#it's been two weeks and three days

[dilfsuzanneyk]

.

[divorcedfiddleford]

and you may say to yourself: "my god! what have i done?" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful wife!" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful house!" and you may ask yourself: "well, how did i get here?"

time isn't holding up, time isn't after us, time is a pony ride! (images described in alt text)

[whump-n-comfort]

two characters cuddling on the couch watching TV. despite the calmness of their surroundings, the show playing on the screen like normal as if nothing were wrong, they're both tense as brick walls. one is sick as a dog, wrapped in blankets, waiting for it to be over, and the other is worried out of their mind about how high that fever keeps getting, ready to load into the car and book it to the nearest hospital at the drop of a hat if need be. the tension only fades when the shivers of the ill one slowly die off, indicating the fever breaking after a hard battle won, the sickness finally leaving them so they can rest properly

[serpentface]

Weird thing to say

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Take Me Down To The River † James Hetfield (16+)

Part One of Two

Mentions/Warnings: smalltown!james, smalltown!reader, angst, hurt and comfort, exes to lovers, suggestive content

Cicadas croon in a repetitive notion as you slowly make your way down the seemingly never-ending road and pathway, the tattered and overworn lace on the bottom of your dress caressing itself against the tops of your boots with every step you trudge forward. The sky is gray and an offset blue, yet heat still permeates itself through the thickened clouds as music eventually begins to make itself known within the distance between you and the familiar looking, abandoned church ahead. Cars line themselves in hazardous and haphazard lines on each side of the jagged and uneven damp dirt road, and irritation starts to sear in your stomach as loud voices and engines begin to surround you.

You halt mid step and contemplate turning around and creating a false excuse as to why you were unable to show up to the party on your way back home, before you flinch back at the sound of a truck barreling its way down the pathway you're currently stood on, and as dark and browned water spatters itself against the now ruined bottom half of your dress. The muddied liquid immediately absorbs itself within the cotton of your outfit, and a grimace paints your already downtrodden features as the material latches itself onto your newly soaked skin. You look down in numbed disbelief as droplets collect themselves in the hem and then pummel downward, and you're hardly able to fully lift your head up again before a voice is yelling out and at you.

"Holy shit, I swear I didn't see you there," an oddly sounding familiar voice cries, and brakes are soon squeaked to a stop soon after, the high pitch constriction sounding the complete opposite of the slow music echoing itself down the road. Blonde and disarrayed strands of mane cover the left side of the man's face, and your heart stutters in your chest as the muddled air brushes it away to show the features underneath. James pauses in the middle of opening his door, and only comes out of his stupor when someone else in the car shoves him forward. He's barely able to catch his weight on his forearm resting in the created opening of the window's edge, and his own face twists in disgust as his left shoe makes contact with the soot textured filth he covered the bottom half of you with. "Are you alright?"

The second the question is verbalized, he's shaking his head at his own inquisition, and his lips move inward as you take a step backward and go to walk towards the small opening in between the rows of cars. "Wait!" He requests, yet you sift your fingers down the fabric and bunch it up instead, before lifting your other weighed down boot and continuing your half blind travel. The sun is now pivoting behind the earlier clouds, and you ignore the unyielding calls behind you as you attempt to find the source of running water you remember visiting only a few years ago. There's a halted moment and a pause within James calling out to you, and you suck in a deep breath of relief, just as a warm hand encircles itself around your right forearm. Your body's first instinct is to flinch away, even as the cool and familiar temperature of his rings press themselves against your bare skin and silently beckon you in.

"I didn't know you were back in town," the slight stammer in his now deeper tone softens your hardened shell, even as you tense under his hold, and as his grip loosens once he notices your demeanor. The dual sound of your guys' shoes and boots squelching as they imprint themselves in the mud is the only consistent cadence, before the cicadas round again, and as his fingers absentmindedly run their pads down your goosebump ridden flesh. Your fists clench themselves in the material of your dress as he retracts his hold from around your lower arm, and you force yourself to look forward as he clears his throat. "I'm really sorry, if I had known it was you, I would have slowed down."

Your lips raise on their own accord, despite the awkwardness and tension in the air, and you can feel James' eyes rest on you as your shoulders shake with your uncontained laughter. "And if it wasn't?" You edge, your knuckles relaxing against the wet cotton, the dress's material sliding back down to cover the rest of your legs as you catch sight of the river to your left. James allows himself to fully catch up with your own steps, and you subconsciously lean into his warmth as his clothed shoulder brushes and caresses itself on your own bare one. The smile in his voice when he answers is obvious, and if you'd allow yourself to relax any further, it'd almost feel like you two are eighteen again. Meeting up for a date by the river, or for a moment of silence, while your mutual friends raise hell not so far behind.

"I'd speed up and get even closer," he instigates, his smile turning into a smug grin when you look over at him in amused shock, your features brighter and livelier than a few minutes prior. "It's common sense and knowledge around here to walk in the grass anyway, most locals know that," his left elbow bends and purposefully collides with yours, both of your guys' smiles mellowing after he finishes his sentence. "Even if they've been gone for a while."

You're saved from answering as you pivot and carefully inch yourself towards the edge of the side of the river, the mud covering the bottom of your boots aiding you as you squat down to level yourself with the flowing water. James keeps himself a step behind you, and without even having to look back, you already know that he's got both of his hands positioned to catch you in case you fall. You place your dampened palms on the rocks and rest your backside against the cool surface, a shiver wracking up your spine as you place your lower limbs into the current. Hurried waves of excited and once still water wash ashore on the worn leather of your boots and stained dress, and you watch as both of your reflections look back at each other in the darkened liquid.

"It's been two years," you remind him, your breath leaving you in a shuttered exhale, and you wet your lips as you watch his features withdraw and close up. "You chose what you wanted to do, and I chose as well, I suppose. I'm not upset about it anymore." The tightness in your chest constricts as renewed guilt reawakens on his face, and you situate your eyes on the other side of the river, instead of having to see him relive the last day you two spoke to each other.

"You didn't abandon me, regardless of all of the fucked up things I said back then," James iterates, finally fully meeting you at the edge, and the large rock beneath you two shifts, before it recenters and seeps back into the soil. His left hand rests right next to your right, and you coerce and stop your fingers from spreading in a blind search of his own. "You did the right thing for yourself back then, and I did too." You twist around to try and look back for the truck he had driven in with, but it was too far back and blanketed within the others.

"Found the rest of your band members, huh?" You search gently, and hum around a renewed smile as you see him nod in your peripheral. The coil unravels in your chest, and for the first time since you've seen him again, it nearly feels easy to breathe. A ripple of cool water lifts the bottom of your dress from the tops of your boots, and you peer down as it naturally folds and rests on the middle of your shins. You brave yourself enough to look over at him, and the breath halfway exited from your chest halts, as your irises immediately find and latch onto his. "I knew you would." You breathe, you voice barely audible over the rush of water, the background music and cicadas, and the erratic beating of your own heart. It's pathetic how something as simple as a reciprocated look from your first love can have the last few years apart, feel like only seconds.

You swallow thickly and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth as his blue eyes track the movement, your fingertips pulsing against the cold stone beneath the two of you, as you cautiously wait for his next move. Expecting him to be as impulsive as much as he is shy has you tensing, and your spine relaxes as he instead looks away and inches forward. Reddened and calloused hands reach forward to gather the material of your dress, and you raise your legs in front of you for better access. The residual water he wrings out the cotton sounds like temporary pouring rain, and you can't help but shudder as he curves a roughened palm around your right calf to tug you in closer. His fingertips coalesce to scrub out some of the mud spatter and browned water, and you purse your lips together in an attempt to hold back a titter of laughter as it just makes it worse, the river's water doing nothing but softening whatever had hardened on the travel over.

"It's alright," you try to placate, your voice sounding tight as you try to swallow down your own mirth at the situation, it becoming harder to do so as he rubs the material back and forth together with annoyed vigor. You see his hands beginning to turn a light hue of purple, and you hastily bend forward to take his own in yours. "It's okay, James, it's only a dress." Your words are ignored as he continues under your hold, and you're only able to gather his full attention once you grab ahold of both of his wrists. You bend your knees and rest your now completely soaked boots on top of the rock beneath you two, and James follows as you beckon him to fully sit back down next to you.

"I can buy you a new one, or I can take it to the dry cleaners. I promise you; I'll figure something out this time." His words seem hushed and hurried, and you absentmindedly rub your thumbs against his pulse points, feeling his blood pumping anxiously underneath your digits. You tug on his unsteady hands and lay them on your right thigh, and send him a gentle look when he rests his unfocused gaze onto you.

"There's nothing to figure out, because everything is fine. See," you purposefully trail your eyes down the expanse of your body, and you make sure that he follows suit. His eyebrows furrow when you two get down to your boots, but he's already quickly relaxing into your hold. "I'm right here, we're both in one piece. We're all good to go."

He tsks and shakes his head to himself, before following your earlier movements by looking behind you both, seemingly trying to find his truck throughout the others. "I've got a spare outfit or two in the truck's backseat," he offers, and he's up onto his feet before you can fully digest his words, gently twisting his wrists out of your hold, only to mold his own hands against yours and squat down in front of you. "I said I'll figure something out this time, and I meant it. I may have broken both of our hearts and nearly drowned you in mud, but I can at least offer you a shirt that hasn't been cleaned in the past three days." He's got a familiar looking playful and hopeful gleam in his eyes in response to your own wry look, and you know it's best to follow him instead of trying to fight back and disagree, so you place the heels of your feet underneath you and allow him to bear the rest of your weight.

You hold back any reaction to the wet gush of water that covers your toes once you're fully stood back up, and you give yourself permission to hold onto the hands you've tried to convince yourself you haven't missed. You walk behind him through the tight rows of cluttered cars and trucks, and try not to reminisce on the times you two were in a similar position. Just having gotten out of the swimming pool back in senior year, with a wide smile on your face, and you lifting yourself up onto the tips of your toes to press the physical representation of your happiness into the middle of his shoulder blades.

The only sources of light down the long road and pathway are from headlights that were left on, and from taper candles that were brought earlier on from the actual party throwers. The tinged and artificial yellow light gives off a warmer atmosphere as you two shuffle yourself free from the onslaught of vehicles and back onto the slab of dirt, and you feel James let out a hefty sigh once you two do. You carefully untangle a hand from his and move forward to stand beside him, your relief becoming palpable as the red truck that must be his comes into immediate view. He's reaching forward into the truck with its window still down and pushing it open from the inside, before twisting the high beams off and motioning you to head inside first. You pause once you're able to stabilize yourself on your knees on the large front seat, and kick off your boots before you fully get into the truck. James is repeating the motion and barely has his door fully closed, before he's got a forearm and bicep disappearing in the direction of the backseat.

Your lips nearly split with the size of your disbelief ladened smile, as a shirt you once gifted him is tugged free from a messy pile. Red and black overworn and stretched out cotton is strewn onto and over your lap, and you clutch onto it as you try to figure out his expression. James stares forward as you slowly and carefully lift your hips up to tug the sticking material from your still dampened skin, and you hold back a shiver as you free your bottom half. You can see in the yellowed light from the other cars multiple feet away from his that his hands are gripping the steering wheel, and his teeth are pressing themselves into his bottom lip, worrying the natural swell. You tug the remainder of the dress off of you and drag the shirt and his scent over your mussed hair and head, and slowly lower yourself to lay back against the tinted leather.

By the time you've got your dress half folded up and resting near your bare feet, James is loosening the hold he has on the steering wheel and turning his head to look in your direction. You tug at the collar of the obviously worn and stressed shirt. "You kept this," you unhelpfully point out, and your breath hitches as you catch the familiar glint of metal on the keychain attached to the keys that were left in the ignition. "And you also kept the gift that I got you for our one-year anniversary."

"What about it?" He grates, his tone aggressive, yet saddened. James' hand lowers to almost protectively touch the keychain, as if he's reminding himself that it's still there. You push yourself up into a fully sitting position, uncaring as the material of the shirt lifts to rest on your upper thighs, as you begin to feel frustrated as well.

"The night I came and told you about me getting accepted into a college out of state, the first words out of your mouth were just take it and go, leave me already. That our relationship was essentially bullshit, and that neither one of us should hold each other back," you're unable to hold your emotions at bay, your tone becoming weaker. Tears burn and make themselves known at the precipice of your waterlines, and James stares at you helplessly as they begin to make their way down your reddened cheeks. "You broke up with me the week after you thanked me for always being by your side, and right after you got news of Cliff wanting to join the band. We celebrated the night before, and we made plans. To travel together and figure our shit out on our own time. That the timeline of things didn't matter, as long as we have each other."

James reaches out to take ahold of your hand, and you edge them further back, averting your eyes to not have to see his reaction to your rejection. You hear a broken exhale, and then the faint sound of something dripping onto leather. The hand James originally reached out to you with is raised temporarily, and then brought back down, now wet with tears. "You don't understand," he begins, the earlier strength and sureness behind his tone now nonexistent. "You were the only person there for me for years, and then an opportunity of a lifetime was offered to you, and I couldn't have let you miss out on that. I know you, and I know that if I had asked you to stay closer or wait another year on your dreams for me, you would have," you look up at him to intercept and disagree, but you hold yourself back when you see the expression on his face. "You gave up so much for me within the years we were together, and even before then. The least I could've done then, was give up the fear of holding you back."

"We could have made it work; we could have figured something out." You try to reason, but let go of trying to rationalize it all when you finally have him in front of you to explain. You reach out this time, and instead of being rejected like you did with him earlier, he meets you halfway. The air pillowing in from the rolled down window smells like moss and post rain shower, the light is artificial and it's getting darker as each minute passes by, but you're here together. And with the first swipe of his thumb across the second knuckle of your left forefinger, you're moving in closer. Your bare knees make brushing contact with his right thigh, and his free hand intertwines itself with the material of his shirt.

"As soon as you left, I ran headfirst into finding the rest of the members of the band. Lars and I almost lost our minds with it, and I needed the distraction. We went days without telephones and nearly without food. Even if we could've tried to make it work, we wouldn't have been how we were," he traces the faded and ripped lettering and guides his fingertips up to the collar, before using it as leverage to usher you forward until you're both only centimeters apart. His exhale becomes your inhale, and as you blink, you can feel as your eyelashes skim and make brief contact with his cheekbone. "I think I needed to lose you, to figure out what shit really matters."

Hope blooms in your chest. And despite being partially freezing cold, terrified of making the wrong move, overstepping and then getting out of the truck alone, being in such a close proximity to him brings you so much comfort and warmth. "And what shit really matters?" You ask, tilting your head up with a nod, and fighting back the urge to close your eyes as your lips brush against his. You can sense and feel his answering grin without even having to glance down. And for the first time in two years, and instead of being kissed goodbye, you're being welcomed back in.

"You matter." Is murmured within a gasp, and you're unable to process anything but the touch of him again. Each brush of lips and the teasing swipe of tongue has you letting go of his hand and instead freeing your own to grip onto the handle of the driver's side door, only to use it as leverage to climb onto his lap. His hands are on you instantly, easily finding their way underneath his gifted shirt to dig his fingertips into your heated up flesh, his palm making direct and firm contact with your spine to push you even closer up against him.

You have to lean back and disconnect your guys' lips to suck in a much needed inhalation of breath, and James takes advantage of your newly exposed skin once you do. His tongue lengthens itself down and leaves trails of saliva and marks in its wake, and by the time he's got you littered in marks and nearly rutting against his lap, he's pleading with you. "Tell me you're going to stay."

You raise your hand to reach up and grasp onto his long, blonde locks, your lips swollen and bruised red, and your breath still lost. With a gentle tug and an answering groan, you whisper.

"Give me a reason to."

[dekusleftsock]

HMMNGGGSHSHHSHD IM SO LATE TO THIS BUT THERES SO MANY THINGS IVE WANTED TO SAY FOR SO LONG AND IVE JUST BEEN TOO DEPRESSED OR BUSY TO DO IT

I did just re-read the chapter, hazbin/helluva hyperfixation is gone y’all I’m back and ready for more.

Okay so, a couple of things I noticed. Let’s start there.

Throughout this chapter, it really is heartbreaking to see how Izuku regards one for all as Allmight’s power, and therefore a disrespect to him to give that away. Which is quite frankly insane given the nature of what the power is, but regardless it still shows me just how deeply he still cares for and admires allmight.

It also makes the transfer Izuku makes to Katsuki in the heroes rising movie all the more intimate; izuku wouldn’t just give the power to anyone, if not for himself (which is also clearly due to that fact since he still sees ofa as the thing that makes him a hero, not his characteristics), then simply out of respect for allmight and his legacy.

It’s just the anger you can see, feel in those words as he demands to know why. I’ve personally been in the boat of “Izuku dislikes Kudou immensely bc he hasn’t proven to be heroic and amazing like Katsuki has, and also he insults him a lot why would he like him”, since Izuku does genuinely have self respect (a common mischaracterization imo), he’s just also more forgiving and faithful to those he admires or loves (or both).

SPEAKING OF SELF RESPECT AND MISCHARACTERIZATION!

I want to highlight the words “But even so, this boy refuses to throw in the towel”, bc it’s such an important part of Izuku and his character.

He isn’t overly self sacrificial, he isn’t a masochist, he isn’t even a martyr—especially not a martyr.

Izuku is stubborn. That is not the same thing as wanting to constantly die for others; izuku is like Katsuki, he wants to fight for others. Giving up just simply isn’t in his morality.

And if “giving up” also includes letting someone die or failing to save someone out of his own negligence, that’s not because he wants to die.

I can’t explain how much the interpretation that Izuku wanting to die, even for others, is so fucking out of character. Izuku is stubborn, he’s stubborn in the way that he won’t just fall over and let the ground take him. Given the circumstances, Izuku would fight for his life just as he would fight for another.

THIS HAS BEEN THE CASE SINCE, I DONT KNOW, CHAPTER FUCKING ONE?

“Idiot! If I’d really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide!! Think before you speak!!”

“Idiot…”

Like he’s so unaffected by the awful comment outside of being angry at the DISRESPECT of said comment. This is why all those damn suicidal Izuku fics have always felt so ooc. Izuku isnt a moody, brooding ball of depression, he’s a stubborn, courageous, and angry ball of depression. There is a difference.

Even before this, he literally attempts to say something or fight back to Katsuki, honestly it looks like he’s about to punch him here.

The only reason he DOESNT is bc HE DOESNT WANT TO GET HIS ASS BEAT

Btw for anyone who has or ever will be in Izuku’s position, punch him. I love Katsuki But hit him in the fucking gut. If you get your ass beat at least you can say you can took it like a champ.

Speaking from someone who regrets not punching three girls who were trying to gang up on me in middle school🫶🫶🫶

Anyway, I’d argue that Izuku not taking Katsuki in a fight was made out of self preservation, something he very much has.

And last but not least, we get to this lovely fucking page.

First of all…

Hm, ain’t that strange?

I’m not saying it’s fully a parallel, I’m just saying it’s something to consider.

Especially with the context that I don’t think Izuku feels shameful here.

He’s been a hero who didn’t look like one once before, I’m sure a snide comment through Shigaraki is nothing in comparison to the literal hundreds of civilians afraid of him.

Or, even more interestingly, what if he’s shameful of it, and okay with that? Now THATS some control over your emotions. This is demonstrating the very thing Banjo told him in the first place; using his emotions to fuel him. Let himself live with them, breath with them. They exist, and they hurt, and that’s fucking okay.

But it begs the question…. Why bring attention to it?

Clearly horikoshi WANTS you to see that Izuku is the one who looks like the monster now. He even looks devil like, blackwhip coming out of his back the way it is just feels like wings.

But maybe… maybe this is how he stops sweeping problems under the rug. Maybe this is him, Izuku, at his most animalistic form. Him. At his core. This is the Izuku he doesn’t want people to know.

The faceless, long clawed, oozing black monster.

He’s a kid who can take a fucking beating. He’s not Deku the useless doll, nor is he Deku the hero. He’s simply Izuku.

And you know what’s even more likely?

The black pit of anger that Shigaraki has formed, fueling his uncontrolled emotions and anger and despair, with the light tear showing something underneath…

What if, this was Izuku’s black ball of anger and shame, except this one is escaping his body, pouring out and showing all of that for what it truly is. Pent up rage, uncontrolled emotion, anxiety and shame, all mixed into one hell hole of a person—but a ball that can be molded, controlled, torn apart from the inside out.

See, the same way Kudou tears at Shigaraki’s mental breaking to see what’s underneath, so have the ofa users for Izuku. Slowly, but surely, the people in Izuku’s life have, while created that ball in the first place, also worked to destroy it. The final piece of the puzzle is for Izuku to choose to let it happen, and he is.

Learning to sit in one’s fear, doubt, hatred, anger, sadness, grief, happiness—without that emotion having to be something, simply something that flows through you, that you can choose to act on or not; this is where Izuku’s arc is coming to its tipping point. We are nearing the climax, I can feel it.

[shitty-skyblings-doodles-daily]

today, the skyblings are hangin’ out in a traffic light!

[atalana]

trying to hold on to some semblance of a career while having a chronic illness like

[deoidesign]

I can't wait for this to come back!!! >>> when is this coming back?

[whenthegoldrays]

also I think it’s time for a little Elly Lore Update because I feel like I mention so many people on here and y’all need to understand who I’m taking about when you attend the virtual sleepovers 😌

[benoitblanc]

heavy sigh. siri queue landslide by fleetwood mac

[maddy-ferguson]

i'm actually not a lesbian yes the concept of heterosexual sex disgusts me on paper but it appeals to me with a few select men. and that's how i've always felt but the lesbian masterdoc which was written by a girl who turned out to be bi got me. and a lot of other bi women with a preference for women. it's crazy to have that much influence when you think about it

[beneathsilverstars]

guys i think my depression meds are working

[lesbiansanemi]

My roommate has not been to work in like two weeks atp……

[dekusleftsock]

Before the leaks tonight, my main notes in the department of “Izuocha not gonna be canon next chapter” is that tsu and Izuku were repeatedly chosen and placed to be in the same, worrying attitude for Ochako’s distance/absence.

Tsu was such a good subtle detail for this chapter as well. That gay ass signaling on Izuocha was so good. Like “this is platonic! Her and Izuku worry over Ochako equally!” And damn Horikoshi you really highlighted, underlined, and bolded in big bright letters Lavender Marriage for these two lmao

My other main detail is the way that Ochako’s/Izuku’s feelings are presented.

Specifically with this last little caption (that isn’t there in the officials for some reason???) on the very last page—

Pika’s translation btw

Maybe y’all don’t get it bc you need it put into perspective: the very idea that there would be a “no ships ending” is… absolutely insane. The fact that it’s the main opinion as well is even crazier.

And to put it into perspective even more, the reason it’s a common belief has to come from the idea that Ochako’s feelings are simply unrequited. A “no ships ending” wouldn’t make sense without it. Do the people saying that realize that it’s what they’re saying? “No time” isn’t a good justification, he had the time, he just used it on… other characters instead. If you believe this, you’re making the argument that Ochako’s story is about unrequited love

This line “The girl’s hidden feeings, and as for deku—..”

I fully understand what the feelings are talking about (Himiko’s death, the respective villains even if they aren’t equatable, etc), but it’s the implications of the way it’s written. It’s presenting it as Ochako’s feelings… for Izuku. It then asks the question, “..DOES Izuku feel the same way?” Because I mean, does he?

Now, I don’t think we’re getting any sort of confession. I could say in detail as to why, but that would be more like repeating the same 5 posts on my feed all week.

Because ultimately, it won’t happen. It’s another bait and switch, like it always is. And Horikoshi knows this.

So that’s why it’s so amazing that this line is here, it’s teasing, almost. Like “Look! The straight relationship is on the horizon! Just follow the cookie! It’s totally where you think it leads..”, and then signaling the warning bells in your head that not everything is as it seems.

Why make Ochako break down crying? Why not confirm Himiko’s death? Why make all of this romantic heartache? Why make straight shippers hold their breath, and then lead them into this supposed security?

Why ask a question on feelings, if it’s supposed to be a given?

[mygenderisfuckoff]

A progress report! I may very well take out the opal work I’ve done thus far in favor of something faster/easier for me to wrap my head around. The tiny globules in opals may just kill me. Plus if I just go an aurora boreal is route I can work some pride flag in there!

Alternatively, I can include the hishari symbol! Too many decisions!!