#i want to burn this shitty country to the ground

[hauntedbythenarrative]

Diversity won, your führer is a woman

[isa-ghost]

*places down some money*

Phil headcannons please

*eats the coins whole*

Other qPhil headcanons

He means it 1000% when he says he'd burn the entire island to the ground for the kids. No building would be safe. Not even his own. All bets would be off. And if one of the other parents would do the same for their kid? He'd be right there with them.

He loves every egg, dead and alive alike. He has no clue what any of them think of him, and tbh he'd probably be overly humble or vaguely negative abt it bc he's just so shitty to himself when it comes to image related things, thinking they probably find him weird or smth. But he loves them all, and even if any of the eggs DO have a negative opinion of him, he'd still shed blood sweat and tears for them.

GUYS PLEASE THIS IS CANON BUT he is SO BAD at picking up on certain things if not explicitly told. If you have an issue with bird man you have to TELL HIM. He has a million other things on his mind and he has survival brain on by default which means several other things are taking up brainspace, he doesn't have the means to be looking for subtle signs someone isn't happy with him. FUCKING COMMUNICATE WITH HIM!!

Idk I just think Fit, Pac & Mike should convince him to get high with them. But I can't tell if I want to say he'd actually chill out for once & get a lil goofy or if he'd be the type that gets super anxious & hates every second he's stoned

Has a manga collection. It's not that big series-wise, he's a completionist so his collection is big bc he collects every volume of a series he's interested in. He has all of Bleach ofc, most of Chainsaw Man, probably 1-3 other series. He's preoccupied with other things usually so he hasn't read any of them in ages, but Chayanne has been going WILD reading them when he's not out and about

He gets sluttier when he's drunk. That confidence boost he gets when he's drunk enough goes places. Particularly when he's around Fit (Fit's a bad influence /pos)

Tbh? If his usual civil disobedience and the like don't work, I would not put it past him to follow Cellbit's example and just start killing Feds. I don't know how canon Phil's past is but if this is the man who helped create the Antarctic Empire or the man that leveled an entire country? Quesadilla Island's days are numbered and it will be Specifically to spite Cucurucho and any other Fed that's responsible for whatever Phil has an issue with. All it takes is taking his kids away again or hurting his friends :)

Fr tho if/when he finds out what they did to Jaiden or Baghera or anyone of the other islanders? He WILL be unleashing hell for them.

He's ready at all times to die for someone. The goal is to Not die, but if it comes to it, better him than them. And in classic hypocritical Phil fashion, he vehemently refuses to allow anyone to do the same for him. The survivor's guilt would be too much for him.

Outwardly, he processes grief and stress with humor. Because if he doesn't, he'll shut down emotionally and mentally. But don't think for a second that internally, he's a wreck. He's angry, he's in pain, he's stressed, he's conflicted, he's grieving. He just won't let anyone know he is. He doesn't like admitting it.

That said, GOD do hugs and random acts of kindness during tough/dark times get him. It's a hit straight to the heart. He'll get emotional before he can stop it or mask it. They mean more than anything, and they're the quickest way to make him realize just how much shit he's shouldering and bottling up.

Currently his greatest fear is the Federation finding out about or asking him questions related to Ender King. Normally he'd at least prepare how to answer such questions. In this case he has no clue what to say, which really stresses him out. And he knows fleeing the conversation wouldn't go well.

He doesn't typically do anything special with his hair but goddamn it looks good in a short braid. He only ever does smth with his hair for certain events, like Festa Junina. And that was mostly because Lullah insisted.

If the Federation one day declared every islander needed some kinda career for whatever weird reason, Phil's would be photography.

Don't listen to his complaining. He REALLY likes that there's so many birds around the house. Prefers them outside but he likes them around regardless.

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Character Q&A - Mallory & Wil - June '24

Hey peoples!

Over on Patreon, members can submit questions for poll-winning characters to answer in-character. The current hotseat belongs to Mal and Wil simultaneously. Since the answers are public, I figured why not post them here too. Enjoy!

For Mal:

Q: Mal, is there a look you feel the most comfortable in?

A: Sorta? It's more like, there's a range I prefer staying inside. I don't like being too tall or too short, I like keeping the toned bod. I'd have glasses a lot more if they weren't a pain in the ass with a mask. Usually prefer not being too masc or fem, but that depends. It's a comfort thing. Oh, and I don't like changing ethnicity. I dunno how to explain it but it feels, like... yeah I dunno. Lying isn't usually a problem for me but that kinda deceit makes me feel not okay.

Q: When did you first discover you could do what you do?

A: I was like nine or ten and I was screwing around in the kitchen. I think I was trying to microwave dirt or something? I was a little shit when I was a kid. Anyway I picked up my toasty dirt and my hand kind of just melted and I'm freaking out and thinking I invented acid dirt. Luckily mom was there and ran in and she kinda knew what to do, so I put my hand back together and started changing skin colours. Red, blue, orange, all kinds. Then I got grounded for microwaving dirt.

Q: What's your idea of a good date?

A: Hm, good question. I like to switch things up, but I'd rather be doing like, an activity. I get kinda restless with sitdown stuff like dinner or going to the movies. Would rather curl up at home if we're gonna watch something. But yeah, like, going to the club, dancing, just doing things in each other's company, and if we can go home and cuddle or uh, more, afterward, then even better. I mean that's not essential, touch is just a thing for me.

Q: What do you think of the new members?

A: Teddie needs to lighten up. I know his power is a shitty hand, but the grouchy act gets kinda old when you're trying to work as a team. Kay's fun, though if she sticks with this career she's either gonna wise up or she's gonna get burned hard. Still, it's nice having someone around who gets gender stuff. I like Wil but I don't think he's cut out for this line of work. Just a feeling. Guilty conscious, you know?

[MC] is interesting. 'lil bit of a wildcard. Definitely holding a lot back, but who isn't? There are deep wounds there, and I mean deep. I dunno. People with nothing to lose are dangerous, and I doubt [MC] has much.

Q: What kind of movies / TV shows do you like?

A: I'm an unrepentant lover of trash. Give me shitty reality TV and direct to DVD movies. Musicals, too. Just, uh, hope you don't mind hearing all the songs over and over the next few days cause I'll be singing them nonstop.

Q: Did you ever think of being an actor?

A: Nah, not for me. Only two things I ever wanted to be. Still working on those.

For Wil:

Q: Wil, what's your idea of a good date?

A: A good date's one where everyone enjoyed themselves. The actual activity could be almost anything. I love taking people to concerts, though. Not big ones, I'm talking the kind that you get at a bar or maybe a smallish performance centre. There's just something special about it.

Q: What do you think of the group?

A: I don't like that Dion kept things quiet until we'd already committed ourselves. I'm all for giving the government a big fuck you, but Dion held it back on purpose. Makes it harder to trust him. The group as a whole is alright, I guess. Get along okay with everyone. Little surreal to have coworkers and friends as a villain. Hanging out with buddies in downtime isn't something I ever pictured villains doing, you know?

[MC] worries me a bit. There's this... haunted air, and that doesn't happen out of nowhere. I kind of hope there's something I can do to help.

Q: What music do you listen to?

A: K-pop and country.

*cracks up*

Okay, that was a lie. Yeah, I'm absolutely predictable. I like punk and metal, bit of alt rock. I have a pipe organ album, too.

...what?

Q: How did you meet Teddie and Kay?

A: We were all younger. Their powers were both already a thing, mine weren't. They used to hang out a lot in this one neighourhood next to the Parks which is basically the Parks minus one percent, and I happened to work at a coffee place there. They came in now and then, got the impression they couldn't really afford it very often. Exchanged a few words here and there, hadn't really met them until they staggered in one day all bloody and bruised. I guess I was the nearest person they vaguely thought they could trust?

Anyway that's how I wound up getting introductions while fixing Teddie's broken nose.

[trashymichi]

If you have any lore/info you'd like to share abt corey/coreymichi I'd love to hear it! (I love his design. Such a little guy.)

thank you 🥹 I am genuinely flabbergasted anyone is curious about corey jacob “cj” larkin……

The general plot of his story is that he’s an american foreign exchange student who is essentially “shipped off” to another country for a year to study and make better of himself.

…corey is a 15 year old boy from new york city and comes from a shitty neighbourhood and a shitty school (as if he actually attends school to begin with lol)

…he’s known to be quite volatile bc he struggles with violent anger issues and a nicotine addiction. His anger issues stem from untreated, moderate to severe ADHD and a rocky upbringing (dad’s in jail, mom has issues. His anger outbursts were a lot worse when he was a smaller kid), but he attends community counselling for his issues and is on mood stabilizers for his anger. When he takes them, he’s a lot more lethargic and nonchalant in his day to day life..

…nearly his entire friend group all have unspecified gang affiliations, except for him and his best friend and though he tries to stay out of that business, he is still valued by a lot of his gang friends…and alas still ends up in a lot of trouble with the law, regardless. He steals for his buddies a lot, beats on others when he’s mad, particularly on a rich spoiled brat kid named Riley, spends nights in jail/juvie…he gets arrested for something a lot more serious and narrowly misses getting tried as an adult for it, but i’ll go more in depth into that possibly later or on a separate post…

On his literal first night in Japan, he accidentally runs head-on into Takemichi on the street making michi drop his food on the ground. This triggers him to absolutely HATE corey with a burning passion—but like. how could he not. Corey looks like an entitled tourist, speaks clumsy japanese, and has a standoff-ish and lethargic personality…

…so for the entirety of the summer break leading up to the start of school, Takemichi and his boys pick fights (not just ass whooping either) with Corey, and much to Takemichi and Corey’s anguish they end up attending the same school.

…they start become more friendly with one another after Corey is tasked with helping Takemichi with his math lessons (my man’s is failing so hard), and with every study session, they grow to understand one another more and more and there are homoromantic undertones to their friendship

also michi doesn’t really tell Corey about Toman business bc he doesn’t wanna involve some random american in that shit (and i’m undecided if i even want corey to have any connection with toman to begin with because he doesn’t rest fit into all that…but…we’ll see…), so this is precisely where the lore gets messy and needs some revising….

[siremasterlawrence]

Captivating, Corrupting and Controlling 1/2

The Entire Country is about to be rebooted in time for my coronation ceremony with our President Allen handing over all power to me even though the shadow figures remain in a hidden veil. The Police Departments all over this shit face country are so busy in random nonsensical bullshit.

The greatest feet I have ever made is fooling the public into a false sense of security the life they are living. Captain America is given an invite in Washington to speak at Inclusive Heroics Anonymous for veterans and those just starting.

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers will pay a very steep price for being so easily led to his own demise, and his downfall will erupt into total self destruction. The entirety of three large football fields worth of cops, military and such gather together for this event as evil spreads.

This also happening in every damn state in The United States the doors in sync lock all in place. Superman appears on the screen in all his glory but Steve notice something off about him. A wicked smile, glint in his eyes and most certainly the S symbol on his chest has been replaced with P.

“Hello, stop the cheers I am no hero no no no, I am something far words mwahahaha.You may call me Kryptonite Knightmare a super pussy if you will and I aim to please only one man. As you can see the county is in chaos and you can’t move a inch of else the bombs will activate. Kaboom good luck.”

Steve’s eyes widen in disbelief and rage is a all time high but he can’t move a single bit or it’s finished. “Watch the screen my lovely friends and consume yourself in the madly intoxicating feeling of hell on earth.” Clark continues his speech.

A gigantic spiral covers the canvas of the jumbo trim appearing on all screens words scrolling too fast to comprehend on a deep conscious level. The rooms of people pulling into it their minds washing away over and over again with very little effort from every one involved.

Steve is aware of the momentous occasion unfolding but he cannot move his body is stuck literally glued to the seat his fear is heightened by a thousand as his mind is foggy, bouncing endlessly a streaming void of blankness.

Hours pass as the screen shuts off freeing people to mindlessly get up from their seats and leave for the commencement of a new life and a country. “You foul minded fiend show yourself I command. Step into the light be a man, speak now.” Steve howls in a voice so demanding.

“I see you are still in rare condition Boy Scout. No matter Superman is my slave as it were and the world is at my feet.”

“Who are you? What is it that you think you will get from me?”

“My name is Blue Haven, I want you as my slave, and well I’ll prove my power.”

“Oh Clark….”

“Superman…ooooohhhh”

“Yes Blue Haven”

“Give our friend here a taste of freedom”

“As you wish my love”

“You instructed me to line all of my so called villainous roques gallery but they are all shitty bitches. Watch them burn.”

Steve shouts for Clark to stop but is left with an eerie sound of evil laughter reverberating through your the building sending chills down his spine. Clark floats off the ground to face Steve lifting him in to the sky they are alone.

The silence is deafening till Clark whispers in his ears then drops him as he free falls back go earth crash landing in the field to my surprise he rolls over all bloody and bruised.

Clark return with an earth shattering landing leaving the ground to split in two with rope he swiftly picks Steve up ties him down to a medical slab. Clark flew us back to my lab as plan for his ultimate sacrifice of submit or die.

Steve will be forced into a new life he has no idea what is coming for him, and I am all in glee pushing the slab forward under the red spotlight medical bay. My table of boxes on my left I grab a red marker tracing important points on his face.

I take a few electrical pads placing it on his forehead, sides of his face, both cheeks and under his chin. Following that up I pick up a sporty sleek pair VR shades placing them on his face the attachments slide on and we are settled.

Discombobulating in my own method lifting up my laboratory coat and slipping it onto me. The clip board in my hand, I click the top of the pen marking it off and filling out a few parts of the forms on my own as if it is for professional reasons.

“Let’s begin with our one and only therapy session to cure your sanity.” I whisper into his ears then kiss his cheek as he turns a bit and moves away from me or rather struggle to do it. I slap him hard across the face then let the calm wash over me.

Cupping a single vial holding it into the light letting the needle inject into it, I fill up the needle to the brim then splurge it, and I inject it into his skin once on his right arm, left arm and the back of my neck. His limbs then the rest of his body grow even stiffer.

I remove my cellphone pressing the my self made app open and I flip a few switches within it. The app blows on red flashing on and off then the pads blink red, pink as well as well rainbow stirring him I can see the pain in his eyes.

He closes and opens up constantly, his cock starts to rise and he is in bliss in frenzy of horniness.

“What’s the matter Captain? Your cock is stirring I can see it.”

“Are you enjoying this Captain?”

“Nnnnnnnnnoooooo…sssstttttoooooppppp”

“Why should I? Obviously you are deeply feeling this.”

“I hate this, you disgusting uhuhuhhhhhh”

“All of this massive muscle and you are so helpless.”

“FUCk YOU!”

“Language”

“Will you give into my whims Captain?”

“SWEET ASS”

“Leave me alone”

“Resistant little bitch”

“I will never fight for you, I will never give in”

“You wish my love”

“I will squeeze into that tight ass”

“Relinquish your hands”

“Well then, I will turn this shit up to the max”

The end

[dustbunnyace]

The one or two of you who see this, buckle up for a rant. The following tirade focuses more or less on the train derailment in East Palestine, Ohio.

Let us start with who is responsible: Norfolk Southern, of course, but also the US government.

So why is this the case? In short, greed. In a few words, the USA is a corporate oligarchy. In many words, Norfolk Southern made, after expenses, $4.8 billion in 2022 according to their report. This is a record for them. Despite this, or well, to help lead to this, Norfolk Southern has been laying off thousands of workers for years. I would know, as my dad was one of those workers. Another reason greed is an aspect is because of why the government prevented a rail strike at the end of last year: it would “devastate” the economy.

What was the goal of the rail strike? The aforementioned layoffs have increased strain on remaining employees, also railroads apparently are shitty employers anyway (shocking that capitalists would mistreat the working class, right?). The railroad employees were asking for basic rights, like paid sick days. Straining employees pretty much universally leads to slip-ups and mistakes from fatigue and stress, and forcing employees to work while sick adds to this; these factors can frequently lead to safety concerns.

Rather than give railroad workers basic human rights, which would have cut into profits (the horror!) Congress voted to force railroad workers into an agreement that really sucks (for the workers). Biden signed this legislation, claiming he wants paid leave for everyone (but I mean he forced the rail workers into an agreement that does not give them this) but Republicans have blocked that possibility as well. This means that a social construct that benefits mainly a select few—the economy—was prioritized over the well-being of actually real human beings. And ultimately, prioritized over the environment.

How did this lead to the derailment on Feb 3? Nobody but those at Norfolk Southern fully know at the time of this post, but I think it’s very possible that the company’s neglect of their employees led to neglect in the upkeep of the rail and the train. Either way, there were not enough employees around to take care of things.

So, now that we have discussed fault, who is going to clean this up? I can bet you that no one is going to clean this shit up. Look at Flint, Michigan. Look at the DuPont poisonings in West Virginia.

Maybe you believe the government and the press when they tell you all is well, environmentally speaking. Maybe, you are thinking, this does not need cleaned up. As a scientist and a cynic, I do not believe this. Why? Vinyl chloride is one of the chemicals spewed/released from the train. Vinyl chloride burns easily and burns into phosgene and hydrogen chloride. Phosgene is a toxic gas that was used in WWI to murder people. Hydrogen chloride reacts with water to form hydrochloric acid. Fun! (Not.) One toxic chemical is being turned into two more! These have flooded the environment.

And people have been allowed to return to the area, and only those who were within a one mile by two mile area were evacuated. The EPA hasn’t detected vinyl chloride in homes they’ve surveyed, but, um, the vinyl chloride would probably not be in that form anymore, because as I said, it burns easily, and was actively being burned.

The government and I think Norfolk Southern are claiming to be monitoring levels of these chemicals in the ground and air and water, and they’re saying things are safe, but I think the safe levels are zero. Also that’s probably all they’re doing, considering history (seriously, look up the DuPont bullshit).

So yeah. I’m terrified for my family and the other people and animals and living beings that exist in that area. And pissed that capitalism exists and rules the country. I know this isn’t comprehensive or even 100% coherent or cohesive, but it is certainly a rant of sorts.

[brother-emperors]

[dont reblog] I’ve been posting about it on and off all day, but words truly cannot convey the depth of what I feel over what happened this election season. for the first time in my life, I do not feel hope or love towards the philippines. I feel love for those protesting in the streets, I feel love for those protesting outside of comelec, I feel love for the people who dared to hope for something better. but I have a hatred for those who sold out their countrymen for greed. for those who spread disinformation for another dollar in their pocket. for the first time, I do not feel love anywhere in my heart when I think of a country I consider home. I want to believe in whatever mabini believed in, when he worked tirelessly for a vision the reality is. well. it’s hard, when this keeps happening.

it feels trite, for this to be the reason to change my url back to the very first thing that it was on this account, but it’s also like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[killbaned]

THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING I R ON Y 

of me making a post on r/assholedesign, a subreddit that LITERALLY SAYS it is for showcasing “profits before consumers”, being riddled with people bootlicking so hard they look like they’re out of a bukake manga, responding with “just pay money for the service?” is wild and a testament to how shittuly modded the subs on this website are oh my god i should not be this mad but i fucking am 

and i’m pissed because it’s FUCKING ALWAYS cishet white dudes that think women are evil and that if they suck elon musk off hard enough they’ll be the next ones making billion dollar cars based on their reddit karma that make these comments 

if your response to someone saying “this website to help with potentially life threatening hidden allergies in foods that LEGALLY DO NOT HAVE TO BE DISCLOSED ON THE F O O D LABELLING WONT TELL ME IF IT HAS ALLERGENS IN IT UNLESS I GIVE THEM MONEY  

is to respond with “give them money, it’s your fault for not giving them money” you’re a bootlicker, you miss the point of the sub and honestly i hope you get hit by a train you self centered piece of fucking dog shit 

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[astrohae]

A Dragon’s Greed

pls don’t yell at me about my unfinished series. im trying. take this instead.

dragon king!bakugou X courtesan!reader 

gnc reader as per the usual

Focus. You scold yourself. You're here to entertain, not to wordlessly flirt with the princess's fiance. But what can you say? You've always had a type, and barbarian warlords fell right into your favorite category. The fact that he seemed utterly entranced by you, well that wasn't your fault. Every time you turned your head over your shoulder, you caught his eyes over your half veil and he never looked away, not even for a moment.

The princess didn't seem happy about this, sat next to the king, and huffing when her attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Serves her right for always bullying you and being such a spoiled brat.

Though, to be honest you wouldn't wish marriage to Bakugou Katsuki, the King of Dragons, merciless warlord, upon anyone.

Sure he was attractive and rich, and powerful, but you'd heard horror stories of what he had done on the battlefield.

When Bakugou started looking to new lands to conquer, you country's king had offered up his daughter like a sacrificial lamb to the barbarian in order to forge a treaty and protect his people through political marriage. King Bakugou's sexual conquests were nearly as infamous as his military ones, but he had never married or officially named a consort. The princess would be the first.

The king had sent a huge wedding procession of gifts and treasures to the high court of the Badlands, and along with it the most talented entertainers and artisans they had to offer. As the most talented dancing courtesan in the capital you had no choice but to travel with the caravan, so here you were. Performing a sword dance for a bloodthirsty king who kept looking at you as if you were a meal. It was an ego boost for sure but you were also scared.

When your performance came to a close, you bowed and quickly escaped when the princess had successfully stolen Katsuki's attention. Your face was burning under your veil and you fanned yourself in the cool stone hallway to calm down. You were hoping that the king would forget about you after a few more performers. but you hadn't even been out of the main hall two minutes when a servant came to fetch you.

"His highness requests your presence."

Your blood ran cold and your gulped. Oh gods, you had offended him hadn't you? He was going to kill you, probably behead you right there in the middle of the banquet himself-

You were thinking yourself into a panic when you returned to the banquet hall, eyes downcast now. You bowed, kneeling on the ground and hands clasped in front of your bare midriff.

Faintly you heard a scoff, and then the music stopped. You felt yourself go even more still, eyes darting around to see what happened. Unable to tell, you lifted your head slightly to see the king sauntering his way towards you. He had stepped directly over the table, spilling wine all over the princess in the process.

You quickly bowed your head again and tried not to hyperventilate. You didn't want to pass out now.

Two surprisingly clean leather boots entered your vision and on instinct, you looked up. King Bakugou was even more attractive up close, obviously built for battle with strong chords of muscle littered with scars, a sharp jawline and a head of unruly blonde hair.

"Did I say you could look at me?"

"No, your majesty." you squeak and quickly look back down.

Bakugou crouches to be level with your and grips your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his scarlet gaze.

"Did I say you could look away?" he grumbles this time.

"No, your majesty." You feel conflicted, unsure if he’d be more offended if you averted your eyes or just kept looking at him.

His eyes rake over your body again before coming back to yours.

"What's your name, pretty thing?"

"Y/N. I'm a dancer in my king's court." you answer, praying your voice doesn't sound as shaky as you feel.

He doesn't say anything but lets your chin go and rises to his feet. You rub the bottom half of your face, thinking it might just bruise. Bakugou isn't done with you, though and grabs your wrist, hauling you up from the floor. "What-?" you start to ask but a red-eyed glare has you clamping your mouth shut. The barbarian king drags you with him, right up to the high table. He lifts you over the table as if you weigh nothing, and sits you down on his lap. Right next to the princess. The banquet hall continued to steep in silence until Bakugou looked up.

"Fuck are you all looking at? Get on with the feast!" he yelled, and the music and chatter started back up.

"Your majesty, shouldn't worry with commoners-" she starts and Bakugou growls, actually growls so menacingly, you feel your own blood run cold.

"If I wanted your dumbass fucking opinion, I'd ask for it. Shut the fuck up."

Once he was sure the princess was properly cowed he turned his attention back on you. The arm wrapped around your waist holding you against his was warm against your bare skin.

"Pour me some wine." He commanded and your started before shakily lifting the pitcher and pouring some into his goblet. You hadn't it off to him carefully, and he quickly knocked it back before signaling for you to pour another.

"Most king's with a lick of sense wouldn't let a treasure like you out of their sight, so what are you doing in my court?" Bakugou asks.

"His Majesty decreed that the most talented entertainers accompany Her Highness to Your Majesty's court, for you entertainment and pleasure." you answer, handing off the refilled goblet.

Bakugou snorts at your measured and obviously practiced response. You night have heard him mutter 'toothless old bastard' under his breath, but you can't be sure.

"Give me a strawberry.", he gestures at the plate of fruit no six inches from him and you barely manage not to roll your eyes. Warlord or not, royals will always be royals, you think and pick up one of the berries.

The dragon king open his mouth and allows you to place the fruit on his tongue before biting into it. His ruby red eyes don't leave yours for a second, gripping your wrist when your try to pull away. Some juice trickles down your hand, and without breaking eye contact, Bakugou laves his tongue over your skin licking up the trail of red. He eats the rest of the berry, lips catching on your fingers before the lets your hand go in favor of picking up his wine goblet again.

"My entertainment and pleasure huh? I'm entertained, but I don't know about pleased..." he says, smirking into his goblet.

"Is there anything I can do for Your Majesty?" you manage to ask, brain still reeling from the whole thing with the strawberry.

And you walk right into his trap.

"Yeah, I can think of something..." he starts before leaning closer to you.

His hat breath fans against your neck for a moment, letting your get squirmy and nervous before continuing.

"Fucking you until you cry all that pretty makeup off... Then I'd be real fucking pleased." he says with a predatory smile spreading across his face.

You squeak, face heating under your veil as you try to formulate a response. You have no idea if the princess heard but if she did-

"Y-your majesty, I don't think-" you start but Bakugou cuts you off by grinding his hips up into yours.

"Good thing you don't need to think to take my cock." he muses.

The princess, appears to have reached her limit of watching her fiance flirt with someone else right in front of her.

"Your Majesty! I understand that this is a political marriage but I will not sit here and be humiliated and witch you proposition a commoner in front of me!" she exclaims.

You're a little surprised at her outburst considering the environment, but you guessed everyone had limits.

All chatter and music in the hall ceased for the second time that night. Bakugou pulled his face out of your neck to glare at the princess.

"You can fuck off for all I care. Your side wanted the fucking treaty, I don't have a problem with saddling up and burning your shitty country to the ground tonight." Bakugou stated, his anger growing with each word.

"King Bakugou those words could be taken as an act of war. " the diplomatic envoy from your country, stands and approaches the high table.

"What the- Did you idiots forget where you are? You're in the heart of the Badlands, in the court of Katsuki Bakugo, barbarian warlord and King of Dragons. This is my fucking kingdom and I'll do what I very well fucking please. And if I want to fuck this courtesan on the table right in front of your perfect little princess, I will. " He snarls and all you can do is sit there and pray he doesn't actually follow through on that threat.

Not that you'd hate it, seeing the look on the princess's face as you got fucked by her betrothed. Hah, serves her fucking right for always being such a brat.

"But I'm not a cruel king. I'll marry this one, and you can keep your silly little treaty." Bakugou says and both the diplomat and the princess scoff.

You balk, looking up at King Bakugou in surprise. He's going to what now?

"You can't possible expect the princess to be content with being on the same level as a commoner, even as a consort-" the diplomat starts to protest, which is quickly cut off by Bakugou's harsh laugh.

"You're a country of fucking dumbasses? I'm not marrying your brat of a princess, dump her off on some other poor bastard. I'm marrying Y/N instead of her. They'll be my consort. Won't you, pretty thing?" He says, looking at your for your answer.

"Say yes, treasure. I'm rich as fuck, I could give you anything you want. If I can't buy it I can take it. There's nothing I can't do. You wouldn't lift a fucking finger with me, I can promise that." he boasts to you and you know this.

King Bakugou is an unstoppable force. You had a hard life as a commoner, as a dancer. You weren't a servant but always being at the beck and call of nobility, dancing for them until your feet bled, until you fainted from exhaustion.

You deserved to be greedy, just like the man holding you in his lap.

"Yes, I'll marry you." you answer, and Bakugou smiles wickedly.

Good, he likes greedy. It's one of his favorite traits.

He turns his head back to look at the diplomat and princess from your home country. The diplomat looks like he's sweating buckets and the princess is so angry you think she might start breathing fire.

"So, do we have an agreement? Y/N for your protection?" he asks.

"Y-yes your majesty." the diplomat stutters at the same time the princess protests.

"We do not! How dare you disrespect me so openly, you filthy little wench-" she starts, only to be silenced by the sight of Bakugou pulling his sword. He points the tip at the princess, visibly seething with rage.

"Shut your worthless fucking mouth before I shut it for you." he growls.

Fear takes over the princess' face and she stumbles back behind the diplomat.

"Oi, don't piss on my floor or anything, fucking cowards. Show some respect to my new consort. Bend the knee and I'll forget this transgression." Bakugou orders.

While not officially married  yet, he's bestowed the title of consort upon you and now you outrank the princess. In fact, you outrank nearly everyone here, sans Katsuki, who is your equal. The diplomat and princess wordlessly fall into a bow, and the nobles from both courts follow suit.

"Alright that's enough groveling for now. This banquet is over, I'm retiring to my bed chambers. If you need me, don't." Bakugou gruffs and stands up, once again easily scooping you up into his arms.

"I'm going to rip this pretty little costume to shreds, and pump and heir into you tonight, goddamn it." Bakugou murmurs in your ear as he carries you though out his(your) palace.

"I like this one..." your protest weakly as he kicks a door open, throwing you onto his bed.

He grasps the waistline of your costume, easily ripping the silk to shreds with his bare hands.

"I'm buy you forty just like it, now spread your legs, Consort." he orders, licking his lips.

"I didn't get to finish my meal earlier." He hums and you squeak in anticipation.

"Cute. Let's see how many cute noises you can make, huh?"

@hanji-is-life i hope you enjoy!

[natewriteslol]

The Wonders of Magic Pt. 1

Non magical!Twisted Boys x Witch!Reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my brain for a while since I have Little Witch Academia brainrot and I love snooty rich boys asdfljsfaj

Characters: Keep reading to find out!!

Warnings: Language and Y/N goes by she/her pronouns 

Summary: Dealing with magical adventures and society deeming magic as “flashy but worthless” doesn’t deter Y/N L/N from reaching her goal of becoming a powerful witch. However, what will she do when she has to find a way to stop the selling Calypso Academy? 

~~~

All your life you had dreamed of being a witch, however there was a slight problem. You weren't a magic user.

And as magic use had started to become more oppressed and scarce, magic schools were starting to open their doors to all walks of life. Making the most elite schools fall to their knees.

Either you lose your elite status or fall into debt.

So this was good opportunity for you, you managed to make it into one of the most renowned magic schools in the country, Calypso Academy. But it wasn't all peaches and cream, you weren't exactly accepted among your peers. Your family weren't magic users, nor were they wealthy. Yet you still pursued magic, there was a fire burning in your heart that just drew you in all your life. And you couldn't let your dream go just because of some mean girls. But this is the story of how you met some of your greatest obstacles.

 ~~~

It was the night of the great Ball, Calypso academy was having it's 350th anniversary. And you unlucky for you, you still didn’t know how to ride a broom since you were learning from the ground up. 

So there you were, by yourself, in one of the open fields of your campus. Trying to make this broom fly. 

And in your flight teacher Ms. Flint’s words, “If the broom doesn’t leave the ground, you can’t step a foot in the ball.” And so far, your feet have been stuck on the ground.

You felt horrible. I mean, what witch doesn’t know how to fly a broom? And while you were incredibly dejected

 from your failures, you knew you couldn’t just let it go. 

‘The trick it to be determined, yet feel as light as a feather. Be one with the broom’ your manifestation teacher, Mrs. Fairi had softly advised. You had to do this for for her, she already put so much faith in you, she would be so disappointed if she didn’t see you at the ball. 

“Nubes Volant ro!” You casted, pushing your leg to lift. Expecting your legs to come back down and for your shoes to hit the softness of the grass... but it never came.

You opened your eyes and there you were, suspended in air. 

Your excitement was indescribable, but you needed to be skilled enough to meet the requirements for Ms. Flint. So you tried and tried again, and while a little shaky you still managed to fly and do a stable landing! 

“I did it! Screw everyone in this academy who doubted me!” You  squealed a little loud, doing a little dance. You heard  footsteps and chuckling, but you brushed it off as some of your classmates. Too excited to care, you grabbed your things and ran off to show Ms. Flint.   But there was one problem, the entire point of this celebration was to both celebrate the anniversary but... it was begging as well. It was no secret that Calypso was losing money to pay taxes, but they were being pressured to give it all up. So to persuade the buyers, they had invited their son's to be enriched in witch culture and tradition. To prove them wrong and show that magic has value. However the students of the academy weren't aware of the true intentions behind the invites of the son's of these rich men. Many whispered in the halls about the upcoming ceremony. Talking about how handsome the young men attending were. But the day of the party was finally here! The banquet was absolutely incredible with 25 foot tables of food on both sides of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers with floating candles illuminating and creating a heavenly golden light. And the great ancient tapestries that surrounded the room. There was no way that anything could mess up your night. 

But then, you heard a shout from a classmate in the crowd. "The nobles sons! They're here!" You stopped stuffing your face for a moment. Everyone cleared the way for the grand wooden doors as they opened, a red carpet elegantly draping the piece of floor it laid on. Designer shoes clicked as they touched the ground. Every girl eyes followed as they walked, you snuck past some trying to get a glimpse of their features. They were five of them being escorted by one older gentleman, all incredibly handsome young men. One had a bright smile that was genuine and waving at some of the girls in the crowd. While the other had a smirk not paying anyone any mind, as if he was calculating something. One held a solemn expression, yet was incredibly poised and graceful. The last two however wore scowls, one that showed he most definitely didn’t want to be here while the other just looked strict. 

They sat down in their seats in the front table that awaited them. Each seat was just as fancy as a king’s throne, with gold embellishments and velvet seats. 

It was a cookie cut scene, they were made for this life of luxury.

~~~

It was an hour into the ceremony, showcasing tricks and theatrical dances from every witch culture from around the globe. But it was almost as though nothing was satisfying them, besides the one with white hair. While he adorned a smile, there was something behind his eyes, as though he was doing some critical thinking. 

Nothing was enough for them. 

But it was toward the end and the noble’s sons were promised a tour. Every witch in the school was made to study up on knowledge of the campus. So that if you were the “lucky winner” you wouldn’t look like a complete fool. 

As you snacked on your chocolate filled croissant, Ms. Flint with her booming voice had called everyone’s attention to the center of the stage. Raising her wand, a split of golden light had displayed random names. 

Knowing your luck, you knew you wouldn’t be picked. I mean this was probably a tactic to get people to study the school’s magical history. It did work, as if there was a slight chance you were chosen you wouldn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of people like you usually did. But, Principal Hendrix wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to let a random student represent the school, right? 

Exactly. But even then, you sure did feel sorry for whoever was to give the tour-

“Y/N L/N!”

...

Remember what you said about shitty luck? 

Shocked was an understatement. Even though you had your two best and only friends Silva and Miete patting you on the back telling you congrats and to do your best, the hammering of your heart was too heavy for you to handle. 

Whispers broke out for a moment, a lot of girls were incredibly disappointed but cleared the way for you to go up the stairs and talk to Ms. Flint and Principal Hendrix. 

“Good job, Y/N. Now if you wouldn’t mind, please give these young men a tour of Calypso, would you?” Principle Hendrix said gently with a smile.

“Ha, ha, of course! But surely there’s been a mistake, I mean Lydia could probably recite the information without having to read a single book-” 

“No way, L/N. You were chosen, now do the tour please, the latest you can be back is at 9pm,” Ms. Flint replied, cutting you off sharply. 

“You’re an incredibly charismatic student, Y/N. Just keep them entertained,” Principle Hendrix whispered as you walked toward the table.

Be charismatic, not awkward! Got it!

“Alrighty then! Who’s ready for a tour?” you said, almost giving finger guns as a mechanism. 

“Oh, I am!” 

“Yes,  I’ve been wanting to see the range of this property in person.”

“Yes, I would like to get this over with. I have an appointment tomorrow and I would not like to miss it.”

Other than that, all you received was a nod and an eye roll. But it’s better not to pry and ask for more from them. 

Each getting out of their seats, you walked outside. Hearing cheers from the crowd and the occasional “Vil! I love you!” which made you a little embarrassed. 

Feeling the night breeze and seeing the stars poke through calmed you down slightly, it was 7:45 and all you had to do was blabber at them about the school until 9. 

Easy task, Y/N. Easy!

~~~

Once you got outside, the tour had been running smoothly for only a couple of minutes. But you couldn’t help but feel as though they started scanning you, as if they saw you from somewhere. Until unfortunately, the sunshine of the group’s lightbulb had went off. 

“Oh! You’re the girl with the broomstick towards the front of the school! You looked so happy practicing.” 

“There must be a mistake-”

“Are you sure? If so then I guess you have a doppelganger” the boy with glasses teased. 

“Didn’t you say, ‘Screw everyone at this academy’?” the short, red head questioned, persecuting your behavior. 

“Well some people here aren’t exactly the nicest. It was just an excitement of the moment thing, sorry,” You said, trying to get Mr. Non-Rule Breaker off your back. 

~~~

So... you had accidently overshared about your adventures on campus. 

It had all started when one of the boys looked shocked that the ancient Willow tree was thriving and looking beautiful as ever. When he looked at it from pictures given to him, it was completely lifeless and grey. 

“This tree, it looks completely different? It’s been sickly for years! How is this possible?” He asked, as his main piece of evidence the white haired boy gave to his father to buy this property was foiled. 

“Oh, that was me. They had willow worms in the roots that were ready to hatch and I accidently brought them out,” you said, a little prideful, yet it was quickly stomped out.

“That is highly irresponsible, you should’ve had a professional complete that task, not an inexperienced student,” the red haired boy scoffed, it seemed as though he didn’t respect this school at all. Yet the boy with grey hair and glasses paid him no mind, still incredibly astonished, but it was quickly wiped from his face and replaced with a somewhat of a sour look. As though you beat him at some game he was playing.

“...Interesting. I never knew magic could do something of that caliber,” he remarked,  pushing up his glasses. 

“Magic is incredibly useful, Mr...” 

Shit. You didn’t get their names...

“My apologies, I didn’t catch your guy’s names,” you said, placing a hand behind your head. 

You had never in your life seen a group of people get so surprised, besides the other white haired boy, who was happy to tell you his name. 

“I’m Kalim, Kalim-Al-Asim!” he said, shaking your hand with a vigor, “It’s a little funny that you don’t know who we are, but I like that about you!” 

How was it funny? You’ve never seen these people in your entire life? The blonde man was especially offended as you glanced at him for his name. 

“Vil Schoenheit. Actor, singer, dancer, beauty influenc-” 

“Hmmm, Vil I can’t help but feel that you’re angry at Ms. L/N for not knowing who you are,” the boy with glasses remarked before taking your hand, “Azul Ashengrotto, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“I’m Riddle Rosehearts,” the short red-haired boy said.

“...Leona Kingscholar.” 

“Alright, I’m glad I got your names! Let’s get a move on! I have got to show you some more stuff!” you said before moving along, gaining more confidence as you talked to them. 

Maybe this tour wasn’t so bad after all!

~~~

Coming up:

“How did you not know who the noble’s sons are?!” Miette yelled, but her soft voice wasn’t exactly giving the shocking boom to emphasize her feelings.

“I’m sorry! Everything was completely fine after that, if this whole tour was such a big deal then I would’ve studied them more instead of the school,” you said, completely pooped out from last night. 

So much pressure on you made you very tired out, and all of these new details coming out made you feel even more guilty for your half-assed tour. 

[averagewriter-inthedark]

You Never Raised Me (Alliser Thorne x BastardDaughter!Reader, Eddison Tollett x Female!Reader)

Masterlist

Eddison Tollett x Female!reader, Alliser Thorne x BastardDaughter!reader, Samwell Tarly, Jon Snow, Grenn & Pyp x Female!reader (platonic)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and plots from ASOIAF/GOT. That all belongs to George. R. R. Martin and HBO

Prompt: Tensions are high at Castle Black with the murder of Jeor Mormont and preparing for war against the Wildlings with threat of White Walkers in the distance. The arrival of an unexpected visitor brings both complications and new beginnings to many brothers of the Night’s Watch.

Warnings: profanity, violence, mentions of attempted assault, death, allusions to sex. Dialogue that degrades and Thorne being an ass. 

Word count: 3000+

The cup hit the wall with a loud *bang* before falling to the floor. It’s contents splattered against the pavement and dripped to the ground while the echo of the cup filled the now silent room. 

Alliser Thorne stood from his chair, nearly making it fall back from the force while his face wore a glare. The person it was directed towards stood stoic, not even flinching by the outburst. They were dressed in complete black leather and stood with their arms crossed over their chest. 

“I have enough shit to worry about. The wildlings, these untrained men. Now I have to deal with this fucking mutineer shit and you.” They bit back a smirk at the distaste in his tone. 

“It’s nice to see you to again, father.” 

“Don’t even with me girl,” he hissed, turning away from her gaze. 

“Girl,” she scoffed, “Is that any way to talk to your daughter. I have traveled a long way to see you and this is the greeting I get.”

“I didn’t make you come here did I, Y/N?” Alliser raised his voice, not caring if the brothers could hear from outside, “You were always a stupid girl growing up--.”

“How would you know?” Y/N spat, eyes becoming cold, “You were hardly ever there even before you took the black.” Alliser halted his pacing, facing his estranged daughter before slowly approaching her. 

“We were at war,” his tone held an edge. He towered over Y/N and looked down her with a scowl. “Your mother and I were not married--we weren’t even courting, Y/N. She was just the lucky whore I came across in the brothel when I needed to forget about how shitty the world was.” His words were harsh, but they didn’t faze her. 

“Yet you supplied her with money and necessities.”

“So she was able to provide for you.”

“But you didn’t want to know me? All those chances you had. All those times you came by the cottage --the one you so graciously helped her pay for, you could’ve taken the time to chat with me. To know me.” Her stance faltered a bit, the emotions becoming too much. “But you didn’t.” 

“I had a duty to the country,” he tried to reason with her, “A duty to my king, my family, my House and we were on the losing side of that war. What did you expect me to do?”

“You could have stayed!” Y/N seethed, the anger she had been holding in finally letting loose, “You could’ve stayed. You didn’t have to love her, you didn’t have marry her, but you could’ve stayed for me. I was your daughter--your only daughter and I wasn’t enough for you to stay. Not for one day, not even an hour.”

“We’re not discussing this,” Alliser shook his head, having had enough of the conversation. Y/N however, she had been waiting years for this and wasn’t about to let him walk away from it. 

She followed him out the door much to his dismay, ignoring any brother of the watch who was watching with curious eyes. “Why not? Can’t face the truth? I took you for a man of honor yet you can’t even look me in the eyes and admit it.” 

The man spun around making the woman almost collide with him had she not slowed her pace. His glare was hard, burning into her and Y/N knew she hit a nerve in her father. Could she really even call him that? He never was a father to her, only the man who provided half her blood. 

“I’d watch your tongue, girl. You may not be ready to hear the truth so save yourself from the heartbreak and leave. Women don’t belong at Castle Black.”

He turned on his heel and left her standing there before she could respond. Y/N remained stilled, her gaze boring into his retreating figure, shoulders shaking from the anger she was feeling. 

Taking a deep inhale, Y/N straightened her posture. She went to turn around but froze when a group of five stood about ten feet from here, obviously having heard the conversation take place between her and Thorne.

The group consisted of a few young men, one with dark curly hair, one with a with very short almost cropped hair, a tall built man with a goatee and a man who was on the round side. The last man was a little older than the rest, probably closer to her age and lean built with brown hair just slightly above his shoulders.

They were all looking rather perplexed, having witnessed the young woman being dragged by Thorne the moment she trotted through the gates on horse and just now when she chased him out the door. They were curious what her relation to him was, and why he looked so frustrated by her presence and her constant glare on him.

They got their answer when they were standing a little too close to the room the two were in. They heard everything that was said, and boy were they shocked to discover the woman standing in front of them was the bastard daughter of the one and only Alliser Thorne.

Having had enough of their staring, Y/N glared at them. “Don’t you fuckers have anything better to do?” She spat, “Keep staring at me and I’ll fucking gouge your eyes out.”

She was walking away before any of them could get a word out. They watched in stunned belief as she headed toward the area where Maester Aemon resided and disappeared around the corner. 

“You believe it now, Edd?” Jon nudged the man when she was out of their sight. The oldest of the bunch didn’t believe she was Thorne’s blood when they first heard, defending himself by saying ‘well for starters she looks nothing like him, way more prettier than I would’ve thought a daughter of his would look like.’

“Yeah,” Edd grumbled, rolling his eyes. “She’s his fucking daughter alright. As if we needed another Thorne in this place.”

__________________

A few days had passed and Y/N was still present at Castle Black much to her fathers dismay. It was his loyalty and high regard for Maester Aemon that the acting Lord Commander allowed her to stay. The older wise man felt that since he allowed Gilly, Samwell’s Wildling friend to stay, then the same privilege should be allowed for Thorne’s daughter.

“I will let you know now that if any of your brothers try to touch me,” she warned, “This castle be more unmanned then it was when I first arrived.”

Many of the men would stare at her with lust filled eyes. They had been deprived of women for a long time, and seeing one in the flesh made them have tempting thoughts. Some were smart though, they would look but wouldn’t dare to touch. They feared Thorne would have their head if they did.

Others however, they were fools to say the least. Ones who witnessed how Thorne treated her made them feel they would be able to get away with their dark desires. 

This didn’t end well for them. Maester Aemon found himself having to patch up several brothers with stab wounds to the groin area, lacerations to their arms, one even suffered a concussion and broken nose when the woman brought them to their knees and smashed their head against the wooded bench.

Jon Snow and his friends happened to witness the mans failed attempt at trying to overpower Y/N. They had just walked into the kitchens, having heard the sounds of groaning and shuffling from outside, and froze in the doorway. She had just got him on his knees after a hard kick to the groin, before taking the back of his head and neck in her hands and driving his face into the wood. He hit the lumber with a loud *crack* immediately breaking his nose and Y/N pushed his now slump, unconscious body to the ground. 

Bringing a hand to her face, she brushed away the hair in her face that had fallen from her tie during the ordeal. She gave one last kick to his ribs for good measure. The sound of someone clearing their throat made Y/N jump and put on a protective stance, however she became relaxed upon seeing the group.

“First one today?” Jon wondered aloud, his eyes on the fallen brother.

“Third,” she corrected, making his hand snap up. “tenth total since I’ve arrived. You would have thought your brothers got the message by now.” The tone of her voice was full of annoyance, which none of the men could blame. 

“If you couldn’t tell, Castle Black is full of idiots and stupid decisions,” Edd grumbled from the side. Her eyes trailed over to his, narrowing slightly though she had a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

“It may have crossed my mind a time or two.”

“We’ll get this one to the maester,” Sam announced with a sigh, Grenn moving with him to pick up the unconscious man. Sam to the legs and Grenn to his upper body, the two men picked up the brother and carried him out, Pyp holding the door for them and following them to offer any other assistance leaving Jon and Edd alone with Y/N.

Three cups of ale were placed on the table, each of them grabbing one before taking respected seats on the benches. Jon and Edd were surprised at how well she drank the ale without scowling in disgust like most people do the first time they tried it.

“Drink this kind of stuff often?” Jon asked from beside her, taking a sip of his own ale.

“When you’re poor as shit and it’s all you can afford, you get used to it pretty quickly.”

“Where are you from?”

“I’ll give you a hit, I’m a Waters.”

“The Crownlands.” Edd mumbled which received a nod from the woman. She took another swig from her ale before replying, “Flea Bottom to be exact, at least until my mother obtained enough money from the brothel and Thorne to move us out.” Both the men raised their eyebrows, not expecting 

“How’d a girl like you learned how to fight and swing a sword in Flea Bottom?” Jon asked before he could stop himself, Edd shooting him a look. There was silent from Y/N, her gaze focused on the cracks of the table before she slowly lifted her face so she could look at the two men. 

A soft sigh released from her, eyes moving between Edd and Jon, “Girls like me get hurt in the world we live in. I had to teach myself, so I could fight for myself when no one would fight for me.”

Over the course of her stay at Castle Black, the woman became relaxed around the five men, often leaving her guard a little down. They were the few who never looked at her with desire, mostly curiosity, and would go out of their way to ask if she were alright. It was obvious they were intimidated, but they respected her with them admiring her combat skills.

Most of the nights, she found herself with Sam and Gilly in the library where the young man would help them read. Her reading wasn’t the best having not grown up in a noble lifestyle, but she could make out some words to get the overall message of a sentence.

To humiliate both of them, Thorne had Jon and Y/N go against each other when training just the day after she had arrived. All around were shocked. The best fighter and swordsman at Castle Black up against the daughter of their acting Lord Commander, who they thought probably had never picked up a sword in her life.

Boy were they surprised.

Jon had trouble keeping up with Y/N, but managed overall until she finally disarmed him. Thorne was speechless, his face completely stunned when it was finished. Many of the brothers mirroring his expression. Glaring at Jon briefly, he turned his attention to the smug woman. “Where the fuck did you learn how to fight?”

Dropping the sword to the ground with a glare, “You figure out ways to entertain yourself when you’re bored.” Not waiting to be dismissed, she was gone from the courtyard before Thorne could give a witty response. Eyes were on her until she disappeared, and then they all directed back to Thorne. Many trying to bit back laughs at the strong mans expression.

Thorne was holding back his anger, pissed to have been on the opposite end of what he was trying to impose. Noticing the look of the men around him made it more agitating. “What the fuck are you cocksuckers looking at?! Pick up yer sword and get back to training.”

Whether he was impressed by Y/N or not he’d never admit, although he wouldn’t deny he felt some type of pleasure seeing Jon Snow get disarmed and thrown to the ground by a girl nonetheless. 

When Jon was summoned by Thorne when everyone was eating, minus Y/N and Gilly since Thorne disproved of them dining with the brothers, he was allowed permission to lead a raid against the mutiny at Craster’s Keep. The condition though was it was to be with volunteers only. The young man surprised Thorne by asking if Y/N could join them in the conquest. The two having talked about it earlier in the day and Y/N telling him she wanted to help.

“Why the fuck would you want to take her?”

“She’s an excellent swordswoman.--”

“She’s never been in combat and she’s a woman. She’s no brother of the Night’s Watch.”

“And yet she has proven to be a better fighter than any other brother here.” Jon defended. He glanced briefly to the men at the high table, “She even managed to disarm me.”

Thorne looked smug, “Are you sure you didn’t just let her disarm you?” Jon straightened his poster.

“When have you ever known me to let one one overpower me. She disarmed me. Rightfully so.”

Alliser scoffed, Janos beside him following in suit. “I’ll tell you what Snow, I’ll allow Y/N to go with you, but if she dies then that’s on yours and hers stupidity. I won’t take the blame for.”

Jon was clenching his fists behind him, willing himself to keep a calm demeanor. “Thank you, Ser Alliser.”

Of all things the mutineers expected when the Night’s Watch came for them, not once did it come across their minds that their former brothers would be accompanied by a woman. 

“What the fuc---.” Poor guy never got to finish his sentence for his throat was met with Y/N’s knife. Screams ignited the keep, the women hostage running in all directions trying to find their sisters and the mutineers going head to head with the brothers. Y/N dodged the attacks of those who sought her out, although she did take a hit or two.

Her face had become bloodied when one of the mutineers got a good punch to her mouth, but Y/N managed to blind him by spitting blood in his face. This gave her enough time to drive her knife into his heart, his body falling limp to the ground. 

Edd was keeping a close eye on her, as was Gren and Jon. They were all putting in all their might against their opponents, blood spewing and groans emitting. 

Finally after what felt like hours, the fighting seized with Jon exiting the cabin while Gren and Y/N finished off the last mutineer. Edd had retrieved the bodies of the fallen brothers, Locke being among them.

“There’s no way one of the mutineers did that to him,” She cringed away from his broken neck, her eyes meeting Edd’s for a brief moment. His ears turned slightly red, snapping his head away from her.

There was no lie Y/N was an attractive woman. Everything about her was, from her looks, to her intelligence, wit, and especially her skills. The more the two talked, either when doing duties or at dinner with Jon and the others, he would feel his heart speed up whenever she looked at him or spoke directly too him.

It didn’t take much for him to realize what he was feeling.

‘Leave it to me to fall for Thorne’s daughter of all people,’ he thought, ‘It’s as if I wanted Thorne to be the one to kill me after all.’ 

Alliser never spared Y/N a glance when they returned, and the woman had her glare burning into his back when he walked away. There wasn’t much time before the Wildlings would attack, and Y/N was frustrated by how her father was acting towards her knowing they could die soon.

It was nightfall when Edd found her seated by the fire in mess hall, a cup of what was most likely ale in her hand. The man was looking for Jon and Sam, expecting them to be there since they were not in the library and Edd found himself startled when he met her eyes after she jumped by the sound of the door opening.

“Sorry,” he stuttered, “I thought Jon and Sam would be in here.” Edd noticed her turn her head away from him, hand going to her face and Edd swore he heard a sniffle.

“It’s alright,” her voice was hoarse, “Last I saw they were heading to the top,” another sniffle, Y/N shook her head, “They are probably still there.” Her gaze returned to the fire, which she was awfully close too. It allowed her face to be illuminated in the otherwise dark room and from where Edd was standing, he could see remanence of tear streaks on her face.

There was an awkward silence, Edd cursing in his head for not knowing whether he should just leave her be or ask if she were alright. Either decision could have an unpleasant outcome, and the man slowly closed the door that had been open since he first entered the room.

“Are you alright?” He tried to give a genuine tone as best as he could while still being cautious. The last thing he wanted was to offend and make her even more upset.

Her shoulders rose ever so slightly, before slumping down, a sigh leaving her lips. “I’m just exhausted,” the woman admitted, “Over everything. I should’ve never came here, Edd. I was a fool to think he would change.” 

Edd was shocked at how open she was being. Y/N had kept a lot about herself and the relationship she had with Thorne private. “Thorne’s an ass and I feel sorry you had to have him as a father.”

“Father,” she scoffed, eyes closing briefly, “He doesn’t deserve such a title. He was never a father, and I’m just a silly girl who yearned for him to become one. Once my mother had enough money to handle me on her own he stopped showing up. That was about a year or two before the rebellion. I didn’t know he took the black until years later, seemingly thinking he died in battle.”

By now Edd had made his way toward Y/N, taking a seat next to her in front of the hearth. She passed him her cup of ale, and he took it in his hands before sipping it. “You’re not silly to want your parents love and affection,” he told her, “even if they are undeserving of it.” 

She looked to the ground, playing with the laces of her boots, “Doesn’t make it any less painful.” Edd sighed, unsure of what to say that could make it better for her. 

“It’s his loss you know,” he muttered, taking another swig of the ale, “Thorne is lucky to have someone like you as a daughter, he is just too bloody blind to see it.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Edd.”

“It’s not a lie,” he turned his head toward her, “You’re smart, witty, you are probably the most skilled and best fighter we have in this damn castle. Seven Hells, you brought Jon down to the ground!” He exclaimed causing Y/N to lift her head, a small smile coming to her lips at the memory.

“And boy do you have a temper,” Edd grumbled and Y/N lifted her eyebrow at him. He lifted his hands in surrender, “Let’s not forget you threatened to gouge mine and the others eyes out cause we were staring at you.”

This made her chuckle, the sound making Edd relax. “Listen, Y/N, Thorne is a fool to not see how blessed he is to have you as his daughter. Will he ever change? I can’t say I see it happening,” he admitted and he cursed at himself when she frowned, “but you shouldn’t waste your time trying to prove yourself to him.”

Silence overtook them, and Edd feared his words may have offended her. A lone tear had fell from her eyes, Y/N moving to brush it away. To his surprise, the frown on her face curled up into a small but sad smile. “You’re right, Edd. I shouldn’t prove myself to him anymore that I am worthy of his attention, I know I am worth it and he is just a fool to not acknowledge it.” 

Edd felt his own lips curl up, and then a blush overtook him when Y/N leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek. His heart skipped and started to beat at a rapid pace, his entire demeanor becoming flustered.

“Thank you,” she said, “You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since I came here, Edd. I’m grateful by your words and I’m sorry to have brought my mess and problems onto you.” 

Edd cursed mentally by how beautiful she looked next to him. The feelings he had developed were hard to ignore, and Edd feared he would not be able to keep them hidden any longer. He prayed to the Gods she didn’t notice how nervous he suddenly was, “I-It’s not a problem, Y-Y/N.”

The waiver in his voice concerned her, especially after how calm and collected he was just moments before. “Are you alright, Edd? Are you cold?” It was late at night and the wind became cooler outside, so naturally Y/N thought the man was in need of warmth. 

“No, no, shit.” he cursed, “I-I’m not cold, I’m....,” he trailed off, blushing more and unable to form the words he so badly wanted to say. “I’m just, not use to that.”

“Used to what?” she questioned before it suddenly came to her, “oh the kiss you mean. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I should’ve asked before doing such a thing.” While she remained calm on the outside, Y/N was panicking on the inside. 

Over the time in Castle Black, Y/N grew fond of Edd. He was kind to her and treated her with respect despite her threatening them during their first interaction. She found him attractive, and his pessimism and sarcasm often humored her. The feelings towards him were slow, and grew over time, but there was the fear he would reject her being the situation they were in.

She was the acting Lord Commander’s bastard daughter, and he was a sworn member of the Night’s Watch. Acting on any feelings they may have toward each other was a death sentence in itself. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he assured her. Her face turned to an expression he couldn’t quite point out.

“Have you ever kissed a woman before, Edd?” The question took him off guard, ears turning completely red and he avoided her eyes by focusing his attention on the fire in front of them.

“N-no I’ve never,” He expected her to laugh at him, but instead her ungloved hand went to rest on top of his gloved one that was on his knee. The action made him look at them briefly before meeting her eyes.

Y/N’s expression was soft, and her eyes sparkled from the light of the fire. It made Edd blush once more, and she smiled at him. “It could possibly be our last night,” she said in a low, innocent tone, “Would you like to know what it’s like to kiss one?”

At the rate that his heart was beating, Edd was surprised it didn’t explode from his chest. Oh how bad he wanted too, especially with how it really could be their last night alive and he would never get the chance if something were to happen to them. “I-I don’t know, Y/N.” He avoided looking at her.

She would be lying if she said her heart didn’t stung by his words. “I won’t pressure you, Edd. I’m sorry for you if my words made it seem so.” She removed her hand from his, but Edd was quick to grab it again although not too harsh so he didn’t accidently harm her. 

“No--fuck. It’s not that I don’t want to, Y/N, believe me I would want nothing more,” his words made her heart speed up, “But I feel something for you, something I know I shouldn’t giving we are in this shit hole and your father could easily have my head for.”

“Edd...”

“I understand if you do not feel the same which is why--.”

“Edd, please stop talking.” His mouth snapped shut and slowly he returned his gaze to her. She scooted closed to him. “You always do the right thing, don’t you?”

Edd nodded. She moved her face so it was right in front of his, and Edd swore she could hear how fast his heart was racing.

“Do me a favor,” she whispered, lips brushing against his. “Do the wrong thing, for once in your life.”

And with that, her lips touched his and Edd leaned in to reciprocate. He kissed her back with just as much enthusiasm, sparks running through him and filling his body with heat. His hand went to her cheek, moving to hold her neck and Edd shuddered when she let out a moan.

“Wow,” he breathed out. She chuckled, pushing him back so he was laying down and crawled on top of him. He wasn’t sure if the heat he was feeling was from him or the fire, but he didn’t care. She toyed at the strings of his clothes, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Wanna keep doing the wrong thing, Edd?”

He nodded, and she began undoing the ties, “someone could walk in?” He told her.

“They’re all asleep,” she replied, “we’ll just have to be quiet. Think you can manage, we don’t want my old man to waltz in do we.” The thought of Thorne walking in both terrified and excited Edd.

“Can you?” He challenged, and his blood flowed down when she smirked at him, the light of the fire giving her a beautiful aura.

“If I make sounds,” she leaned down, her mouth whispering against his, “it just means you’re giving me what I desire.”

[sonofanactuallyveryniceperson]

what are your top ten futct lyrics and why

Let’s gooooo! I’ll give you a teaser, and the rest goes under the cut <3

1. “I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake / The hand behind this pen relives a failure everyday”

It’s such a quintessential Wentz line, and the vibe is so specific to the album, as well. It’s a little homoerotic, it’s a little self-loathing, it’s a little bit angsty. It’s got everything. What more do you want?

2. “Take our tears, put 'em on ice / ‘Cause I swear, I'd burn this city down to show you the light”

This has always been one of my favourite lyrics. Growing up, I was a small town kid. If you either are — or were previously — a small town kid, you know exactly what I mean when I say that they’re the sort of places that you either leave as a teenager, or you stay there forever. There’s just no in-between. I always knew that I was leaving. So, I’ve always loved this lyric because I was a country kid with an incredibly close group of friends. And I knew that one day I was going to leave, and they weren’t going to come with me. It was kind of an inevitable, bittersweet little tragedy, so we weren’t gonna cry about it (“take our tears, put 'em on ice”). But I would have done anything for those assholes. It was good.

3. “The best part of, ‘Believe’ is the lie / I hope you sing along, and you steal a line”

Again, I’ve always loved this wordplay. And I’m a skeptical bastard, so I like the sentiment, too. “I hope you sing along, and you steal a line” is such a good lyric in a song that’s mainly about hope and cynicism and growing up just to realise you might be a little fucked. Because it’s so ‘I hope you take this, I hope it stays with you and you keep it forever — for better or worse’. And the fact that it’s followed with “I need to keep you like this in my mind”, because it’s a give and take: it’s very ‘you hold on to these words, and I’ll hold onto the way you look tonight’. That’s pretty neat.

4. “They call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone / But for what we've become, we just feel more alone”

This is for all my intimidating homies out there! It’s just such a fun lyric. There is something isolating about the kind of person that you become in order to protect yourself from the world. As someone who has, indeed, been addressed as a ‘vicious bitch’ I get to own this one.

5. “And the poets are just kids who didn’t make it / And never had ‘it’ at all”

Every time that Pete calls himself a poet, my heart gets all gooey. I’ve been involved in the arts industry, both directly and indirectly, for a long time — and there really is this mentality that some people will just never be worthwhile creative investments because they don’t have ‘it’. It’s always a bummer to watch talented kids run themselves into the ground trying to impress people who aren’t invested in them. Also, I’m a writer and a sad bitch; so me too, Pete.

6. “I’m sleeping on your folk’s porch again, dreaming”

This is just such a warm, summer lyric for me. I’ve been that kid, passed out on a friend’s verandah/balcony, lying on the planks and sharing a shitty blanket with someone. This line specifically reminds me of being 16 and sharing a pillow with the girl I had a crush on, outside, at her parent’s place.

7. “It’s true romance is dead / I shot it in the chest then in the head”

It’s badass. It’s a game-changer. It lives in my head rent-free. Should have made it to the album. It fucks.

8. “I’m mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town”

This is just beautifully tragic imagery. It’s futile, and it’s empty. It’s twisted nostalgia and compulsive sentimentality. It’s about not being able to let things go. And you know me, folks; I’m always a slut for a ghost motif.

9. “Your secret’s out and the best part is / It isn’t even a good one”

Something about Patrick’s delivery in combination with this line? It’s just show-stopping, baby. For me, this has always felt like a particularly brutal line; something about guarding yourself against people’s judgement, and then finding out that no one even cares enough about you to throw the first stone. It’s a very ‘Pete’ fear — like, sure, they might hate me but at least they’re looking. And as long as you’re seen, you exist.

10. “To the ‘love’, I left my conscience pressed / Through the keyholes I watched you dress / Kiss and tell / Loose lips sink ships”

I love how this line flows and I love the difference between this bridge and the original chorus lyrics (“between the pages of the bible in the drawer”, etc.). Again, this song has always felt kind of ambiguously queer to me. The lines about leaving your ‘conscience’ behind, between the pages of a motel bible, reads very true to the experience of your first gay hookup. Very ‘fuck what the church has said, it’s never done a thing for me anyway’. So the difference between that and this final change — suggesting that, despite everything, the meeting still has to be kept a secret — is super compelling to me.

[keilemlucent]

i am your salvation

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~13k

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected it’s abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy.

Only you know him like that.

warnings: manga spoilers, suicidal ideation, abuse, ANGST with a capital A, just sad :^(((

this piece is hellish, enjoy ;^))) beta’ed by the lovely @keiqos, bless u

----------------------

Keigo was fucked.

He was so beyond fucked.

He was dead.

Basically.

He was half-alive in a hospital bed. An IV drip in each arm, pumping him full of god knows what. He didn’t care to ask. All he knew was that he fucked up.

He’d gotten sloppy.

Stupid.

Pompous. 

And now his wings were fried off his back.

(By fucking Dabi no less.)

 The first conversation he’d had with his doctor upon waking at the HPSC hospital was one where he legitimately contemplated suicide for the first time in a long while.

  “Hawks... There’s no good way to say this. There just isn’t,” The doctor began, looking through Keigo’s chart, sighing deeply. There was something so grave about the way he moved through the sterile hospital room.

The doctor handed him a handheld mirror. 

Hawks slowly raised it up with weakened arms, knowing what he’d see. 

A gruesome burn tore down the left side of his face. It puckered the skin around his eye, narrowing his field of vision (thank god he still had any vision at all). The soft flesh around his eye was so angry and blistered, pockets of puss gathering beneath the surface of his skin.

But what was worse than the scar, so much fucking worse, was the absence.

The complete absence of his wings.

No stubs, no nubs. Just nothing. 

His back ached against the hospital bed as he handed the mirror back to the doctor.

The doctor sighed again. He spoke to Hawks like he didn’t think the hero already knew what he was going to say, “Your wings are gone. Fully. The scans we’ve taken show that the... well, roots of them in your flesh are still present, they’re encased in scar tissue. Even the sections that the feathers grow from are cauterized. In our professional opinion, we don’t think that they’ll ever grow again.”

His heart fell in his chest. 

It fell so deep.

So far.

He didn’t let himself cry.

Instead, he contemplated how hard it would be to overdose on morphine they were undoubtedly dosing him with. 

The doctor continued as Keigo stared sightlessly at his lap, “As established, the muscles that control the roots of your wings are still intact, yes. But, they’re heavily damaged in a way that will affect your everyday life. Even without your wings, the recovery to stabilize your injuries is going to be strenuous.”

Who fucking cared.

Hawks had spent the vast majority of his life training to be a hero and now the very thing that made him the best was literally burned from him. It felt unholy. It felt awful.

Fire wasn’t cleansing, it was putrid. Desecrated was his body as well as his mind.

  He didn’t listen to much else of what the doctor said. He let himself go blank, wishing tears would fall. 

 ...

 That was yesterday.

Today, he was allowed visitors. His PA came, informing him that the Commission was putting him on extended, indefinite (thankfully, somewhat paid) leave in exchange for media appearances. They also informed him that half of the top ten were dead after the war with the PLF. Ryuku, Miruko, Edgeshot, Kamuiwoods, Crust, all lost. And countless others, too. Even some students. It seemed that there was no clear winner of the fight that took so many and changed so much.

One of the most hard-hitting pieces of news was that Endeavor was in a coma, on life support, with a brain injury that would most likely kill him. At best, he’d be a vegetable. 

Keigo felt nothing but hollow as he laid in his hospital bed. He was half machine, based on all of the tubes and monitors that he was hooked up to. He felt truly mechanical and falsely alive. Truly, he was used up. He wanted to die. He was sure of it. 

Keigo wanted to ask his PA to smother him.

He didn’t.

 The next person to visit him was you. His PA had informed him that they were legally obligated to see him first, otherwise, you would’ve been clawing his door down.

You.

Keigo didn’t want you to see him like this. All the reasons you had fallen for him were gone. There was no confidence, no lip, no charm, no drive, no stunning scarlet wings— nothing. He even had the bonus deterrent of a nasty scar covering half his face. He was so sure that you’d take one look at him and turn right out the door. 

Leave him for good. 

Maybe spit on him for good measure.

The old muscles of his wings twitched as you walked through the door. It burned like an old hell. 

You’d clearly been crying, face and eyes puffy. 

But you were strong for him.

You pulled a chair up next to his bed wordlessly. You sat, laying your head on his antiseptic smelling sheets and mattress. Your eyes went half-lidded, just barely looking up at Keigo’s terrified expression. You reached out, grabbing one of Keigo’s clammy hands. You squeezed it.

“I’m here, Kei’,” Your voice was so quiet. “It’s alright. I love you. I’ve got you.”

It made him break.

The machines that he was reliant on screamed as he desperately grabbed at you, dragging you up with the little strength he had. You pushed him down, moving to half kneel on his bed. You didn’t make Keigo work for your touch. 

You cradled his head to your chest as his scarred hands fisted your sweater. He screamed into your sternum. Keigo wailed and cried with everything he had. He was losing himself, raging for far more than just his current injury.

 He bawled for every single time he couldn’t in his hero training, forced to be broken by the demands of the Commission. He sobbed for every casualty and death that was on his hands, righteous or otherwise. And, selfishly, he cried for himself. He let tears fall in mourning for the version of himself that died by Dabi’s hand. 

He let himself shatter in your arms for the burning muscles and scars of his back, the ache of his face, and the emptiness and vulnerability that his lack of wings graced him with.

You more than let him; you encouraged it.

You stroked his hair, matted with sweat and grease. You whispered soft adorations, validations and love into his ears. He can hear your tears too, but it didn’t stop you.

“I love you, Keigo.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re safe.” 

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’ve got you, Kei’.”

“No one else will hurt you. I won’t let them.”

 You were far too late on the last one. But, you were quirkless. Powerless to stop the destruction that ravaged his body and now, his mind. 

Additionally, Keigo was relieved you didn’t say that ‘everything will be okay’. 

He knew it wouldn’t be.

You let him crumble against you for hours. 

Finally, he was spent, falling back in his bed, and letting you slump back into your chair. You took the liberty of finding a warm towel to wipe his face down with.

The rest of visiting hours, you laid your head on his mattress, holding his hand as he drifted in and out of sleep. Nurses came and poked and prodded him. They didn’t bother making conversation with either of you. 

They understood, to some degree. 

You were both together in mourning. 

A nurse came by later, night had fallen, telling you visiting hours were over. 

Keigo audibly whined.

You shook your head, running a thumb over Keigo’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” You soothed both him and the nurse. “I’m not leaving.”

The nurse didn’t fight you, merely exited the room.

Keigo watched, awed. You retrieved a decently sized duffle bag and pillow that you’d brought (he hadn’t noticed). You set up a blanket and the pillow on a couch in the corner as a makeshift bed.

“Y-you’re staying?” Keigo asked, voice raw. 

You, somehow, smiled. So gentle and precious, nodding, “As long as you’d like me to. I told you, I’m here.”

Keigo relied on you for comfort in the past, sure. But not like this. Not like you were his anchor, tethering him to his existence now that his pride and preen were plucked from him. You were his salvation in that hospital room. You were the ground that he desperately and necessarily needed to learn to walk on.

 You both fell asleep quickly, dreaming of better things outside of your waking nightmare.

 ---------------------------

 Keigo was discharged two weeks later.

It is thoroughly confirmed that, unless by some medical miracle, his wings were truly toast. Gone for good.

The Commission brought in at least a dozen folks with spectacular healing quirks. Truly, the best the country had. Turns out, the Commission was clawing for hope too, in the wake of everything.

The efforts were in vain, of course.

Nothing stuck. 

The scar tissue wouldn’t shrink. The damage was too severe. The cauterization was so intense, it altered him. Forever.

 You stayed with him the whole time.

You went home, just a bit, maybe an hour a day. You showered then, changed clothes. 

You’d come back and do what you had been the whole time.

Just being there.

 You didn’t make him idly chat or make him watch shitty, hospital cable. You let him ruminate, stew, and simmer. You let him be crushed.

You were smart enough, empathetic enough to know that nothing you could do or say would lift him right now. 

He just needed you there.

And so, you were. 

 After being discharged with several prescriptions, orders to limit activity to allow for his other injuries (and concussion) to heal, the two of you went home. 

 Your first task was Keigo getting properly washed. 

At first, Keigo resisted.

“N-no, I’m fine, I’ll take one tomorrow,” Truthfully, he wouldn’t probably, not without your help. He just didn’t want you to see him so intimately in this state.

You shook your head, speaking as you brought several plush towels into the bathroom. You turned to Keigo who had wrapped his arms around his frail-looking form, looking at the floor.

You brought him into your arms, rubbing at his neck, not wanting to aggravate the injuries on his back, “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll feel good. Let me take care of you, please.”

You spoke so earnestly, it made Keigo fall apart. He hated being so helpless. 

He nodded against you.

You sat him on the toilet seat while you ran a bath in Keigo’s spectacular tub. You poured in epsom salts and some lavender bubble bath, filling the room with a familiar, herbal scent.

You helped him strip, mindful to not linger on any part of his body. Carefully, you lowered Keigo into the water. He could help but be surprised by the strength in your body to do so. Perhaps foolishly, he had never taken you as physically strong. After stripping yourself, you got in as well, across from him, so you wouldn’t see his scars. You were perhaps a bit too considerate.

The water burned his wounds, yet calmed his muscles. It was a different sensation than the ones he’d had for the past weeks. He welcomed it.

Keigo sagged in the bathwater, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time in so long. You knelt in the water and suds, lathering up his hair and body. So carefully did you wash away the sweat, smells, and lingerings of the hospital and the war that preceded it. You went through his hair with your own conditioner, figuring that the familiar smell might help keep him calm. Keigo didn’t say anything, just let you do as you needed. You carefully untangled any and all knots from his tresses, rinsing him down.

You dried him off, putting a few scented body oils on his dry patches of skin, parched from his time in the hospital. You still didn’t look at his back.

He felt ashamed and thoroughly disgusted. He smushed his face into your shoulder, gripping onto your like if he wasn’t, he’d die.

You find him fucking repulsive, right?

 “Kei’,” Your voice quiet still, “You okay?— Wait, don’t answer that.”

You chuckle at yourself. Keigo would’ve laughed too if he could. 

Keigo dressed himself, a semi-self sufficient act that made him feel better. Though, you picked out the clothes. Some of your own, soft, old garments that Keigo had seen you in a hundred times. 

It was only before he put on a shirt that you gave his back the quickest once-over, “You can put your shirt on now, Kei’. I just wanted to make sure it looked okay. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Even that much sight and contact of the old roots of his wings made him feel so ashamed. It burned the corpse of his ego like the hot fire that crisped his wings. 

Despite those nasty feelings, the simple act of wearing your shirt made him feel better. It felt so good, so good, to be surrounded by you instead of the sterility of the hospital. 

 You had been kind enough to leave the hospital for a bit longer than normal the day prior to go shopping. You bought Keigo a large, fluffy, ivory blanket. You even washed it, so it smelled like home (and you) too.  

After you helped him to the wide couch, custom made to accommodate Keigo’s now torched wings. It was a small burn (ha) to his psyche, but he tried to let it go as you got him comfortable.

You gave him your special pillow. The one Keigo loved to steal and take naps with. You covered him in the new blanket.

“Is that okay?” You asked, tucking him in. Keigo would normally be embarrassed by something childish like that, but he couldn’t make himself care. It felt so good to be comforted. 

 So softly, he replied, “You made it feel like home already.”

You let a sad smile drift to your face, massaging Keigo’s scalp as he sobbed into his new blanket. 

He was so glad to be surrounded by you, no matter how rotten he felt. 

 -------------------

 The first week home was the hardest. Sleeping was painful, even next to you. Eating was a fucking labor as he had no appetite. Nothing interested him in the slightest other than staring at walls and pretending he would wake up from this nightmare soon.

An at-home physical therapist was brought in. He had to retrain the muscles in his back to relax, now that they weren’t carrying the weight of his wings. The constant tension in his back would cause long term damage (not like he wasn’t already riddled with chronic injury), least of all tension headaches. 

Your job let you work from home. Thank god.

...

Keigo hated his exercises. They hurt so bad.

For years, Keigo had trained his body, fucking perfected its abilities. Every part of him was honed and forcibly designed to be the winged-hero, Hawks. But, now? He was the defunct number two, ‘Hawks’ and at home— reality? He was the comically broken Keigo Takami who struggled to do basic physical therapy. 

Only you knew him like that.

 Keigo’s fists slammed against the floor as he strained with his PT exercises, the therapist themselves long gone for the day. You worked from your laptop on the couch. You weren’t supposed to aid him with his exercises unless necessary, as the therapist had instructed.

“Do you want me to help you?” You asked, almost coaxingly. 

Keigo beat his fists once more, crying out almost like a petulant child, (he hated himself for it oh my god—), “I don’t want to fucking do this! I can’t do this!”

And Keigo sobbed into the floor with abandon.

You moved from the couch to haul him into your arms, pressing his face into your neck. You said nothing, you just let him scream and die against you.

“I can’t do this!” 

“I hate this!”

“Make this fucking stop!”

“Just make this all fucking stop!”

“JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY!”

This got you to speak, not shushing him, but just trying to soothe—

“IF YOU REALLY FUCKING LOVE ME, THEN YOU’LL SLIT MY THROAT IN MY SLEEP AND LET THIS FUCKING NIGHTMARE BE OVER!—”

 You froze. 

He didn’t.

Keigo kept begging you to kill him. 

Incessantly so.

He didn’t know what to do.

This was a tantrum, maybe. More like a breakdown. It felt dramatic. But, his thoughts were real. He’d be happy to die, especially by your hand. Then you wouldn’t have to take care of him and he wouldn’t be able to feel as awful as he did. 

You kept holding him, squeezing him harder and harder still. 

Finally, Keigo tuckered himself out and sagged against you. 

 You reached up to the side table, grabbing your own glass of water, and offering it to him. You still hadn’t spoken.

Part of him thought to apologize, crack a joke even. But he couldn’t make himself do either. Instead, his shaking hands grabbed the glass. You didn’t fully let it go, just guided it to his lips where it dribbles down his chin. 

Keigo sputtered a sob.

He couldn’t stand being so weak.

 “Love,” You spoke so softly as he sipped. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t let anyone else, either.”

Keigo suddenly started fucking laughing, for the first time in so fucking long, ripping the cup fully from your hands and throwing it across the room. It shattered in a wild display of raining glass and water. He hadn’t laughed in what felt like months. He let it loose, grabbing your face and directing it right at you, breath curling over your cheeks.

He knew it was cruel, to take it out on you. He hated himself for it even as he was doing it.

“How the fuck do you think you’ll protect me?” Keigo cackled into your face, horror beginning to overtake your features. He didn’t care. It felt good— “You’re just some stupid, weak, quirkless civilian— how the fuck do you think someone as powerless as you can protect me when I can’t even protect me—!”

 He kept laughing, but he was crying. He couldn’t tell which was which. Keigo could only tell he was hysterical.

 This whole time, since he had woken up in the hospital, you had been nothing but the perfect partner. You had been so kind, asking for nothing in return.

And yet, he’d verbally strike you like this for no other reason than his own hurt.

How fucking cruel.

 You let Keigo go, unable to disguise the pain in your expression. You didn’t say anything back to him. As you left the room, you were covering your eyes with your arm. Keigo caught one of your sobs as you fled to the bathroom, almost slamming the door. 

 Keigo heard your muffled cries for hours until you fell asleep on the bathroom tile as his old burns and guilt ate him alive. 

 He tried his exercises again. 

 -------------------

 That night, Keigo was too deep in sleep to hear you enter your shared bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to sleep next to him. You thought about returning to the bathroom or moving to the couch. But, you couldn’t make yourself. 

Keigo’s words hurt so bad. 

Partially because they were cruel. They gnawed at your insecurities, the fears you were desperately suppressing for him. 

Partially because you hated the fact you couldn’t do more, despite already doing so much. 

Partially because you knew that Keigo would never say things like that to you if he wasn’t being eaten up on the inside. 

Partially because the love of your life asked you to snuff his life out. 

It all hurt. Stung. Ached. Burned. 

 There was a small detail that hurt in a different way.

He called you quirkless.

You weren’t quirkless.

Your quirk was so weak and so taxing, sure. It was basically unusable. For fucks sake, you never even bothered to tell Keigo directly as you never used it. He had access to citizen quirk records, and you figured he checked in the several years the two of you had been dating. Apparently not.

But, you did have a quirk.

You stood next to your bed, Keigo covered in the comforter and soft white blanket you’d gotten for him. You could see the peakings of his back. His skin was marred with burns, cuts and scars that looked unimaginably horrible. You’d been avoiding looking at it, for him. You’d seen how it made him cringe.

But now with Keigo sleeping so deeply? You took it all in.

You looked at the nearly black scarring where the roots of his wings were. The fanning out of puckered, red skin from the burns. His back, which once rippled with the muscles that controlled his crazily powerful wings, was now a charred plain. 

...

You had an awful, far-fetched, fucked up idea. 

You sat, sinking into the bed as you contemplated your idea.

You brought your hands to your face, concentrating on your fingertips. 

Small, tiny vines and green shoots left your fingers.

There’s absolutely no way that this will work.

But, you’d hate yourself if you didn’t try.

 Life reclaimed life, you supposed. 

You drummed up a half-assed plan. It was a weak, frail idea— it would need a lot of support. Even then, you didn’t want to give yourself false hope. You couldn’t give Keigo false hope. It would ruin him.

...

You’d have to fix your diet. Eat lots of nutrient-rich food. Take more vitamins too.

You slotted yourself next to Keigo who, in sensing your warmth, turned into you, pressing into your front. His head nuzzled into your chest, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

You heard him wince at the motion, flinching in his sleep.

You had to try. 

One of your hands went to his back, brushing down the comforter to reveal the particularly gnarly scars where Keigo had lost part of himself. You laid your hand flat on the fire-flayed skin, praying you don’t wake him. You concentrated, watching small greenery go from your fingers to his flesh, desperately trying to repair the damage that had been done. 

 ------------------------------------

 Keigo apologized to you the next morning. He clutched your chest and told you how sorry he was. He told you how he knows he’s acting out, he’s just so fucking sad—

You told him that he didn’t need to justify himself. Not to you. Though, you accepted his apology and asked him to not say those kinds of things to you again.

“I’m trying my best, and I know it's not enough sometimes... but it's all I’ve got,” You speak to him in your own small voice. One that portrayed a weakness that you hadn’t shown since Keigo had been injured.

He felt even guiltier. 

 But, the second week was better.

His exercises were getting easier. Eating came a little better too. You started cooking more, not getting as much takeout. Part of him missed the comfort of familiar street foods, but another part of him craved the home-cooked meals you made so much more. They helped him feel better too, packed with veggies and lean proteins. 

Keigo didn’t notice, he was far too out of it, but you were already looking more haggard. 

It came with using your quirk in general, let alone to the extent you were pushing it. It was a pitiful quirk and you’d never strained it half as far as you were then. 

It had a price. 

To heal others, even something as small as a paper cut would take from your own body.

And, you were dedicating at least thirty minutes a night to attempting to ‘heal’ (read: reconstruct) the tissue of Keigo’s back. You had to start so deep in his muscles; it hurt to push your quirk that far down. Within the first five minutes, that first night you tried, you were silently crying from exertion.

But, you didn’t relent.

Each day, it was a little easier.

Sure, you had bad nights where it was extra hard. You blamed it on not eating well enough, using up too much of yourself during the day. 

It was a shitty excuse, notably. Your quirk was weak and self-destructive, it was beyond your bodily capabilities. There was no way to tell if it was even working to heal Keigo’s body. It was a gamble. 

And your wager was your health and body.

Even eating optimally and taking a bevy of new vitamins each morning before Keigo awoke, you could tell your physical health was suffering. You were losing a bit of fat already. Dark circles were punched under your eyes from the exhaustion. You had developed the slightest shake when you moved.

And the worst part was, you knew that you’d only get weaker from here on out.

So, you upped your calorie intake. You kept careful track of the foods you ate, the same with Keigo’s. He didn’t seem to mind the delicious meals you now coveted crafting, no matter how tired you were. If he was eating better, it would probably help you too, right?

You could only hope, resting it all on a long shot. 

 --------------------------

 Week three was good, but hard. 

The HPSC commission forced Keigo to do a media appearance. He told them, bluntly, that he couldn’t fake it right now. Probably, forever. 

They told him to suck it up, get out there, and put some hope into their society that was being pulled apart at the seams.

Keigo refused to let you come. He didn’t want to think about how you’ll look at him when he’s all dressed in his hero uniform, wings absent from his back, forcing him to bear the two empty slots of his jacket. 

When he mentioned it, you offered to sew them up.

Keigo felt horrible, but he just gave a nod, handing you his jacket without looking at you. 

You stitched the slits shut for him. Keigo requested red thread for the stitching and you obliged him.

 (You made note that Keigo truly had no hope. You couldn’t tell him a thing about your quirk usage until you were positive that it would have results.) 

 The media appearance went okay. Not great, but okay. ‘Hawks’ was dead, and Keigo was not a performer like he was. Though he still went by his hero name, his real name only known by himself, the Commission, Dabi (may he rot in hell), and you. He coveted that you had the intimacy in knowing his identity, but it felt dirtier now that Dabi (Touya?) had that name in his throat as well.

 When Keigo came home from the media appearance, he was keyed up. He flitted around the apartment while you made dinner. There was an anxiousness in his movements.‘Hawks’ would’ve taken to the skies to fly off some of this fractious energy. Keigo just had to wait for food to be ready and pray that the feelings went away. 

Just before dinner, he decided to try exercises outside of the one his physical therapist assigned him. He was feeling energetic enough, right? Might as well pull out some of the easier moves from his hero training. 

Keigo moved to his now seldom-used at home gym. He picked up a dust-covered five-pound weight and proceeded to try and curl it. The moment Keigo brought it above his head, his back tensed and burned something fierce.

The weight fell from Keigo’s hand, half-thrown, luckily missing any and all of his toes and feet. 

He cried in frustration, stuck staring at himself in the wall of mirrors. 

Keigo truly thought he looked pitiful.

He was still wearing his hero uniform sans the jacket. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass with his more sedentary state. His hair was too long. He had gotten more pale, losing his few freckles. His eyes were bloodshot and his teeth curl over his lips in a snarl—

“Keigo?” You opened the door to the gym, eyes wide with shock, but your tone didn’t change. He just glowered at you from the mirrors. You spoke again, staring him down with an almost scarily neutral poker face. “Dinner’s ready. Would you like to eat? Otherwise, I can save it for you.”

Keigo didn’t reply. He went back to trying to pick up the weight, screaming each time and hating how his back burned so intensely.

You left without saying anything. 

 ---------------------------

 Week four was hard because you and Keigo’s relationship is beginning to suffer. Or, it had been, but it was reaching a fever pitch. 

Keigo’s lack of human contact, lack of physical activity, and general cabin fever were getting to him. He was lashing out more and you, kind as you were, were having trouble dealing with it.

Your own run downstate was eating you alive, literally. No matter how much you put into your body, you needed more to heal Keigo. You were up to two hours a night of working at Keigo’s tissue with your quirk. By the end of your ‘sessions’, you would simply pass out and fall into listless slumber. You were losing a lot of sleep each night, but you were determined to keep going. 

Your exhaustion, in general, was making you a bit more prickly towards Keigo’s increasing frequent outbursts.

It all came to a head on a Sunday night.

The two of you were curled up on the couch, half-cuddling and half-watching TV.

A notice for breaking news showed red on the screen.

Both of you tensed. Before Keigo’s injury, he’d be rushing to throw on his hero gear and fly to help. Now, he just sat next to you, stiff as a board with pin-pricked pupils.

A picture, pre-PLF injury Endeavor flashed on screen.

“The Hero Public Safety Commission has just made the press release the former number one hero, Endeavor, is no longer in comatose.”

You watched a real, happy smile, spread on Keigo’s face. For a moment, there was a sliver of hope—

“But, he still remains in critical condition. Due to injuries affecting his central nervous system, he is reported as being in a state of paralysis. As of now, his life still hangs in the balance, though he is lucid.”

Keigo stiffened again.

There was rage painting his face. 

And pain. 

You stiffened with him.

You did not have it in you that night to deal with one of Keigo’s explosive moments. 

“Endeavor has left us all with this message—”

The camera flashed to an old video of the old ‘number one hero’, healthy and strong with a fist raised in the air.

You braced for impact as Keigo stood, shoulders hunching over.

Endeavors voice washed over your living room,

“Go Plus Ultra!”

And Keigo, honest to god, shrieked.

He fell to his knees and beat the floor beneath him. He slammed his fists in the hardwood over, and over, and over again. You slipped to the ground with him, trying to grab at his fists.

“Keigo, you’re gonna hurt yourself—” You tried to tell him. You managed to capture one of his fists, urging it to stay down-

But, you looked up to see Keigo giving a feral look with a frenzied, white-hot sneer all for you. 

 And his free fist flew towards you. It connected hard and solidly to your jaw.

You hadn’t been expecting it. Keigo had never struck you before, not even close. For fucks sake, he had never even raised his voice at you before his injury.

So, how could you expect to brace yourself for it?

The force of Keigo’s blow knocked you back. You jolted, falling onto your side and turning your head to the side, away from Keigo.

You brought a hand up to cup and shield your face, your jaw and eye socket throbbing. 

All you could feel was shock.

And sadness.

And horror.

And anger.

And terror.

 Keigo snapped out of it.

The news report was still playing, but he couldn’t hear it.

There was only the rushing of blood in his ears.

His mouth turned bone dry.

He had watched you move with his strike, falling more to the ground, hiding yourself—

“Oh my g-god, (Y/N),” Keigo’s voice was slippery and warbling. “I-I d-didn’t—” 

“No,” You stood up, still holding and hiding your face from him. His heart was crumbling in his chest.

You looked at him with only fear and heartbreak.

Keigo scrambled up, trying to apologize, hold you, mend this before it got worse—

But you put the hand that wasn’t cupping your face out, just barely touching his chest. You refused to let him any closer. 

“H-hey Kei’?” Your voice sounded so, so shaky. It’s hardly there. You were holding back tears and it was so obvious. It made every part of Keigo burn with shame. “I can’t today. Maybe another day, I could deal with this, y-ya know? But not today, okay? Have a g-good night.”

You walked away before he could say anything else.

 You dashed off to the guest room, shutting and locking the door before falling against it and breaking. You cried and rocked yourself as you tried to self-soothe your shattered body and mind. 

The month prior had been so hard. The person you love was hurt so deeply, and though you were trying with everything you had to help, it didn’t seem like enough. You were getting verbally beat up semi-frequently and now Keigo had fucking hit you. 

You were scared. You were terrified that this would become the norm. That Keigo’s outbursts would continue to worsen, as they had been, and you would become a physical punching bag for him.

It especially hurt because you were trying so hard to help Keigo. 

You weren’t delusional enough to think you could really fix him, were you? 

The fact that you were secretly and silently trying to regenerate Keigo’s body with a quirk he didn’t even know you had struck you bluntly in your mind.

“I’m just so fucked up, aren’t I?” You laughed and sobbed to yourself at the same time, slamming your head backward on the door, relishes the pain that floods your skull. It was a reprieve from the bruises blooming across your cheekbone. 

You eventually managed to cry yourself to sleep, literally. You curled up in a ball on the floor next to the door, worn down to the bone.

 In the early morning, far before dawn, you pulled yourself into half-wakefulness. 

You were relentless and you were coming to hate yourself for it.

You needed to work on Keigo, no matter how you shitty felt.

You crept into the master bedroom, trying to be silent. You didn’t want to wake him. Only when you were fully in the room did you notice a soft lamp is still on despite it being early, early morning. 

Wide awake and upright, Keigo looked horrified to see you. He looked at you, shaking and half-sobbing into a pillow he clutched to his chest.

You both seemed shocked to see each other. 

You sniffled as you turned off the lamp, stripping down to just a t-shirt and panties before climbing into your side of the bed.

You refused to face him while he was awake. You got as comfortable as you could (which wasn’t much). 

There was half an hour of disgustingly awkward silence. It coated the room, bearing the two of you who refused to sleep. 

“I’m s-sorry,” Keigo had yet to move. He was frozen in place as you were turned away from him in the dark. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

Silence.

Your mouth felt dry and your mind parched. 

“Keigo,” You spoke like a being empty. You truly felt like it too. “If you ever touch me like that again, I will do worse than just leave you.”

It was a threat.

You let yourself have it, in all of this. You deserved one low blow. 

Keigo slowly slid down into the covers, babbling apologies and beginning to cry again. 

“Stop, Kei’,” You finally turned towards him, cupping his face. He blinked at you, eyes wide and glassy. “I love you. Just stop. Apologizing doesn’t make something like this better. I can’t do this if you keep hurting me, you know that. Just be better.”

Keigo winced at that. He knew it was true, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful.

You fell asleep on each other that night. You let your headrest nestled up against Keigo’s chest. He breathed softly above you, arms wrapped securely around you, holding you tightly like he was afraid you’d leave. You wouldn’t. You made the decision to stay at the beginning of all this. Your threats would always be empty. 

Idly, you had an arm thrown over Keigo’s waist, snaking up the back of his shirt to press your fingertips against his scars. Your roots and greenery didn’t have to go as deep now, as far as you could tell.

But, it had been a month with no discernable progress, visual or otherwise. 

But, you held onto hope. 

Because you had to hold onto hope that Keigo would get better. 

All of him.

 -------------------------------

      The second month was... different. 

Keigo tried with his whole heart to earn back your trust.

You flinched at him for the first week or so. 

He hated himself so fucking much each time you did. But, he never blamed you. He couldn’t.

(Even as you twitched away from him in the daylight, you tirelessly worked on his scars in his sleep. You couldn’t give up, no matter how awful you felt). 

Keigo did his exercises several times a day. He made a few more media appearances but refused to be seen with Endeavor. He (and truthfully, the Commission) knew that he could not psychologically handle it.

You were rapidly getting weaker, but you didn’t care. You ate more, slept when you could, and pushed on. You were up to three hours of healing a night. Tears rolled down your cheeks the whole time.

You were clinging to the prayer that you could unburn Keigo’s back like it would save you from your personally made hell. 

This was despite the fact he was already crawling out of the pit himself. 

 Your existence was eased slightly as Keigo was starting to help out more. 

Keigo wasn’t anywhere near normal— normal Keigo was dead in a disintegrated building, miles from your shared home. But, he was getting better.

 His muscles felt better. He wasn’t sure how, but they did. His PT exercises must’ve been working. The outbursts he had thrown so often during the first month pittered out to maybe once or twice a week. They were calmer now. You were still his anchor, of course, that was undeniable. But, it was mostly crying and clutching and not screaming and breaking.

It was a welcome shift.

Most of the time, Keigo would pull you into his lap and wrap you in his embrace. Softly, he’d sway and rock the two of you, like he was trying to lull and calm not just himself, but you in tandem.

A lot of the time, this was true. 

Your flinching subsided and Keigo had no more close calls with any physical violence towards you. In a few high strung moments, he still snapped at you. He’d apologize, and do better. At least, you told yourself that. That’s how you saw it anyways. 

Keigo was thoroughly traumatized. His mind was an open nerve and that had consequences. You were so endlessly tired. What kind of wounds and trauma were you incurring?

You forced yourself not to think about it. 

 Part of you, during this month, wanted to simply pack a bag and leave without a trace. 

But, you stayed with Keigo. You stayed determined. 

(Or, you stayed out of spite. On your bad days, you really had trouble figuring it out.)

Your body looked like shit. You were endlessly glad Keigo still wasn’t in a position to be having any sort of sex because he probably would’ve noticed how fucked up your body was getting.

You shook constantly, always quaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Your skin bruised with almost any contact beyond light touch. Your eyes, once vibrant and expressive, had sunk in. 

Your body, no matter the several thousand extra calories you forced yourself to eat a day, still ran through your fat reserves. It was leeching muscle from you. It made your joints feel raw. 

 It almost hurts that you noticed how Keigo is so pained, but he didn’t notice you falling apart.

 -----------------------

      The third month was when shit hit the fan.

It was near the end of the month. 

You were doing so badly. You stretched yourself far beyond your body's abilities. 

You felt particularly sick, but you needed to get groceries. Keigo couldn’t himself for a host of reasons, which made it your job. You kissed him on the cheek as you left for the market.

Meanwhile, Keigo’s physical therapist dropped by for a check-in appointment. 

Keigo did his exercises beautifully. He had to admit, his muscles didn’t ache in nearly the same way they used to. They only really hurt when the weather changed, like he was some old, arthritic man. 

“Wow!” His therapist gasped, watching him complete his exercises. “It’s looking great, Hawks. It looks like you’ve gained back a lot of strength.”

The small amount of praise made him beam as he sat up. 

“I just want to check the actual wounds around your back, if that’s alright? Just feel the scar tissue,” The therapist asked. Keigo bit his lip, slowly pulling off his tee-shirt. He didn’t like the idea of anyone’s hands being that close to the intimate roots of his dead wings. 

But, it was necessary.

Keigo faced his back to her.

All he got was an audible gasp as the therapist’s hands traced at his spine.

“The progress back here- Hawks this is insane,” The other was alight, pressing a thumb somewhere near the root. It hardly even hurt. “The scar tissue— it’s not gone, but it's a lot more tender than it should be. Like it's actually healing.”

“Is that why it doesn’t hurt so bad?” Keigo asked, letting a few slivers of joy light him up from the inside out. During his initial prognosis, multiple doctors had said that he was going to be on fire for years, not months. 

The therapist nodded, “Looks like it. Even the scarring on the surface looks pretty good. Must have some damn good genes to be healing like this.”

The two laughed, Keigo feeling more lighthearted than he had in months. 

 You, on the other hand, were greatly struggling. 

You were so, so fucking cold; yet another bi-product of your overextension. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan on top of one of Keigo’s mock necks. You couldn’t stop trembling as you try to shop as quickly and effectively as possible. Anything to get you home as soon as possible. 

You had a great deal of difficulty doing this, though.

If you moved too fast, your vision blacked out. It had been like that for a while, a week or two. You’d lost track. You figured it was your iron, maybe blood pressure. 

It was an easy thing to hide at home, but much harder in public.

You reached for something high on a metal shelf, tossing it into your cart. You needed another item, on the bottom shelf. You dropped to your knees, your body aching and rolling.

Almost done.

So close. 

Then you can go home and rest.

You stood up too fast. Your vision went black ringed for a second. You stumble, trying to catch yourself as you lost sight. 

You felt weightless for a moment, spinning, Though your limbs felt weighed down, impossible to move. As your vision returned, its field wouldn’t move, pointed up at the ceiling of the crowded market. 

There were people speaking, shouting around you.

Alarmed.

Speaking to you?

You didn’t care.

You were so, so tired.

You let your eyes slip shut.

 ------------ 

 Keigo had been waiting for you for several hours longer than it took to go grocery shopping, sure. And, to have you gone from the apartment so long made him itch too. It had been eating him, making him pace around. You hadn’t been answering your phone either. He figured you had made a detour and let your phone die.

 When he received a call from the local civilian hospital about you, he feels his blood freeze in his veins. 

“You’re listed here as (Y/N)’s emergency contact as a partner, yes?” The nurse asked. “They collapsed at a local market. They’re stable, but we’d recommend coming to the hospital as soon as you’re able to.” 

Keigo nodded, head swimming.

You’re hurt.

You’re safe, but you’re hurt.

...

Keigo was whisked to the back of the hospital in a poor disguise. He gets recognized, given some extra security. The scar that marred his face was enough of a marker even if he didn’t have wings. He hardly cared. He couldn’t. 

Your door opened to a very dark room, soft beeps and hums filling it. 

He imagined that he must've been feeling close to how you felt, seeing him in such a similar position those few months ago.

The nurse enters ahead of him, clicking around on a tablet to pull up your chart.

Keigo could hardly pay attention. He felt like he was going to die, seeing you like that.

You had an IV, pushing fluids into your thinned arms. Your face was hollow looking, sockets sunken, especially with your eyes closed like they were. You had several blankets on you, piled over you. Yet, you were still visibly shivering.

The nurse whispered, “They’ve been asleep for a while now. A doctor will be in soon. Just sit tight.”

She left the room while Keigo pulled a chair up to your bed. 

The smell of the hospital burned his nose. It reminded him far too much of his own time. All that pain. 

The ache in his back flared, but he figured it was somatic.

 Keigo reached out as he sat, holding one of your frail-looking hands in both of his own (had you looked this purely death stricken this morning? Keigo couldn’t recall either way, and he hates himself for it).

Your eyes slowly opened.

 Keigo met your gaze, breath caught in both of your throats.

Neither of you got a chance to speak, not a moment of fucking comfort, before a doctor barged in, flipping through your chart with a bored look on his face.

“We finished up your testing. Lucky for you, no concussion or fractures from your fall,” The doctor nods. He doesn’t even seem to notice Keigo, or rather, Hawks. “The rest of your results aren’t looking so great though.”

Your hand stiffened violently in Keigo’s grip. Your face went from worn and exhausted to filled with terror and... guilt?

 You were fucked.

The doctors and nurses had mentioned to you that they were fairly certain that all of your symptoms came from quirk overuse. You started weakly crying at that, your nurses looking confused. You didn’t elaborate then. You knew, the moment you woke up in the hospital that you were going to have to confront your own damage to your body.

You were going to be forced to explain it.

To Keigo.

The doctor continued. 

“Low levels of nearly all essential vitamins and minerals. Particularly low iron, magnesium, and potassium. In general, your test results and physical state would lead me to think you’re suffering from malnutrition. But, your panel shows that your metabolic rate is actually going abnormally quickly in a way that could only be linked to-”

Wait for it.

“Quirk overuse-”

Keigo barked out a laugh, letting go of your hand, “I’m sorry, but what? They’re quirkless, it has to be something else.”

 You didn’t say anything. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, are trained on your lap. You’re taking sharp, quick breaths.

You’re going to have to tell him everything.

 The doctor flips through your chart again, shaking his head and bringing it over for Keigo to look at, “I apologize if this seems out of turn, but they’re listed in the public files as having a quirk... It’s marked as a weak healing quirk, but all the same, any strength of quirk has overuse.”

Keigo is stone still.

There’s tension so thick in the air of the room that the doctor excuses himself. 

 Keigo, for months now, had been in a traumatized stupor. His normally sharpened senses, aided by his wings, were the key to so much of his cunning. Both his physical and mental states were affected, which had made him less observant.

It had caused him to disregard so much. 

 But now, in your stupid, acrid hospital room, he was quickly putting it together. 

His back burned again. 

 You felt frozen. You couldn’t force yourself to move. You couldn’t do anything other than look at your lap and roll in your head. Your body hurt so bad, your head hurt too, and so did your fucking heart.

 “Can I clarify? Because I think I have an idea of what’s going on.”  Keigo had physically moved away from you. He leaned back in his chair, staring down with a mix of expressions you couldn’t suss out. It made you feel even sicker.

You nodded.

“Breath, (Y/N),” Keigo reminded you. He watched you take a massive inhale, followed by tears beginning to gather. You still wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

 “Have you been... using your quirk on me? Without me knowing?” Keigo asked, trying to keep his voice firm, but truthfully, it wanted to waver and bend so badly. “Please be honest.”

You nod, breaking down to rub at your eyes. 

Keigo doesn’t stop the instinctual way he moved towards you, leaning over your bed and wrapping his arms around me.

With his cheek pressed to the top of your head, he broke the illusion:

“Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

And so, you did.

It came out tearfully, you spilling and cracking as you did. You felt stupid and guilty and awful, but at least you were out of this fucked up lie. 

It all poured out of you. Your fear and your desperation were all laid out and Keigo was reading the cards.  

You explained that your quirk has always been weak in addition to taxing on the body. Hence, you had seldom, if ever, used it as an adult. You were effectively quirkless and you were okay with that. Keigo had never asked so you never told him. 

You tell him, voice shaking, what happened the night Keigo had pleaded with you to kill him.

“I-I, Kei’,” You push out, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do. You were so hurt and so sad and I had this stupid fucking idea that maybe, maybe I could use to my quirk to heal you.”

Keigo’s breath catches. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me? Ask me?”

“I didn’t know if it would work. I still don’t know if it does. It didn’t wanna... I didn’t want to get your hopes up. E-especially since it would’ve been coming from me.” You pressed harder into him like you’re scared of him disappearing. “You were already so crushed.”

Keigo didn’t know what to say. There was a swirl of emotions bubbling and writhing in his body and mind and he didn’t know what to say for the first time in a long time.

 So he didn’t say anything.

Keigo sat back in his chair, putting his elbows to his knees, using folded hands to rest his head on, parsing through his own feelings.

“K-Keigo?” You asked, wiping a tear away. As much as Keigo hated seeing you like this, he also recognized your state was by your hand. 

Right?

“Sweetheart, I love you—” Keigo stopped himself, sighing deep in his chest. “But, I can’t... I just need some time.”

 You nodded, tears coming back to drip down your face.

Keigo just watched with a neutral expression.

 -----------------

 Despite not being able to handle talking to you, Keigo was more than willing to help you out of the hospital. You were discharged with a prescribed diet and vitamins as well as a followup appointment in a few weeks. 

“And, most importantly,” The doctor made eye contact with you. “Don’t use that quirk of yours until further notice. Honestly, with it being so destructive, I can’t understand why you would in the first place.”

You burned with shame.

The night you came back from the hospital, Keigo took incredible care of you. He didn’t talk much during it, not to you anyways. He was nearly constantly speaking under his breath, all unintelligible. From his tone and myriad of expressions, you guessed he was verbally processing. 

Keigo gingerly gave you a bath, scrubbing away the smells and stickiness of the hospital. He managed to cook you one of the nutritious recipes you had shown him a few weeks ago. You sheepishly had to ask for another portion, explaining how your metabolism burned so quickly.

“Have...” Keigo finally spoke while making you another plate. “Have you always been eating this much?”

You nodded, sipping your water, “For a long time, yes.”

He hated himself for not noticing such obvious things. 

 Keigo kept carrying you from place to place, no matter how much his back hurt. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

He laid you in bed at some point, sliding in next to you. He still hadn’t spoken much since you’d left the hospital. 

You had tried to babble apologies and beg for forgiveness, but selfishly, Keigo wasn’t listening. He was trapped in his own head. Even when you clung to him in the bath, he could hardly make himself hold you up from sliding too far into the water. 

It almost hurt to touch you.

 It was late when Keigo finally verbally, directly regarded you. 

“Why?” Keigo asked. You’re both turned away from each other. The bed had been vibrating with your harsh breathing and crying for an hour or so now. “Why did you do all this?”

You stop shaking, but only for a moment.

Your voice is so soft, weak, “Please don’t blame yourself. It was my choice.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Keigo could hear the anger in his voice. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”

You’re silent for a moment. 

And then you’re sitting up, yelling.

“Because I didn’t know what else to fucking do!” You gripped your hair at the roots, pulling. “You asked me to fucking kill you, Keigo! You begged me to!”

Keigo sat up, staring you down. He felt so much anger and rage in him, it was bubbling up, “That doesn’t mean you had to hurt yourself like this for me!”

“I didn’t want to hurt myself! I wanted to help you! Using my quirk was all I could do!” You looked over at him, digging your nails into your exposed thighs. “What else was I supposed to do!”

“Exactly what I thought you were doing, helping me!” Keigo screamed back at you. “You were doing so good at it!”

“You wanna know why I could even help?!” You shouted. You grabbed Keigo’s shoulders and brought him inches away from your face. “Because, every night, I got to give myself just a shred of hope that you would get better. That maybe, maybe your wings would come back and you’d smile like you used to instead of yelling at me, and hitting me, and asking me, begging me, to slit your fucking throat!”

 You couldn’t stop crying. Your body was so run down, so depleted, but it still musters up the energy to drip tears like a flooded creek. You wanted to run and leave the bed, retreat to the bathroom where you can break down on the tile in peace, alone where Keigo wouldn’t have to watch. You’d done it enough prior to know he wouldn’t check on you.

 Keigo stared at you with wide eyes. 

He didn’t know what to say at first

He was feeling so much—

 Keigo didn’t know what to do or say.

So, he just twisted the knife, one could say.

 “You should’ve just left if you were really that miserable with me.” Keigo regretted it the moment it left his lips. You tense up, looking at him with a gaze he could only call broken.

 “No,” You grabbed your shoulders, rocking yourself. “No, Kei’, I couldn’t, I won’t—”

“Then stop complaining.” Keigo shrugged. God, this was awful, wasn’t it? Why wouldn’t he just shut up? “You’re the one who stayed and tortured yourself. That’s on you.”

“So you’d rather have that I... left?”

“Duh,” Keigo laughed, staring down your crying form. You’re so decrepit in your current state. He hated looking at you, purely because he knows he was at least a portion of what led to this. But, he’d never admit it. “Fuck, (Y/N), you didn’t have to kill me, and you didn’t have to kill yourself either.” 

 He’s splitting inside as he watches you break in front of him. Some fucked up, sadistic part of him relishes it. The other, muted, more sane part is screaming at him to stop fucking talking-

“You really got yourself hospitalized for overusing a quirk on me that I didn’t even know you had. You were so desperately trying to get me my wings back, all while acting soooo supportive of me trying to live without them?!” Keigo bellowed at you. You cowered, bent legs beginning to slide off the bed — “Do you realize how fucked up that is? That, behind closed doors, while I was fucking asleep, you were trying to fix me? Well, guess what, (Y/N), I’m broken beyond fucking repair, and no cute little shit you pull is going to fix me!”

Keigo shrieked his last words.

You fell off the bed, slamming onto the floor. A sickening crack filled the room as your head, basically unsupported, met the hardwood.

 “Stop it!” You were screaming yourself silly from the floor. Your head hurt so badly. Maybe you were bleeding. You didn’t care. “Stop it!”

You knew you couldn’t handle this.

You were raw. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t confront any more than you had already that day. Your body hurt so badly and your mind hurt too. Everything Keigo said just rubbed salt in the wounds he helped to create.

“Keigo, just fucking stop it!”

Your vision spun. You thought that maybe you were hyperventilating. You couldn’t feel your hands, numbness beginning to pull at your extremities. 

“I’m fucking sorry!” You wailed. “What would do if you were in my position, Keigo?! Just watch me suffer and not do anything even if you could?!”

Keigo leaned over the bed, giving you the most empty look you’d ever seen him wear. 

“I would’ve just fucking left, (Y/N),” He spoke in a monotone, eyes like dead coals. “I would’ve just left.”

You stared up at him.

This horrible feeling had filled you from toes to top and you couldn’t escape it.

 Keigo didn’t say anything else as you panicked on the floor. He simply got up, left for the guest room, and slammed the door.

 Neither of you ever felt as awful as you did that night.

 --------------------

 Keigo didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did you.

 He figured (he hoped) you’d be gone by the morning. Maybe you would just pack your dusty suitcase and get the fuck out.

...

Truthfully, not a single fragment of Keigo wanted you to leave. No piece of him wanted you to go out of his life. God, if he really thought about it, the prospect of not being side-by-side in this world together threw him into bends of anxiety and pure grief. 

Truthfully, as Keigo silently, tearfully, examined your actions, he felt his anger ebb away.

He understood. 

Why you did what you did.

But it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. 

Guilt was eating him, too. For all the horrible things he had said. The things he’d done that hurt you without regard for months now. The fact he never noticed you deteriorating. And all the nights you crept back into your shared room, for comfort and to keep trying to help him, though perhaps cruelly. 

 It was dawn when Keigo exited the guestroom. He figured that you were either gone or would be soon.

He was clearly mistaken.

Keigo stopped when he saw you at the kitchen table, head down, and resting on your folded arms. You were wearing a huge sweater, one of his, and a blanket around your shoulders.

Keigo had, incredibly selfishly, somewhat forgotten your physical state.

He ached.

 “I made coffee,” You said quietly. You looked up, meeting Keigo’s gaze with bloodshot, puffy eyes. “It’s still warm.”

“Why are you here?” Keigo asked, heart starting to beat too fast again. “Why haven’t you left-?”

“Do you really want me to leave?” You asked with an unfamiliar edge to your voice. It’s not anger or malice, but something different. You stand, bracing yourself on the table, wobbling. Keigo wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms and apologize. But, he doesn’t. 

 You looked at him with this edge of fierce determination, asking the penultimate question, the core of this all, “Keigo, do you want me to leave because of my actions, or do you want me to leave because you don’t think you deserve help?”

There was a poignant quiet over the apartment. 

The birds of the new day interrupted it from outside, chirping with the eos of dawn.

“I don’t think... I—” Keigo was speechless again, stuttering. “You shouldn’t have hurt yourself so bad.”

“That’s been established, I went too far. I should’ve told you, offered and asked, and go from there. It ultimately was a complete breach of boundaries and for that, I’m sorry. Fuck my good intentions, it was selfish.” You squeezed the edge of the table, eyes low. Your gaze turned up sharply to meet his, that edge of determination and fierceness in it that Keigo was unfamiliar with. “My question is, do you want me to leave?”

Keigo stared at his feet. His head was swimming, “You should leave.”

“I asked if you want me to,” You asked again. You were being more firm than you had ever been. You sounded unbreakable. It was that stubbornness that kept you there with him, right?

Keigo met your eyes with a sharp glare, “You should’ve left the night I asked you to kill me.”

You sighed, shaking visibly, but still keeping yourself so strong, “Please just answer me. Do you want me to leave? If we’re going to break up, let’s just call it that, and get it over with, okay Kei’?”

Oh, hearing you say ‘breakup’—

That broke Keigo. 

Having to truly think and reckon with a reality where you weren’t with him and you weren’t facing the horrors of the world together was purely the stuff of nightmares. 

The stupid little facade Keigo had so carefully crafted broke. The burns on his body started to ache anew, somatically. The scar over his eye twitched as tears were gathering anew. 

“N-no,” Keigo hugged himself, shaking his head. “N-no— I don’t want you to go—” 

You didn’t say anything, just watched him with a sad expression.

“Then I won’t.” You sat back down. “Keigo, I know that this is all fucked beyond belief. I know. But, I won’t leave. I really, really don’t want to. I won’t, not unless you want me to go.”

And Keigo was breaking for you again. 

He somehow stumbled next to your chair, managing to fall to his knees and rest his head on your cold, cold thigh. He pressed his nose into your flesh, trying to fucking absorb your smell like you could disappear any moment. 

“Why did you do it-” Keigo sobbed into your skin, nails biting in the flesh of your calves. It made you jerk in your seat. “WHY DID YOU HURT YOURSELF FOR ME!”

You didn’t have a good answer for him, so you didn’t reply. 

Keigo’s grip on the flesh of his leg started to break skin as he wailed into your leg.

You just looked down at him with this expression of pure remorse,  melancholy coloring your eyes.

You grabbed his clawed-hands, recalling the last time you tried a move like this with a twitch. You held his hands in your own, pulling him up, “You can’t do that, Keigo. You’re hurting me.”

“All I DO is hurt YOU!” Keigo crushed you into a tight hug, knocking the wind from you. You jolt forward into his death grip. 

 “It was my choice,” You remind him, so much weakness in your choice. “A very, very selfish one. If I was going to try to heal you, I should’ve asked.”

You started crying with him. 

You both were just torturing yourselves, truthfully. 

 At his core, Keigo was a fucked up man who was so thoroughly repressed and manipulated, it was hard to see his psychological shortcomings. They were all so meticulously hidden. 

But not then, not after losing his wings.

“I’m so fucked up,” Keigo kept crying into you as you had his hands locked together. “I hate myself for being this upset at you when you were trying to help me.”

“Love,” Your voice was so soft, releasing Keigo’s hands to pet his hair. “It wasn’t right for me to try and do what I did. You can’t help how you feel.”

“I could before I lost them!” Keigo muffled himself with your flesh.

Them being his wings, obviously. 

You hauled him upwards, forcing him to sit in your lap. Keigo had always had a bit of size on you, but in your shrunken state, it was even more pronounced. 

“Then you weren’t feeling,” You pressed your face to Keigo’s chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He entangled himself with you, and you both just held each other for a long, long time.

 ------------------------

In the following six months, a many very important things happen.

Keigo got a place for you for two entire months, just so you two have some separation. After actually having a calm talk about your relationship dynamic since Keigo’s injury, it was comically apparent there were so many fucked up things that had happened and that you both needed a bit of time to collect yourselves.

It was a hard separation, but you still see each other at least half of the days of your time apart, and even a few that you snuck over for the night to stay over. Keigo was so, so thankful. Being wrapped in each other was a different experience, something actually healing. 

You both got therapists, next. A couples therapist too. 

Thank God. 

Keigo had oodles of trauma to sort through, and you had your own shit to deal with as well. Not to mention the whole ‘Keigo being a dick to you because he was hurt doesn’t justify it’ kinda broke your brain for a second. Also, Keigo having to process ‘he was capital A abusive to you after he got hurt, and your only stability being the hope in healing you is much more complicated than just them trying to ‘fix’ you’ was a case of note. 

It was weird, really. 

 When you moved back, fully, to Keigo’s (you weren’t sure if you could call it ‘your’ apartment anymore), it was nerve-wracking. It was under the understanding that you could move out if you needed to, that separation and an ending were just a corner away.

It made you feel more unstable than you had in months, but you kept up with it. 

Keigo noticed, much more observant than he had been. About two weeks into you returning to the apartment, he asked the question, “What if we moved?”

You had been quietly eating your breakfast, but this startled you, “Move? Why?”

“I mean,” Keigo sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze flickered to the living room, recalling the times he broke down and was so awful to you. It shifted to the bedroom door where you broke boundaries over and over. “A lot of bad stuff happened here. If we’re going to have a fresh start, might as well live somewhere new, right?”

You mused on it for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah, that would be good.”

The next few weeks were the most healthy and productive that you and Keigo ever had, pre- or post-injury. Apartment hunting turned into purchasing a two-floored, highrise, insanely nice condo across the city. Keigo suggested buying a house, but you refused. You both liked the views too much to live somewhere so close to the ground.

You packed your things, mutually. You both threw away plenty, bits and bobs that had been relatively unused for a long time. Lots of old memories were thrown out to make way for new ones. Though it was sad and there was plenty of grief in it, you actually had each other this time. 

When you found Keigo sobbing, clutching an old picture of him and Touya, one of the only of him from his childhood with the Commission, you held him and rocked him. You cried with him, not just settling for ‘dealing’ with him anymore. 

When you cleaned out the kitchen, you found the two dozen extra vitamins and extracts you had been taking while healing Keigo. You stared at him, idly, for ten minutes, somewhere far off in your head. Keigo came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. Softly, he pulled you back from your mind. He helped you throw away each bottle, talking reverently to you so your gaze and mind would stay in that moment, and not those past and unsavory.  

You helped each other, or, were learning to.

 You and Keigo both had to agree that shopping for furniture was probably the most fun the two of you had in a while. With a facemask and a beanie on, Keigo appeared a lot less like his former self, allowing for the two of you to covertly search for new homewares without prying crowds.

The old apartment had originally been Keigo’s from his early years of being a hero. You simply moved in with him, adding yourself to his space. This time, you were making it together. 

 “What do you think of this one?” You turned to Keigo, next to you. Both of you laid on top of a fairly nice mattress, the store relatively empty aside from the employees and the two of you.

“I think it's good, it’s not too soft,” Keigo turned and smiled at you, speaking from behind his mask. 

You couldn’t help sitting up, tugging the cloth mask just a bit lower to drop a sweet kiss on the side of his mouth, “Get out the credit card then, babe.”

 The condo was sorted within a few weeks, full of furniture and slowly being decorated. 

You also had the opportunity to christen the mattress, if you will.

...

How long had it been since you and Keigo had laid together like this? 

Your bodies were sticky with sweat and cum, several rounds having passed throughout the night. Your new mattress was going to need a fresh change of sheets after this.

“Hey, angel, come over here,” Keigo tugged you closer to him, laying your head on his chest. You smiled softly, pressing closer. You missed it, truly, the warmth of his body and the feeling of his skin on your own like this.

“Alright, check-in,” Keigo pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel great,” You hummed, throwing a leg over his waist. “I can honestly keep going.”

“Should you?” Keigo raised an eyebrow and chuckled, nudging a knee between your legs. You flinched, knowing how sore you’d be in the morning already. 

Though your body had recovered somewhat, you weren’t fully back to where you were before Keigo’s injury. You didn’t mind, though. Keigo had taken to doting on you a bit more than he used to. 

You shrugged and Keigo just chuckled, bringing you ever-closer. 

“Are you okay?” You straddled Keigo’s hips, cocking your head to one side. 

Keigo was silent for a moment, stormy almost. He bit his lip, tracing hands and eyes over your figure, finally landing on your face. His softened hands cupped your jaw. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” His thumb rubbed over your lips. There’s something so melancholic about him. “I just missed you.”

You knew exactly what he meant by ‘miss’.

 It was a feeling beyond sex, but rather intimacy. Sure, Keigo had been balls deep in you for the first time in months and that was ecstasy you wouldn’t trade the world for. But, this feeling Keigo regarded was different.

It had been so long since the two of you had been so softened around each other.

Guards, after months of being raised high, had begun to fall.

  Thank God.

 Your eyes watered as you lowered your face to his, ghosting your lips over his, “I missed you too, Kei’. I missed you so, so much.”

 How many minutes of hell had your both endured? And how many were there still to go? Thoughts of fear and anguish constantly swirled within the two of you for so long. They certainly hadn’t stopped, but they were lessening. Therapy helped. Being in the new place with a fresh start did wonders for the two you. Keigo’s passion for cooking continued to grow and you had taken up a few new hobbies of your own. 

It was the mundane, you supposed, that was the stitching for broken relationships. The real healing of proverbial flesh and bone was intimacy, vulnerability, and love.

“Hey, Kei’,” You kissed him breathless, once, twice, three times. “I love you, you know? A lot.”

“Yeah?” Keigo giggled, something high and light that he wouldn’t have released a year ago. “I love you too. So much.”

 The night continued in tender fucking, the two of you visibly watching wounds begin to grow smaller and scar, no more fire, and no more forced stitchings. 

Salvation came from time and small things, you supposed, half-asleep and nestled neck to Keigo, feeling better than you had in a long time.  

---------------

     You supposed, some time later, that karma gave the two of you a small gift. In the eyes of all things, it must’ve been just a spec, but God, it was something. 

     ...

They had come back over a year and half from when you had tried to heal Keigo. 

The attempt wasn’t forgotten, no, but it certainly wasn’t at the forefront of your minds like it used to be. Except the one morning that Keigo got up before you, sleepily yawning his way to the bathroom.

You heard his sharp gasp, loud exclamations in your half asleep state.

“Babe?” Your voice hoarse with sleep, you spoke. “You okay?”

Keigo jumped onto the bed, straddling over you and the comforter. 

“(Y/N)!” Oh, his eyes were wet. Soft, gooey tears were streaming down his face as he shakily grabbed your wrists. He pressed them to the scars of his back.

Your eyes went wide as your hands brushed against small, soft feathers. 

“Keigo!” You shouted, sitting up, urging him to turn around so you could take a better look. 

Keigo trembled as he bared his back to you. 

Your breath caught as your hands trailed down his marred flesh.

The scars, old and worn now, had faded a great deal. The charred plain calmed with time, perhaps by your own touch and very much so by Keigo’s own cells and flesh.

But, in the center of his back, where the roots of his wings once were, was something growing anew.

Small, burgundy feathers were growing from spindly looking, down-covered bones and skin.

They were small, nothing like his old wings. More aged, with their darker color. The feathers felt softer as you ran your hands along the largest, no bigger than your hand from wrist to tip.

Keigo shuddered.

“Do... Do they feel like they used to?” You asked, transfixed.

Keigo shakily shook his head, “N-no, they feel less sensitive I think. They feel different.”

...

 As Keigo had healed and changed, so had his body.

His wings never grew to their own old size and power, not even close. They couldn’t support his own body weight, so Keigo never flew again. But, the feathers, wine-colored and almost bruised looking, could be sent to do small tasks, much like his old ones.  

At first, it seemed cruel. After so long and so much, his wings grew back but in such a decrepit form. For days, the two of you waited and waited to see what the final form of his regrowth would be. In the end, at their best, they stretched out to about the span of Keigo’s arms. The feathers weren’t symmetrical either, even at their peak regrowth. Some grew in fluffy and rounded, while others were jagged, sticking out awkwardly from the rest of his form. 

Over time, the inherent disappointment and despondence turned into appreciation.

Because they had come back, it just took time. 

...

With enough time, Keigo wore them proudly, no matter how oddly they stuck out from his marred skin. Keigo’s body was still too damaged to do hero work proper, but he still was kept around.

At the end of the day, the feathers colored like dried blood represented something far larger. If the completely destroyed number two hero could come back to even a fraction of his former, angelic glory, that was something, right?

It was like in the eyes of all things, you were both awarded a physical manifestation of healing. The gnarly wings that grew from Keigo’s body may have been off-putting to some, but to the two of you, it was a testament to it all.

It just took time. 

[peachiimilquetea]

heyyyy :) can i get an angst scenario (fem!reader) for your event, with tenya and the prompts, "fuck you for making me love you.", "i'm sorry that i was never enough" and "i just want to understand why i wasn't enough." please?

your writing is *mwah* chef's kiss <3 thank you!!!

“𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮” + tenya iida

ft. “i’m sorry that i was never enough” + “i just want to understand why i wasn’t enough”

a/n: PLS WHY DO YALL ENJOY ANGST SM IT MAKES ME SAD WHEN I WRITE IT EVSJSBSJSSN. this one was just… damn. i hope i did the prompt justice tho! check out my event here!

contains: infidelity, tenya CURSES????, fuck mc ion like her in this one, breakup, overall just a shitty time, hakagure is a real one even after graduation

length: 1.2k

a/n ii: tysm for the kind words abt my work!! 🤍

hey iida, i hope this email finds you well given the circumstances,

i’m really really sorry…

tenya’s eyes scanned over the contents of the email and he could feel his world crumbling around him as he read. he had to remember to give hakagure something for all her troubles, as he was appreciative of all her help.

he had suspected something was going on for a few months, he wasn’t stupid. he saw the way you had started leaving your phone face down and picking up “extra shifts” at your job.

he noticed the way you smiled, how hollow it looked now when he said something to you or how you tensed up whenever he touched you, almost like an aversion to his affections.

so he pulled some strings, reached out to his old classmate from high school, now one of the top heroes that specialized in stealth in the country. he asked her to tail you on the way to one of your shifts and see what she could find. all he needed was confirmation.

i’m really really sorry…

you had decided to surprise him by coming home early from work that day. the guilt of sneaking around was eating at you and you knew he was suspecting something you made the snap decision to try to throw him off your trail.

you had decided to surprise him by coming home early from work that day. the guilt of sneaking around was eating at you and you knew he was suspecting something you made the snap decision to try to throw him off your trail.

“ten ten? baby i’m home!” you called, putting your stuff down at the door and striding into the room.

“why are you home so early?” he clipped out, initial devastation turning into anger the longer he looked at your face.

“what, i cant surprise, my boyfriend, anymore?” you attempted to joke, picking up on how tense the air was becoming.

“oh now i’m your boyfriend?” he chuckled in disbelief.

“what are you talking about? you’ve always been my boyfriend, ten, we’ve been together for like a year.”

“don’t bullshit me right now, _____. how long?”

“excuse me?” your smile started to slip, hoping he was angry about something else. anything else.

tenya turned the laptop sitting next to him around and your voice caught in your throat as you tried to answer him. high definition proof sat in front of you, a testament to how little you cared anymore. the look on his face told you everything.

he knows, you thought but used all your energy to keep your face as neutral as possible, opting to play dumb.

“how long, _____? answer me.”

you stayed silent, still trying to figure out a way out, but you knew you had reached the end of the line.

“how long have you been doing this _____?”

“s-seven months,” your voice was small. you were scared and ashamed- knowing you had been stringing him along for all this time and never seeing him react to anything like this. not when his brother was attacked or when his father died.

tenya didn’t think he could feel any worse. 7 months was more than half of the time you had been together officially, meaning you had checked out of this relationship a long time ago. you had been lying the whole time. having your cake and eating it too. it made him want to scream, cry and throw up all at the same time.

“im sorry tenya… really i am, but youve been so busy with hero work and your father left you in charge of everything, i’ve just been feeling really neglected, you know?”

“and you didn’t come to tell me about it? you went outside the home, outside of us to get your needs met?”

“it wasn’t like that-”

“then what was it like?” he pressed.

“i..”

“answer me, _____, what was it like?”

“you want the truth?” he gestured for you to go ahead, “i was bored.”

everything you said after that fell on deaf ears. you were rambling, and he wasn’t even sure if you were coming up with excuses for your own sake or for his.

you cheated because you were bored- bored of him and his unwavering love, bored of the late nights you stayed up to imagine your future, and bored of the way he treated the ground you walked on like gold. he absolutely adored you, and you got bored.

tenya’s mouth felt dry as he tried to articulate exactly what he was feeling. he wanted to go for a run and let the world blur into the background as he cleared his mind. he wanted to cry, one large cathartic release of everything that had been building up for the past few weeks. but most of all, he wanted to know why.

“you... got bored of me?”

you breathed out, exasperated, “yes, tenya, god! i needed some excitement, something different. you’re always so uptight, i just wanted to let loose sometimes, it was suffocating!”

iida flinched, the truth stinging more than he anticipated it would. he didn’t even recognize the woman that was staring at him, trying to explain away the betrayal of a lifetime.

“fuck you," he spat, even surprising himself with how hostile he was.

“tenya…”

“no. fuck you for making me love you, and fuck you for not having the integrity to break up with me when you knew you didn’t want to be here anymore.”

you deflated, feeling sick to your stomach at what you had done. initially, you hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but that didn’t matter now. “i know, i’m in the wrong and i’m sorry, but i think we can make this work and-”

he raised his hand at you to stop you. he didn’t want to listen to any more of what you had to say. he wanted you out of his house and out of his life.

he wanted to make you leave, and that’s exactly what he did, helping you pack up the things the two of you had gleefully moved in 3 months prior, and kicking you out.

he told you explicitly to never contact him again, much to your anguish. you knew you fucked up but you still wanted to be selfish, you still wanted access to him in ways that you didn’t deserve.

the rest of the day didn’t feel real. tenya went ghost, turning off his phone and sitting on the couch staring at the wall, unable to sit in the bedroom he once shared with you.

he thought about the ring he had asked his mom for, the ring he had already planned to give you, and heaved out a shaky sob. it was probably burning a hole in the nightstand drawer now, never to be used for its original purpose.

his eyes scanned the room, landing on a photo of the two of you that sat on the tv stand. getting up, he walked over to it to get a closer look. such a stark contrast from the way things were now. the two of you were all smiles in the photo, faces flushed and rosy from the cold air. he ran his thumb over the frame, finger caressing your face.

“im sorry i was never enough… i just want to understand why i was never enough.”

[awinchestershell]

It’s always “I support people with mental illness” until they start defending their colorful explosives like their lives depend on it because them having fun is more important than real people with real reasons to ask them not to do this.

So now I find myself sleeping in my literal closet on a makeshift bed of pillows and stuffed animals, playing calming music as loud as I can to drown out the horrific booming right outside my window. Not to mention the whistling ones that sound like a nuclear bomb’s being dropped from the sky.

All the while my own father who claims to care about my issues and want to understand is sending me pictures of him grinning at the firework show he’s at, knowing that last year he forced me to attend a show and I had one of the worst PTSD episodes of my life right in front of him.

It’s funny because the day is about American Independence, which is fought for by Veterans. (Which I’m not, to be clear) But when Veterans ask for them not to use fireworks because it triggers the trauma they endured fighting for that Independence, all they get is “it’s a free country, stop ruining our fun”.

And it’s not just traumatized people either. It’s people with sensory issues, pets, wildlife, people with anxiety disorders, just generally skittish people, some children and obviously yes traumatized people. Like just look me in the eye and tell me that watching fancy colors in the sky for an hour is more important to you than the well being of everyone around you, you fucking jackass. AND THEYRE BAD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT.

Within two hours of the firework show FIFTEEN MILES FROM MY HOUSE my room spelled like smoke and I was having an asthma attack. Oh, and those funny little rockets you fuckers shoot up land. And sometimes they land on people’s homes and burn them down and ruin entire lives so you could get a kick out of your kink for blowing things up. Then there’s how many children and reckless morons either maim or kill themselves every year with these shitty ass ideas of fun.

Seriously, if you light even a single firework this fourth I hope it comes back to bite your ass so fucking hard. Fuck you. You may not understand this but other people and other creatures matter just as much as you and you’re putting them in danger and making them suffer for fucking what??

What are you even celebrating? The entire country is at war with itself, women and anyone with a uterus, including children, are terrified and dying in agony, POC people are being gunned down for blinking wrong, cops will fight an unarmed celebrity to the ground on camera but won’t die to save 19 harmless children, and you’re lighting sparklers and barbecuing like a fucking cunt.