

y/nl/n_official: of course! And don't worry, I am keeping him fed and physically active

redbullracing: 😄👍

maxverstappen1: ... really?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[nuumbie]

KARMA’S A DOG.

Prompt: You’re a prized worker at the IPC Marketing Department. You spend your days waiting for that flash of black.

Trigger Warning: Reader is mentally ill and a little shit head. Curse Words. General Violent Terms and Reader Gets Ragdolled. Boothill is NOT into you!!! He actually hates you! Guilt! Etc, etc… it’s just all hurt no comfort.

Author’s Note: Written to celebrate his trailer. Save a horse. Ride a cowboy. Contains spoilers regarding his character story.

He’s resting peacefully. This should still count as sleep. You pose the question in your head if you replace the pieces of something, how far until the thing is something else entirely. But he’s still alive. You find relish in that. There’s something in him that still lives.

He still has his head. Maybe, that’s all he has left of his old self. You wonder how the surgery must have gone. Of course you’ve met people who’ve changed themselves so drastically with robotics that you couldn’t recognize them after the surgeries. It’s a rebirth in ways. When you change so dramatically that you’re a different person by the end. His body’s 90% metal. 10% flesh. So, wouldn’t it be the cybernetics that win?

Despite everything. You don’t think so. Perhaps, that’s all that he needs. I think therefore I am. There’s no doubt he’s alive. Not to you, anyway. He’s brimming with human life. He’s more alive than you. Not in the same way where the question poses in your mind with other beings or creatures that change themselves so drastically. Boothill is obstinately simple.

You like that. He’s simple. The Hunt and those that follow it is straight forward. A single path. A single road. You like that you don’t have to read his intentions. You know what he wants and why.

Boothill. Galaxy Ranger. IPC Hunter. The Man who just tried to sneak into your office and put a bullet through your head like he has with many of your employees, those who’ve worked directly under you no less. You know. Most criminals don’t get this far. Not far at all past Pier Point. Oswaldo will have a riot.

If he knew he would. You’re not going to tell him.

Boothill is special.

The cowboy opens his eyes. Your personal grim reaper.

“I see you’re awake.” You smile in a loving way. If you can even manage that. People who can control their expressions make it seem so easy. Laying across his chest. You’ve opened up his core to play with his inner circuits. He must not like that though considering there’s a burning hatred in his eyes which threatens to scorch you. You glance up towards his face and sigh and ignoring the lingering, simmering, resentment. His body is heating up beneath your touch. So, maybe it resonates with his feelings, you wonder if his body steams. “We need to stop meeting like this. You’re going to make me think you’re obsessed with me.”

It’s the opposite way around. You know that. But the very idea that it isn’t causes him to lunge at you. The cowboy turns into nothing more than a blur, all the wires connected to the body collecting samples that took at least a good thirty minutes pulled from him. Some ripped from the walls, and in instants he’s on you.

“You dang—“ his hands make its way to your shoulders, you’re flipped without hesitation. his hands grasping you down, he lays on top of you. breath heavy. robots don’t breathe, though, so you try to think of another word as he catches himself and tries to make it so he’s the one on top. “— you again!?”

“I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you… you oughta’… you ANGEL!” He screeches. Music to your ears as he shakes you more like you’re more ragdoll than person. “AEONS, it’s so freaking annoying! You absolute delight! How did I lose to…”

“Thank you so much for the compliment.” You smile back. Probably the only one getting anything out of this arrangement. Pinned against the floor hand pressed tightly against your waist so you can’t struggle. He should’ve pressed it against your mouth. But it isn’t like you’re going to scream. You’re certain. Lots of women would love to be in this position you’re currently in. But it’s you. And this is far from some sweet, pure, little romantic story. You’re not delusional. You act like you are purely because it annoys him. It’s good for him to build up his rage, his discontentment because it keeps him on his toes. “I was just looking over your upgrades since the last time you invaded Pier Point. As for asking how I beat you~…”

“The electronic upgrade was not the best idea.” You smile. “If we can control your language… your body isn’t hard especially for a renowned genius like me. Have to talk to your doctor about that. You’re lucky I’m the one that found you. Where’s my thanks? If it was anyone else. They’d have torn you asunder.”

“Aeons of COURSE you Market-Phonies have something to annoy the DANGNATION out of me.” he grinds his teeth, looking around for his pistol. making a point about how dead he wants you. you can feel his grip loosen and tighten. he’s likely processing which one would get you to be quieter. “Where’d you put it? My gun. I’ve decided. I’m killing you now. Puttin’ ya out of your misery, sweet-face! You think this is rough? Think of a 9mm lead in your skull will be?”

“Cabinet.” You put on your best smile. “Is it for me?”

“Of course for you. Love you.” You didn’t take away his ability to say hate. So, he must have said something worse like an insult. You just know it’s bad because he says it in a way that’s so vitriolic it almost hurts. “You knew this was coming. I’m not going to miss my shot again. You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You did know it was coming. You wished he would get the one person above you first so you could witness your boss with his brains blown out, the outcries that an Emanator of Qlipoth killed. You could have gotten wine with Diamond and laughed about it and died happy knowing the world was washed clean forever of Oswaldo Schneider.

But you can’t be so lucky. You’ll have to wish him luck. If he actually manages to kill you that is. With how things are going? You’re not making it hard.

He grabs you by the neck so you can’t struggle away to call help. The iron hands encased over your neck like a shackle isn’t a bad feeling. You almost quote as such so he might grab you a little tighter. Sadly, it seems his finger is directly over your windpipe— making talking an impossibility. He really doesn’t want you to run. Not like you would. Dragging you as he goes towards the cabinet. He presses you against the wall one-handed.

Using his other hand to peruse through your belongings. Even if you struggled. You doubt you could make a dent against the material. You’ve always been more of a pen instead of a sword guy.

It seems he’s smarter than you thought. Since, he checks the bullets in the gun. Rather show-offishly, too. He clicks the trigger against your head and nothing comes out. He counts them out, too. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

You already knew that none of the shots would ring. But here’s a certain heart-pounding feeling even if you know it’s empty. He clutches the gun even tighter till it threatens to break between his metal appendages.

Obviously, you’ve cleaned them out. He glares at you. Of course you’re the one at fault. Of course you were smart enough to know the first thing he’d do when he woke up was try to kill you. Of course you wanted to see the look on his face when he got his gun back when he realized it was empty. “Don’t you have spares? You eat them, don’t you? Just shit them out.” You smile. It’s hard to talk with his hand on your throat.

The floor hits you. Hard.

Or maybe you hit the floor.

Either way. It hurts. Your head spins. But, you collect yourself. Maybe. Dizzy people often can’t tell they’re dizzy. “You going to kill me right? You don’t need a gun to do that. To make it painful. To get your little revenge.” You’re sputtering. Aeons. It be embarrassing if you didn’t say that. If you’re slurring. Though who are you to ask for a clean death? Innocent have died in uglier ways.

“I don’t get you.” Boothil’s boot presses against your chest and juts against your lungs— “make up your mind you wanna die or not? You’re seriously flip-flopping.”

You smile back at him from the floor. “I’d rather my employees not go down with me when you’ve got to escape. Jeremy just got a promotion. You won’t die here… will you space cowboy? So, you’ll have to make your way out.”

“Might as well limit the casualties.”

“You took everything from me.” Robots don’t stumble over their words. Robots are more precise. Everything about him is human. The way he’s so sentimental, emotional at your lap, while you can do nothing but watch. “What right do you have? You have way more blood on your hands than I do.”

“You’re not wrong.” you repeat, quietly. “It’s karma. It’s justice. I’m so happy you exist. So people like me get that just-dessert.”

“I could never ever dream of it. I could never do it with my own hands.” You smile remembering where you work. Your boss. The things you never had the confidence or strength to do yourself. “So I’m glad that you did. Thank you.”

He looks down at you.

He steps back.

You already know.

Too self-aware for your own good.

Maybe you should have shut up. You already know you’ve messed it all up. The way he looks at you is a look of disgust.

“Everyone here’s so fluffed up.” he grimaces. rubbing his shoe against the floor like he’s snuffing a cigarette out. so lowly. “Anyone the IPC touches get’s gosh-dang ruined.”

You know why he did. You ruined his life. You did. So, it was only fair he did the same in return—

Reaching out— before you realize it. “Hey, wait.”

“You’re not dragging me down with you! I want you to pay I’m not letting you off easy. When we meet again. I’ll have changed this place forever. And you’ll be forced to live with yourself…!”

He doesn’t even look back at you. You wish he did.

He lets you go and he runs out the door. You hear the sounds of loud screams. Shooting guns. It turns into a blur after a few seconds. They’re going to fail to apprehend him. You hope.

On the messy floor. Your lab a wreak. You’re sure. They’ll come here. They’ll question you.

And your life will continue as always.

You’ll lie. Jade can tell. But she won’t tell on you. You hope Oswaldo doesn’t notice. He’s the tricker. If he knew. He’d laugh.

“Fuck you, too.”

You put your hands over your eyes and you just ignore everything until someone comes and gets you. You’d use the word save. But, that’s what he was meant to do.

You’ll meet him again. You can wait. It’s all you ever do.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you