#like back up vocals is one thing but the main thing should be the live vocals it should always be louder the other thing should

[rin-solo]

I love. LOVE. Get In the Water

It's one of the objectively best songs in the musical; I will die on this hill.

Poseidon was always, despite being pretty much the main antagonist of EPIC, a really underdeveloped character in my opinion. He just needed a little more nuance and the fact that one (+ kind of one more) song managed to add so much to his characterization pretty much exclusively through subtext and implications is incredibly impressive writing. Because it did!

At the start he's yet again playing games with Odysseus, the way he did in Ruthlessness. In both songs he could kill him easily at any point, yet he chooses not to for the sake of playing games. In Ruthlessness, this becomes his own hubris as it leads to Odysseus escaping.

If you listen closely, at the start of GITW he already sounds slightly different. He's still trying to keep up this "God of Ruthlessness" front that he's so proud of, but he's no longer more or less carefree the way he was in Ruthlessness. He's been obsessing over this feud for ten years, and even if he would never admit it, it's actually clear just from his voice that he really is tired of it too. Not in the sense of it emotionally draining him the way it probably does Odysseus, but in the sense that it's a bother, a loose end in his life, a book that he finally wants to slam shut.

But he still has a reputation to uphold, and he still cannot close this book until Odysseus is dead, so he keeps up the game. Instead of just killing him, he's taunting him to kill himself. He might associate the idea of just striking him down with a sort of loss, like then he'd have to his hands dirty. Then he's rambling about killing his people, his family. He's provoking Odysseus on purpose, likely trying to get him to snap back, to hate him and fear him the way that Poseidon would think any mortal who has consumed this much of his time should. In his eyes, Odysseus deserves nothing less than to curse him with his last breath as his "darkest moment", the god who became the bane of his life.

And Odysseus replies, of all things, with ... sympathy.

Honestly, I don't blame Poseidon for being speechless for three full seconds. He literally just threatened to gauge Telemachus' eyes out the way Odysseus did with Polyphemus, and this absolute madlad of a man replies with an acknowledgement that he (might have) caused Poseidon pain too.

Now, I don't really think Poseidon was particularly hurt over Polyphemus' loss or hurting in any way in that moment. But just the fact that Odysseus acknowledges that he might be hurting too is probably something Poseidon hasn't heard in ... who knows how long? His family is the Olympians. I don't think I have to say more.

It's actually more of a genuine apology than Odysseus' explanation in Ruthlessness ... Now he doesn't say "sorry" because he's still not sorry for hurting Polyphemus, since he still needed to do that in order to escape. But he expresses regret over the pain he caused in a more genuine way than ever.

I am convinced that Poseidon is utterly unfamiliar with sympathy or mercy. He's lived by his "Ruthlessness is mercy" motto for centuries, and he doesn't know anything else. No one would try to teach him something different. The other gods all live by this logic, even if he's the most vocal about it considering he seems to have made it his whole personality. Mortals wouldn't dare to question Poseidon in the first place. And barely anyone would be willing to treat someone with kindness who is in turn treating everyone around them with ruthlessness.

It's very likely that Poseidon hasn't encountered anyone like this until Odysseus. Ruthlessness is simply how he treats people, and also how he expects to be treated back. The fact that Odysseus doesn't, the fact that instead of hating or fearing or cursing him he acknowledges that they have both hurt each other and that it doesn't lead anywhere to still pursue vengeance must have triggered Poseidon in an unprecedented way.

To him, this was probably the most outrageous thing Odysseus could have said in that moment. And it throws him off so much that he is genuinely speechless, and then simply replies, "I can't." ... his most genuine-sounding line in the whole musical.

I cannot stress enough how much it threw me off to hear this line; in the best way imaginable, it doesn't sound like Poseidon. It sounds almost vulnerable. Almost human. Because he is genuinely at a loss so much that he forgets to put up his "wrathful god" facade for just one second. Standing ovation to Steven Rodriguez for his whole performance, but especially this part.

And then Odysseus goes all out, to say something even more outrageous: "Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

... Which is when Poseidon snaps.

Kind of understandable, honestly. There's this mortal whom he has likely fantasized about seeing pleading, hate-filled, and terrified, cowering before him, for ten years now ... telling him that he ought to learn something. Even hijacking his own motif and his instrument in order to turn it on its head, "defile" it if you will.

This f*cking mortal pr*ck took his own "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" catchphrase and turned it into forgiveness ... Of course, Poseidon is no longer hesitating, of course he is no longer concerned with getting his hands dirty or not. He yells "DIE!" and unleashes his ultimate move (which is really overkill for simply killing a mortal if you think about it) ... But he does it anyway because this time he genuinely means it.

This simple exchange (my favorite moment in the whole musical, actually) tells us so much about both of these characters that it makes me want to skitter and squeal in excitement.

Here is Odysseus—the very same one whom Poseidon specifically tried to teach ruthlessness—becoming the first person in a long time to offer him sympathy despite how Poseidon himself showed him nothing but ruthlessness. And then one song later, here is Odysseus showing him the consequences of not accepting said sympathy.

Six Hundred Strike and what Odysseus does to Poseidon would've not hit the same, in my opinion, if he hadn't made this offer, if he hadn't given Poseidon this way out, even if no one watching genuinely expected it to work (probably not even Odysseus himself.)

Six Hundred Strike is not Odysseus exacting vengeance. If GITW proved anything about Odysseus it's that he does not want vengeance. He wants all of the hatred and pain to be over, to the point where he is willing to let go of, and I am inclined to say forgive, Poseidon for what he's done to him. Six Hundred Strike is simply Odysseus teaching him this lesson that Poseidon couldn't have learned in any other way, because he has proven in GITW that he genuinely does not speak any language besides that of ruthlessness.

It's just the perfect representation of how Odysseus has now finally learned the balance between mercy and ruthlessness, which seems to be the core theme of the musical: Both have their time and place, one simply has to be willing to act in both ways and know when to use either. No one extreme is the solution. I am genuinely exhilarated that Odysseus finally seemed to have figured out that it's been both all along.

[echoesofadream]

backtracks are so weird. like yes I can hear you singing live wow so good of you but literally the studio version is playing if not over you than at least with you as loudly like? two people singing at once? when and why did this become so normalized like. did bts use to do this on their concert I cant remember id be so disappointed if they did but I cant remember that they did and pang in my chest I miss them

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how things should be.

your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years. 

most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.

getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour. or lack thereof, you suppose — he’s digested far too many curses for his taste buds to remain intact.

or so he says, anyhow.

this time, he brought pastries with him. expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone; a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in silk, golden letters etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. carefully picked, suited to your tastes.

(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)

”would you like me to make us some tea?”

when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to. eyes shining with something keen. somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his.

but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”

a low hum. he’s still looking at you.

”coffee?”

”the sweets are more than enough.”

this time, a smile — one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. getō gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table; studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen. 

”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch. exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”

you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.

being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense — to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.

and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse. 

(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)

so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before. beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance — if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by. 

you wonder if that’s why he says it.

”say, do you hate me?”

you still. freezing in place, for a moment, discontent but not surprised. he’s always been like this; breaking any illusion of peace before you can find solace in it. 

you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated. 

”do you really want to have this conversation now?”

”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”

you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”

a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”

you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry. 

”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”

”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?” 

another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread — any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.

and, as always, getō beats you to the punch. 

”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes and inhales a breath. ”because i’ll keep waiting.”

for a second, you consider not taking the bait. 

then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, like this, just resting his eyes.

”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.

”for you to love me again.”

…

getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired. 

(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine your fingers, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)

when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.

(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)

quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.

you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.

but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.

”… as if i ever stopped.”

silence.

you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby. 

getō says your name.

it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.

”will you look at me?”

it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way. 

and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;

”.. no.”

”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”

you bite down on your lip.

a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — it’s already set in stone.

”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”

…

for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly. 

but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading. 

this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.

and it’s over. 

you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.

because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.

you never bothered to get rid of it.

(that’s your sin.)

getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down. everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.

he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter. 

(he’s yours, again. and you’re his.

you can’t stop crying.)

”… i’m sorry.”

in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.

it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him. 

you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.

you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.

he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game. 

(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.) 

[barbiexgirl]

Anorexia is the patriarchy’s perfect way to make you lobotomize yourself.

It puts the blame on you, you’re weak for letting the standards break you and you’re doing it to yourself. No one forced you to starve right? Those beauty standards are coming back for a reason. If this is your first run with eating disorders let me tell you you’re just as lifeless as a woman who went through lobotomy. I wasn’t able to study, I lost all my friends and I wasn’t able to enjoy a single thing in life. I was full of rage and hatred towards the world and myself but nothing else.

I struggled my whole life, thanks to my mom I got the “Eastern European special” growing up. I developed anorexia when I was 11.

“I wish you had your dad’s blond hair and blue eyes like your sister. You should dye your hair. You look better than your other sister tho, she just looks too much like her dad. (She has a different dad.)”

“Your sister is so much taller than you.”

“I was only 45kgs when I was pregnant with you.”

“YOU BETTER EAT SOMETHING, WHAT ARE PEOPLE GOING TO SAY ABOUT ME IF YOU DIE YOU STUPID BITCH???”

Girlie even kept the receipts, and showed me that she really was that thin. She ate less than what a toddler needs her whole life, she wrecked her hormones and her body by the time she was 45 and let me tell you she didn’t stay beautiful. This “slavic doll” trend is disgusting and it actually ages you rapidly. Kids who follow this new pro ana content are obliviously just as troubled as I was but god you really don’t want to grow up with these standards. Not like patriarchy spares you but a mom like this is just an added bonus on the mental illness lottery. We did the same thing with kpop idols but they’re abused as well to look like that. Funny how the inspiration always comes from countries like South Korea or Eastern Europe where patriarchy is absolutely thriving.

It’s all fun and games until your hair is falling out in chunks or you’re still doing this at 25. Your body just doesn’t take it as easy at it used to. When I recovered this time stomach acid burnt my throat and my vocal cords when I started eating, I wasn’t able to talk for days.

Back when I was still in my teens I never understood why older women just “get ugly as time goes on” and I promised myself that I’d “never let myself go.” Now that I’ve been recovered for a few months again I see that they’re not getting ugly, they were never ugly. They just know something you don’t. That you are so much more than your beauty, “beauty” that’s not even real. It’s all photoshop and botox and plastic surgery. Your body’s main job is to keep you alive to be able to ACTUALLY LIVE YOUR LIFE. To eat healthy food, to have fun with your friends, to study, to be a smart woman who knows herself to the core and doesn’t let stupid ideas break her.

[777gojosgf]

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: reader x ex!satorugojo

IN WHERE :: satoru gojo is indeed the smallest man who ever lived who has fucked it up with you beyond repair.

a/n: this hurts ANGST very ooc!satoru but i just wanted to write something like this for a while. and umm welcome back to me i guess…

ONE THING ABOUT YOU is that you didn’t like to give a show. no, instead you were always thinking about others and how they would feel if you were to say something. additionally you hated confrontation and especially those joined by others. it just wasn’t your style and added upon the anxiety you already felt on the daily basis due to the rocky situation you had with satoru.

you hadn’t asked him where he had been for the past week because you didn’t want to know. even though deep inside you knew that you knew enough.

there was no denying that he cheated on you with your best friend.

and perhaps that should have hurt you the most, the fact that he threw away a four year relationship just because he gave in to his desire. but it was the disrespect that hurt you the most. where did he get the nerve to treat you like that? you hadn’t done anything but love him truly for who he was and the smile he brought upon your face every single day. but you were afraid that those days had officially come to an end.

sometimes good things don’t last.

ever since shoko told you the news, you weren’t sure how to go about it. if you would wait until the both of you were back in the apartment you shared. where the memories and promises you had created with each other haunted the very same hallway where you broke down after seeing the photos of him and your best friend.

good riddance.

you whispered to yourself. good riddance.

but why was it so hard to believe?

and so, you hadn’t realized where your feet had brought you until you had found yourself on the grounds of jujutsu high. the anger that resumed inside of you made it seem as if there was a curse of a special grade roaming the area and the students knew better than to ask how you were doing. in fact, you looked terrifying.

your vision turned red and the only thing you could focus on was the terrible heartache that screamed for vengeance and an explanation.

for so far he was able to give you one.

the sound of the main door slamming in the teacher’s lounge echoed through the entire building, but unluckily for him his friends were there too.

but you didn’t care. not anymore.

because you have cared, you have been caring for years and apparently it didn’t mean shit.

the white haired male leaned against the wall as he watched you walk up to him, and some would say that he begged the gods above that he would make it out alive.

“baby—“ he started, reaching out to touch you like he always used to do but when you stood still in your tracks and flinched away from him…

he knew.

“am i a joke to you?” your question that desperately demanded an answer only made the entire room go quieter than it was before. the tension wavered through the air and he didn’t know what to say. perhaps because he didn’t expect you to ask him that out of all the things you could have.

why did you cheat? did you cheat?

but instead of that, you asked him if you were a joke to him.

“what do you mean? maybe we shouldn’t do this here—“ he once again miserably failed at trying to start his explanation because you took a step forward and all the words evaporated from his mouth while his vocal chords estranged. he didn’t dare to say a word.

“are you fucking kidding me, satoru? are you embarrassed that everyone is watching? because you didn’t care that you would embarrass me after fucking my friend, did you?”

you felt tears prickling in your eyes but not because you were sad. no, those tears had spilled in your apartment. instead, these were tears made out of pure anger. formed deep inside from the quiet resentment of him that you had tried to ignore and endure for days.

your hands trembled, “did you think i wouldn’t find out? do you believe i’m an idiot, is that all that i am to you? a pushover, a people pleaser?”

he didn’t say anything. there were tears streaming down his face as he knew that he had lost the one thing that mattered to him. four years of someone who loved him for who he was, and not for who he had to be.

someone who would have died for his sins.

and he threw it all away.

he knew that he couldn’t say anything that would change this and the way you felt, instead he was afraid that he would only ruin it. so he decided to take it.

“answer me.”

that made him snap out of his trance and he shake his head, stepping forward and meeting your eyes that were so full of fury he started to wonder if you weren’t a stranger.

“i fucked up, okay? i know that i did, and i cannot change anything that i did. and i know that it wasn’t right.” satoru muttered defeated.

but the only thing he heard was your laugh. it wasn’t a laugh he recognized. and it certainly wasn’t the one you let out the times before the two of you would go to bed but not before he made you laugh.

and at that same exact moment the two of you wondered the same thing.

do i know you at all?

but only one had the right to ask that question, of course.

“is that all you have to say for yourself? you can’t even apologize? because i have tried to figure out why you did what you did and if it was my fucking fault, satoru. after everything, i wondered if it was my fault. and i cannot believe-“ a sob made its way through your words and it was hard to keep the tears in now, but you had to. “i can’t believe this.”

“and i cannot grasp why you would. you deserve fucking prison for the way you have treated me these past weeks, making me wonder if i was the problem as to why you would ignore me in our apartment. ours! and i so desperately hate you for it.”

he leaned to touch your cheek, his hand rising and caressing it softly and you hated it that you let him.

“y/n, please. i can’t lose you. i am so sorry for what i did, but i can live with you hating me. i just can’t live without you.” his words embedded your skin and trailed up to your brain, almost planting it seeds and giving into his words,

but you had grown and knew better.

“maybe you should have decided that before you decided to throw this all away. i’m sure you have had a good laugh too considering the way you kicked the fucking stage lights. but you’re still performing, aren’t you? i would have given up my life for you every time. any fucking time. and while i was making promises and thinking about what the future upholds for us, you were busy giving into your desires.” your breathing had surprisingly calmed and the rational version of you had finally asserted itself into your veins as you wiped away the tears from your face and took three steps back.

“tell me. was it all worth it? was she good?”

what?

satoru couldn’t decide whether you actually asked him that or if his imagination was having its own little fun with him. but no, you truly asked him.

“baby don’t say stuff like that you know—“

“if you ever call me that again i will spoon the fucking six eyes out of you. now, tell me.”

fortunately the white haired male was wiser than to answer that question so he remained silent. his tears made its work onto his shirt and the crystal blue eyes that you had longed for since you laid eyes upon them, were now vibrant red.

you knew that he was feeling the same heartache like you were. the only difference however was that you were glad that he was.

“fine.“

and with that, you turned around to walk away.

but not before you stopped, turned around and threw the one thing that had mattered.

he caught the engagement ring mid-air that was a gojo family heirloom.

satoru swore that he loved you but the clues weren’t to be found.

perhaps you died dead at the altar.

“i’m leaving tonight.” you announced but it fell upon deaf ears and you let out a sigh before making your way back to the shared apartment leaving satoru behind at jujutsu high.

literally and figuratively.

after moving out the same exact day, having only taken a few personal belongings, you immediately booked the first flight out of tokyo.

that was the last time you ever saw him again.

©777gojosgf

[timbit-robin-art]

i loooove your band au it's so cute!! do they have a band name? why did the O5 have a falling out and what did jean, bobby, and warren play? i'm imagining they get their first gig at harry's hideaway because he graciously allows them to set up in the corner and play as long as they don't bother anyone lol. rogue and gambit both go (rogue drives them and helps them set up, gambit goes to cheer on storm) and that's how they meet

I’m glad people enjoy my silly band idea. I unfortunately have no idea what they would call themselves, but I’m sure some ridiculous ideas were proposed from each member. I’d love to hear ideas.

Ah, the O5… I think they split up because of a combination of reasons. 1.) Worthington Senior urging Warren to return home as Worthington Industries’ heir. 2.) Jean going to a prep school so she can graduate early be the professor’s intern in mutant politics. 3.) Hank’s plans to intern at Stark Industries, which he ultimately doesn’t go through with after he transforms. Of course, there would be petty drama on the side that would further strain things, but those three would probably be the main reasons.

I think Hank looking into Stark Industries would be a big contributor because Bobby would feel betrayed. They promised to stay together, and after Bobby learned about Warren and Jean’s situations, he at least thought that he would have Hank. So, to catch Hank researching about a full time internship would really hurt.

I also think that Warren would initially do everything in his power not to return home until he learns about Jean’s plans. He thinks she’s only doing this because it’s what the professor wants, but then he learns Jean is actually really looking forward to this. I also think he’s bitter about Scott’s encouragement of Jean’s plans, because it’s splitting their group apart. And then when Bobby and Hank finally have their confrontation, he feels like trying to ignore his fate is childish and he should just give in to his father’s plans.

They all used to live at the institute together, but then Warren returned home and Jean is abroad at her prep school. It’s very tense between Scott, Hank, and Bobby, but Scott and Hank eventually making up again probably makes Bobby get over his hurt. He didn’t really take the band as seriously as the others; he just wanted to hang out with his friends. Bobby would later show up to the band’s gigs as support, and who knows… maybe Warren and Jean would, as well.

Scott played the drums, Jean was the pianist, Hank was guitar, Warren was vocals (and maybe another guitar player), and Bobby was bass.

Back to the current band set up, Gambit 100% comes to their performances, which eventually leads him to meet Rogue;

Gambit is already the band’s uncle, so it makes sense that he hits it off with the band’s new aunt. Mr. Logan found Gambit suspicious at first (and to be fair, Mr. Logan is at least 80% sure he saw Gambit pickpocket someone from across the room), but when he sees how much Gambit cares for Storm, he begrudgingly lets go of his suspicions. He still keeps a watchful eye over Gambit and Rogue’s interactions, though. Rogue’s still his child.

Bahhh, so many fun ideas with this. I think it would be really cute if other X-Men are thrown into the mix. They may not be a part of the band, but they still contribute to the chaos of the private school (I think it would be funny if Piotr was an art club member who does art for the band, and Sean was one of their sound crew guys. Any ideas for other X-Men?).

[annabelle--cane]

Hey so I'm not good at subtext and I saw you posting about ep 200 of TMA being awesome. I've listened to it a few times and I'm mostly...confused? I don't understand what happened

(I mean, I get what Martin did to Jon, but nothing other than that)

Would you mind explaining why it's impactful to you?

honestly the main standout thing that makes it really shine to me is the soundscaping and vocal editing, and I've seen people take that as an indirect snide comment about the writing before but it really isn't, the entire scene in the panopticon just sounds gorgeous. the distortion and static on jon's voice, the underscoring of the statement, the way jon and martin's dialogue pops out from the sounds of the crumbling tower, it's just. aaaaaaaaaa. I find it really pleasant to listen to, if you've only listened through speakers then I'd 100% recommend trying it with headphones, it is simply very pretty and well made.

from the story side, it's beat after beat of ultimate catharsis for threads and arcs that have been set up for the whole show.

jon going ham and just really brutally killing jonah with his own hands, no supernatural influence, finally fulling snapping and, it sounds like, gutting him like a fish. it's just about the most lively and impassioned we've heard him all season, and, as far as anyone could deserve to do such a thing, he really is the person who deserved to get to do it.

jon and martin both betraying each other and making the choices that the whole story has been leading them to. jon has spent years fighting against his internalized idea that he can't trust anyone and he's the only person who's powerful/expendable/knowledgeable enough to make decisions and solve problems, and at last he submits to it and takes matters into his own hands. martin has spent years operating under the assumption that he's unimportant and incapable, and now just as he finally accepts that his choices have meaning, he sets the plan in motion that ends up getting them both killed. and jon has tried so hard to be transparent and show him trust that he underestimates just how willing jon is to go behind his back and disregard the plan completely.

and the fuckign. web lighter. I have a longstanding obsession with the mechanics of fate in tragedy narratives, and this lighter. hhh. so, fate (the web) was guiding jon & co to release the fears, but to jon's knowledge, killing jonah and becoming the pupil should have been his winning move to keep them contained. as far as he was capable of comprehending, he made all the right choices, but fate (the web) (the oppressive forces that govern all of our lives) doesn't play fair, it planned for this and cheated him. because he couldn't remember the lighter. he couldn't remember that he already gave georgie the catalyst for the explosion.

this tells me a few things: the ultimate end of releasing the fears was always going to happen, there was nothing jon could have done, but, technically, he could have adhered to the plan and lived to spend what was left of his life with martin and the rest of his nearest and dearest. but that was never really an option, was it? jon archivist sims would never have made that decision, that's why martin tried and failed to plan around it, that's why the web tried and succeeded to plan around it, it would never have happened differently. jon made his choice, it made no difference except to doom himself and the one he loves, he didn't have to do it, and it was inevitable.

and after all of that, after the web cheated him, he could still have won. he could have survived the tower collapse and kept the fears. but one of his biggest stated motives, over and over, is that he can't stand to lose anyone else, and martin is not immune to burning buildings the way he is. in an inverse to gertrude, at the last moment, he chose the barest chance for martin to survive over his own life and principles and big picture goals. he could cope with being responsible for killing the world in the abstract, but when it came to watching the person he loves most die right before his eyes, he caved and came around to martin's perspective. the other worlds can cope, he wants to save the man he loves.

[lucysarah-c]

Hi, Lucy, Good evening! (our countries are neighbours, so I'm supposing it is evening for you too)

Feel free to don't answer if you don't want to, but, how do you think that would happen if Levi was head over heels for his girlfriend, like, he genuinely thinks she is the love of his life but she grew up in a house with very cheesy and affectionate parents so she just normalizes it as what romantic love means and well… Levi is Levi. She is also very affectionate and a bit clingy and Levi makes it very clear that he hates PDA and even in private he doesn’t act half of clingy as she does, so she starts to think he doesn't really love her and breaks up with him, but without telling him why because she doesn't want to hurt him, but she tells the reason of the breakup for a friend and Levi overhears it.

Do you think he would try to win her over again? Or he would feel offended because he tried his best to be a good partner and she still broke up with him without even communicating?

Thank you for reading anyway, love you!

Hi there! Good evening!

This is such an interesting scenario! If Levi were genuinely head over heels for his girlfriend, thinking she’s the love of his life, but she grew up in a very affectionate household and normalizes that as the standard for romantic love, I think there would definitely be some tension. Levi is, well, Levi—he’s not exactly the clingy type, and PDA would probably make him uncomfortable. But if his girlfriend is very affectionate and he’s not reciprocating in the way she’s used to, it’s easy to see how she might start to feel unloved.

If she broke up with him without telling him the reason, I think Levi would be deeply hurt. He’s not one to easily open up or express his feelings, so for him to have fallen in love to that extent would be huge. Hearing through a friend that the breakup happened because she felt he didn’t love her—when in reality, he was just expressing love in his own way—would probably frustrate him. Levi values honesty and straightforwardness, so the lack of communication would likely sting.

Also, and I do think this is important too… imagine how Levi feels? Imagine if someone told you basically that "how you love them its not enough" that your way of being isn't enough… I would honestly be extremely hurt. I can see Levi promising to do an effort of being more vocal about his affection to her but she should ALSO do an effort of understanding him. Imagine constandly living with someone who feels that what you do is not enough?

That being said, I don’t think Levi would feel offended in the sense of holding a grudge or thinking she was unreasonable. He might feel hurt and misunderstood, but I think his love for her would outweigh that. If he truly believed she was the love of his life, I can see him making an effort to win her back. He might not do it in a grand, romantic gesture—because, let’s be real, that’s not Levi—but in his own way, he’d want to make things right. Maybe he’d have a serious conversation with her, explaining his feelings and how he shows love differently. Levi isn’t someone who gives up easily, especially not on someone he cares about deeply.

So, yes, I do think he’d try to win her over again, but it would be in a very Levi way—direct, honest, and with the intention of understanding each other better.

(this is rather funny because it's a whole 4 chapters issue in Holy Ground, my main fic)

Thank you for question! Love you too!

[xxnomadsxx]

I can only imagine your Branch giving the most disturbing gifts to show he cares. Ex:

Floyd: Oh man, I always worried Velvet and Veneer are gonna come back at some point

Branch: *Man, I wanna make him feel better hmm*

Cue the next day:

Branch: Here Floyd, this should make you feel safer (Man is covered in BLOOD and holding an even bloodier box) 😊

Floyd (about to pass out): Oh thanks B… what is it??

Branch: Velvet and Veneers vocal cords 😁 (He genuinely believes this will make him feel better)

Floyd: Oh… thank you Branch (He doesn’t want to reject the gift since it is one of the only occasions Branch has shown any of the brother’s affection)

His gifts only get worst from there. The brothers one time mention what happened to the Bergen that ate Grandma??? Branch puts Chef’s skeleton up in display for them to see that there’s nothing to worry about and that she’s been avenged. Meanwhile , BroZone: 🧍🧍🧍🧍

Poppy mentions that Creek betrayed the entire Troll kingdom??? Oh yeah, he tells the hilarious story about the time he was roasted alive and eaten by the village and even offers Poppy a tuff of his hair as proof.

He associates threats being eliminated as comforting and so he believes proof of that are the best gifts, he has good intentions but wtf he’s gotta work on better love languages.

anyways yeah BroZone loses their shit every time this happens but don’t have the heart to tell Branch to stop since it’s one of his main ways to show he cares about them and they’ll take anything at this point.

Honestly no one in the village is good at getting appropriate gifts ESPECIALLY Branch (he’s been living with the feral trolls(?) for years and their love language is violence) so you’re gonna have to forgive them on their very gruesome gifts.

All these situations are basically canon now because the idea is just so funny to me that Branch just pulled out all these corpse parts just to be like “don’t worry you’re safe😁”. Every time he does this his brother are just going through every emotion. It’s sweet that he did the gesture for them but also terrifying when you actually think about it (when he’s left the room, at least two of them puked and Floyd passed out four times) When Floyd is given the vocal cords as a gift the only thing keeping him conscious is the adoration that his baby brother got him a gift, but once Branch left the room, he immediately put the box in the closet and proceeded to puke on the floor. (Originally Branch got the vocal cords after he found out velvet and veneer took Floyd, but I find the idea of him going back for round two just so he can get a trophy for Floyd to tell him he was “safe” even better)

When he showed the skeleton to the brothers they were just too shocked to actually understand what was happening and kind of just went numb for a few minutes, all they could do was force themselves to focus on how happy Branch was so they wouldn’t have a meltdown.(when they later registered what they saw they just cried) When Poppy brought up how angry she is at Creek and how mad she is that he up and left again instead of staying to face his problems!! Branch laughed and said “OH, don’t worry we handled it😁” and he pulled out a tuff of Creeks hair, and hilariously explained the “funny story” of Creeks demise.

Everyone at this point just stops talking about people they don’t like out of fear that Branch Is just gonna come out with their body at any second. They like the gestures of the gift. It’s just the fact that they’re basically just corpse parts in a box that is handed to them with a smile 😊 saying, “I hope you like it” (he eventually stops when explained how messed up it is)

[or0ch1maru]

hello Cj! I hope you've been doing well! I'm sorry that you've been working so hard this past weekend :( I hope you rest well and get some time to unwind and do smth fun!

I LOOVED your headcanons of snuggling/cuddling with kakuzu🩷 can I request a hidan version?

hello my pretty bby♡︎I’ve been having a lovely few days off thank you, relaxing and catching up on some stuff. Just took a hot ass shower to help my muscles after the gym. And of course, let’s get into it🫵🏻

18+ MINORS, and ageless blogs DNI. Short blurb of sex w Hidan

•

-Hidan is similar to his partner in ways he treats and cherishes his woman

-he is both vocal and physical about his love for you. His main way is through sex. Leaving bite marks and hickeys in places people can see them, your neck, collarbones, thighs, even leaving scars from his teeth along your neck, wrists and arms. Just so people know you belong to him

-he’s huge on consent, especially since he’s a rough lover. He doesn’t make love, he fucks, HARD

-he’s loud about it too, tellin’ you how much he loves you and your pretty cunt, how he could live like this inside you, how pretty you are and how lucky he is to be the only one to have you this way

-where you go, he goes

-if anyone gives him weird looks about being glued to your hip, he gives them an even nastier look if he doesn’t straight up tell them to fuck off and mind their business

-but back to touch, he’s got to have a hand on you. Whether it’s playing with your hair, hand in your back pocket, or the small of your back. Or walking with his fingers intertwined through your belt loop

-even when you two are sitting on the couch around the other members, his arm wrapped around you, resting gently on top of your breast.

-or wrapping around your neck, no squeezing, just resting against your delicate, scarred skin

-when you rest between his legs, your back against him, his hand casually cups over your pussy, even when he’s not trying to do anything sexual. He just loves touchin’ you

-when you two are alone in your shared room, he’s like your own weighted blanket, he’ll lay on top of you, watching his positions so he doesn’t crush or hurt you

-he loves skin to skin

-you two will just hang out and cuddle naked, he’ll have you sitting in his lap, calloused hands resting on the soft flesh of your hips. Admiring your form

-taking in all your scars, any form of blemishes, doesn’t care about acne or if you’re chubby, he goes crazy when he sees your stretch marks

-he’ll caress every part of you, especially the things you’re most insecure about. Hidan will kiss you head to two, telling you how beautiful you are to him

-sees you as a goddess

-one that deserves to be worshipped, gifted, and treated like one should

-another thing Hidan includes in your cuddles is deep, raw, and passionate make out sessions.

-his hands holding the back of your head as he nips at your bottom lip, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth while yours does the same to him

-now, not every time ends up with sex but when it does, he’s turned into a needy puddle

-begging you to use him, ride him and take him any way you need him

-head thrown back as his hands travel up and down your body, gripping you wherever he can, whines and whimpers falling from his lips as you slam your hips down his girth

-“baby, baby f-fuck. Bein’ so good for ya doll. Please.”

-he begs, not sure what he’s begging for but it just feels right. Just like Kakuzu, he feels like you were made for him, made to take and please him

-but back to the cuddles(may or may not have gotten of track but ya know, can’t help it with him)

-your shared bed has tons of blankets on it, just to make the two of you into burritos when you’re pressed against him

-your hands wrapped around his head as your chests are touching, his hands holding you at the small of your back, keeping your body up against him

-he also likes being little spoon. Feeling your small form pressed against his back while your arm wraps around his torso, holding him to you

-he’ll cup your hand in his, holding it against his chest, letting his heart beat against you, even though you can’t feel it. It gives him a sense of calm, and security

-when you’re on your cycle, (just like his partner, he makes sure your stocked on everything you could need and runs bubble baths for you) but he uses his hand as your personal heater

-he radiates so much warmth that the second his hand touches your lower belly or back, your cramps fade

-have y’all seen any of the videos where a bf will pull down his shirt just to expose his cute lil gf hiding inside

-that’s Hidan. Would love for you to live in his skin lol. The rare times he wears a shirt or hoodie, he holds it open for you to climb into. Smiles to himself when he sees that you’ve fallen asleep in there

-and lastly, on missions, he’ll wrap his cloak around you, engulfing you in his scent and the warmth of his chest

-he’ll walk with you that way for however long either of you please

-which will be the entire trip there and back

[skyeoak]

Tmagp 30 thoughts

Vocal performances all slayed. 10/10

I think there’s a lot of good and bad in the finale! But overall, it feels underbaked. (Or overplotted/overplanned?)

I’ll save my finalized thoughts on the hilltop center to see if it’s developed in further seasons, because uh, hmm. Jonny said in the live drop that carousels of horrors were his favorite to write, but they sure are not realllyyyy my favorite to listen to. They’re kind of thematic scattershot. And yeah, one of my critiques about TMA is that I don’t love how we only rarely see how the fears combine and interact. Having multiple creepy things in a curiosity cabinet -com shopping center doesn’t really solve that problem for me.

The idea of a character turning a blind eye to an obviously creepy job is still interesting, especially in how it parallels the staff of the OIAR. But that’s kinda the start and end of my interest in the custodian? It feels like this story could have been shrunk to 1/3 length and had a better effect. I just feel like this should have been a midseason statement, and the finale could have focused on having some sort of action or tension. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting the finale to have a statement at all, to be structurally in line with early TMA. Maybe a full statement/story from Celia, giving the non-TMA audience some idea of why she thinks there’s nothing to go back to in her universe. Hell. Maybe she could just. Tell Sam, uncompelled. I would have loved to see her try to convince him to jump. Convince him that her new life matters more than his (perceived) failure of one. Instead… this is another episode where I feel like the double meaning titles weigh down what the statement could be. And it’s the season finale.

I wondered early on if the finale for this season would feel more like setup for future seasons, and yep. Yep it did. It just felt like there was this inherent tension between the stakes of the story, which are already at interdimensional travel, and the level of danger it feels like everyone is in. Not to mention how Celia just drops a list of alchemical balance things out of the blue. Magnus Protocol is in a tricky situation: they need to set up a new conflict and new characters, and at the same time, Magpod has already done mega-apocalypse hellscapes and so TMagP might feel the need to go bigger. (Imo I don’t think sequels always need to raise the stakes but I understand that’s industry standard). It’s also tackling alchemy, a notoriously complex subject that’s probably hard to explain to an audience in any way that feels natural. You can’t just throw murder worm lady and screaming main character in the finale and call it a day. There’s a lot going on, less time, and I don’t know if the characterization this season was consistent (/consistently good) enough to hold the full weight of it all.

OKAY, WHELMED THOUGHTS OVER, now for the good! Surprise surprise, it’s all the little character payoffs!

Gwen and Lena’s confrontation was EVERYTHING. Gwen is kicking anthills, and Lena is so content to let her stand in them while the ants crawl up her legs. I won’t lie though, I’m not sure if this plotline will be interesting to me. I think it depends on how fast the OIAR staff can get Gwen to actually be on their side.

Sam deciding to protect Celia by pushing the archivist into the void is SENSATIONAL CHARACTER PAYOFF. (This is my interpretation of the scene, audio was super unclear once again, and there was a line change from transcript to podcast that made this super ambiguous in the actual canon audio.) My poor guy has ZERO self esteem, and still wants to be a hero. He probably realized that if what Celia just told him was true, an archivist could actually kill her on the spot. My guess is that (tma spoilers) this balanced the rift not because Celia replaced her own missing soul (plenty of folks got sent through hilltop road in that same incident) but because an archivist+a person were pulled through to replace Jon and Martin. Truly excited to see where they end up, and if this archivist gets developed more as a character next season. Also the implications of interdimensional balance on what happened at the end of TMA are… interesting.

Oh Alice. Everything in this intricately balanced house of checking up on people and soothing them and deflecting tension with jokes is about to come crashing down. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.

And yes, this is a super lukewarm episode review but I do wanna say I liked this season a lot, and TMAGP is still a cut above a LOT of horror I have read/listened to this year. I’m hoping seasons 2 and 3 will either steer further into a direct TMA sequel, angle OR steer clear and become their own thing. TMAGP is stuck uncomfortably in the middle right now. Just be the good parts of her. But completely new.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Seven

Okay if anyone is super well-versed in the whole northern songs drama, I would LOVE your insights. I haven’t really looked into it, so all I know is they lost it right before the divorce meeting. What happened? What the hell is this? -- “Which includes Paul and John,” “Just about.” “What does that mean?” “No comment.”

The scouse getting thicker and thicker after “Carolina moOOn?” What can I say? I’m a sucker for it.

Paul’s absolute sugar-cookie heart-eyes when George walks in and then Ringo’s high-pitched “Hi Georgie!” Guys. Tone it down! I know you love him. But you just saw him yesterday, and you’ll see him again tomorrow. Oh wait . . . is today the day he quits?

John. If you look at your boyfriend like that while he’s being an attention-whore, he’s going to keep being an attention whore. So just. You know. Keep in mind what you’re encouraging here.

OMG they’re KISSING! (Live George reaction)

Paul. If you give your boyfriend what he wants while he’s being an attention-whore, he’s going to keep being an attention whore. So just. You know. Keep in mind what you’re encouraging here. (but literally, John just becomes a maniac, dancing and shouting, the MOMENT Paul goes to talk to George, and Paul’s instantly like “George, what george?”)

This Paul/George fight is, boiled down, literally just Paul being paranoid and anal and George trying to reassure him. “It’s not passe, it’s just a chord . . . yeah, but some drainies suit different occasions.”

“You need Eric Clapton.” “You need George Harrison.” John wasn’t here to be cute when George walked in, so he’s making up for it now.

“If you vamp, then it takes away from his vamping.” He says to the lead guitarist. Rolling my eyes so hard right now. See, the problem is, Paul loves George. But he’s IN love with John.

Literally, a montage of them raw-dogging it on the ground would be less gay than this insanity.

Poor baby. I would’ve quit a long time ago. Good for you.

I love John’s angsty guitar and torn-up vocals post-george.

And the minute her number one hater is gone, my girl gets on a mic! Way to be, honestly. And here’s the thing. Paul and Ringo (and obviously John) love it! There should’ve been a Beatles-Ono colab on a helter-skelter type track. Would’ve killed.

Paul swinging around on that scaffolding and me doing cartwheels in the bathroom between LSAT sections. ADHD besties!

John when George quits: “If he doesn’t come back by Tuesday we get Clapton in” (which he obviously doesn’t fully mean) VS John’s reaction when Paul misses one session: sprinting down the road and climbing a wall and screaming at him

Yoko sure does know how to cater to a fearful-anxious attachment. “John, John, John, Joooooooohhhhhhhnnnn!”

Literally Mo, marry me immediately! My kingdom for a kiss! She’s literally soo beyond gorgeous, I’m dying. Okay sorry I’ll be done now.

Men are the WORST! But who is making her laugh like that? Ringo? Is she looking off in the direction of the band? I can’t tell.

Another rare Paul feminist moment! Woop! “A7, D7, G7. Get ‘em off over the weekend and you’re in.”

“So, cats and kittens. What we gonna do?” . . . “Catch up! Cats and kittens. Don’t get left behind.” ???? There have got to be so many secret jabs on RAM for John to hate it so much that we just don’t understand. Is this one of them? Was this a saying of theirs?

Okay, good job. Now that the band is here, Mo isn’t being fucking mean-girled out of the circle. Also, Ringo sits by his wife, John by his girlfriend, and Paul by his daddy. As they should.

“The maresey beat awords for the best coople of the yeeuh.” Everyone studiously ignoring him. He’s so embarrassing.

I really really love Mo, though. Like I know I’m biased because she’s pretty, but her cute little “Yes!” when Paul jokingly suggests they do it at the cavern. She loved those days. The fact that she’s an og? God bless her, literally.

“Location isn’t really our main problem at the moment.” George Martin. “It’s breathing, actually.” said in the most casual voice possible but meant with the most wounded heart. Gosh, that one hurt. And then look how George Martin looks at him. His best boy is going through it.

The huggle! Ringo initiates it with Paul, of course, turning to him and gently gripping both biceps as he forces deep, direct eye contact. But then as Ringo’s pulling away, Paul leans into him and holds him there, talking. And as Ringo’s nodding, he looks to John, who basically pounces on both of them, head bowed, arms aggressive, pulling them all in, tighter, tighter until it’s a three-way head-bonk. Ringo’s hand at John’s waist now, and Paul’s fucking iron talons clenching desperately around his bicep. But still, John manages to pull away from Paul’s grip as Yoko inserts herself between them where, really, she decidedly does Not belong. It’s got to be the most painful non-hug ever recorded on camera. Nobody knows what anyone wants, let alone how to give it to them.

Why did the gayest one also have to be the saddest one though? I guess the Lord gives his hardest battles to his gayest soldiers, smh

[pandas-pandemonium]

Yandere!Idol Group and Yandere!Manager Profiles

Here it is people, the yandere profiles of the members of the popular idol group: DI4MANTE + and their tired manager.

Alain Kumar • 26

Alain is the leader of the group, and the sweetest one too. His fans have dubbed him the unofficial "mother" of DI4MANTE, and he certainly lives up to the role. That same kindness and sweetness extends to the group's lovely assistant manager, Y/N, and is doubled even further.

The man cooks, cleans and would do it all without asking if it means being able to show what a suitable husband he'd be for you. He's also incredibly protective. What kind of lover would he be if you got hurt?! Or even worse- He doesn't like thinking too much about such horrible things.

His position as the leader of DI4MANTE also means he gets to fuss over you as much as he likes. Ever since the group got a new assistant manager to "relieve the burden off Haneul's shoulders", he's been doing everything he can under the privacy of the dressing rooms to help you in any way possible.

Going to grab waters for the group? Let him help! He's been working out with Devante recently and there's no way he could let their lovely, fragile assistant manager lift such heavy packs!

He also makes sure to prepare meals for you too! What do you mean it should be your job? No way, he's the leader of the group and he should do what he can to make sure you don't exhaust yourself. He'd still happily take any meals you give him though, and savour every spoonful.

Isa Valentine • 24

Isa's the princely one, with heavenly vocals to match. He's also the most popular member of DI4MANTE and for good reason too. His ethereal looks and naturally flirty persona has garnered a rather large fanbase. Fans also speculate whether "Valentine" is even his real surname or not.

The man appears to be perfect in every way...or so it seems. Away from the cameras, underneath that dazzling persona of his lies a rabidly obsessive individual, desperate to keep his dear assistant manager as single as possible, and willing to smear his own name by causing a scandal. Haneul has managed to hold Isa back from doing so, thankfully, but Isa's patience can only last for so long.

Isa, in one word, is a pervert. Ever since their darling assistant manager walked into their lives, his world has never been the same. He wants you to touch him, look at him, kiss him. He's definitely stolen a few of your chapsticks or lipsticks and used them before.

Out of the group, he is the second-most easily jealous yandere. If you're not paying attention to him, or praising him for breathing, his mood is downright awful. Fights have been started because he thought a member of the group or some backstage staff member was taking too much of your time. Only Devante, Alain and Haneul can hold him back when he starts going off on other innocent staff members.

So much for being a princely man.

Devante Velasco • 28

One of the main rappers of DI4MANTE, next to Alain. He's also notorious for being the fitness buff of the group, with his social media being chock full of gym pics...not that his fans would complain. Devante's the strongest of the group, and also the most possessive and jealous yandere too. The amount of water bottles that were crushed by his fearsome grip are overflowing. Devante absolutely hates the idea of you, his darling assistant manager, being in a relationship or even talking to anyone outside of their little circle. If he could, he would kill every single person who's touched you or looked at you a little too keenly for his tastes. There are way too many times that Haneul had to step in before he scared off some poor intern who was just asking you for help and caused a scandal.

Speaking of scandals, Devante has way too many to count and there have been petitions to kick him out of the group ever since you joined. Haneul has done a pretty good job covering the real reason behind the bar fights and all, but there's only so much that the company can do before people start piecing together the fragments of truth that have slipped past the eyes of the company.

It doesn't help that Devante has made it a point to find a way to leave a visible mark on his cute little assistant manager as often as possible. From little hair clips, necklaces, at one point he even offered to give you matching temporary tattoos! (He would go with a real one, but Alain persuaded him not to because that would cause way too much trouble for the group, internally and externally). Yes, Devante does have tattoos, several of them, that his diehard fans have tattooed on themselves as well. Devante's fans are the scariest, and if word ever got out about his obsession with the new assistant manager? Blood will be splilled.

Matthew (Mattie) Rhys • 22

Mattie is the youngest in DI4MANTE, and also the most obsessive. He has made a shrine to his lovely assistant manager, full of pictures and little scraps that you may have left behind. Isa had tried to steal some of the shrine's items for his own use, but that was before Mattie struck a deal with him, as suggested by Haneul, that the two of them could contribute to the shrine instead of fighting over it all the time. There's only one assistant manager and they can only contribute so much.

Mattie is like a puppy in love when it comes to the group's lovely assistant manager. He wants all your attention, and will try every way to get it. From "accidentally" hurting himself to outright interrupting your conversations to drag you off somewhere else. He will try anything as long as it means you're with him as much as possible. Needless to say, Haneul has a field day when it comes to the group's division of their time with their assistant manager.

Also, don't be fooled by Mattie's innocent looks. He may look sweet and innocent in front of the cameras and to everyone else backstage, but his members know his true colours. Underneath lies a deeply jealous and lowkey manipulative man, who has managed to keep the innocent facade up in front of you to the point that he could touch you inappropriately and still brush it off as an "accident".

Haneul Kang • 30

The Manager of DI4MANTE, who is seriously overworked. It's why he suggested bringing on an assistant manager in the first place. While his general idol management workload has decreased significantly since your appearance, his emotional workload has doubled. It frustrates Haneul that the boys of DI4MANTE has set their sights on you when if it wasn't for them, he could have you all to himself.

However, he still agreed to Alain's proposition to work together as a team when it comes to keeping your affections and attention focused on them. It's easier to keep the rats away when there's a whole group to keep watch after all. Even so, dealing with the frequent fights caused by Devante and Isa is no easy task, that and the many scandals that have arose since your entry into the group's dynamics. Haneul doesn't mind...too much, however. If it is for you, no obstacle is hard enough to overcome.

Haneul's another protective yandere, and he has worked with Alain several times to make sure you're not overworking yourself or placing yourself in harm's way. The amount of jobs lost in the company is a suitable sacrifice. People who could endanger your well-being don't deserve to be in your presence anyways.

Overall, Haneul is a massive enabler for DI4MANTE. He sees no reason to discourage their affections for you (so long as it's only the 5 of them and no one else), and is happy to keep the group's image as clean as possible as long as it means that you'll stay with them.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Rammblings Nijmegen 2024-06-18

The Show (part 2)

- Sound and music were pretty good, as a guitarists-fan i was looking forward to Richard's solos, but the first one i couldn't really hear well, maybe the sound was a bit off there, but that must have been just a glitch, because elsewhere it was great (Ausländer solo os so beautiful 🥰). I know some people mention there's playback on some songs, but honestly, i don't care, we were all looking forward to a great show after being wet and cold for a while, that i just wanted it to look and sound the best it could 🌺 (Maybe it was me, but at Adieu i think there was someone off key at some point 😊 so that definitely wasn't playback, but they pulled it together)

- Paul and Olli's side i could watch pretty well, although i didn't see Olli that well, on IG photos i see that he wore a darker shirt for part of the show, maybe that had something to do with it. Paul was for the most part of the show playing with his micstand and doing Paul things like he usually does 😊

- Flake is great in his gold outfit, no trouble following where he's going, and i loved his 'stuck doing the Till-hammer' but, with team feuerzone egging him on chanting 'Flake, Flake' 😄

- Richard looked great, even from that distance (he didn't bother trying his hair to stand up and started with the hair combed down), and i lived his backing vocals, especially at Puppe, you could really hear his voice in the sound as well 🥰

- sometimes i read fans not liking the songs from the Untitled album that much, because 'it isn't Rammstein as it should be', but honestly, some of the songs that got the crowd moving the best, were actually Ausländer and Radio, and even the Deutschland remix with the stickmen dance was great at getting the crowd to dance along, until that point in the show the crowd were mainly watching (not team feuerzone, they always moved ofcourse), but those songs really melted the ice (maybe that was also the moment the rain started to drizzle out, don't remember). Loved the stickmen dance (which i didn't think i would), the 4 guys did a little 'kickline' at some point, and some other funny stuff, and we in our little corner on the stands danced along 😊

- And ofcourse the big songs like Sonne (when the sun really showed for the first time), Du Hast, Deutschland, DRSG, Mein Teil were great as well, but i really loved all the songs, not one exception ❤️

- I was too far away to really notice if 'fun was had' on stage (you know i like it when the guys have fun on stage), but i loved Paul and Richard playing together, love that their Mein Teil intro is always a bit different (up until that point they played pretty much their regular 'roles'), think Till tried to distract Paul before that intro a little bit to prevent him from going to center stage 😊 but the tower was obstructing my view a bit, so really only saw afterwards on social media all the details 😄 but that's okay, they had fun, that is the main thing 🥰

- i really enjoyed my first show, and i really wanted the band to know it, i wouldn't have minded if they stuck around on stage a bit longer at the after-Sonne-bows and the final salut so we could cheer them on more, but that isn't the Rammstein way and i accept that 😊

- and the best part: i get to do it again today (and it looks like it will be dry) 🥰

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ (ɴsғᴡ)

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: anxiety, NSFW, bakugou picks reader up once, penetrative sex, oral sex (f!receiving), riding, fingering, confessions Word Count: 6.9k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

It had been only a week since your big blowup with Mercy at the annual hero gala. The interaction had gone viral, made national headlines, and the public was split 50/50 on the whole situation, the heroes especially. Some felt betrayed; like you were an infiltrator coming in to steal their best knowledge so that you could turn around and go back to “villainous” life. Others felt as though that this was the kind of change that needed to happen in hero society; that they needed to bring aboard any and all kinds of people, that being a hero was about acceptance and understanding. 

You didn’t think Bakugou would speak much about it—he didn’t address a lot of shit surrounding him because he believed that his hero work would always do the talking for him—but he was more than vocal about everything. He posted a few videos in defense of you, his girlfriend, about how everyone needed to shut the fuck up and let you live your fucking life. He told off a few reporters and paps who questioned his integrity of being a hero when it came to accepting someone who so blatantly went against the law, but his response was always to cuss them out and sometimes even break their cameras. 

In a sense, it warmed you in a way that you never really wanted yourself to feel. You never felt deserving of it much, and you really don’t now, to see the backlash that he’s gotten for supporting someone like you. A lot of heroes have been under fire for speaking out in their acceptance of you, even Number 2 hero Miruko, who made it known that she stands with you. 

It was confusing, really, on how you should feel yourself. You ruined so many good hero careers by just being in their proximity, but you know you were doing a good thing. You just had to go about everything secretively because you knew that this would be the response back that you would get. 

You just didn’t understand why Mercy would do that to you. Was it jealousy? Was she upset that you had pulled yourself out of this warehouse, found solace in someone you could trust wholeheartedly? Was it betrayal of leaving her, of leaving the vigilantes who became who they were in dedication to your cause of fighting back? What was it?

She hasn’t been by the warehouse, and you don’t think she’s coming back ever, now. When you had arrived a week ago, sweaty and crying and heaving, and told Vanity everything, she got this look on this face, as if in thought. She had rushed to the room that Mercy would stay in, came back with this aghast look on her face, started pulling at her hair and sobbing. She told you that Mercy had talked about cleaning out her room before, leaving this place since the morals had started “changing.”  Vanity hadn’t thought to say anything to you, thought nothing of it, and now—

Now you’re exposed to the whole world by someone you thought you could’ve trusted. Who would’ve known you would’ve been betrayed by someone who went through the same things as you, over someone from a completely different world? Everyone in the warehouse was so afraid that the outside people would be your downfall, and yet they turned out to be the ones bringing you under. 

It’s all so confusing and muddy and so, so fucking draining. Your mind has been racing ever since that night, trying to put the pieces together of everything. Had Mercy been working with somebody? Had she somehow gotten into contact with Eddie and convinced him to alter your dress so that she could expose you? Was this all a set up by someone higher up? Did they want you gone in such a way that it would ruin your entire being until you passed on? Did they all want you gone?

It’s too much to think about, and you find yourself sleeping in later than you usually would. The only thing you do when awake is check public opinion and barely swallow the food Vanity shoves in your mouth, before you find yourself falling into your cot again. You knew this would happen if your identity was exposed, and there’s already conversation stirring on if you’re the same invisible person that went missing all those years ago. 

It’s overwhelming, even more so going through it all alone. Vanity is there, yes, but you’ve found yourself seeking the comfort of someone who holds you in a way that feels more secure than a weighted blanket. Bakugou has called you more times than you can count in this past week, but you ignore him, unready to deal with all that will come with him. 

Are you safe? Where are you? Can you come home? Please? The house is too quiet without you. I bought too much tea because its habit now. Fuckin come back home. 

He sends you text after text, leaves voicemail after voicemail, his tone getting more and more pleading, more desperate, more angry, frustrated. But you can’t answer him, can’t ruin his life more than you already have by leeching onto him again. You’ll just have to be alone again. It’s good for everybody, you muse over. 

You’ll have to be alone, until you’re not. 

“Um, somebody’s outside. For you.” Vanity says, her words choppy as she stands in your doorway. You look over your shoulder where you lay down in your cot, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you yawn into your palm. 

“For me? Who found the warehouse?” You ask, sitting up quickly as the reality of the situation dawns on you, tiredness suddenly eviscerated. This was a safe space you carved out for yourself and others around you; how could Vanity be so calm knowing that someone is outside asking for you specifically? 

She opens her mouth to answer, but a familiar call of your name makes you give pause. You look at her with wide eyes, mouth pressed tightly together, as she mirrors your look before shrugging. 

“I didn’t give him the address. I have no idea how he found this place.” She answers, hands in the air in defense of herself. You don’t move from your spot when you hear another call of your name from outside. 

“Fuckin’ know you’re in there, so come out before I blast this fuckin’ door down!” Bakugou yells, and you’re ripping the covers off of you with such a haste, that Vanity jumps out of your way when you go storming down the steps. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, shit head!” You yell back to him, racing quickly to the door. But as you get there, the barrier between you two is evident. If you let him in, then you could hurt him even more, could ruin every good thing going for him. You could be his downfall because you got your mess all over him, could pull him down. Its not like you could give him anything useful, besides your quirk. Its the only thing you’re good for, right? 

So you keep the door closed, leaning heavily on the metal, your ear pressed to its coldness. You speak lowly, unsure if you really want to be heard, afraid of him whispering back, of what he might say. 

“What do you want?” You ask, eyes glued to the bottom of the door where the shadows of his feet stand, restless. He huffs like a bull, and you can hear him shuffling closer to the door, mirroring your position. 

“I need to talk to you.” Bakugou starts before he pauses, swallowing thickly, his voice a whisper. “I need you.” He confesses, the sincerity in his voice making you flinch back. You glance to your feet, to the shoes you brought for yourself before you got with him, tattered and raggedy and falling apart at the seams. You mirror Mercy now, think back on the pristine image you had started flaunting of yourself, now again reduced to vigilante life—nothing too valuable, nothing too flashy, nothing too identifiable. 

“You were fine before without me.” You murmur, teeth clenched as you fight back the tears springing to your eyes. They burn with the unshed saltiness, and you try to blink them away but its no use. Bakugou scoffs at that though, and you can damn near see him rolling his eyes the way he always does. 

“Yeah, and I was a dumbass for not having you in my life sooner.” He scoffs, and the so easy confession makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest. He says it like he’s so sure, that he knows that life is better with you, that life is nothing without you. Or maybe you’re just overselling your value to him. 

“Open the door?” He inquires quietly after a few seconds, his feet shuffling again. You bite the inside of your cheek, swallowing thickly as you try to find the trust you had put in him only a few weeks ago. Why is it gone now? Why is it so hard to open up, metaphorically and literally? Why does it feel like you’re opening up the cage to your heart by letting him in one more time? 

“I don’t wanna ruin your career more than I already have, Bakugou.” You tell him through gritted teeth, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. He can hear the shakiness in your voice, his words softening as he speaks to the door. 

“You haven’t ruined shit for me.” He promises you, tone so gentle, as if he cradles you in his arms, nurturing. “And don’t call me Bakugou. You know that.” He scolds you, though his voice still remains soft. You chuckle humorlessly under your breath as you rest your left side on the coldness of the door, head leaning against it, eyes unseeing. 

“Is Dynamight better?” You jab, mouth pulling down in a frown, your look unknowingly matching his own outside. 

“Don’t be an ass.” He chides, and it only makes you frown even harder, as you cross your arms petulantly. 

“You know that’s what I know best.” You remark, voice lowered, unsure if he even heard you. He goes quiet for a few beats too long, makes you want to swing the door open just to make sure he’s still out there before slamming it back closed in his face. When your hand hovers over the door handle, does he finally speak. 

“Please.” He whispers, barely audible. “Just let me in so we can talk. I have a few people that have some words for you, too.” He promises, his feet shuffling restlessly once more. 

You toggle the idea around in your head, wonder how wrong everything could go if you let him in one more time. If you hadn’t before, then none of this wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve stayed the Red Medusa, would’ve stayed hidden in the shadows, picking fights with men, living in hiding and in fear of the outside world with Vanity. You would’ve stayed stagnant, been who you were forever, before someone finally had the gall to take you out of here. 

But by letting Bakugou in, you got the chance to grow, even if it was in tiny ways everyday. You got the chance to work through your fears, understand that not every man is someone trying to hurt you, that you’re more than your quirk, that you’re useful even when you don’t use it. You trusted him, and he gave you everything he could, even when you didn’t ask for it, all because he wanted to see you better yourself as a person. And when the world started turning on you, he stayed the same, forevermore, sure that the person you always were and growing to better, was someone worth fighting for. 

So, you swing open the door, arms crossed in front of you as you look down at his stupid big boots. 

“Make it quick.” You tell him, mouth twisted this way and that. You finally glance up to his even stupider face, frowning when he only stares at you with this funny little look. He tilts his head to the side, before his eyebrows raise. 

“You look like shit.” He tells you, before he grins, boyish and wide and stupid and—and you hate it so much how his own smile makes you smile. You roll your eyes at him, arms still crossed over your chest when he steps up to you, until his chest brushes against your skin, sending goosebumps down your arms. He looks down his nose at you, the lines around his eyes pulling with how he smiles at you, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“I missed you.” He tells you, honest, nodding his head once to you. You look away, face burning at the way he’s drinking you in, your mind placing you back to the nights when he would look only at you. 

“Yeah, cause I’m fuckin’ missable.” You snark back to him, turning up your nose when he only chuckles at your snappiness. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you feel your facade starting to crumble second by second, eyes glancing back to him repeatedly as the seconds tick on. 

“What?” You snap after a while, placing your hands on your hips as you look at him with this scrunched up face that he only smiles harder at. 

“You didn’t miss me?” Bakugou asks, head tilting to the side again, his hands itching to reach out and hold you and kiss you and feel you again. It’s been so long. 

“It’s only been a week, get over yourself.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, ignoring how his smile drops just the tiniest bit. He reaches out, finally, hesitantly, to softly grasp at your waist, gaze intently watching you to gauge how you’ll respond. When you don’t move away from him, his hold becomes firm. 

“Yeah, well its felt like a lifetime not having you with me.” He whispers, eyebrows pulling down ever so softly. His cheeks have become rosy, his bottom lip pouting out. Only now do you notice the stubble on his chin, think about the last time he’s shaved, realize that he only does it the mornings you remind him, and you haven’t spoken to him all week. You scoff, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you, burrowing your face into his chest. 

“Fuckin’ sap. Gross. Get outta here with that shit.” You bemoan, pinching at his nape when he only laughs at you, loud and hearty and ugly and obnoxious. You don’t think you’ve ever liked a sound more. 

“You missed me so fuckin’ bad, yeah?” Bakugou asks in your hair, pulling away from you so he can cup your face in his big, warm palms. You groan and roll your eyes again, leading him down to you as you meet him halfway. 

“Shaddup.” You whisper against his lips, pressing them to his own, something so soft and intimate and—and comfortable. You forgot how much you loved the feel of his mouth on yours, the hitch in his breath whenever you come back for another kiss and another, until your air becomes his own, and his air becomes yours. You kiss him and you kiss him and you kiss him until you’re suffocated, and only he can save you. 

After you finally part from each other, you pull him fully into the warehouse, sitting him down on the communal couch after introducing him to Vanity. She was nervous looking, unused to anyone you hadn’t approved being in your space, a man especially. But she calms when she sees you sink into his side on the couch familiarly, like you always do at home with him. 

“You said some people had some words for me?” You ask after a few minutes, leaning back to look at Bakugou fully. He nods at that, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. He types on it silently for a few seconds, makes you and Vanity look at each other in unbridled anticipation. When a minute passes, does he put the phone on speaker, the sharp ringing rattling through the empty warehouse. It goes on for entirely too long, before someone finally answers. 

“Is she with you?” The person on the other line asks, makes your eyebrows screw up in unfocused recognition. You look to Bakugou for answers, and he finally shows you the caller ID. 

“Yes, I’m here, Yuu.” You breathe out heavily, chest suddenly tightening, your palms getting clammy. You can feel your breath starting to shorten, looking to Bakugou again for answers, but he only rubs a soothing and warm hand up your back, pressing firmly to make you straighten. It was a technique made to help someone with anxiety, and although you never talked about yours, he always seemed to know what to do best with his hands when you were getting worked up. 

“Good. There are a few things we need to discuss.” He tells you, straight to the point, doesn’t even let you get a word in before he starts again. “First and foremost, I want to apologize about what happened to you last week at the gala. But, I also want to apologize for even putting you in the position of having to hide your identity in the first place.” You sink into the couch a little at the weight of his words, exhaling deeply as you straighten your legs, eyes focused intently on the phone Bakugou holds. 

“It was unfair of me to continue to hold you in secrecy, because I wasn’t sure how the world would handle you as an up and coming hero. But, you’ve hidden enough, haven’t you?” Yuu asks, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret with you. You nod slowly, before realizing that he can’t see you. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, throat closing in on you. You’ve always been hidden, been invisible to the world. Before you were kidnapped, while you were experiencing the worst hell for three years, and then again after you escaped. You were so tired of having to hide—it was exhausting. 

“I’ve talked to more of my Hero Commission buddies about you.” Yuu says after a few beats of silence, and it makes you choke out a laugh as you hug your knees to your chest. 

“That sounds terrifying.” You admit, to which Bakugou kind of nods in understanding at that. 

“It was, knowing that my job could’ve been on the line for not detailing your entire history to them when introducing you as a new hero.” He confesses, pausing briefly before his lips smack together as he begins speaking again. 

“But, we all reviewed the footage of you in various battles, both by yourself and with Dynamight, and we believe that you would fit best as a hero, independent of her past and not hidden. How does that sound?” Yuu asks you, and for a second, the world stops around you. 

They…they still want you? Entirely? They don’t want just your quirk, or just what you can offer to society? The Hero Commission wants to bring you fully on board, despite knowing your past, your violence toward those who have done wrong? They want you, unhidden and open and free and—and you? 

“Are you serious?” You whisper, blinking back an onslaught of tears. Bakugou rubs your back, and you look across the coffee table over to Vanity on the other couch. Her mouth is dropped open, her eye wide as she stares at you, unsure of how you’ll answer, of what they’re really offering. 

“As can be.” Yuu states confidently, and you can practically see him nodding his head to you. “You had a lot of heroes vouching for you, you know that? All said you were a good person, and that your cause of being a vigilante wasn’t for naught.” 

You think back on the heroes you got to know in this seemingly short course of time, how many had known of your story and how many were unaware. How they still welcomed you with open arms and treated you so kindly, even if you would hiss at them like some feral cat whenever they got too close. The vouched for you? You couldn’t believe it, the overwhelming presence you somehow had gathered within these people, enough to make them want to fight for you, see you, have you amongst them. 

“We believe that you should take that same courageous outlook on life and put it somewhere with structure, to keep you and the others around you safe.” Yuu finishes, and you all sit there in silence as you take everything he said in. You perk up though, when a question arises, suddenly sinking back into yourself, into Bakugou’s flank. 

“What about my identity?” You whisper, picking at your bottom lip as you stare unseeingly at the ground in front of you. “Will I have to reveal…everything?” Your words make your stomach sink at the thought. People were speculating who you really were, but no one had gotten it right just yet. You knew you should control the narrative before it was spun uncontrollably, but that meant being vulnerable with not just Bakugou or Vanity, but the entirety of Japan. 

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet. 

“That would be the goal, yes. Only for the people to trust you.” Yuu states, his words making your heart feel as though it may burst out of your chest in anxiety. “But, Miruko said she would be willing to step forward and speak alongside with you, if that made you more comfortable.” 

In a sense, it does. Your “case” was never broadcasted to the world, and you later found out that that was because she had killed those men. Heroes weren’t technically supposed to kill villains, but those men had been high profile Yakuza members (and the boss of the clan) wreaking havoc for years. It was justified, but definitely nothing to brag about on the news. Having Miruko there willing to speak the truth about the entirety of the situation was calming, but didn’t completely settle your nerves. 

“I’ll think about it.” You say after a moment or two has passed. Yuu makes a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat, Bakugou and Vanity staring at you intently. 

“Get back to me as soon as you find an answer within yourself. I hope to hear from you.” He says before quickly hanging up. The air in the room is heavy, all of you sitting tensely as his words finally dawn on you. 

“Wow.” Vanity starts with a huff laugh. “My girl’s working her way up to become a full hero, uncovered. Never thought I’d see the day.” She says, although her words sound bittersweet when they spill from her lips. You look at her forlornly, smile barely evident on your face. 

“Me neither. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really.” You mutter, reaching across the coffee table to hold her hands, squeezing her rough palms within your own. “Who else am I gonna fight beside in the street? Him?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder as you make a face of disgust, both of you laughing when Bakugou pinches you softly on your hip. 

“Oi,” he frowns at you, but it doesn’t stay long, not when his eyes are captured by the sight you make in front of him. Looking over your shoulder, grinning, vulnerable. You’re not that angry and terrified person you used to be when he first met you, but he thinks he’s loved you since then, anyway. 

…

You return home with Bakugou that night, after packing up the last of your belongings you still kept hidden away at the warehouse. He holds your hand the entire drive there, afraid that if he lets go, then you might disappear right in front of him again. 

The walk up is quiet, but there’s a certain thickness that lies heavy between the two of you. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself in the elevator ride up, grasping your hips and waist as he kissed every inch of your skin that was visible. As you close the heavy front door behind you both, something changes, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up as you look at him from over your shoulder. 

He’s taking off his jacket, and helps you out of yours. Does the same with his shoes, your shoes, until you’re standing in front of each other, gazing at the others expression. He looks like he wants something, like he wants to pull and hold and grasp, but he’s afraid that his grip may be too tight. That he might hurt you, break you, shatter you right then and there. 

So you make the first move, pulling him into you with a quickness that makes him gasp, a sound you rarely hear from the hero. He’s trained so well, doesn’t surprise easy, and yet here he is; gasping again and again into your mouth with every nip at his lip, every lick of your tongue against his. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. Its your turn to gasp when he suddenly picks you up, wrapping strong hands easily under your thighs as he instantly begins walking. 

He stumbles this way and that, pausing every few steps to push you against the wall, pin you between his stiffening body, his prodding tongue into your mouth. Bakugou steps back from the wall, finally pulling away from your lips to go in the direction of his room, stumbles again when you latch your mouth to his neck. His eyes flutter at the bite you imprint into his skin, falling on the bed, barely catching himself upright on his palms beside your head. 

You both look at each other now, fully. His lips are kiss-swollen and pinker than before, his cheeks rosy and his hair mused from you running your fingers through it. You’re sure you’re in no better condition, with the way you pant and lick your lips, eyes darting down to the heavy weight that rests against your leg. 

“How far do you wanna go?” Bakugou asks you, breathy, licking at your darting tongue quickly. You reach up to push his bangs back from his eyes, heart suddenly hammering in your chest as you think about it. 

Are you really ready for this? Your body is aching for it, has been since before you wanted to fully admit the truth, but—this was a big step. You haven’t slept with someone in ages, but you know that Bakugou would never hurt you, would listen to your every whim, cry, command, and complaint without hesitation. So, with a gulp, you cup his scarred cheek in hand, whisper, 

“All the way.” You confess, pulling him down for another kiss when he moans at your words. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, reaching a hand down to adjust himself in his pants. “Ya sure? I can always stop at anytime if—”

“I’m sure.” You interject with a nod, following his hand to cup him through his pants. That earns you a sharp gasp, his elbows shaking with the weight of keeping himself upright on top of you. His head hangs low and you can’t see his face for a moment before he lifts up again, a fierce look in his eye that sends shivers down your spine. 

“Is it okay if I eat you out first?” Katsuki asks quietly, his voice holding a certain roughness to it that makes your thighs clamp together in shock. “I’ve been wanting to for ages now.”

You lay there for a second, suddenly feeling lightheaded at his question. You swallow a few times, looking at him unblinking, as he licks his lips absentmindedly. 

“Uhh, I don’t know.” You spit out after too long of a moment has passed. Katsuki’s eyebrows go up in surprise, a chuckle forced out of him as he cocks his head to the side in question. 

“You don’t know?” He repeats before kissing your eyelids gently. “I don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, or don’t like it, or whatever, but—”

“I’ve never been eaten out before.” You confess in a hurry, swallowing nervously when his entire body goes rigid. He blinks at you a couple of times before he sits back on his knees, making you raise up on your elbows, frowning. 

“Nobody’s ever put their mouth on your pussy before? Seriously?” Katsuki asks, crude, makes you groan and cover your face as you fall back flat on the bed. 

“Stop being so lewd and just,” you swallow again, voice falling quiet as you peek at him between your hands, legs spreading just slightly around him. “Just do it already.” You give him the permission to, letting him pull your hands away as he hovers over you with the kindest look you think you’ve ever seen him wear. 

“Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He tells you, kissing you once, twice, when you give him an affirmative hum. You help him remove your pants, pulling your own shirt over your head, and his too until you’re only in your underwear, and he’s in his sweatpants. 

Katsuki helps you scoot up his bed until your head rests in his pillows, his scent suddenly wafting around you. It makes your head feel fuzzy and heady, especially when you stare between your legs that rest on his shoulders, and the look he gives you to ask for permission. 

You nod once, already biting at your lip when Katsuki slowly slides your underwear down your legs. He’s seen you before down there, briefly, just a few times, but never this close. Never with his breath wafting over your sensitive hole, never with his eyes drinking in every detail that makes you up, never with his mouth suddenly parting your lips with a thick tongue. 

You gasp at that, hands suddenly grasping for purchase on his throw pillows, his hair, grip tight already. You can feel more than hear Katsuki chuckle at that, leaning back to admire the way you twitch when his thumbs pull your lips apart to expose your hole to his prying eyes. 

“So sensitive,” he whispers when your clit twitches at his breath tickling it, laughing crudely when you pull at his hair. “Sorry, sorry.” He says, full of shit, because he’s back to licking softly all around you until you twist in his sheets. He hasn’t even done much, and you’re already panting, already clamping your thighs around his head. 

In past experiences, you never enjoyed the act of sex much. It was always about your partner, about their pleasure, about getting it done as quick as possible. No one ever took their time with you, and now, it almost feels torturous with the slow licking from clit to taint that Katsuki bestows upon you. 

He sucks your twitching nub into his mouth, tongue rolling against the small bundle of nerves, makes you cry out in surprise. He holds your thighs to his ears, has given up on trying to pry them apart, finds solace in the earmuffs you make for him. Your cries for him are muted, but he figures he can just make you a little louder to hear everything better. 

Katsuki finds your hole again with his tongue, dipping into the softness of you, slurping back the juices that leak out onto his awaiting muscle. He spits it back onto you, crude and nasty, and you can feel his smile when your volume gets a little louder. 

“Can I put a finger in?” He asks you, rests his messy cheek against your thigh when he comes up for air. You moan at the sight of him; hair tussled from your pulling, lips shining with the remnants of you, mouth pulled into a smile at the fucked out look plastered on your pretty face. 

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, feeling like a bobblehead from the desperation that oozes out of you. Katsuki kisses the inside of your thigh in thanks to that, before he’s diving back down to kiss your clit before sucking it back into his mouth. Your eyes clench shut when rubs the pad of his finger over your hole, has zero resistance from pushing in from how wet you’ve gotten. You clench around him though, unused to the penetration, mouth pouting when he slides the entirety of his finger inside the same time he flicks his tongue on the tip of your clit. 

He works you like a musician would a beloved instrument, like a painter would a brush. Katsuki almost feels familiar to your body, like he’s been here time and time beforehand, like he knows you best without you ever having to tell him. 

After a minute or so, does he work his second finger in. This one gives a little resistance, and you pull at his hair when you whine. But he soothes you, as he always does, holding his fingers still, waiting for you to relax around him as he peppers you in kisses and licks and bites. He attaches his mouth to your clit and sucks, eyes falling shut at the sensation of the small bud twitching on his tongue. He lathes over it again and again until he feels you loosen, and only then does he start to crook his fingers inside of you. 

It’s an odd sensation, really, being prepped for sex in such a way that the word intimacy doesn’t even begin to describe it. It makes tears spring to your eyes as your hips start moving on their own, grinding down on his fingers as he encourages you with a moan against your clit. 

“There we go, ride my tongue, baby.” Katsuki moans, and you gasp at that, at the pet name he’s given you. He’s never called you anything besides your name, because of your usual dislike of the terms. But hearing them spill from his lips while they’re lathering all over your cunt is something euphoria doesn’t even begin to touch. 

“Think I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, eyes clenched shut before you force them open to look between your legs. Katsuki has this damn near pornographic look on his face; his eyes have fallen so low, his mouth agape as his tongue swipes over your aching clit, his lips swollen, bottom half of his face messy, hair gripped tight between your fist. 

“Lemme feel it, lemme taste it.” He goads you, grinning when your mouth drops open, eyebrows screwing up as you throw your head back. With only another crook of his fingers inside of you and suck of your clit, do you explode in his mouth, back arching off of the bed. Your toes curl in the air, thighs clamping even tighter around Bakugou’s head, a cry ripping out of your throat as you cum with such an intensity, that your vision blanks for a moment. 

When you come down, its to the sound of Katsuki sucking his own fingers clean, and you think that the sight may actually kill you. You plop back down onto his pillows, and he laughs at you, pressing another kiss to your mound before he crawls up your body. He kisses you, and you feel yourself clench at your own taste ripe on his tongue, moaning into his mouth as you reach down to palm him through his pants. But Katsuki catches your hand, holds it in his own, smiling when you pull back with a frown. 

“Don’t you want me to…?” Your words go unsaid as you look between his legs, at the boner that lays heavily against the constraints of his pants. Katsuki shakes his head at you though, kissing you again, mumbling against your mouth,

“Nah, tonight’s all about you. Lemme show you just how much I missed you.” He whispers. You two fall entangled into the sheets, sharing kisses and quiet laughs as you both fully undress. He pinches your hip when you squeeze at his chest and you moan when he licks at yours. You lay facing each other, his cock poking at your bellybutton as you look between the both of you. 

Katsuki gazes at you from under his lashes, biting at his bottom lip as he rests a hand on your side. He goes to turn you to lay you flat on your back, but you stop him with a firm hand on his chest. He pauses, eyes suddenly getting serious, but you kiss him quiet before he can worry. 

“Let me be in control,” you whisper against his mouth, pulling back to gauge his reaction. Afraid that he may pull away, might reject you, demand that he stay in control. But Katsuki only smiles easily, pulling you in once more for a kiss. 

“Anything for you, baby.” He promises, sounds so sincere that it makes a few things throb. Without another word, Katsuki lets you roll him over until he rests his head in the pillows, handing you the condom he plucks out from his nightstand. 

“This better be a new, unused pack.” You mutter, ripping the condom open. He laughs at that, holding your hips firm as you sit on top of him. His cock is warm and rigid when you hold it in your hands, slowly rolling the condom on with such precision, that his heart swells. 

“Got ‘em when we first started doing…stuff together.” Katsuki confesses, biting at his lip when you wrap your hand around his shaft. His eyes follow your movements, how you raise on your knees above him, take in a shaky breath as you look down your nose at him. 

“Expecting to get some?” You ask softly, parting your lips with your free hand as you grip him firmly in the other. Katsuki chokes at that, nails digging into your skin as he holds you tightly. 

“I was hopeful,” he confesses, as a groan rips through his clenched teeth when you slowly start to sink down onto his cock. You suck in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed at the slight sting that eats away at you. He’s so fuckin’ thick, you feel like you’re being split open. But you lean over him, mouth falling open in a moan as you work your way up and down slowly, tongue flicking out to tease at his bottom lip. 

“Fuckin’ pervert.” You snarl at him playfully, sudden smile gone when his hips buck ever so slightly at your words. “Never woulda thought degradation would be your thing.” You mumble, gazing between your legs to see that you’re more than halfway down. Gods, it feels like its never ending, but the pleasure is so min numbingly delicious, you can’t help but chase after the fullness. 

“Anything you do suddenly becomes my thing,” Katsuki confesses, rubbing a soothing hand when you start to quiver the closer you get to dropping all the way down. And when you do—you think you finally understand what bliss truly feels like. 

He guides you as you ride him, but he gives you full control the entire time. Holds you sturdy without controlling the pace, accepts every kiss you press to his mouth, moans lewdly whenever you clench around him. He palms your tits and rubs his thumb over your nipples, cock twitching every time you throw your head back in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moan, eyes clenched shut as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Katsuki holds you tight to him, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug as he resists the urge to start snapping his hips up into you. You wanted control and he would let you have every second of it that you desired. 

Your pace is slow, not torturous, but enough to leave the aching build of climax just a touch away. You turn your head to capture his lips in a kiss, the softest one yet, and he holds you so close to him, you think you’ve fused into one. 

You cum first, without surprise, when his fingers find your clit pressed between your bodies. His thick fingertips are rough and rub against you just right, send you soaring over the edge as you cling to him. You cry out softly, clenching around him so tight that he fills the condom quicker than he ever expected to. 

You both lay there for a while, holding each other, trying to gather your breaths as you take everything in. You just had sex—good sex, with Number Four hero Dynamight, your boyfriend. If you would’ve told this to yourself a year ago, you wouldn’t have believed it. But now, it all makes sense; everything falls into place perfectly. 

“I love you.” You confess when you think he may have fallen asleep, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder. But Katsuki tenses at that, in surprise, before he relaxes. He guides your face gently from his skin, so that you can take in the flushed look on his face, and he can take in the contented one of yours. 

“I love you.” He repeats, voice soft, carmine eyes bouncing all over your face before they meet your gaze. You take him in for another second before you kiss him again and again and again and think—this feels right. Nothing has ever felt more right than this. 

chapter fourteen (final chapter)

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan @blueshome

[annasinterests]

I See Fire

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: i'm dedicating this to my love @tinygarbage because the percy brainrot has been unreal for both of us. i thought this up after watching a tiktok (pls don't ask me i literally watched it once, swiped out of the app, then threw my phone across the room) and so this is what we got fellers. ALSO, one line is directly inspired by/from the D&D movie, so i give credit to my boy edgin because honestly the scene about him being so unapologetically honest about his mistakes was everything to me (i also guessed his dialogue word-for-word that entire time and was RIGHT). honestly thinking ab whether or not if i wanna make a part 2 to this..

divider by @saradika ! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 682 words (who knew i could actually write under 1k)

pairings: percy de rolo x reader

warnings & tags: angst, past trauma, arguing, cursing, miscommunication, unresolved ending

“No!-” You seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides, “Don’t you get it?”

Percy scoffed, “You ask that like I should know, and I don’t!” He raised a pointed finger to you, “How can I when all you ever do is leave us in the dark!”

Your jaw clenches as you turn away. White-hot anger blazed your body and blotted out everything else, even the tears that brimmed your eyes and streaked your cheeks.

“Always putting yourself at an arm’s distance, acting like you have the biggest burden to carry– well, guess what? We all have shit of our own!” His rigid tone made your face scrunch up. “You push away every single person that tries to get under the surface, including us! We’re supposed to be a team, damn it!”

You hated him. His pompous attitude and sense of entitlement, as if he’s somehow better than everyone else, or deserves explanations for things that don’t concern him. You hated his stupid glasses that made him look pretentious as hell, and that unnecessary trench coat he wore at all times. And the way he constantly whips out some sort of contraption that leaves the others in awe, stroking his ego, but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

But what you really hated, arguably most of all, was that he saw you. Right through all the acts and walls you put up to protect yourself– a promise that there’d be no more pain and tears for as long as you lived out your days.

A promise now shattered.

“Without trust, we are nothing.” The words are venomous, so full of exasperation that it strains his voice on the last word.

A sigh and some shuffling follows a moment or two after, and all you can think is how he’s undeniably soothing the crease between his brows while his other hand rests on his hip, a classic pose of his in high-stress situations. Not that you ever paid attention…

“Believe me, it’s not worth living life that way.” His voice was softer, almost apologetic, “It’s… lonely.”

Had you been completely blinded by your own emotions, you would’ve taken the opportunity to tell him to shove it and kick rocks, but you spared him.

“I, too, thought it was easier. I’d seen my loved ones hunted like game, my own sister betrayed our family name, Whitestone had been–”

“Whitestone still stands,” you snap harshly, abruptly cutting him off. “My home does not.”

It’s then you finally turn back to him with a chilling glare and darkened features. His expression drops to widened eyes and slightly raised brows, clear that he’d not been expecting that response. But now it started, and you couldn’t stop.

“My friends do not– my family does not.” The words are registering at higher decibels that burn your throat after each word, “My life– everything!”

You march up to him, squaring up before his infuriatingly tall frame, locking eyes with his. You were shouting in his face, reaching a point of zenith you didn’t know you had, your vocal cords raw and sore that you were sure they could snap at any moment.

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me and it was all my fault!”

Your body is trembling from the sheer force of the confession, and the air isn’t getting to your lungs the way you need it to right now. Your eyes, narrowed and fierce, fight to maintain their focus, but that buried, broken part of you is clawing its way out with a strength you can’t compete against.

His eyes flicker between yours, his face softened by a frown. You force yourself to look anywhere but his pitying gaze; you don’t need or want it, especially from him. You hastily wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, take a sharp breath in, and then exhale deeply. Out of all people, you couldn’t believe the one person to break you down would be none other than fucking Percival Fredrickstein von Mu—

“You don’t really believe that… do you?”

Yes, of course I do.