#i lov writing...

[thecringefailintherye]

oi cromwell nation was anyone gonna tell me liz is just kinda ... alive in the tudors????

like shes just out here living her best life with frain!cromwell in shoreditch??? like he wholeass lives in shoreditch for some reason??? tudors you and your historical innacuracy will always be famous to me

and yeah, im p sure this is liz and not johane or any other crom love interest for 2 reasons. while i love hilary very very much, she kid kinda make up the whole thomas/johane affair thing herself, (i also think the tudors writers were too lazy to go out here and read cromwells will and find out he had a sister in law)

and listen to me im so fr rn liz wykys survived the tudors

(gif i stole from the autocrat reviews) but yk... rip to historical real life and wolf hall liz but like shes built different

god im gonna write tudors verse liz fic i will... i need to make her 🔥REAL !!!!🔥

[iizuumi]

Guess Narumi isn't getting any paperwork done ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[buttercupshands]

MHA didn't create some miracle way of helping others. It was never promised to be this way. And when it came to villains...

Spoilers for manga all the way to chapter 423.

The only way to get anything in life in MHA was to be born "normal" like everyone else and that way of thinking never left Izuku with Toga getting the same treatment she did before from everyone from her family to her "normal" classmates. It was Ochako who helped Toga even if just a little by lifting the weight of all the feelings that Toga had.

She couldn't save Toga the way one could save a civilian by saving them from harm. If it worked that way Dabi would've saved Toga even before Ochako could apologize for failing to notice Toga. She was so lazer focused on saving everyone else, that she was just another villain to stop, not a human.

Even if by the end of it Ochako helped Toga to deal with her grief, acceptance as it was wasn't something possible when a quirk makes you want to drink someone's blood from jealousy.

We got a bittersweet ending with Toga, in which she probably died from blood loss just like her double did in MVA. If it wasn't for Twice she would've died back then.

Giving away her blood for Ochako wasn't a redemption or a way to save Toga in the end, more as it was her being true to herself until the very end.

Just like Twice chose to stay with the League even if Hawks offered him a way to survive that battle. He refused and died protecting his friends who accepted him instead of choosing to betray them and accept Hawks' offer.

After Twice's death... It was a matter of time that more 'active' LoV members would join him as well. As sad as it is, we now can return to Izuku.

Who, after his time OFA-AFO quirk space, now wanted to help a "crying boy" he saw in Tenko just as before with Katsuki in chapter 1. He didn't forgive Tomura and didn't excuse the way he chose to solve his problems.

It didn't mean that Tomura would survive in their battle, even if Izuku didn't see killing others as a way to solve problems. He didn't understand Tomura, but he still wanted to try, and try he did.

The rest of this post was nothing more than a contextual prologue to understand that it's not the first time a hero failed to save a villain and in Twice's case we know that he died and his death was the reason Toga started thinking about her own possible death and Dabi finally revealed himself as Toya.

The goal of saving a "crying boy" never was an end-goal for Izuku in the Final arc, since helping Tomura deal with his feelings just left him hollow with a goal that clashed with Izuku's. As being a hero for villains meant destroying the world for them to help them live freely.

But that was before AFO resurfaced.

Sadly after that Tomura who was talking about making his own choices for a while now stopped doing that. Even if he still had a goal of helping villains and only villains, Tomura was almost gone. And his goals were now unreachable.

Izuku helped Nana who in turn kept Tomura from fading away entirely. In MHA there were countless situations where Izuku's help affected people by helping a different person to keep hope, All-Might being the first one and Nana being the last one at the moment.

Hollow after Izuku helped him to get rid of his hatred Tomura could do the only thing he did - accept the situation as it was.

Accepting AFO as his Sensei, accepting Stain's ideals and Overhaul's deal was the way he solved his problems. Just like Izuku had a problem of understanding something outside of his norm, Tomura was accepting too many things, which lead to his downfall after accepting AFO's quirk.

Just like Twice could've given up everything that he had for his friends so did Tomura.

With Izuku helping as much as he could let Tomura to finally rest as he wasn't really living ever since waking up in the hospital. With his body now affected by AFO's wishes instead of his own until the end.

In a way Izuku didn't succeed in his wish for Tomura to stop ever since PLF war arc. As he "kept fighting to destroy" no matter how hard Izuku tried to stop him.

The only thing he succeeded in was changing Tomura's mind about himself, instead of viewing himself as a monster he accepted that he was a human just like Izuku said. A "crying boy" who couldn't really destroy Izuku's hands in the end.

For a group of Villains who weren't supposed to get profiles of their own at the start of the series, League is slowly fading as the most memorable group that there was in MHA, getting backstories, their own Villain themed arc all the while being as human as anyone else.

As sad as their story is they were not "unlucky", they didn't need a happy false ending where they would need to change to be normal - they chose to live this way and they lived it to it's fullest.

[fortheb0ys]

Idk if anyone knows Nolan Price but your getting a fic today cause I love him :3

Like most nights, you find Nolan in his office. The blinds are closed, the only source of light is a small lamp on his desk. His dress shirt falling off his shoulders, revealing such a perfect body. It was the only thing he had on, the rest was folded neatly beside him. He was sitting on the lather brown couch, hands fidgeting with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt.

His flaccid cock hidden resting between plush thighs. He looks up at you when he hears the door shut and the click of the lock. His eyes seems heavy. Must have had a hard day.

Under Nolan's expensive hand tailored suit, there's some meat on his bones.

He's always eating something from a food truck parked in front of the courthouse to crickets no one takes when he offers to share. It's no shame but he enjoys eating.

Peel back all the layers of fancy suit, a soft body underneath. A beautiful one at that. It was a model's standard or one of an Olympic athlete. But it was Nolan's. Your precious lover.

You stand in silence for a moment, taking in the view of his body through the dim light. Nolan seems uncomfortable under your watchful gaze. He adjusts his shirt to cover himself.

"Sorry. I-I don't know what I was doing." Nolan stutters as fingers clumsily button up his shirt. It's not the first time you've seen it but somehow your long gaze made him more self conscious about his body.

"No, Nolan. It's fine." Your hand touches his cheek in attempt to calm his nerves. Thumb stroking just under his eye. You look at him sympathetically.

It wasn't the first time you'd find him in such a state. Completely vulnerable and open to you. Letting you see every part of him.

Nolan was a man who kept is composure in the face of murderers. That changed when it came to you. You crumbled his walls. Made him feel something that made him weak in the knees.

Something about being valuable with you scare him so much that he wanted to run and never look back.

Or the way you made him question why you were together with a man like him. A man nearly twenty years your senior. You're young and handsome but choose him of all people.

If someone had ever figured of your relationship, they'd think differently of him and you. An old man of being some sort of pervert for dating one of his young staff. Or a young man manipulating his lonely older boss for a step up the ladder.

"You're thinking loud." You kiss underneath his ear as your bring him back to reality. To your touches on aged, soft skin.

You lay him down softly, kissing along his body.

You could feel all his tension melt away as you finger him open. A content sign leaves him as he finally takes a breath, letting himself be held, soaking in unwavering love.

The feeling of his body addictive. You could touch and kiss every inch of his body till your last breath. It was never enough time, the quiet moments you spend with him. They would always leave you feeling hungry for more.

You sit next to next, pulling him to sit in your lap. Nolan capture your mouth in his, swallowing your moans. He begins to grinding down his naked ass against your clothed cock.

"I need you in me, please." Nolan begs. His eyes look at you in a glossy lust.

There was no time to undress you. You'll have to fuck him still in your suit coat and tie. You cock couldn't wait to be buried in his tight heat.

Nolan slips off for just a moment to frantically undo your belt, pulling your pants and boxer just enough under you balls. With that he takes his rightful place back on your lap. A few strokes with your spit covered hands and Nolan lines himself up.

He hisses at the burn of your cock stretching him without proper preparation. The pain eased with every inch. His head tosses back when his ass rests on your pelvis. You coo praises at him as he adjusts.

Once he's ready, his knees pop at his first movement. When he was younger, he could ride for what felt like forever. He wouldn't be able to walk for weeks if he tried.

With his age now, he'd wouldn't be able to last that long. Cumming quicker and needing more rest time in between rounds just came with the added wrinkles. Just one other reason he thought you should be with someone younger.

A kiss on his collar bone brings him back to attention. He picks up the pace, sliding up till just the head of your cock is inside him. He drops down taking you again in one quick movement.

He tries to keep a steady pace, hoping his legs don't give out on him. You'd be more than happy to lay him down and fuck him, doimg all the work but Nolan's determination was sexy.

Your fingers sinking perfectly into the soft flesh of his stomach as helping him ride you. His cock poking into his belly with each bouce. He begs for you to take it into the palm of your hand, jerk him in rhythm of his bouces.

Fingernails dig into his hips leaving cresent moons in his skin. A tight grip pulling him down with each hard thrust. The head of you cock brushes against his prostate, sending him into the stars. You target the spot, hitting it hard

He knew he wouldn't last much longer with you now bullying his good spot.

"Come on, show me what you got." You tease like a cocky young punk.

Nolan eyes snap shut and his mouth wide open as he comes undone with one final bounce. You follow in suite as his walls constraint around you.

He lays all his weight against your chest, his nose buried in your collar bone as he comes down from the high. The smell of your expensive perfume mixes with the smell of sex and sweat in an intoxicating way. If Nolan could bottle it up, he would.

"My beautiful boy." You whisper lovingly in his ear as he doses off.

In the moment he felt like a boy, young and naive, chasing love so blindly. He let himself feel young again as he falls asleep in your arms.

[saintforan]

Clorivia sketch :D

Extra + context 🥳

Knight Clorinde proposes to her dear Lady Navia the same day she retired cuz she couldn't wait any longer (she tried to make it sound romantic but navias now concerned for her(just a bit tho, she loves that her gf now wife is not the best with words) (also she still said yes!))

A small royalty au where Clorinde is Furinas dearest knight and Navia is a Duchess who is not happy with how Furina is handling the prophecy situation, and so decides to take matters into her own hands and asks Wriothesley to recruit Clorinde to help them out. Clorinde refuses as shes loyal to furina but things happen and she turns back and accept Navias request and when she sees her with wriothesley shes like "whos this babe youre with yeager(not literally just a metaphor of clorindes mind @ that moment)" and falls in love w her so when the prophecy thing is solved she retires and confesses 2 navia aand they live happily ever after yay :D (not really an au just an awfully specific situation i left this drawing at cuz its cooler with context)

[catboydreamer]

summary; scaramouche w/ a partner who’s stronger than they look and just starts lifting shit up in front of him and yeah, he has a...reaction. (im so sorry i am undeniably obsessed w/ scara)

it’s not really a huge deal, scaramouche has always known you can handle yourself well.

something awakens in him when he sees you carrying in boxes; three boxes stacked on top of each other, your head barely peeking out from behind them. he freezes for a second, simply watching. he had no clue you had that sort of strength in you. good to know, though. 

his feelings truly get intense, though, while you’re out and have to carry a group of children to a safer location. you tell scaramouche it won’t be long. 

there are three children on you, one with their tiny hands locked around your neck as their tiny body lays against your back and the other two are hanging around your sides, held closely by you. 

scaramouche huffs despite his feelings. 

“don’t... take too long.” 

while you’re on your way, scaramouche stares after your figure and he cannot stop his own thoughts. he’s allowed to think of you like this but it’s still embarrassing. his cheeks heat up quickly and furiously. he becomes almost angry with himself over it. 

if you can carry so many things breathlessly, you could... hold him too. and not in the way it seems, of course you know how to hold him close. that’s something you’ve already mastered. he knows that. no, it's more of how easily you could lift him off the ground and pulls him to you with nowhere else to go. 

he makes an incoherent but angry noise as his fingers reach to tug at the back ends of his hair. 

it's simply a frustrating but addicting thought. 

now, truly it's up to you and your observational skills if anything happens! 

if you had noticed his gazes and the flustered look that overtook his face before you left, then you would question him about it. just don’t expect a quick answer or one at all. 

scaramouche is stubborn after all, so unless you initiate something now, you won’t even know what it's about until months later. 

he would literally pout and make grabby hands at you one day all of a sudden, probably after a really hard day, and demand, “hold me.”

hopefully you understand he wants you to pull him up and not simply hug him, though if you don’t, he’d become huffy about it. it’s been marinating in his brain for a few months now so if you are oblivious to his /obvious/ feelings, he’s gonna jump on you, now. what’s worse is you don’t even stumble at all and instinctively know where to hold him. it makes him sick. 

he’s so tired, right now, so he doesn’t say anything. he closes his eyes as he finally leans into you and gets what he wants. 

don't ask him about it or else >:). KIDDING he’s used to your antics and little remarks you’ll make. he likes it when it comes from you. 

[chrliekclly]

if you ever want to talk about your thoughts on joyce .. Peeks over the corner of your blog. i love talking and hearing ppls thoughts on joyce sooo much even if they're different from my own!! and your analysis and stuff is always so well thought out

i hope u dont mind if i answer this publicly to take advantage of th request nd get my ideas out ther (also tyvm im happy u like my insane takes on these idiots, iv ben thinking abt them for almost 10 years)

i said a lot here so gnna 'read more' it

iv ben building trans charlie n my head fr, like i said, nearly 10 years. i used to view him as cis bcuz i always try to take as much frm th source material as i can wen i craft my HCs nd i had v personal (stupid) hangups insofar as him explicitly referring to his junk multiple times nd bottom surgery simply not being on my radar as a naive littl trans idiot deep in th sauce tht transmen oftn fall into w phallo being viewed so so poorly

evn still i leaned towards transmasc charlie nd always lovd moments tht let me imagine, for a moment, it being true, like his discomfort w taking off his shirt [hundred dollar baby, charlie kelly: king of the rats, the gang exploits the mortgage crisis, young charlie and mac deleted scenes, etc etc etc], or bonnie yelling abt ppl stealing her "charlie-girl" [the waitress is getting married] which i lovd to see as her accidentally misgendering him while drunk off her ass.

having grown out of my phallo issues (nd if ur reading this and u still view phallo super poorly, please do some research and grow too), ive in recent years fully subscribed to transmasc/nb charlie, and view his timeline something like this:

baby -> elementary: charlie refers to himself as a boy, doesnt "come out," simply has no idea he's afab. bonnie lets him dress however he wants and refers to him as asked. when charlie gets confused about his genitals, bonnie says his dick will grow in later lol, makes charlie wear a dress in public restrooms and tells him its just a game

middle: puberty hits and charlie gets confused and scared. bonnie puts him on blockers w.o explaining them ("my mom used to vaccinate me like every month" [the gang gets quarantined]) charlie goes on content and oblivious. STP acquired because hes "a late bloomer" and his dicks still not growing in?? weird. confides this in mac once, but he doesn't understand.

high: charlie finally registers that he's trans after forgetting theres a health class 1 day and not being able to skip it. throws him for a loop a bit but he becomes actively invested in his goals. he gets to start T and wants to have surgeries. "what guy hasnt done some extensive research on his own genitalia?" [mac is a serial killer]

college (aged): able to surgically transition (ty medicare) and continues on with life as we kno him now

joyce, imo, fits neatly into these views.

as a transmasc nb who came out young nd prefers to be seen as just A Guy by strangers, i grew up v vehemently against anything girly that might get me misgendered, but th more i began to 'pass,' th more @ home n my body i felt, th more and more comfortable i am w femininity, th more i wdnt mind putting on a dress, as long as th general public wd see me as "a man in women's clothes." n my mind, i prescribe something not exactly th same but v similar to charlie.

i see charlie "i dont really identify" kelly as afab and nb. i see joyce as a "character" he originally created to distance himself from the dysphoria of putting on a dress as a young trans boy, but that became part of him as the hard lines he drew in the sand as a child became blurry with age and self acceptance. charlie's comfort with himself allows joyce to evolve into a more solid persona, one he enjoys embodying and allowing to become a permanent facet of who he is. he's ok with being referred to as either. they're both him.

so maybe joyce comes out a bit more outside of the bathroom now.

[chosoclub]

Was thinking ab stripper au with choso here’s this :))))))) (bro fs needs a lap dance after the most recent chapter sheesh)

The gap between the door and the frame is two millimeters, just enough to fit your retina peeking through it and onto the mesh of blue and purple. You refuse to tell the other girls you’re crouching behind the shield of the door out of fear they’d smirk and brag about how they were right all along – yeah, we figured you liked him when he’s the only one you stare at all night, they’d taunt. And because they were right and because you refused to admit it, you’re alone in the changing room when everyone has gone out to the dancefloor, huddled and waiting. He usually came around this time but his schedule was so unpredictable. The only facet was the baseless hope that tugged at your ribs that he’d walk through the dancing lights at any minute.

You watch as the other girls take on the stage, flying from the top of the ceiling and gracefully landing on the floor. The bass of the music grows louder by the minute and the lights increase in their saturation and glow. People cheer when the girls swing around the poles in bass with the music. You’re so distracted by them dancing that you miss him wandering inside. When your pupils switch back to his walking shadows, you slam the door shut. 

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of his outfit this time. Last time, he had worn black ripped jeans, loose at his legs the frays brushing against the muscles, and a gray shirt that rode up his waist when your pelvis was grinding against it. You remember catching a glimpse of his pale skin when the hem of his shirt reached his lower abs. The time before that he didn’t get a dance at all, the first and only time he was accompanied by other people. 

You face the cubbies and lean your head against your palms. Your heartbeat thumps against your ribs in beat with the music so loud you don’t hear the door creak open and barely catch the sentence,

“Hey, babes, get up and out there – he’s requesting you.”

You can barely muffle it through the meat of your palms, “who?”

“You know who,” a scoff from the dancer, you can tell in between beats of silence she’s rolling her eyes, “Your man, he specifically requested you.” 

It feels like your heart is going to crack your ribcage or crawl up your throat and beat onto the floor; You can’t remember the last time you were this nervous, not over a man. Your ears have never grown hot over a man before, your shoulders have never tensed like this. The bench that initially felt cold against the thin, mesh fabric cover-up over your hips and thighs suddenly grows hot like a grill you have to jolt up from. 

“You don’t wanna keep him waiting, yeah?” You barely hear her when you open the door to the rest of the club and only catch her playful wink. 

You try to gather all the confidence into your shoulders as you’re walking over to him – the whole shoulders back, neck high, back straight routine. He’s sitting on the couch, body facing the stage but not particularly focused on anything. One of his arms is sprawled against the back of the couch, the other on his leg. It’s dark, and you can barely see the floor you’re walking on, but when you approach him you can see clearly the outline of his hair, down sitting against his neck this time. 

He’s staring right at you when you stand in front of him, face stern except for the small smirk that wedges a small wrinkle against his cheeks. You’ve given countless lap dances, but this one is already leaving you wordless. You quietly sigh to calm your nerves instead, listening to the beat of the song playing to match your moves to. 

Standing before him, stage lights gleaming against your back creating the perfect silhouette that you feel like you can sink back against, you begin like you always do. You bend at your hips, dragging your hands over your body as you come back up, rolling your body when you do; In the second the lights go dark, you’re on your knees, extending them further apart and bringing them together then one hand in front of the other and catching his eyes in the process, you’re between his knees. 

You rise from his legs and lower your hips on top of his, feeling his jet-black eyes on you the entire time, arm sliding from the back of the couch and onto your waist. A move that would make you uneasy, from him, feels almost like encouragement. The halo around your figure gleams. You swing your hips to the melody, each time grinding closer and closer to his pelvis. When you buck your hips down completely, grinding them against the hem of his jeans, his smirk dissipates, only leaving you to lean closer to brush your lips against his ears as you arch your back. 

Choso tips his head back, lips apart, inhaling your breath and smelling the perfume that emits from your neck. He’s still watching you, or your silhouette, you can see his half-lidded eyes, retinas tipped down to catch any glimpse of your face. 

You grind to the beat of the music against his waist, leaning close to his nose only to completely turn your hips to face the stage and lean forward, hands running up his thighs. A break from looking at his face and raven hair has you releasing a breathless sigh when you come back up and tilt your neck back, hips against the base of his groin. You draw your hips forward and back, hands at your scalp for extra sultry until you finally lean your back against his chest, almost grinding all of your body against him.  

Choso lets out a soft groan against the back of your head, which only has you lifting your pelvis to abrase against his once more. He gives up on keeping his hands to himself, placing them at your waist and guiding you against him – It’s something you’d never let anyone do, but it was true that you liked him more than just a familiar face around the club and the smile that takes your face only further proves so. He moves his hands to your thighs, lifting your weight in parallel with his until you’re both moving to the beat and his head has moved to the base of your neck. 

You turn back to face him, making sure that your hair brushes against his collarbone as you do. He sighs when you bring your arms on his shoulders and roll your hips in a circle. By the climax of the song, you both have your heads tilted back as your hips roll in confluence. You tip your chin forward, rolling over his abs and leaning close to his nose. He closes the distance to swallow your breaths in a kiss. His lips are warm and soft, immediately suckling at your bottom lip and softly prodding his tongue in between the valley. You match his pace, keeping your hips pressed against him in consistent movement. One of his hands leaves a space on your hip to trace your jaw as his kiss deepens – It feels like your lips are slowly morphing to become one how deep he runs his tongue through the inside of your mouth.

You pull away, your mouths separating in a wet and messy squelch. His eyelids are still dipped down, lashes touching his waterline, and a smirk sits on his lips. You mirror the grin, leaning against his ear,

“Same time next week?”

[shehsart]

It's gotten me thinking how it's so tragic it is that the league of villians are ostracized from society and their own families reject them simply for things beyond their control. (Touya's fire quirk incompatibility, Toga's need for blood) They've never been shown empathy so why would they empthatize with those who are blessed by the system? While they are forced to rot in the streets those with "socially acceptable" quirks get to thrive.

And it's beautifully written how these feelings of ostracism cause them anger and cause them pain all because all of them just wanted to love. Like Mary Shelley said "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge the other."

Their "love" turns to loathing and drives them to madness. Touya loved his father and he was his no1 hero but if the no 1 hero beats his wife and abuses his kids what about the rest? Society has driven them insane then it hates them for being ugly victims too. If they were dead or passive it would've been convenient. Hawks calls twice unlucky before killing him and he refutes it in his last moments as Toga embraces him. He wasn't unlucky, he was just never accepted by those around him and he finally found that acceptance within the league. He says he lived a fulfilling life because he got to love them.

I just wished we got to see things from the villains perspectives more. MHA would've been much darker and grittier that way but I'm atleast glad we got their side of the story too. Love and rejection have always been a central theme of the league, they're almost inseparable.

[orphan-account123653]

Stargazing w/ Chuuya - Headcannons

triggers: none

word count: 148

a/n: i want to create an actual fic with Fyodor but I'm so lazyyyy :(

Chuuya would bring snacks to munch on while you look up at the night sky.

He would also bring blankets for you to lay on.

He would let you cuddle up against him if you felt sleepy.

And if you did fall asleep, Chuuya would pick you up and walk back to the car so he could drive back home and get you to bed.

Chuuya would listen to you talk about the stars and planets until you ran out of facts to tell him.

He would learn about the constellations just so he can see you all surprised.

Chuuya has fallen asleep once or twice, not because he’s bored but because of the calming ambiance and your comforting presence.

He will admire how pretty you look right beside him, with the pale moon casting a beautiful light onto your face. It just makes him melt with love.

[airanke]

One of the dumbest things I've ever drawn 🤣🤣🤣

Please appreciate these two idiots if their story was a Rom-Com! It's a scene from a manga called "Do-Chokkyuu Kareshi x Do-Chokkyuu Kanojo (Super Straightforward Boyfriend x Super Straightforward Girlfriend)"!!! The panel is under the cut (also that's why you read it <<<<<<<<< that way)

Props to @celest-star-collection for sending me the panel!

[haomnyangz]

How can you want this, Sephiroth? Begone. Your part is played. FINAL FANTASY VII: REBIRTH SQUARE ENIX (2024)

[bibibbon]

You know, the loV stans complaining about shig and dabi and toga's ending is a tragedy "poor meow meow" and with a rare dose of people not blaming Izu (it's rare super rare) but forget how....they didn't want to be saved, Ochako, Izu and maybe Shoto(through I think Shoto's case makes a bit more sense) were on a fool's mission.

Izu suffered, suffered, suffered for absolutely nothing.

He didn't saved Shig.

Shiga and Izu don't know each other...it's almost laughable how they are strangers really

Izu get nothing. Monoma gets a statue (not a hater, but come on! Why he get a state and Izu not even a thanks, oh sure lil kids thank him once in a full moon)

Izu has no friends.

And the likelihood of bk being the #1 is still a thing.

Bk won

Izu, the mc, the underdog lost.

If the mc can't have a good ending. Why the fuck the LoV stans thought shig and dabi would have a happy ending?

Just mad...not with the story, but with the fans.

MHA is a shitty story ...with a fandom which has no media literacy

Hi @mikeellee 👋

It's hilarious how underdeveloped the dynamic between Izuku and shigaraki is it's almost like horikoshi forgot about them and then tried to do something to try and fix that in the last war arc by using the whole memeoru sharing thing that mainly shared Shigaraki's memories and barely none of izuku's. The two characters haven't interacted enough to even understand eachother and izuku is still stuck in chapter one (Izuku doesn't actually develop he is an incredibly static character) so how do you expect a static character to save another when izuku can't even save himself?!?!

Iam incredibly critical of both shigaraki and izuku and at least shoto and Dabi or toga and ochako were given slightly more justice than what the main duo was given.

However, even when it comes to the other characters the villains weren't given proper arcs to be saved. I have touched on that aspect a lot on other asks but its incredib easy to make them tragic characters who end up proving a point or characters who end up becoming redeemed but they also need to be properly humanised and developed.

Iam not trying to say that the only characters that can be saved are those who are perfect victims but Iam saying that it's quite difficult to save a character who says they will continue to harm/kill or destroy even after being given another chance.

In the end everyone who isn't bakugo got a bad ending.

[buttercupshands]

Chapter 419 Analysis or "How to completely break Tenko Shimura" a manipulative guide from All For One (part 1)

This is mainly a character analysis of Shigaraki Tomura or Shimura Tenko, any other character present is there to help.

Chapter 419 was hard to comprehend even with just summaries right on April 4th. Some things need at least fan translation to fully make sense. Or just hurt more in that matter.

Warning of spoilers to the whole manga to the point of chapter 419! All of the warnings from the respective Tomura chapters are applicable.

So like... mentions of death, killing other people, manipulation, emotional abuse and many more!

This is Part 1 - See Part 2 for something less depressing

This is going to be long! So let's start, shall we?

First of all we'll need to take into understanding ALL the chapters that we'll need to remember/reread just make this chapter worse (skip if already familiar with them):

Chapter 222 - Tomura Shigaraki: Distortion

Chapter 234 - Destruction Sense

Chapter 235 - Tenko Shimura: Origins

Chapter 236 - Tenko Shimura Origins, Part 2

Chapter 237 - Tomura Shigaraki: Origins

This is your "Tenko and Tomura understanding" starter pack, basically. Without them it's harder to even start unpacking what just happened with Tomura's perspective in mind

Well then.

The chapter starts and we are immediately greeted by AFO semi-agreeing without wanting to, that Tomura was strong enough before Izuku started trying "saving" him in his own way and even succeeded making Tenko's will all the more fragile than it was when he returned using his hate to his advantage.

Even after Izuku holding Tenko's hands for the whole chapter he was still stubborn enough to continue even without that hate in his heart

And the thing that initial summaries missed was the fact that Tomura actually reacted to AFO reapperance.

Still not understanding why AFO was even saying that.

Tenko was literally taught by AFO to follow "what he wants" in ch 237 with Tenko making his first decision to kill someone himself. And never actually hiding that Tomura just needed to never forget that hatred and those bad emotions that Tomura never really understood. And it took Izuku seconds to decipher them.

With AFO reassuring Tomura that he has no need in following morals of society and just should follow whatever he wants - his want to destroy everything that hurts him. And only AFO would accept and help him. He was constantly reminded of that.

Even if Tenko was feeling sick from killing at first, even if hands that he wore were still making him sick 15 years later without him understanding anything. Decisions made while person is emotional are usually the ones that the person might regret the most and Tomura lived with those unstable emotions for years. Knowing that they hurt him and make him feel sick.

But Sensei said that it's okay to follow those emotions. That's it's actually great that he does it.

Everything was for his sake, everything was for Tomura Shigaraki and Tomura Shigaraki only. He was his Sensei's successor and no one should argue with it. He's the only one to be next ruler of the underground and the next king. And Tomura gladly accepted that as truth.

Since it was easier than facing his guilt.

Because AFO just needed Tomura to have enough willpower to get OFA when the plan is ready. To make Gigantomachia to follow him while Garaki was watching knowing full well how the plan is going. Both knowing full well that Tomura is still holding himself back.

In this chapter however we finally see how all of the things AFO told and taught Tenko were just to make him so sure that HE was in control and allowed to do whatever he wants to completely break his worldview in the end "after he gets OFA" which is an unreachable goal now since OFA is gone for good.

By just saying that Tenko never had any choice to begin with.

Tomura already knew that AFO manipulated him and he was just a pawn, needed only to get OFA and piss off All-Might he accepted and embraced it as something unimportant. It was his choice and he was free to do it and not feel bad about it. Since he's born to destroy.

Until suddenly it wasn't just his life after Decay that was manipulated.

But his whole life from birth. Just because AFO didn't get his hands on Hana sooner and she was happy while AFO needed someone hurt and broken. And Shimura's household wasn't as bad as he needed it to be at first with Kotaro loving his children, wife, in-laws and even his mother.

And AFO destroyed it by creating so much conflict and even going out of his way to make sure Tenko's father knew that he was playing heroes with some kids. And even saved them by putting his own quirkless life in danger.

In some sense narrator-Tomura's words at the end of ch 236 still might hold true. AFO didn't just create his hate out of nowhere, to make it feel like even if Tenko remembers everything it's still he's doing not a villain appearing, not just some accident that it actually was.

Although AFO doesn't say anything about people who didn't help Tenko even though he he knew that it happened so he most probably was watching it happen until Tenko lost all hope entirely to finaly make him dependent on his help.

And he succeeded for the most part.

Tomura was making an assumption after he remembered everything that he "must've been yearning for that" and from that point onwards explains everything that happened as "I wanted it - I did it" and was clinging to it like a lifeline to explain everything.

He accepted that if Re-Destro is talking about his Decay quirk affecting him he exists only to destroy.

And now it seems he found a false motivation for himself that AFO created by cruely manipulating everything from his quirk to his family. Making him believe he had a hand in it. Breaking one of "safe" truths that Tomura never doubted. They only made his decisions feel right.

Which makes that a hopeless loop of broken memories being staged just to let Tenko become Tomura who hates and destroys everything believing that it's his choice. Only choice at that.

And if destroying is him only choice because of his quirk... then what can a quirkless person do while having so many people dead from his own hands? Hands that were literally cursed to have destruction quirk in them not because he was born to do it. But because his own Sensei wanted that.

And he's "unwavering heart" is now nothing but an illusion that was destroyed by both Izuku and AFO together.

There's no "Can I be a Hero?", because can he even be a Villain if most of the choices that were from Decay and the hatred in his heart weren't actually his own?

[apuff]

thinking about love in danger days

this is part of my conspiracy theory that that album is aroallo, but i've always gotten the sense that romance and romantic attatchment is much less important to danger days than any other mcr record. with bullets&revenge it's quite obvious as the demolition lovers take up like, everything, and the black parade has a heavy focus on a romantic relationship as well. 

while i do think there are lines in it that are romantically coded, there is a definitive lack of emphasis on it- like it's nowhere in the plot at all. 

i do think danger days represents a very familial type of love though. while other albums visit a sense of "i want you, i need you, i miss you, i hate you,", this is more like…"i love you, i want to protect you, i'm sorry"

i find this especially strongly in s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w:

"Nevermind about the shape i'm in, I'll keep you safe tonight"

"love, love, love won't stop this bomb"

"run, run, bunny, run"

and other songs: 

"i'll find you when the sun goes black"

"just save yourself and i'll hold them back tonight"

"how long until we find our way in the dark and out of harm"

relevant things i can't cover with just quotes are planetary go, oft-theorized to be about party poison and kobra kid, as brothers, leaving battery city together; sing, about the killjoys' last message to the girl while saving her; goodnite dr. death, phrased as him saying goodnight to children; and summertime, which i can't discern the meaning of but seems more like a family type of love. 

i think it makes sense that danger days is like this, seeing as it features main characters that take care of a child main character as opposed to main characters that love other main characters of the same age/ability. 

another thing i noticed while re-listening to the more sentimental songs for this essay is that there's just a distinctly different vibe to it. So much of it is focused around wanting to protect people, keep them safe and out of danger (<- ha that's the name of the album) and loved. i think this also makes sense, because the killjoys live a very, well, dangerous life without much security, and they'd want to provide what they lack the most. another semi-related thing i noticed is just how much of an emphasis there is on childhood in this album. i feel like there's a vibe of youth or teen-hood throughout the earlier ones, but this is just VERY strongly about kids. again this makes sense cause not only are the killjoys teenagers (a type of kid!) they also have a proper little kid to watch. 

also, i wonder how much of this stuff was due to gerard becoming a parent. just something to think about 

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Two

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 22

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] Part Twenty-Two [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

“Well now ladies,” the tallest man speaks, his voice low and condescending. He’s smug too, like the cat that got the mouse, as he steps forward twirling a dagger. “You don’t seem to have our prize stallion with you as we expected, but I’m certain his filly and granny will make perfect bait.”

You’re glad to have a wall at your back in some ways, but you’d feel better with a method of escape.

“I know not what your aim is,” Grandmother begins. You’re relieved to hear Grandmother speak. The way her strength had been failing, you were getting worried about how bad she might have been hurt. You also have no idea what to do next, the assassins fanned out in a semi-circle on the other side of the desk you two are behind. Her voice is rough, but strong, as she continues, “but I assure you: it will fail!”

“Know not?” the one on the right says, her voice more bored than anything. Her head tilts with the question, but she keeps her spear pointed at your corner. She’s got a scarf tied tight about her mouth and hair, leaving only eyes free. She’s clad in dark well-worn clothes that give free range of movement. There’s a bulk to them that suggests leather armor of some sort is under them. She stands with a sturdiness you can determine even with your minimal martial knowledge. She looks like it’d take an ox to move her where she doesn’t want to go.

“Clen just said what our aim is,” the one on the left says, his voice mocking. Grimly, you agree. They all but said you’re now hostages to them, leverage against Dale. You wonder what he might have done, likely not to them, but to those that hired them. These were rough folks, but skilled. Although, they did bungle their actual capture of Dale, nabbing you and Grandmother instead.

They’ve already adapted their plan and they still seem confident. The tall man—Clen—isn’t even out of breath as he holsters his crossbow. The fact that no one’s heard the commotion is really starting to worry you. That means they must have incapacitated those nearby. Anyone you could have alerted or called to help must either be away or somehow dealt with already.

Of all the worries you had about this wedding, somehow attackers targeting Dale or yourself had never crossed your mind. Clearly, you’d been thinking too small, you realize somewhat hysterically. It’s taking everything you have to keep yourself together, but you know you must.

You’re no fighter, certainly not outnumbered with someone to protect. All of your minimal lessons were with weapons you didn’t have, people you do not have around you, and primarily were geared towards escaping. They also tended to be in consideration of one opponent, not four highly trained ones.

“She’s got a bit of a bleed going from her head,” Clen replies. You feel ice slip into your veins and turn your head, trying to keep them in sight but also take a look at Grandmother. You don’t even remember pushing her into the chair behind this desk. She’s managing to seat herself confidently. Her posture makes it appear as though these are mere hooligans who’ve burst into her office unannounced. Only the thin trickle of blood down her cheek betrays her affectation.

You press one of your spare handkerchiefs into her hand, while readying another. “Please use it to stop the blood,” you whisper to her. “You must.”

Grandmother accepts the cloth from you, but you both keep your gazes fixed on the assassins, unable to look away from the threat.

“So I suppose we can’t blame her for not following the obvious,” Clen grins. His scarf covers his head too, but it has holes for his eyes and leaves his mouth visible. The other man is taller than the woman, but shorter than the other men, with only a scarf covering his mouth. You can’t see well in the light, but you think he’s got markings either cut into his short shorn hair or inked onto his scalp.

 The final one hasn’t said anything. He’s the one who appeared suddenly in front of you to cut off your escape. He also has no covering on his face at all. His hair is black streaked through with gray and his eyes seem to glow, highlighting the blue of one and the green of the other. He looks the least physically strong, but you’ve a feeling he doesn’t fight that way—not to discount the short sword he does have in his hand.

Assassins, a word you can hardly believe you are thinking, also tend to come in two breeds: those who are extremely skilled fighters and thieves and those who are that and also dabble in demonics. That last one is definitely the latter. And even the others look like they might at least have had some Depth enhancement work done. Did someone know to send such types after Dale? Or were they merely counting on Northridge being vulnerable to such attackers? Maybe this group was just the best money could buy.

“We’re here for your little heir,” Clen says, enough theater pomp to his manner that you wonder if he was once a performer. “Our generous patrons want him trussed up and escorted back to them. Before we deal with him to their satisfaction. Bit frustrating he didn’t come back with you two as he had every past nights, but we’ve time to wait.”

“Even with this distance between us,” he smirks, waving an arm towards where you and Grandmother are wedged. “I know you agree that you’re well and truly cornered.”

“So sit still and wait like good bait,” the man on his left says, his eyes and voice conveying the smirk he must be wearing, “danglin’ on the hook, for the lordling to arrive.” You think you like him the least. His eyes seem cruel and his daggers very sharp.

“You can yell all you want then,” the woman says, seemingly convinced that you’ll stay put. She’s pulled her spear back to her and is polishing it with her sleeve. “But don’t bother now. Some’at mysterious struck the guards this wing of the house. What was it again, Lasky?”

“Food poisoning something bad, I heard,” the man on the left, who must be Lasky, says. His eyes seem to linger on you in particular, despite Grandmother doing the talking, even now when answering the woman. You wish you had more than a dull dinner knife on you because the idea of that one in particular anywhere near you makes your skin crawl

“My lot are in the cellar,” the woman returns with a shrug, “got stuck somehow.”

“And Two won’t tell what he did to his,” Clen jerks his head at the silent, unmasked man. He’s the one you’ve already decided is the most dangerous. You’re certain he’s by far the most mixed up in demonics. Even beyond the superstition of people with two different colored eyes. His disinterest in hiding his identity, the shadow movement he displayed, his silence and lack of blinking all point towards possession to you. He unnerves you far more than Dale did, even in the beginning. There’s a carelessness to him, something unbound and unrestrained. You don’t want to think on what he could do, if he wanted to. Your only comfort is the fact that he seems largely uninterested in doing anything but leaning against the wall and waiting.

“You will not succeed in this plan,” Grandmother says, clearly fed up with their antics. You’re happy she has it in her to feel annoyed instead of just scared, with the edge of anger like you. “You would do best to try to make your escape now while you still have the opportunity.”

“She’s got brass ones to be threatenin’ us right now,” Lasky says with a laugh that Clen joins in on.

“You’ve no idea what we’re capable of,” Clen says to Grandmother once he’s stopped. “If only your grandson hadn’t angered quite so many people with the money to spare. Mayhap then they’d have hired those lesser than us to accomplish their bidding.”

“He really shouldn’t have cheated that one Lord at cards,” Lasky adds and you can hear Grandmother let out an outraged huff. You bite your lip to hold back unexpected, ironic laughter at the idea that this is just more of same. Original Dale, being careless and leaving others to suffer for his mistakes. “I think he paid more than half our fee by himself.

“My Dale is no cheater,” Grandmother retorts hotly, as if that mattered at all. “If they had a real case, they would follow the proper channels. They would not send thugs after him.”

“Well, our patrons disagree,” Clen replies. He doesn’t slide his sword back into its sheath, but stretches with it still in hand. His shirt rides up to reveal red ink markings that confirm to you he’s got some sort of demonic enhancements. 

“Although the knight is a hypocrite,” the woman scoffs. “Complaining about someone else cheating.”

“Who cares? He’s the one paying us extra for—” Lasky starts to say before Two gives him a look. It’s not even particularly menacing, just filled with intent. Clen gets tense for all he doesn’t look at Two, but the woman gives Lasky a glare fit to set him on fire. Lasky shuts up.

She stalks over to him, pointing her spear at him with a thunderous expression on her face. 

Lasky turns from Two, who’s gone back to looking out through the open doorway to the courtyard, to face her. “Not your place, Vi—don’t try and speak on things you don’t—”

“Don’t need to understand to know you’d best keep your mouth shut, you ninny,” Vi hisses. “I made an exception, working with you lot, and I’ll not be regretting it.”

“Is this the time?” Clen sounds exasperated and turns to get between them. The resulting argument is quiet enough that it devolves to unrecognizable words and sounds. 

Your eyes automatically dart to the door and then to the courtyard, but you know you’d never out run them, let alone be able to with Grandmother in tow. And if they think they’ll be discovered, well, Grandmother would lose her value as a hostage. Besides, your eyes trip past Two while looking. He’s switched back to staring at you. 

“Keep calm,” Grandmother whispers in your ear, seemingly wanting to take advantage of the argument. You’re grateful she seems coherent, if tired, but her voice is less strong in your ear than when she was yelling at Clen.

“Your maid and my own will likely have already realized we’re missing,” she reminds you. You’d completely forgotten about sending hers ahead and no doubt yours will be up in your rooms with your late night nibbles soon, both wondering where you two are. “No doubt they will find some guards. Or it will be noticed some guards are missing from their posts. Either way, they will backtrack our route. It is only a waiting game. Just don’t let those ratbags get close.”

“I agree,” you say, glad your voice sounds steady. You try to pivot your body to keep them in the corner of your eye, for at least a few minutes. You desperately want to take a closer look at Grandmother’s injury. “How are you feeling?” 

“I will be fine,” Grandmother insists, but she moves as you do, sitting more heavily in the chair with each passing second. You’re able to finally see that the arrow did graze her head. “Just rather…” 

Her eyelids flutter rapidly and you hurry to brace her, barely able to keep from making a noise of surprise that might draw the kidnappers’ attention. Her hand falls to her side taking the handkerchief with it, stained red. The resulting cut is bleeding sluggishly into her hair and down her cheek. Since your spare is already in your hand, you’re quick to press it to the wound. You tug a ribbon free from your hair so you can try to fix the cloth in place.

You know the best you can hope for is to set her up in the least dangerous position that also leaves you free to protect her. Who knows what ideas these criminals might get without her conscious to be intimidating? With one less person to make a fuss?

You’ve just gotten it to stay when the sound of Lasky’s voice causes you to whip around.

“Aw, did she fall asleep?” he asks. His continually mocking tone sets your teeth on edge. The three who’d been involved in the argument are back to their original fanned out positions, best to limit your escape. He takes a step closer and you can’t help but press closer to the chair, needing something solid at your back. Needing to remember that now there’s only you there to defend Grandmother. You need to keep it together.

“Don’t feel lonely, I’ll keep you entertained, lady,” he says, stepping even closer. “I am certain I can keep your attention. I venture I could make you forget all about the pompous heir. His fault for letting his little betrothed walk back without him, isn’t it?”

Fear and anger rage inside you at his implications, at his approach. If only you were someone else, someone with the right training. Near everyone you know would be better in this situation than you: schoolmates, siblings. That sparks a memory and you glance down. This was the corset gifted to you by your oldest sister, who wasn’t a knight, but was never unarmed.

“Lasky,” Vi warns. “The granny’s already fainted.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Lasky says, glancing at Vi. “Well, not enough she would not still be useful.”

You hastily take advantage of that split second, fingers fumbling with the tie at the top of your corset. You slid a finger into the hole and drew out a flat, wickedly sharp dagger. Designed as a set with a sheath to act as a typical busk. It is on the thicker side than most busks, but still comfortable in its place down the center of your corset. While in its sheath it performs its job of lending stiffness to the corset. Out of its sheath, the blade is wicked sharp.

You had lessons on using it, but you’d never truly expected to need to apply them. That training was none of the forms and rules of typical martial training. Self-defense is about taking advantage of any vulnerability, leveraging whatever you had at your disposal to get away. It was all dirty tactics and cheap shots. You hold the dagger in front of yourself. The weight of the metal is slight, but steadying. You feel safer with something in hand to protect yourself with.

When Lasky turns back to you, his eyes immediately land on your new blade. “You think you can win a fight with that?” he sneers at it. “It’s hardly more than a letter opener.”

“No,” you reply truthfully, before you tighten your grip. You swallow, realizing you haven’t had to speak yet. You try to pull even an ounce of the steel Grandmother had in her voice into your own. “However, I think I can blind you in at least one eye or take a few of your fingers before you killed me.” Your voice is quieter, with less command than Grandmother’s, but it’s steady, which is more than you’d hoped for.“And I doubt you want that.”

“I told you these noble bitches were cold,” Clen says, but he doesn’t sound upset. Of all of them, he’s been almost cheerful the whole time. “Do not touch her until we have him—she is more tempting bait than the old woman. He’s probably just waiting for her to drop dead as it is. You know how these heirs are.”

Lasky hasn’t retreated, but he’s stopped advancing. You hope he can see how sharp the blade is. You hope he’s thinking about your words. How he will win the fight, but that you are more than capable of making him regret it. More than capable of leaving a lasting mark. That’s how they train the nobility who do not go into the military. Your virtue, your bloodline, are your most valuable possession. It is drilled into any noble, especially those who aren’t heirs, that you must ensure no one besmirches it. 

“Would one of you lend me some aid?” Lasky complains.

“The plan was not to take prisoners,” Clen points out, still sound amused more than anything. He’s not even looking at Lasky anymore, instead he’s checking his gear. Obviously, the fight with Dale or whatever guards might come are his main focus. It worries you that they have such time and anticipation when Dale does not. However, it also is a comfort because that means he’s not paying you as much mind. “I would prefer to keep my hands free.”

“No rope,” Vi clarifies where she’s pushing some furniture to the side, making a clearer area for a fight. That makes sense given the reach of her weapon. It doesn’t help the dread pooling in your stomach. You wish they would simply tell Lasky he wasn’t allowed to touch you, that you’re too valuable a prisoner to risk. In the end, you’ll just have to settle for being a hair too much trouble to do more than leave you in the corner you’ve backed yourself into. Alone. 

You want to check on Grandmother again. You want to see if she’s awoken or if the handkerchief is soaked through. But you can’t. You can’t afford to look away. Not with Lasky still where he is. Not with him still in the room. Not with him still conscious.

“Two doesn’t need rope,” Lasky says, but you think he’s pouting. Unable to believe how carelessly he’s saying these threats, you chance a glance at Two.

Two’s only indication he knows he’s being talked about is to cross his arms. He stares at you, still not blinking, but unlike Dale, his eyes don’t compel you to fall into them. His eyes make you want to look anywhere else. Given the threats currently facing you, you don’t feel too foolish for hastily looking away from him and back to Lasky.

“And I’m not spending the next however long trying to help you hold onto a squirming, crying girl for whatever purpose you’ve in mind,” Vi says, her voice hard. “Who knows when the heir might show up. And we can’t risk knocking her out with the granny unconscious.”

Lasky sighs, his eyes still betraying a grasping eagerness that you hate. He takes a step back regardless. “Fine, stay in that corner, but I’ll be back for you after we’ve dealt with your naughty fiance.”

You don’t take your eyes off of him, even as he retreats back to the others. You try to think of a plan, something else to do so that fear doesn’t overwhelm you like it’s threatening to. You keep the dagger upraised and pointed, but you try to push the chair back even further. You want to get it close enough to the closet. If you need to hide during the fight that will break out, you want the short distance possible to have to drag Grandmother and the chair. 

As you slowly, slowly do move the chair, you keep your ears alert for any information they might let slip. You catch snatches of phrases which begin to paint a picture.

“…don’t want Two to tire himself with the girl when…” Clen says to Lasky, making you readjust your grip on your dagger. You raise the point since it had started to drift lower the longer you kept it aloft.

“…even want her? This payout…” Vi complains.

“…aren’t here,” Clen sounds exasperated even as he helps Lasky use a dagger to pry the jewels from a decorative statuette. “Those are back at their estate…take us….”

“It’s the knight, he’s the one who cares about that,” Lasky says. “It’s why he brought Two on. The heiress is the one who…”

“After. Once Northridge is secured, you can do what you want,” Vi says. “But you’re not risking my…”

You’re pretty sure the knight they keep referring to is Eastmont, who must have warned them Dale had some access to enhancement from the Depths. He seems to also want Dale’s research, which must be why they’re trying to capture him alive. It sounds like if they succeed, Lasky will still want to keep you a hostage—he continues to keep looking back at you. His gaze makes a visceral feeling of disgust well up within you at the way they drag over your body. 

You try to think about who these other benefactors might be, a Lord and heiress are the only others they’ve mentioned. But before you think much further on it, Two straightens from his spot near the courtyard door, turning to face the door you came through instead.

The others instantly fall silent. 

It takes a tense moment that seems to stretch on and on, until you finally hear what Two must have.

“…certain they only went to the courtyard for some air, my Lord,” a woman is saying and you find yourself barely breathing as you try to hear over your thundering heartbeat for the reply.

“It seems a long time for such a thing to take, especially so late at night.” It is Dale. The relief that floods you is almost dizzying and you sway where you stand. Quickly, you shake your head and adjust your footing. Everything is about to get very very chaotic and you need to be ready.

“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my Lord,” the woman replies, “but things take longer for those getting on in years.”

“I shall forgive you,” Dale’s voice is cheerfully teasing and just that sound is immensely comforting to you. “However, best pray Grandmother doesn’t hear you say such a thing.”

“I would never,” the woman says as they get even closer. “Here, I believe Mr Allen said this is likely the way they went.”

They’re so close and you’re torn. Is it selfish to be so grateful he’s joining you in this extremely dangerous situation? Should you call out to forewarn Dale or should you not send him racing in to his death? Will it help or hinder him for you to shout? What is the right course of action?

But time is slipping through your fingers. You make your decision and pray it’s the right choice. 

“Dale!”

[Part Twenty-Three]