#so here it is in all its sports emotion glory

[megalony]

Aiming For Her

This is my first Gladiator imagine for General Acacius x reader, I hope you will all like it. Inspired by a lovely anon asking for some protective Acacius imagines.

Please let me know what you think.

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Summary: When Acacius comes back from war, there are games held in his honour. But when he and his wife attend the games, a gladiator with a vendetta tries to harm (Y/n).

Enjoy.

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"We don't have to go."

"The games are held in honour of Rome… of you. I dare say your absence would be noticed." (Y/n) arched a brow as she looked across the room towards her husband.

She could see the unease hiding within those dark eyes that could never quite mask his emotions no matter how hard he practised and tried.

The General wasn't always one for games, especially when the sport always involved death. He could kill in battle, he could maim and attack and bring an unholy amount of death because it was for the glory of Rome and for his people. But seeing his own people attack each other for sport, for the thrill of others, it was something Acacius couldn't abide by.

He didn't want to go to the colosseum and witness the games, he would rather remain here in their home, where he had been absent for almost four months. While he and his army had been on a voyage to secure more territory in the name of Rome and its Emperors.

"You think so?" Acacius's voice was quiet and held a little humour as he managed a smile.

Something warm flashed across his face when he turned in his wife's direction and he watched as she reached one hand out for him. Her other hand pressed down into the mattress, propping herself up so she didn't fall flat on her back on the bed. Although she looked like she was about to lie down with how reclined she was at an angle.

Her fingers twitched and danced through the air like she was casting some kind of spell, beckoning him over to her. He obliged within an instant and crossed the room to take her hand and sit down beside her on the bed.

A genuine smile pulled at his lips when (Y/n) entwined their fingers together. He loved the way she rested her cheek on his shoulder and pulled his hand to rest on her lap.

"The Emperors want you there to celebrate." (Y/n) began gliding her thumb across the back of Acacius's hand while her feet softly tapped against the marbled floor.

She knew both Emperors would want Acacius to be at the colosseum all week for the games. They would want him there to show support, to be a united front and show the people that this was indeed a cause and time for celebration. If Acacius wasn't there, the people of Rome might think something was amiss or that he didn't revel in their victories. His presence was required, no matter how uneasy it might make him feel.

A sigh parted past his lips as he turned his head to the right and smothered his lips in the top of her hair.

"Then we must attend." He didn't sound pleased and (Y/n) grinned knowingly while she squeezed his hand. "How are you feeling?"

(Y/n)'s teeth sank down into her lower lip, obscuring her smile as she sucked in a deep breath when she felt Acacius move their entwined hands so the back of his fingers and knuckles brushed over her stomach. She watched his movements for a moment as his hand moved across her stomach, ruffling her dress. A dress which (Y/n) had needed the threads loosening on and the belt removed to make room for her growing bump.

"Oh no, you're not using me as you're excuse not to attend. We're just fine."

She could feel him groaning into her hair as his other hand moved around to cup the back of her neck and he reeled her in closer into his embrace.

(Y/n) knew what had crossed his mind. If she said she wasn't feeling well or didn't feel like attending the games, then Acacius wouldn't attend either and he would have the perfect excuse not to attend. No one would deny him if he said he needed to stay and attend to his pregnant wife rather than watch the games at the colosseum.

But (Y/n) felt well in herself, her health was just so and she wouldn't enrage the Emperors or disturb the people of Rome. And she certainly wouldn't be the excuse her husband used to get out of official duties.

"You know me so well." Acacius murmured into her hair before he leaned back just enough so that he could move both hands to her stomach. His fingers roamed her curves and that charming smile pulled at his lips as his eyes creased when he looked down at her.

Sometimes it still surprised (Y/n) how Acacius would look at her like she was a Goddess amongst mortals. He stared at her like she was the only beauty in Rome, and she hoped he would never stop looking at her like that.

"As I should." (Y/n) whispered before she closed the space between them and kissed his lips. Her arm curved around the back of his neck and her fingers toyed with the collar of his robe and brushed against the short hairs at the base of his head, causing him to shiver against her.

Perhaps he didn't want to attend the gladiator games, but at least he would be in the company of his wife.

After being parted from her for near on four months, Acacius was finally back in her company and he would go anywhere and endure anything if it meant being back by her side again.

(Y/n) did her best to form a calming smile while she discretely took a step to the right until she was pressed flush up against Acacius's side. Her right hand was looped through his elbow and her other hand stretched across her front to grip his forearm as if she thought he might just walk away and leave her here.

Her cheek pressed against his arm, feeling the smooth silk of his crystal white robe drag along her skin which contrasted to the cold metal of his golden armour.

It was soothing to feel Acacius's hand overlap hers and his elbow tightened, pinning her arm into his side to silently reassure her. They would endure these games together and as soon as politely possible, they would excuse themselves when the games were finished and retreat home.

When Acacius motioned his hand to the two seats on his right, (Y/n) felt a large wave of relief wash over her.

It was always curteous and righteous for everyone to sit below or behind the Emperors. They were the highest authority in Rome, after all. And (Y/n) was glad to be sat behind them both right now as it meant she and Acacius weren't at the front of the royal box in the colosseum. It allowed them to sit and behold the games without feeling like they were spectacles themselves or that they too were being observed and watched.

(Y/n) never liked people paying any attention to her, not unless it was Acacius.

She felt Acacius's arm slip from her hold so his hand could move to the small of her back. And his other hand moved to take her hand so he was holding onto her as they both sat down.

Once they were sat down, (Y/n) smoothed her hands along her pale golden dress that fanned out towards her ankles and hung on her shoulders with thin straps and golden hoops. She pulled at the crinkles and ruffles, patting them down and making sure the material wasn't bunched around her stomach that seemed to get in the way of most things these days. Less than two months, and her growing size wouldn't be a problem anymore. There would be a baby in her arms to show for her ever changing shape over these last seven months.

Her eyes seemed to cast around the entire colosseum as if she were looking for threats or for anyone who might be watching them and paying them any attention.

She couldn't help but try to adjust her dress again, becoming nervous made (Y/n) find things to fiddle with and straighten out. An old habit she gained from her mother who imposed on her the need to 'always look your best.'

Her fingers hooked into the strap on her shoulder but she felt her husband's hand curl around hers and bring her hand to rest on his lap before she had chance to start straightening the straps. He knew what she was doing.

Acacius leaned to his left and hovered his lips near (Y/n)'s ear, close enough to whisper "You look lovely." and ensure that no one else heard.

She didn't need to fiddle with her dress or try and pull up the straps to adjust the length and position of the fabric. The dress was cut rather daringly over her chest and cleavage but not so much that anyone would think it was inappropriate. (Y/n) didn't have to worry.

(Y/n) nodded and leaned over to press a soft kiss to his cheek which seemed to ignite his smile and make him relax. His head and body inclined to the left towards his wife; he would always gravitate towards her.

Acacius could well indeed get through the games today if (Y/n) was glued to his side like this. He could let his mind wander and ignore the games and focus on the woman sat beside him who seemed to cloud every one of Acacius's senses.

A smile flooded his lips when (Y/n) tangled her hand with his and her head leant on his shoulder as she cosied up into his side.

When the crowd roared as the first announcement bellowed out, (Y/n) tried to cast her eyes back down to the arena and try to focus, but it was hard. It was hard to focus when she wasn't entertained by these events and she didn't wish to see people maiming and murdering one another in the name of sport. In the name of Rome.

She could see that her husband wasn't truly entertained by the events either. The look on Acacius's face was plain and unmoving and if any of the gladiators happened to look at him for approval or encouragement, they would be highly disappointed.

"You might at least try to look amused," (Y/n) dug her chin into his shoulder so she could look up at him, taking in the profile of his face and those hardened features that looked as if they were carved from marble.

She watched the way his lips curved up at one side just enough to show her a smile, but to the rest of the audience in the colosseum, he would still look blank and stoic. Acacius cast his eyes down towards his wife while he gave her hand a squeeze.

It was hard to pretend these games were entertaining or that he thought they should be rejoicing when it didn't feel like a victory. The amount of lives they had taken and the amount of men in his troop which he had lost made Acacius feel like the land they had acquired in the name of Rome wasn't truly worth it. How could they truly celebrate when hundreds of men in their troops were no longer here?

Acacius would celebrate if this victory would have been enough for the two Emperors. If they had been satisfied and weren't already planning another campaign then Acacius would have given in and let himself bask in the victory they were so proud of.

"I'll smile when it's over." He muttered against her temple where his lips rested for a while. He would look more amused when they could leave and he could take (Y/n) back home.

(Y/n) hummed, smiling at his words as she went back to resting her cheek on his shoulder, leaning into him as much as she could with the arm rests of their chairs being in the way. She kept her right hand entwined with Acacius's while her other hand began tracing the various scars marring his tanned arm. It gave her something to focus on rather than the games which were now taking place before them.

"The gladiators, and their barbarian leader."

(Y/n) felt the way her husband tensed beside her when the announcement was made. She cast her eyes back up to him and sat up straight in her chair when Acacius leant forward. His right hand gripped the arm of his chair and his brows narrowed as he inclined to try and see the boat that was sailing into the arena.

Acacius wanted to watch the inferior ship sail out into the centre of the colosseum that had been flooded with salt water and filled with the deadliest of sea animals. He wanted to see if the barbarian was the one who he had seen when he seized the latest colony. If it was the same man who had stared at him like the plague when Acacius and his men had broken through the walls surrounding their city.

"What is it?" (Y/n) knew that look in his eyes, she knew that concentration and slight unease that was written across his face.

"We took that one prisoner and brought him back… he's smart, knows how to survive."

"And you don't trust him." It was more of a statement than a question as (Y/n) turned her head back to try and figure out which one her husband was referring to. It didn't take long to find him.

It was hard to miss the one the rest of the gladiators were looking up to, the one they were waiting to take orders from. The one with the brown, torn robes that looked more like a sac than any proper clothing material. (Y/n) wondered if he bared his teeth if they would be filed down and razor sharp. The gladiators who did that always made (Y/n) uneasy.

It took a lot of time and strength to chomp filed teeth like that into flesh and tear it apart. It was ungodly and unnaturally gruesome.

"I wouldn't trust any of them, but there's something about that one. He's trouble." Acacius dragged his free hand along his lips and down across his beard as he tried to relax and lean back in his seat again.

His eyes cast over to his wife when she began tracing her hand up and down his arm, something she often did to calm him down and make him feel at ease. He loved how much of a Goddess she looked when she tilted her chin high and inclined her head towards him with her eyes fully focused on the two ships sailing in the arena.

"I wouldn't trust him. A smart survivor like that, you never know what they've done to stay alive."

Acacius found himself muttering "Indeed," as he nodded at her words which were very true and to the point. He had no idea what that barbarian had done in his life or what he was willing to do in order to get through these games and keep his life. And if he had an ulterior motive, that would make him doubly dangerous.

When the game officially began, (Y/n) leaned forward a little to watch the entrance.

She found herself observing the colour of the water more than the ships that were slowly turning to face one another. But when she turned to look to her right, staring at her husband felt more compelling than staring at the water which was undoubtedly going to be tainted crimson at any given moment.

Of course gold was the colour of royalty and while that was what both the Emperors were wearing, no one else in this viewing box should be wearing too much of that same colour. But seeing Acacius wearing pure white with only streaks of gold and silver threaded through, it made (Y/n) think that her husband looked more regal than the rest of them.

His robes were white and glistened in the midday sun and the armour over the top of his robes was as white and pure as crystals. The embellishments and creatures in the centre of his armour were glistening in pale gold that verged on silver unless the sun was shining directly onto his armour. And the thread and tassels on his cape that sat loose on his shoulders was pale yellow like daffodils in the spring.

(Y/n) wasn't sure how anyone could look at the Emperors when her General was sat right beside her like a beacon.

The roaring of the crowds brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and made her sink back in her seat. She didn't slouch or shuffle down, it wouldn't do her any good to give off an uninterested look or seem rude. She was wife to a General, looks had to be maintained. She kept her posture but still leaned towards the right so she was pressing against Acacius's side.

Her eyes trailed along the arena but when she realised why the crowds were uproaring and cheering, her lips curled and a disgruntled look passed over her features which turned away from the arena and in Acacius's direction instead.

"How horrific," She murmured in distaste, refusing to look towards the water which, as she had anticipated, was now tainted with blood.

The beautiful sapphire blue was now plagued with red that was tinged black and made her stomach churn. (Y/n) didn't want to look and see the creatures that were devouring a poor man that had been launched off the side of one of the boats. And she certainly didn't want to see any floating remains or broken pieces of bone or ripped chunks of flesh bobbing in the water.

Her gaze constantly switched between the scene and her surroundings, trying to find different ways to amuse and occupy herself to distract from the massacre. (Y/n) knew when they eventually got back home, her head would be splitting from the noise that seemed to echo around the colosseum. She didn't know how Acacius and the Emperors could endure such noise like this and such pandemonium on a larger, more frequent scale like they did.

When the inferior gladiator ship crashed into their rivalling ship, (Y/n) quickly looked back down towards the arena.

The breaking of wood and the groaning and creaking was enough to shake the walls of the colosseum and the roars of men falling into the clutches of sharks and becoming snagged on barbaric teeth made (Y/n) shiver. She tried to steel her expression and hold herself steady when she wanted to shake and wince at the sight and sounds.

After a while, the atmosphere became one and the same and (Y/n) did her best to drown it out. Every now and then her hand tightened around Acacius's and her eyes were mainly watching him rather than the arena, not that he minded at all. Acacius found it endearing.

He liked how he was like a muse to his wife, how she preferred to watch him than the massacre down in the arena. He could feel the love burning through her gaze and onto him and it made a warmth spread through his bones.

When he tore his eyes away from the arena that closely resembled Acacius's everyday sights when he was away at war, he looked towards his wife.

Her eyes were cast down to their entwined hands, although she looked like she was far away in her mind. But Acacius smiled when he noticed her other hand was now dragging along her stomach. She wasn't smoothing out the creases anymore like she had been earlier, she was simply tracing her stomach like she was trying to soothe or connect to the baby. And it made Acacius's heart soar.

Both their eyes glanced ahead of them when they heard the Emperor Caracalla eagerly bidding the warriors on. His fist smashed down into the arm rest which (Y/n) was sure caused the goblet in his other hand to shake and cause wine to dribble along his hand, not that he seemed to care. He was too caught up in the fight to notice anything else.

(Y/n) couldn't understand how anyone, whether it be the Emperors themselves or the crowds in the colosseum, could eagerly want such carnage and gore. The people of Rome seemed to love the sight and the rage laid out before them, whereas it was pointless and silly to (Y/n). Fighting was one thing, but to fight to the death for nothing more than sport simply seemed like a waste.

And she knew her husband felt the same. Acacius had to watch his men die when they went to war in the name of Rome and its Emperors. To then see people murdering each other like this without cause or justification, it was an insult.

When the ships were merged into one mass of broken wood and water and fighting men blurring together, Acacius tightened his hand around (Y/n)'s.

He couldn't help the way he leaned forward and his brows furrowed as he stared down at the gladiators. They seemed to be getting too rowdy. Too close to the edges of the arena and with the elevated water levels, they were too close to the audience. To the Emperors. They were getting out of control.

Acacius didn't like this, something didn't feel right about this situation.

An arrow shot through the air.

The noise of the crowds drowned out the sound of the arrow cutting through the atmosphere like a whip. (Y/n) barely recognised what it was that she saw out the corner of her eye; a flash of silver, something glistening in the bright midday sun like a beacon.

But when it hit her chair and sent the wood trembling, (Y/n)'s head whipped to the left to see what it was.

A violent scream tore past (Y/n)'s lips and her hand yanked out of Acacius's grip as she bolted up from her seat.

"What? Love, what-" Acacius stretched his hand out and grabbed (Y/n)'s arm before she could step away as his eyes followed her, frantically trying to assess what was wrong.

She had jerked out of her seat and pulled away from him without a word and her scream had pierced through Acacius's heart and sent him shivering. He was trembling and his heart was pounding against his chest before he even knew what had spooked his wife.

But when Acacius looked to the left, his nose scrunched up and his lips curled into a sinister snarl.

One of those barbarians had shot an arrow- which had almost hit her. Less than a foot higher and that arrow would have been in range of her head. One inch to the side and his wife would have been killed.

He bolted to his feet just as both Emperors stood up, unsure what to do as the gladiators continued to fight and get closer and closer to the edge of the arena. And he heard Emperor Geta shouting and raging "Pretorians!" while Emperor Caracalla launched his goblet down into the scene as if it would help or prevent them from trying that stunt again.

Acacius found his grip on his wife's arm tightening until he must have been hurting her and cutting off her circulation, but he couldn't let go. He couldn't do anything but grip and pull her arm to get her beside him rather than stood in front of him like she was.

Her body was trembling and a sheen of sweat glistened on her skin as her panicked eyes flitted about the arena to try and decipher who aimed that arrow and if they were about to do it again.

But as (Y/n) tried to find the one responsible, she realised she couldn't really see the gladiators properly, or at all. Not with how fuzzy her head was starting to feel and the adrenaline coursing through her veins was making her vision blur. The only thing her eyes could focus on was the sandals on her feet when her head tilted down to try and prevent the lightheaded feeling from overtaking her.

"Enough!"

"Get them caged!"

Acacius narrowed his eyes as he stepped forward to try and look through the wreckage of ships to see the gladiators. He had a sickening, twisting feeling in his gut that he knew which gladiator had taken that faithful shot. The one who had been lucky enough and smart enough to make it this far with his life.

Their eyes met. Acacius's gaze interlocked with that one younger gladiator who had so much hatred and malice in his eyes that he looked like an inferno. His lips were quirked into a sickening smile as he stood on the edge of the ship, braced near the wall with hunched shoulders and a heaving chest.

He looked away. Acacius tried to control his breathing and focus on his wife who looked like she was going into a trance. But he just happened to look back down to the arena. He wasn't sure why, it could have been intuition or simply paranoia.

But the moment Acacius looked back down to the arena, his body turned cold and rigid and a strangled sound gurgled at the back of his throat.

The gladiator was poised with another arrow.

"Get down!"

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s system when her husband's hand left her arm and instead deadlocked at the base of her neck. She felt his other arm grappling for her waist but before she knew what he was doing, he lunged forward, pushing her until her balance was lost and she toppled down to her knees.

Her knees crashed into the stone floor and sent shockwaves pulsing through her blood and she gasped for any bubble of air that she could gain.

(Y/n)'s left hand splayed out against the back of Emperor Caracalla's chair but her right hand stabilised against Acacius's thigh. Every part of her began to shake and when her vision blurred she felt like she had no choice but to snap her eyes tightly closed.

Her chin tucked down into her chest as the back of her neck ached from where Acacius had tried to push her down in haste. His hand was still pressing down on her neck, but not nearly as harshly and powerfully as when he ushered her to the ground.

She could feel his other hand which had found purchase on her arm but it was the feeling of his armour pressing into her back that started to ground (Y/n) more than anything else.

He was curled around her. He was becoming a suit of armour for her. He was protecting her.

The feeling of each harsh breath Acacius took fanned against (Y/n)'s shoulder and she tried her best to copy his pattern of breathing, but it wasn't working very well. She couldn't get herself to breathe when her body felt like it was shutting down and becoming overrought with panic.

It took all of Acacius's strength and willpower to be able to turn his head to look behind them.

Another arrow. This time, lodged into the centre of the chair (Y/n) had previously been occupying.

That gladiator had been aiming for her; both times.

What had Acacius done? What crime or action did he commit against that Gladiator to warrant this? Was this revenge for Acacius taking him and the other men as prisoners of war? Was this his way of retaliation and seeking action because he had been bested in his home town and couldn't defend it?

Acacius didn't know that gladiator, he only recognised him as a face which had been taken as prisoner and not killed. He had been spared when the city was surrendered, that gladiator could just have easily have been killed. Granted, Acacius's actions had led to him being put in the arena, but that wasn't by choice. Acacius hadn't chosen for him to be a gladiator and put in the arena, he hadn't caused any of this.

And why not just kill Acacius if that was the case? Why create such torment and anguish as to try and murder his wife instead?

"Are you okay? Love, love talk to me."

(Y/n) couldn't speak, she didn't feel like she had enough control or any words to come up with something to say.

She tried to focus on Acacius's movements when his hand left the back of her neck in favour of pressing against the small of her back. And his other hand reached over to squeeze her thigh, gripping tight like he wanted to pierce through the flesh.

Her trembling hands both deadlocked around his wrist that was resting against her thigh and she managed to crane her head to the right to look up at him. But she couldn't see him through the tears beginning to stream down her face. Bells were ringing in her ears. Her body was trembling like an invisible force was rocking her back and forth. Her skin had gone cold and clammy and she could feel her dress sticking to her skin with sweat.

In almost every sense of the word, (Y/n) was not okay; but at least she wasn't skewered on an arrow.

Lifting his head, Acacius took a look around. Both Emperors had moved towards the corner of the viewing box where guards were now rushing towards them to make sure they were both alright and unharmed. Lucilla and her husband who had been on the other side of the box had both been ushered out as they were closest to the doors.

Acacius looked down towards the arena. Clearly filling the arena with water made it troublesome to get the gladiators back into their cells underground and keep them all in line and in control. But most of them were either being grabbed, shackled and ushered onto a boat controlled by guards. And some were taking the risk of jumping into the water where they would most definitely be maimed by whatever creatures were swarming beneath the water.

It looked safe enough to get up now, to usher his wife out of here and get her back to some sense of safety.

When Acacius locked eyes with one of the guards, he moved his hand from (Y/n) to wave towards the doors. "Get the Emperors out." He hissed in such a gruff tone of voice that the guards visibly trembled. It seemed the most basic and obvious thing to do yet they hadn't done it yet.

"We need to leave now." His words were oddly soft when he whispered them against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear.

Both his hands moved to grip either side of her waist and he tried to pull (Y/n) up along with him, ushering her to move rather than to stay curled up here. He had a feeling that if he didn't move her or quite possibly drag her, she would stay here for an eternity.

Once they were both up on their feet again, Acacius watched with a growing sense of panic as his wife started to tremble. Her hands shakily latched themselves around Acacius's forearm when his right arm bound over her waist. While his left arm secured around her back and his hand found purchase on her hip, pulling her against his chest in case she felt unstable or like she wouldn't be able to walk out of here in one piece.

A quiet mewl left (Y/n)'s lips and tears began to streak down her face when Acacius practically dragged her out and into the secluded halls of the colosseum. Her fingers scratched down into his exposed forearm and her head dropped onto his shoulder. She hated how much she was leaning into him and how he was holding her weight up for her.

She was barely moving her legs at all, her feet were shuffling against the dusty stone floor as Acacius powered down the hall, steering her along with him like she weighed nothing more than a feather.

"It's okay, you're okay my love." Each word was whispered in a rush against the side of her temple and (Y/n) tried to focus on those words and that feeling.

The feeling of his lips against her burning skin, the sensation of his beard tickling her otherwise clammy, numb skin. And the feeling of each breath he took which caused his armour to press into her back and arm as his arms tightened around her and his fingers almost punctured into her hip.

There was an internal debate inside Acacius about whether to go back to the palace with the Emperors or go home. He knew which his heart was telling him to do and which would be better for (Y/n). Going home would be better. But when he looked ahead as they exited the colosseum, it seemed the choice had been made for him.

The carriage waiting to take the Emperors both back to the palace still had the door wide open. They were waiting for them.

Well, the safest place to be after something like this was at a palace where there were guards on every floor, on every door, watching every person who walked the halls.

And he could tell that (Y/n) didn't register where they were going or indeed what they were doing. The moment they were sat in the carriage, (Y/n)'s eyes fell closed and her head flopped onto Acacius's shoulder like all the energy and life had been drained from her.

The ride to the palace was silent and uncomfortable. The only sound was each of their laboured breaths and the odd huff here and there.

Acacius kept his lips pressed against (Y/n)'s temple, his body turned to the left to he facing her which also allowed his eyes to focus out the window behind her. Watching the passing scenery stopped Acacius from going mad, from wanting to turn the carriage around and go find that gladiator who thought he had the right to harm (Y/n) like that.

His hand moved to cup the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he was relieved when he felt her hand reach up to grip his wrist. Other than that touch, she barely moved at all and it was worrying Acacius to no end.

(Y/n) didn't feel like she had the ability to move when the carriage finally stopped. She was glad when both the Emperors stormed out of the carriage, followed by a procession of guards who were ready and waiting to escort them.

The moment they were gone, (Y/n) let go of Acacius's wrist in favour of looping her arm around his neck to bind herself to him. Her face smothered against his neck and she leaned in closer until she was pressed up into his chest.

"Do you feel alright?" Acacius knew he was asking a variant of the same question over and over, but she hadn't given him an answer any of the times he'd asked.

Both arrows missing (Y/n) didn't mean a thing when she was clearly in distress and could very well be unwell or suddenly overcome with illness and shock.

(Y/n) didn't want to answer, partly because she felt numb and partly because she didn't want to say she felt unwell when she hadn't technically been hurt. She could have ended up a lot worse, she could have an arrow through the heart or her head or her arm.

Not to mention the fact that if the arrow had gone anywhere around her torso, they would certainly have lost their baby.

The very thought of that arrow harming the baby caused more tears to flush down (Y/n)'s face and soak into Acacius's neck. She felt silly for crying, for feeling so fragile and panicked and shocked, but those arrows had come close to ending her life and the life of their child.

"I don't know." It seemed like the best and most truthful answer to give, and (Y/n) could tell it unsettled her husband by the way he tensed and gripped her tighter.

"Then we should get you inside."

"Not yet. I- please?" (Y/n) wasn't sure what or even why she was pleading, but she tightened her arm around his neck all the same and leaned herself further into the cold armour cladding his chest as if to persuade him.

She didn't want to go inside and be surrounded by guards and infuriated people and raised voices and questions and shouting. She wanted to stay here for a while, a moment, even just a second longer and be with her husband and him alone.

"Okay," He hummed against her temple, closing his eyes as his hand began to feather up and down her back. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

(Y/n) nodded against his neck, trying her best to calm her breathing by inhaling his scent and focusing on each deep breath he took and the thrumming of his pulse. It didn't work so well when she could feel the baby kicking and squirming and making her stomach twist and ache. And when she felt Acacius's hand move, (Y/n) gently held his wrist with her free hand and moved his palm round to her stomach to feel how shaken the baby was.

She hoped the shock hadn't done anything to the baby. They still had another two months to go.

[kindestofkings]

what came first, the chicken or the dickhead?

[smau]

f1driver!reader x lando norris (eventually, friends to lovers ofc)

authors note: this is so dramatic and for what! sorry to pierre for making you the villian, and lets pretend ferrari isnt as shit as it currently is! lol enjoy, would love to know what you think <333

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo and others

yourusername tough day in the office today, mexico '22 is just not to be I guess. As always a learning curve and we will grow from todays DNF 😞

See you soon Brazil !!

view all 500 comments

ynfan1 we are still so proud of you! keep pushing 👍

f1fan this is literally what you get for trying to compete in a MALE sport

f1fan2 fr she's bringing down pierre and the team f1fan3 too emotional for the big leagues ynfan2 stfu you do realise your favourite MALE drivers dnf all the time aswell

alphataurif1 we come back stronger!!

yourusername 👊👊

alex_albon lily is wondering would going for ice cream cheer you up?

yourusername I love her, yes please 🥹 landonorris I'm coming yourusername nuh huh its for us pointless drivers! landonorris come on it was only 2..

f1fan4 lando norizz trying to make it a double date lollll

f1fan5 bro chill these two have been friends since literal birth

alphataurif1

liked by yourusername and others

alphataurif1 the difference 2 weeks can make! our girl yourusername is starting pole position on sunday here in brazil 🔥

view all 150 comments

yourusername woohoo roll on sunday!!

ynfan1 go bestie go !

ynfan2 AT moving up💪

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername great work achieved today, the car and track felt good. hopefully we can convert this position into some points to finish of the season on a high, all we need is team work on the track (and for max's alarm to not go off so he misses the race 😀)

view all 290 comments 

maxverstappen1 why the personal attack

yourusername WHY do you have to win every week, surely you are bored by it by now ... charles_leclerc I agree, maybe take a week off? f1fan2 hahah these two i'm obsessed

landonorris please do well but not TOO well, just stay behind me 👍

yourusername and look at your ass all race? hard pass

ynfan1 that mention of teamwork is a lil suss...

ynfan2 not really?? it is a team sport ynfan1 yeah but do you not find it weird how unfriendly yourusername and pierregasly are, despite them being on the same team? f1fan tbf I have always noticed how forced their videos are together. and they dont even follow each other

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others 

yourusername lollll ruining my career one interview at a time, but at least we hit the clubs looking fire 🔥

p.s. I stand by what I've said I only have apologies for two people 1) my pr manager (who I dont pay enough for this) and 2) charles for linking your name to this hot mess!

view all 660 comments

landonorris it's so great being the unproblematic one 😎

yourusername does mcclaren need another golden driver from bristol??? I fear im out of a seat soon .. ynfan1 this is so sad you are way to talented of a driver to be out of a suit

charles_leclerc No worries 😅 Just make sure you buy me dinner next time before dragging me into the chaos. 🍽️🤷‍♂️

yourusername you got it prince of monaco! f1fan2 PLEASE PLEASE DATE ynfan2 ewww no her and lando are so so in love they're just too blind and stupid

danielricciardo absolute legend behaviour mate!!

yourusername learning from the best danny ric 😎

alphataurif1 and yourusername

Liked by landonorris and others

alphataurif1 From grid battles to glory laps! 🏁✨ Our unstoppable driver just clinched her FIRST WIN at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix! 🏆 Watch out, world – she's rewriting the history books and leaving her mark on the track. 🚀🌟

#AlphaQueen #AbuDhabiWinner

view all 444 comments

danielricciardo What a race! Big congrats, yourusername. That first win feeling is something else! Enjoy every moment!

alex_albon: absolutely smashed it! huge congratulations on your first win!

carlossainz55 felicidades!!

susie_wolff: breaking barriers and making history! huge congratulations on your first win!

yourusername AHHHHH I CANT BELIEVE IT ! I LOVE YOU TEAM !!

ynfan1 lando where is your congrats you are slippinnn!!

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and others

landonorris I've never been this happy to lose, but it's pretty cool seeing your best friend win in her rookie year. EVEN if she beaten me to it 😞

view all 150 comments

yourusername LANDOOOO you are a the bestest friend ever

yourusername would not have gotten here with out you, my partner in crime <3

ynfan1 best friend?? y'all are still so blind

f1fan everytime you call her your best friend you reaffirm the lando NORIZZ name

danielricciardo facts alex_albon facts carlossainz55 facts charles_leclerc facts yukitsunoda0511 facts maxverstappen1 facts landonorris CAN YOU SHUT UP

scuderiaferrari

liked by landonorris and others

scuderiaferrari oh we thought we should just let you know our driver line up for 2023 👀 say hello to the dynamic addition to the Ferrari family, the wonderfully feisty yourusername! get ready for a season full of speed, passion, and fierce competition. Welcome to Maranello! 🇮🇹

view all 700 comments 

ynfan1 HOLY F*CK

susie_wolff wow congrats yourusername!! wishing you all the best !

yourusername thank you so much susie! your advice the last few weeks has help me so much ! ynfan1 I love when girls support girls 💓

yourusername can't wait to get started! forza ferrari ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc this is going to be incredible! congrats !!

yourusername thank you charles <33 be prepared to be sick of me lol ynfan1 so happy shes got a teammate who acc is a decent guy

ynfan2 LOLLLL I bet pierre is sick

landonorris slayed 💅

yourusername 😂😂 f1fan watch out mr norizz her new teammate is mr steal-your-girl

[elvenbeard]

10!

10 - Write about your ship helping each other get ready for the day in the morning. Thanks so much for asking!!! 💜 Aaahhh I love this one, literally made art of them getting ready in the morning together before :DD So this is loosely based on this, or rather, a continuation of it on another morning :D

Morning Routine

“C’mon, time to get up,” V said quietly, fingers trailing down Kerry’s spine. Kerry buried his face in the pillow again.

“Just 5 more minutes,” he muttered, the hangover of the previous night heavy in his skull and bones.

“You said that five minutes ago,” V chuckled.

“Mhhh, highly doubt it’s been five minutes.”

Without any warning Kerry received a well-placed smack on his naked ass. He gasped, in surprise more than in pain, even though his skin tingled and felt hot after a couple of seconds. He sat up only just enough to be able to see V’s face, sporting a big shit-eating grin.

“Hey… that’s my fuckin’ job!” he said with played offense after the initial shock had worn off. He tried to get V back, but he was too slow. V had already rolled out of bed and stood in the middle of his apartment now, the morning sun engulfing him in all his naked glory.

“Catch me… if you can,” he lilted to the tune of “Off the Leash”, and before Kerry could do or say anything, V wandered off towards the bathroom, a little swing in his step.

“Fuck,” was all that Kerry managed to whisper, frozen and staring into the empty apartment living room. His head and chest were flooded by too many emotions all at once, he struggled to cope. A few weeks ago, he hadn’t been sure if he was still capable of ever feeling anything at all anymore. And now…

The shower started running, and Kerry could hear V still quietly humming, a tease and an invitation all the same. One he neither wanted to nor would resist any longer.

“Mind if I borrow your eyeliner again?” he asked as they stood in front of the small sink together shortly after, and V grinned as he ran his fingers through his hair to bring it into its usual bold shape.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” he smiled, voice and eyes gentle.

Kerry reached over to where he knew V kept the thin black pencil. It probably cost a mere fraction of the one he had back at his house – brand deal gift, not even something he’d bought himself. But it created the same results and was a little less scratchy even. Or maybe he only imagined it because it was V’s.

Lately, even though he’d been trying to fight the feeling, everything to do with V made his world a little brighter again. Every little thing he did or said, how he touched him, looked at him, even now as their eyes met in the mirror – it scared the shit out of Kerry. How well they clicked and could exist side-by-side in this crammed little bathroom, just as an example, without getting in the other’s way, taking up too much space, after having known the other for less than a month. Their movements matched perfectly, flowing into each other, V’s hand on his waist as he shuffled past him to grab a towel, how he instinctively moved back when Kerry reached for something on the other side of the countertop without having to stop what he was doing.

It scared Kerry how much he liked V, how large of a part of his life he’d become already. Especially because they both knew that it might as well end very suddenly and without a proper chance to say goodbye.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” V asked, as if he knew Kerry’s thoughts were spiraling.

“Nothin’ in particular,” Kerry lied and put the pencil back down, “No, not true, actually… Wonderin’ how you survived here this long without a decent coffeeshop close by.”

V chuckled.

“No, really, a whole fuckin’ Megabuilding, and no Caliente’s?”

“Maybe the license was too expensive for the poor, poor administration,” V shrugged and took a step back as he put a decent amount of hairspray on his head. Kerry leaned back against the sink.

“Maybe it’s just to wear ya down even more,” he said, “Y’know, make you complacent to just keep payin’ your over-priced rent like a good citizen.”

V snickered and put the can of hairspray back down and checked himself out in the mirror once more. Then he leaned onto the sink as well and looked at Kerry.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, but Kerry shook his head.

“Ah, tryin’ to convince yourself, huh? That won’t work,” he laughed. As he tried to pass him by, V held him back briefly by the wrist and pulled him closer, in the most literal way Kerry had ever experienced it stealing a little kiss from him.

“I can be very convincing,” V said, voice low.

“I know,” Kerry replied with a wink and trailed off towards the couch where he’d left his clothes the previous night. He began to put on his pants and looked out of the window.

“That one over there,” he said, nodding to the penthouse visible across the street, “That one’s ‘not so bad’.”

V stepped closer and followed Kerry’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he said, “And also way outta my price range at the moment.”

“At the moment,” Kerry nodded, slipped into his shoes, then grabbed his t-shirt, “Y’know… I got some contacts in real estate. Could get you a good deal, possibly. Or, dunno. Throw in a couple bucks myself if you wanted to... in exchange for occasional visiting rights or somethin’…”

V smiled, but didn’t respond for a moment, and Kerry feared he’d taken it too far, too soon.

“Or, y’know… Dunno, forget it.”

V still didn’t say anything, and Kerry realized now that it wasn’t because of him.

“Oh… tell me, what’s he got to say?”

“You don’t wanna know,” V shook his head and walked over to his closet, pulling out a dark pair of jeans and a purple button-up shirt, proceeding to put on the pants first and the shirt only loosely.

“Oh, now that’s cruel!” Kerry complained, “Say it! I can take it.”

V sighed, looked for some shoes, then slowly back at Kerry.

“Johnny thinks I’m so lucky that I managed to wrap such a generous sugar daddy ‘round my finger,” he said quietly, “And that I should take your offer.”

“Wow…” Kerry was admittedly taken aback for a moment. Johnny still knew just how to push his buttons to rile him up, hurt him. But even more so, that after 50 years of not having to deal with this kind of bullshit that was more hot air than anything, it still worked so well.

“Sorry, I… shouldn’t’ve,” V muttered and began to button up his shirt. Kerry closed the small distance between them, placed his hands on V’s, to stop him first, then continued where he’d left off.

“Can he hear me now?” he asked, and V nodded slowly, watching Kerry’s hands move along the row of buttons. Kerry leaned in closely, could feel V’s heart beat fast against his fingertips as his hands travelled along his chest. His mouth right at V’s ear he whispered: “Jealous, Silverhand?”

V shivered, then giggled and kissed Kerry’s cheek.

“Think that’s gonna shut him up for a while,” V said, and Kerry hoped he was right. He enjoyed their mornings together too much, he wouldn’t let Johnny taint them, no matter how much of a right he had to be frustrated about this whole situation.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Kerry said and took V’s hand, “Gonna treat ya to the best breakfast menu in all of NC.”

“Oh, I’m so lucky indeed,” V mused and squeezed Kerry’s hand tightly as they quickly exited his apartment and rushed to the elevator in the hopes to make it unseen once more.

[spottyissleepwalking]

Hello, sorry to bother you but can I ask a question about the warrior cats disability post you reblogged earlier? And I mean this in good faith, honestly, I want to understand.

I haven't read warrior cats, but just from what was described in the post, it sounds... realistic? Since not everyone bounces back from becoming disabled. For example, a coworker and I (in a labor intensive field) have the same injury to our knee. He, I guess you could say has responded "well" to his injury. He has a higher drive to push past pain, not let it limit what he can do, and is able to work as hard, or harder, than non-disabled coworkers, but he is still absolutely disabled. In his case, he often overworks himself and thus ends up having to take off several days to recover and is on a lot of pain medication, both Rx and self medicated. In the scenario presented in the post, he would def be able to stay in the warrior class. But I didn't respond well to my injury, and don't react well to pain. I fell into a deep deep depression that took almost 8 years to crawl out of. Doing the exact same tasks as he does, I work slower and more carefully, avoiding pain at all costs rather than pushing past/despite pain. I'm slower, not as effective. But I don't need to take time off or frequent breaks to recover, and though it takes a little longer, I do just as much work as he does at the end of the week when accounting for the time he takes to recover. I like to imagine that I've reacted to my injury well, but can't help feeling inadequate and worthless when compared to coworker. Especially on days that we work side by side and he's running quite literal circles around me. And remember, we have the exact same injury with very similar causes and only a few months time difference.

From what I understand of the culture of Warrior cats (which is admittedly very very little) I imagine I'd end up in a healer class as well, even if I wished I could be warrior class. I would give almost anything to work as fast, as effectively, as hard as coworker does. But I can't.

So I guess what I'm asking is, what am I missing from the narrative, as someone who hasn't read warrior cats, that makes a character, who has not returned to their former glory after an injury, a poor representation of disability? As the post stands on its own right now, it just feels like it's kicking disabled people when they're down for not acting like they're still fully abled. Like shaming a paralyzed person for not joining a sport.

I have to assume that it's just poorly worded for anyone outside the fandom, but it really does come of as... well... ableist. Which is what drove me to ask, since making assumptions of ableism is generally kinda shitty, and I am curious about the source material.

I hope I didn't come off aggressive or let my emotions on the subject get carried away here, genuinely sorry if it does come off rude. I promise am asking in good faith because I want to understand from a creative standpoint if the narrative actually handled it poorly, and how-so, to help myself and others potentially avoid making the same artistic mistakes.

Thank you for taking the time to read this wall of text, and again, so sorry for bothering you!

No no!! Not aggressive or rude or anything of the sort :D

I’ll be honest, I didn’t read the full text, but I got the gist of it so I’ll try to answer aptly ^^

The problem with Warriors isn’t that there isn’t disability representation - there is, it’s just. Awful. Why? Because almost every single disabled character, sans THREE, in a series that has thousands of named characters, is FORCED into a role they don’t want - or KILLED. Solely for being disabled, solely for being “different”.

It’s not that they necessarily chose that life for themselves, it’s that it was forced upon them, which is where so many fans (reasonably) draw issue with. Disabled characters are offered the bare minimum in Warriors canon. Either they’re essentially forced to become a doctor, with the trope of “the broken-bodied healing the able-bodied” (which personally unsettled me greatly), or they’re shipped off to the elder’s den, which is a place where cats retire due to old age and are cared for by their Clanmates, usually without ever having the chance to prove themselves, and display both their abilities and weaknesses. They’re just automatically shoved into this corner.

There was a Deaf character, once, in the decades-long span of this book series, that was told he would never become a warrior solely because of his deafness - and then was immediately killed off in a manner that was almost never used again as a device to kill a character.

There was a character who was hit by a car and, as a result, ended up losing the function of one of her back legs. Prior to this, she was training as any other young member of her society would. Immediately after? She became a doctor.

There was a character who became blind due to an outside force, and, despite being the equivalent of maybe a thirty-year-old, immediately retired to the elder’s den.

There was a born blind character who fought to train as a warrior, under a half-blind warrior. He was doing well in his training - until the in-universe religion came down to him and forced him to give up his dreams in order to become a doctor. Granted, his case was a little more complicated and intermingled with plot, but it still stands.

There was a character with anxiety who was a poor hunter, and was pressured to become a doctor because of his lack of skills.

There was a character who was paralyzed, and was dismissed as dead, or “better off dead”, by almost everyone around her - INCLUDING HER OWN FAMILY - except the blind character, who found kinship with her and fought tooth-and-nail to keep her alive and healthy.

And the thing is? These characters are CATS! Cats, who have been documented living alone in the wild with these sort of disabilities and thriving!! Which makes it all the more frustrating to see a narrative built around the appeal of cats, have them have this whole support system and community, and that community actively turn their backs on them.

It’s not about them choosing. It’s about them being forced. Not having any opportunity to grow, or learn, or allow others around them to do the same in regards to them. There’s no acceptance here. In universe, it seems like they’re just shoved into the shadows so the able bodied characters don’t have to look at them or think too hard about them, unless they’re healing their wounds.

The characters themselves are not the poor representation. It’s how the authors have handled them - by shoving them aside, to the shadows, to the dogs. It’s frustrating and disheartening.

[afhenvs3000f24]

Blog Post 4- Who Am I to Interpret Nature Through Art?

So, I'm an environmental management student, deep into my third year of studying ecosystems, sustainability, and all the serious stuff that comes with it. But recently, we started talking about nature and art—two things that, if I'm being honest, I never thought I'd be combining in a class. And the biggest question they threw at us was, "Who are you to interpret nature through art? " Like, what? I'm not an artist.

I'm the person who stares at spreadsheets of data and debates with friends over recycling rules.

But here's the thing: the more I think about it, the more I realize that anyone can interpret nature through art. And we already do, all the time, without even thinking about it.

Art and Nature: More Connected Than You'd Think Okay, let's start with the obvious-people have been using art to talk about nature forever. If you're Canadian, then you've definitely seen the Group of Seven's paintings, even if you didn't know that's who you were looking at. Their landscapes have become iconic in their own right, showing off the vastness and beauty of the wilderness here. But if you look closely, you'll notice something: their paintings don't show people, just nature in all its untouched glory. It's not just the trees or lakes; it's about how those things make us feel-peaceful, small, in awe, whatever it may be.

Art is about those feelings. You don't have to be Picasso. Think about the last time you took a picture of a sunset, or that first snowflake landing on your sleeve. Whether you shared it on Instagram or just stared at it for a minute, you were capturing a moment of beauty. That's art, and that's how you interpret nature-through the emotions that it stirs up in you.

What does "The Gift of Beauty" even mean? So now it gets a little deeper. The beauty of nature is not what we make; it is what we are privileged to see. It is a present. And hence, whatever be the thing that appears to be beautiful to us-sunlight through the trees, waves on the shoreline-we want that to stay in our minds. And that is why we take pictures of it, or draw pictures or just sit there and drink it in. What did keep coming up through our class readings was that the role of art in interpreting the environment is not one of beautification but rather of connection. In showing a person a work of art, or even describing what you saw on your hike, you are allowing them to connect with nature in a new way.

You're saying, "Hey, this moment was beautiful, and I want to share it with you." And that connection can make people care more about the environment.

Taking Risks: Not Just for Adventure Sports Here's another theme we've been addressing in class: risk. Not the mountaineering, whitewater rafting kind of risk, but risking yourself. When you interpret nature-whether through art, words, even leading a nature walk-you are risking yourself. What if people don't "get" it? What if you don't feel like you know enough? But that's a risk worth taking, if you ask me. Think of the times when you have shared a photo or told a story about something that you have seen and found beautiful. Maybe not everyone understood why it had such a big deal to you, but I know some of them must have. And that is really what makes it all worth the risk-because when that connection is made, it is powerful.

You have allowed someone else to see the world a little differently, and maybe care a little more about protecting it.

So, Who Am I to Interpret Nature Through Art? Honestly, I'm just someone who loves nature and sees the beauty in it. I'm not an artist, but I can appreciate a good sunrise, or the way light reflects off a river. I think we all can. Thus, in relation to art being the means of expression of nature, I don't believe any of us holds a place. Whether one draws, takes pictures, or simply describes the perfect day to a friend, he or she is capturing a little bit of that beauty and relaying it to the world.

And honestly, that is good enough.

[icccricketschedule24]

Cricket's Double Delight: IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024 Set to Thrill Fans

Get ready for a cricketing carnival like never before as two of the biggest spectacles in the sport, IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024, converge to captivate fans worldwide. From the electrifying action of T20 cricket to the prestige of the pinnacle tournament, cricket enthusiasts are in for a treat as the stage is set for a season of unmissable moments and unforgettable matches. Let's dive into the heart of the excitement and explore what's in store for fans as they gear up for a cricketing extravaganza of epic proportions.

IPL 2024: The Glitz, Glamour, and Unpredictable Drama

First up on the cricketing calendar is the Indian Premier League (IPL) 2024, a tournament that needs no introduction. Renowned for its high-octane clashes and nail-biting finishes, the IPL is a melting pot of talent from across the globe, where cricketing superstars and emerging talents alike come together to showcase their skills and entertain fans.

From the explosive batting of Virat Kohli to the mesmerizing spin of Rashid Khan, IPL 2024 promises to deliver a rollercoaster ride of emotions, where every match is a spectacle in its own right. Whether you're cheering from the stands, following the action on TV, or participating in fantasy cricket leagues, get ready to be swept away by the glitz, glamour, and unpredictable drama of the IPL.

World Cup 2024: The Ultimate Test of Cricketing Greatness

As the dust settles on the IPL frenzy, cricket fever will reach its zenith with the highly anticipated World Cup 2024. Held once every four years, the World Cup is the pinnacle of cricketing excellence, where nations vie for supremacy and players etch their names into the annals of history.

With the world's best cricketers converging on the grand stage, prepare yourself for a showcase of cricketing brilliance at its finest. From the thunderous roar of the crowd to the nerves of steel displayed by players under pressure, World Cup 2024 promises to deliver a spectacle like no other, where every match is a testament to the beauty and drama of the sport.

Fantasy Cricket Fever: Unleash Your Cricketing Genius

For fantasy cricket enthusiasts, IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024 offer a golden opportunity to test your cricketing knowledge and strategic acumen against fellow fans from around the world. Whether you're assembling your dream XI for an IPL clash or predicting the outcome of a crucial World Cup encounter, fantasy cricket puts you in the driver's seat, allowing you to lead your team to victory and glory.

With expert analysis, insider tips, and real-time updates at your fingertips, dive into the world of fantasy cricket and experience the thrill of competing against the best. Whether you're a seasoned veteran or a newcomer to the world of fantasy sports, IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024 promise endless excitement, challenges, and rewards for all who dare to participate.

As IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024 unfold, cricket lovers around the world are gearing up for a season of unparalleled excitement, drama, and spectacle. Whether you're a die-hard fan cheering from the stands, following the action on TV, or participating in fantasy cricket leagues, let's come together to celebrate the spirit of the game and revel in the joy and passion that cricket brings.

So buckle up, brace yourselves, and get ready to embark on a cricketing journey filled with unforgettable moments and cricketing magic. With IPL 2024 and World Cup 2024 promising thrills, spills, and everything in between, the stage is set for a cricketing extravaganza that will live on in our hearts and memories for years to come. Let the games begin!

Click here to know more

[apexart-journal]

Mvelo Mahlangu in NYC, Day 18

This morning, I woke up, checked out at 11 am and luckily because I packed light, just carried my backpack with me everywhere. Today I was going to the National Mall and doing a self guided tour. Seeing the Capitol building in the distance, I realised that time felt different here unlike NY. Walking 30 min in NY for me feels like 15 minutes. But 30 min in DC feels like 40 min. I took the bus down to the national mall and started off on my tour. Before following starting the guide given to me online, I made a stop at the National Museum of the American Indian. I intentionally made this stop because I had never seen or interacted with anything on native Americans expect for online. At school and through the years, I’ve always learnt so much about the construction and colonial occupation of the US but never formally learnt much on the indigenous people and life before. To say the least, I walked out of there feeling extremely emotional. Extremely emotional and frustrated. I absolutely hate the idea that the progress of a lot of our societies to what it is today meant the culling and exploitation of indigenous people, indigenous customs and indigenous knowledge. And I say this as an African. But alas, let me not open those can of worms. 

My next stop was the Smithsonian National museum of Natural History. I was so excited to see fossils. But when I got there, it was packed to the brim. I experienced complete sensory overload as I tried walking through the building and marvelling over preserved remains of history while also keeping an eye out for time as I still had to make a bunch of different stops which were walks away. I could only stay inside for about 30 minutes. I then made my way to the National Museum of African History and Culture. It made me so happy seeing a structure dedicated to preserving archives on black culture from sports, to music, to art and film/performance. Again, I was quite overwhelmed by everything I wanted to see but also keeping an eye out for time. Walking to see everything had cut out so much time. I moved onto my next stop which was the Washington memorial park. At this point, my face and fingers were frozen. The thing I realised with DC or at least this particular region in the Capitol Hill was that, since there were no tall buildings and just flat land, the wind was brutal. That mixed in with the temperature and sho, I was going through it. Seeing the memorial tower was incredible though because I had only seen it in cartoons and films. And there it was, in all its glory in front of my eyes. I then made my way to the Martin Luther King  memorial which was so beautiful. From the stone carving to the lake. It looked so peaceful. I sadly couldn’t say long because of time and had to make my way to the Lincoln memorial. With my times, I was running about an hour over time. Making it to the m emorial, I could only stand there for about 5 minutes, because there were so many people. Looking aback at the view from the Lincoln memorial was incredible. I then made my way over to my last stop on the self guided tour at the Vietnam memorial, which was constructed beautifully. There was definitely a sombre atmosphere around as I could see there were people who were placing photos and flowers in front of some names, obviously for people they knew.  I then made my way to the nearest bus stop, waiting for it to pick me up and take me back to Union Station for my bus out of DC. I was in a little bit of a panic with time because the bus was not coming, I was cold, and also extremely hungry because in the rush of walking around, I forgot to sit down and have lunch. Since the bus was not coming, and there was a problem with my uber app, I had to walk to Union Station which was an hour away from where I was. Once I got to the station, I finally got something to eat and drink and reflected on the days events. 

While I enjoyed parts of my experience, I felt a bit disappointed at how my day turned out. In a place surrounded by so much history, knowledge, art, and things I’ve never seen before, I barely felt as though I got to truly experience any of it. And I say this without the intention of sounding ungrateful. This put into question the agency I have over my own experience within this program. Do I try doing everything on the calendar to say that I did it? Or do I immerse myself into an experience as best as I can to say that I understand it? Or rather how do I balance the both? It’s hard for me to say because to be in a new environment, all I want to do is see everything and do everything so i'll push myself knowing that I might not get another chance anytime soon. But then at what cost?

I finally got onto the bus and this time, someone sat next to me. I tried sleeping for the first hour of the bus ride, but was too uncomfortable, so could not sleep at all. The person sitting next to me, Rishard, started talking to me and we immediately hit it off! We spoke the entire way from Baltimore to NYC, 4 hours straight. He told me about his background growing up half Jamaican and half Nigerian, his reconnection to his Nigerian identity, growing up in NY but then working in DC, his career successes and extensive travels. It was so refreshing speaking to a young, Black, Queer and Successful individual working their way through the corporate construction and banking world. Of the many things we spoke about, we spoke about the politics of America, and I was shocked again at just how intense the cost of living has become. We spoke about Roe v. Wade and overall voting in the upcoming elections for both South Africa and America. One last thing we spoke about was him encouraging me to come back to DC. We arrived back in NYC almost an hour after the scheduled time, and rode part of the subway together. I got off first, and got to the apartment at 1:30am feeling so happy that I was back. Over the last couple weeks, this apartment has felt so homely and also been such a comforting space that I’ve been happy to return to everyday. 

I couldn’t sleep properly from body chills and could only get to sleep at 4:00am.

[e-devotion]

God’s peace guards us

We have been looking at Philippians 4:6-7 the last two weeks, and I do want to say THANK YOU for allowing me to share sporadically.  We will be back on schedule beginning the end of this week.

So many things stick out to me in the verses we are talking about.  During these two weeks we have talked about peace, being thankful, praying about everything and not worrying.  Today we will talk about how God’s peace guards us.

gave me as a Bible promise over 30 years ago.  I have quoted these so many times.  Here we go…

Philippians 4:6-7 NLT  

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

I love these verses.  I had the opportunity to share with a waiter a few days ago that asked us to pray for him to have God’s peace.  These verses are like a “well oiled machine” when it comes to living by faith.  Taking steps of faith like these will guide us deeper and to be stronger.  That is why today we examine how… 

His peace will guard you hearts and minds.

Did you notice that last phrase?  The one I didn’t quote.  It says “as you live in Christ Jesus.”  That is important.

Apart from Christ there is no peace.  With Christ there is extreme peace.  Almost like an extreme sport or something that has taken on super powers.  God’s peace does things in us, through us and for us that nothing else can.

God’s peace guards our hearts.  That is the place where salvation starts and where convincing comes strongest for people of faith.  It is from our heart we speak.  It is from our heart that the greatest decisions happen.  It is in our heart of hearts where we live and breathe and move with God.  Therefore, that is why we need God to guard our hearts.

Then move to how God’s peace guards our minds.  It is the mind where our emotions are found as well as the mind is the gateway to the heart.  What we play with, think about and let roll through our minds is what finds its way in to our hearts, our character and so deep in our lives.

God’s peace comes out when the world is at its worst.  God’s peace is what keeps us when all else is coming unraveled.  God’s peace is what drives us to live by faith and trust Christ in every moment, dark or light, high or low, depressed, stressed and in success.  We need that kind of peace in our lives.

I choose peace.  Therefore, I choose Jesus.

May we find ourselves kicking worry away as we pray about everything finding ourselves more thankful than ever before.  It will be at that moment where living and abiding in Christ makes His peace come alive in our lives.

John 15:7-8  NLT  

But if you remain in me and my words remain in you, you may ask for anything you want, and it will be granted! 8 When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father.

May we literally and daily experience the peace of God guarding our hearts and minds!

I trust you have enjoyed our trip through Philippians 4:6-7.  Stick with me as we continue following Jesus through e-devotions.

[welllpthisishappening]

We’re watching the Blues white vs blue scrimmage and I’m so excited hockey is almost back! I think this calls for a Blue Line re-read because it’s so, SO good and I’ve read through everything on ao3 at least 5 times. 💙

This makes me the absolute happiest! Thank you for reading! And then reading again! I am unreasonably excited about the start of the season and the length of Chris Kreider’s hair and I was going to post a quick Blue Line one-shot here, but it was basically just original characters in that it was literally just Matt Jones being an idiot while meeting his future wife, so I wrote something else this morning and winning the Stanley Cup would mean they’d have to change their before-the-season starts ritual. Anyway, here’s like nearly 4K of everyone ragging on each other just before the season after Blue Line, while Emma and Killian try to figure out where they can make out without anyone noticing: 

————

“Still looking?” “Yup.” “What she look like?” “Like the actual description of her face?” 

Something dug into the bottom of Emma’s shoulder blade, and it took her far too long to realize that it was the jut of Killian’s chin because even the idea of Killian crouching behind her so as to avoid the overall force of Regina’s glare was something that hadn’t even crossed her mind. Until it was happening, apparently. “She’s staring,” Emma muttered, “got that little pinch between her eyebrows that always shows up when she’s—” Killian groaned. Directly where his mouth was resting, which was also on Emma’s back and likely just above the ‘o’ in his last name, if her knowledge of the jersey she was wearing was any indication. Maybe in between the ‘j’ and the ‘o,’ actually. 

“You’re ridiculous.” “Me?” Killian countered, and Emma wished she hadn’t already finished that first glass of wine. Blurry thoughts bounced across her sleep-deprived brain because there was only one more sleep ‘til Christmas, or whatever Kermit sang in The Muppet Christmas Carol. Presumably Christmas. And not hockey. Or the start of the hockey season. 

Splotches of ink still dotted the sides of Emma’s right hand, the product of dragging that same hand over forms she had to sign and other plans she had to approve, and the blue carpet wasn’t coming until next week because the home opener was actually three games into the season, which was not as comforting or stress-reducing as she thought it should have been and she simply did not have time to mitigate an argument between her boyfriend and his agent. 

Even when that boyfriend was very good looking. 

In his Christmas sweater. 

The traditions of hockey players continued to boggle the mind. Emma’s, specifically. 

If she drank any more wine, she was going to fall asleep standing up. “Yes,” Emma said, “you, but only because you’re the one currently trying to burrow your way into me. With your chin.” Humming in confusion, he lifted his head, and that wasn’t really a mistake, per se — but it did leave his soft exhale brushing against the side of Emma’s neck, and that sort of guaranteed that goosebumps appeared on her neck and she should have been more annoyed. By Killian’s immediate laugh. Of the vaguely victorious variety. 

“What do you think about the sweater?” “That you’re fishing for compliments.” “I think I make Locksley’s stitched-on face look very good. Doesn’t get stretched out at all—” Killian ignored Emma’s groan, pressing a kiss to the exact spot her shoulder met her still goosebump-covered neck, and it was the wine’s fault. For the state of her increasingly wobbly knees. “—Which is more than I can say about his current face.” “Oh, that’s rude,” Emma argued. “And I’m not entirely sure it even made sense.” “Are you Locksley’s self-appointed defender, then?” “Are you the single most superstitious player in the entire National Hockey League?” That kiss came with a graze of his teeth and a noise Emma immediately regretted making. Something like a squeak bubbled out of her, flinching in the sort of way that only ensured she was even closer to Killian, and stepping on one of his toes would have detracted from the overall romance of the moment. 

“You can’t do that sort of thing in public, Swan,” Killian chided, and he really did have very good reflexes. Spinning her, Emma’s hands flew to his chest — pointedly ignoring the stitched-on face of Robin Locksley — and he didn’t move. Didn’t stumble or come anywhere close to falling. Just arched his left eyebrow and had the gall to smirk at her like they weren’t in a restaurant filled with their friends and teammates and—

“I’m not taking the shirt off, Gina,” Killian yelled over Emma’s head, “so you can stop whatever you’re doing with your face.” “Trying to turn you to stone,” Emma mumbled.

“Last I checked, she’s not a Greek myth.” “Far as you know.” He moved. Shook really, once his laugh started to echo between Emma’s ears, and they definitely had more pillows in their house than blankets, but the sound of Killian’s obvious and consistent joy was oddly similar to the softest piece of fabric Emma could imagine. Like it was capable of wrapping around her, warm without being suffocating, just this steady presence that didn’t weigh down on her and made everything feel like—

Home, she supposed. 

She was so happy; she was positive it simply poured out of her at this point. And the sweater really did not look half bad. Fit very well, at least. 

“This worked last year,” Will called, shuffling between Roland and Henry. Several wads of napkins littered the floor by their feet, a makeshift hockey game that, as far as Emma could figure, had ever-evolving rules and a tendency to knock chairs over. Roland’s jersey wasn’t quite as long as last year, the hem stopping well before his knees. 

Henry still had a twenty on his back. 

“Still looks ridiculous,” Regina countered. Her wine glass was also empty, sitting closer to Robin’s chair than she had been ten minutes earlier. “Do you think you should send them an email?” Killian’s eyebrow dropped. Pulled low in perfect tandem with the other one, Emma’s head tilting with her own sense of confusion. 

Something slammed rather loudly into one of the walls. Eric might have been doing shots behind the bar.

“What?” “An email,” Regina repeated, “to whatever website makes that monstrosity, so you can let them know that they should get more creative and offer more wardrobe choices to—” “—Idiots?” Robin quipped. 

“Professional hockey players.” Ariel clicked her tongue, ignoring her husband’s objections when she jumped onto the edge of the counter. Only a matter of time until several kids tried to follow suit. “Is your husband not a professional hockey player, Gina?” “Yes.” “Oh, that was far less of an argument than I expected,” David mumbled, stepping next to Emma, and he couldn’t quite bump her shoulder when she was still standing so close to Killian. “And kinda rude,” Will added, “all things considered.”

Regina shrugged. “I cannot possibly overstate how much I hate that sweater.” “Take it up with Banana,” Killian said. “Her gift; makes it her problem. All I am doing is—” “—Wearing it?” “And wearing it well,” he promised. If Emma’s cheeks turned red, no one mentioned it. Which might have been one of the nicer things anyone on this team had ever done for her. “Plus,” Killian continued, “Scarlet’s right. This worked last year. If you want to risk tradition and potential—” A chorus of jeers greeted his near-jinx, complete with pointed fingers and one of Ariel’s legs kicking out like she had any chance of actually reaching Killian. Or wouldn’t be annoyed by whatever harm she could possibly inflict on his upper thigh. 

Regina looked very pleased. “This does not mean you won, Gina,” Killian said, but she only shrugged again, and the first blast of Arthur’s whistle was as shrill as any sound had rights to be. 

More cries bounced off the walls and the balled-up napkins, Arthur’s hand resting on Gwen’s shoulder because at some point in the twelve seconds between the first whistle blast and everyone regaining their ability to hear; he must have decided that standing on a chair was actually a good idea.

Killian’s entire body shook behind Emma’s. 

Getting rid of the goosebumps would be something of a rather large miracle. Especially if he kept his arm around her waist like this, fingers splayed over her stomach. 

“Are we ready yet?” Arthur barked, only to be met with murmurs and more confusion, and Emma didn’t think much before accepting the glass Mary Margaret was practically shoving into her hand. 

“Is there a reason for the collective?” Robin asked. “Did you mean to include yourself in that? Are you not ready for your own speech?”

Arthur was not as good at glaring as Regina. No one mentioned that. No one had to, really. He took a deep breath before he started. “Day before the opener. We know what we did last year, and I want to be the first to tell every single one of you that I don’t give a flying fuck—” Another round of loud objections rang out around him, Arthur not quite able to wave them off because his balance really was awful, and Killian had to let go of Emma to haul Roland up his side. “—Anyone asks you about last year,” Arthur pressed, entirely unperturbed by the frustration of his team and their assorted families, “and you better tell them you don’t give’a shit about it.”

Emma tried to cover one of Roland’s ears. The other one was pressed against Killian, so she couldn’t really do anything about that. “Does he think you haven’t been quoted—like, all off-season?” “The ultimate idiot,” Killian grinned. 

“Is this over yet?” Will demanded. “I’d like to know when I can boo without threat of interruption.”

Belle kissed his cheek. 

While Ruby mumbled curses under her breath, all too aware of just how many people had asked about the Cup run and would keep asking about the Cup run and her job was not going to get any easier if the professional hockey players in that restaurant refused to answer questions all season.

“Nothing that happened last year means anything this year,” Arthur said, but it was starting to sound a bit like a proclamation or maybe an affirmation, and Emma was terrible at yoga. Never had enough patience for it. “So we are playing for something brand-new, and you better not start by screwing it all up on Thursday.” He nodded once. Glanced around because Emma knew he was waiting for some sort of reaction, but the only reaction he got was Will’s promised boo, and that was more than Arthur deserved. Especially when he knocked over the chair while getting down. 

“Tell me he’ll be better with fans,” Emma said, and Killian had to shift Roland, but then he was the one doing the cheek kissing, and the quiet guarantee of absolutely, love was nice until he added—

“Can totally beat him up if he’s not.” “You’re a violent guy, Cap.”

Nosing at the side of her jaw did not impress Roland at all. Fair, really — but then Roland was on the same counter as Ariel, her sliding down the makeshift wood to get an arm around him and her phone already out and ringing, and Will stopped boo’ing. 

To announce, in no uncertain terms, “It’s time! Leader better not screw things up, or I’ll walk to Colorado and kick him in the shins.”

“What a threat.” Robin groaned, but his phone was making noise too, and neither Elsa nor Liam were doing a very good job of sharing space in the frame. Anna was waving with both her hands, already talking a mile a minute with her sister and they were all wearing team-branded merchandise, as the ritual dictated, but this also felt like the first legitimate time Emma was part of the ritual and all three Vankald and/or Jones faces beamed when they noticed her. 

“A,” Will sighed, “you’re supposed to tell us before the taxi squad gets on the call. Then we can prepare and we don’t have to go through this every year.” Anna’s eyes noticeably thinned. “What is this, exactly?” “The gossip wheel you’ve got to run through before we can—” “—Emma’s wearing KJ’s number again!” “We live together Banana,” Killian reasoned, and the jump in Emma’s stomach was undeniable and even more uncalled for. She also hoped she didn’t mess up the ritual. 

“Still.” “Expand on that for me.” Will might have snarled. “We do not have time for this.”

“Are you an actual adult participating in this situation?” Ariel challenged. “Because I am not getting that right now.” Careful to stay out of Regina’s eye line and certain that Roland was at least momentarily distracted by another plate of onion rings, both of Will’s hands moved when he flashed specific fingers. Ariel nearly fell off the counter, she laughed so hard. 

Elsa and Anna were absolutely having their own conversation. 

And Killian kissed Emma’s hair that time. 

“Also,” Elsa added, “should we be collectively annoyed by the taxi squad marker? That’s kind of—” Her voice dropped “A dick move, right?” “You’re a picture of parental responsibility, El,” Killian said. “Buy new clothes.” “See,” Regina cried, arms thrust nearly above her head in what wasn’t quite celebration but might have simply been her innate desire to be right at all times. “Liam, you’re going to have to say something different now, you realize that?” None of them had, quite clearly. Soft gasps and quiet oh’s echoed around their spot at the end of the bar, but Liam’s chin was doing something as well. So maybe it was just genetic. Jutting out, the confidence practically dripped off him, which would have been a disgusting thought in any other situation, but there was something to be said for constants and stability, and not one of them had so much as thought the phrase back to back all offseason. 

“Your lack of belief is disappointing, Gina.” “I’m just covering our bases.” “Wrong sport,” Liam laughed, grabbing the stick that had been leaning just out of frame and it took some finagling to hold it out in front of him. Without also knocking the phone over. He nearly knocked the phone over three different times. 

Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright,” Liam started, and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way Killian stood up a bit straighter. Robin and Will, too. “Wait, wait, shit, sorry Rol—no, but how many years is this?” “Oh my God,” Ariel grumbled. “This is kind of messing it up.” “Leader, do you not know how to do math?” Will shouted, grabbing more than one of Roland’s onion rings. Like he needed something to occupy his hands with. 

Blotches of color appeared on Liam’s face, Elsa’s head shaking back and forth now while several different grown adults tried to do the most basic math problem, and no one else heard Killian at first. Emma did. Presumably, because she was almost standing on his sneakers. 

His arm was back around her waist. “Nine years,” he repeated. 

Liam hummed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right.” “I know it is.” Nothing about those words was enough to immediately catch Emma short, but the fingers pressed against her might have started pulling on her shirt ever so slightly and whatever look Elsa and Anna shared as soon as she circled her arms around Killian’s middle wasn’t important. Now, at least. Emma had every intention of getting them to give up whatever they knew later. 

They definitely knew something. 

She’d worry about that after the home opener. “Alright, alright, alright,” Liam chanted, the stick back up and Will’s salute lacked any sort of legitimate respect. “Nine years ago now, we all stumbled back into this stupid city and laced up skates and tripped over ourselves on the ice.” He had to glance down. Reading it off an index card, then. Emma’s heart gave a small, but sure tumble in her chest. “And we were God awful. Terrible. Embarrassingly bad. But, as with most things, we figured it out. We stopped tripping over that giant emblem at center ice and we didn’t stutter during post and we actually started scoring goals.”

The stick was starting to shake. Retirement affected forearm strength, it seemed. 

“And we inexplicably won a first-round series and made the backpages of tabloids and then something kind of incredible happened.” Emma waited for the tension, for the sound of Killian’s knuckles cracking, or the exchange glances between Robin and Will. None of it came. It was stupid to think it would. And Liam was far from done. “Down two games in Pitt—” “—Oh my God,” Ruby hissed, “who calls it Pitt?” Liam ignored her. “A two-game hole, and totally fu—messed up media in Los Angeles, but none of that mattered because you guys kept scoring goals and the entire Kings organization is a black hole of talentless idiots.” “This is scathing, Leader,” Will said, “truly. Did you practice this?” “Yes,” Elsa said before Liam could open his mouth again, and Emma’s neck was going to give up sooner rather than later. Emotions twisted between the muscles there, another weight that somehow made it easier to breathe, like they had anything to do with her lungs, but none of her cared and all of her wanted. This, specifically. “There’s more though, Scarlet. Stop interrupting.” He saluted again. 

“Getting everything you wanted’s kind of a weird thing to wrap your head around, but that’s because this isn’t everything. Not yet. Somehow you guys are still capable of scoring goals and—y’know, your quotes leave a little to be desired.” “Here, here,” Ruby murmured. 

Liam might have been the best at glaring. Like, out of all of them. “But that just means the pressure’s on. Vankald cliché requirement; patent pending.” None of the boos that garnered had much bite to them. “Keeping the tradition alive is half the fun of hockey, this dumb sport with weapons on our feet and in our hands and it’s up to you guys. All over again. Start of the season, fresh slate, knowing you can do it because you already have. You ready, Rol?”

Roland nodded more than once, enthusiasm in every jerk of his head. “To the Cup,” he shouted. 

“To the Cup,” the crowd repeated, not much enunciation between the lot of them when both of the phones had a slight delay and there was a baby crying in Colorado. Still, neither Elsa nor Liam moved and the shot glasses Eric put down were rather quickly grabbed. So as to avoid Arthur’s ire. 

Alcohol burned the back of Emma’s mouth as soon as she tilted her head, shivering against the strength of whatever it was she just drank. If she cried, she was going to be really annoyed with herself. 

And the restaurant never got too loud, or too warm, but Emma’s heart stayed at its above-average rate for the next two hours, making the prospect of walking out the door and standing at the edge of the sidewalk all the more appealing. Especially when she remembered how—

It took him two minutes to follow her. Give or take. 

“Feels like we’re in a time warp,” Killian said, leaning against the side of the restaurant while Emma desperately tried to temper her own emotions and she had more emotions than she knew one person could be capable of containing. 

“No dancing, though.” “Banana and I went to a midnight showing of that on Halloween once.” “Seriously?” “Mmmhm. Have I mentioned that I am ridiculously in love with you yet, today?” Her head fell. Neck finally giving up, Emma’s cheek twisted on top of Killian’s shoulder, and his sweater, and if there was a quota for kisses pressed to the crown of her head, he was certainly trying to reach it. Competitive weirdo. “I don’t think so.” “Idiotic.” “Eh, we’ve been busy.” “I love you,” he said, and she smiled. Wide and easy and so goddamn happy, it only occasionally felt like a massive joke. And it still wasn’t enough. As selfish as that might have been, but Liam was definitely right and this wasn’t the end, might have just been another point on a circle and hints of wholly enjoyable déjà vu. “Is this the part where we talk about dating some guy on a team?” Left eyebrow, that time. Perfectly arched while his ability to smirk continued to infuriate Emma just a little, whatever sound she made when he ducked his head and caught her lips somewhere between joy and laughter and the seemingly perpetual talent to make her swoon wherever she was standing. 

They’d definitely gotten better at kissing in the last year. 

A fact Emma had every intention of pointing out — once she was done sticking her tongue in Killian’s mouth. Or trying to get her fingers under his sweater, his soft hiss at the lack of temperature in her fingertips some kind of victory she’d think about until the home opener and possibly until the All-Star break, and the overall arch of her back wasn’t particularly comfortable. But then her hips bumped Killian’s and that drew another sound and made champagne bubbles of the far more metaphorical variety explode in the general vicinity of her heart. 

One of her feet left the ground, not doing much to help her balance, but Emma had already spent too long considering the pros and cons of balance and she scratched at the back of Killian’s head. When her back pressed into the wall, threatening to scratch through her jersey and his fingers weren’t as cold as hers, because he might have just exuded heat, which likely wasn’t a sign and she wanted it to be a sign and—

“I love you,” Emma breathed, harder than she wanted. The force of his answering smile could have melted ice. In several prominent arenas across North America. 

“You worried?” “Very vague question.” “Swan.” “No,” she said, pleased to realize she meant all three letters. With just about everything in her. “Coming out here was—” “—We could have just made out in the restaurant.” “Pushing me up against a wall probably would have gotten us kicked out.” “Which would have led us here and then home, so,” Killian shrugged, “I fail to see the problem.” “You want to go home?” His eyes closed. His smile didn’t waver. Just pressed into the side of Emma’s neck and under her jaw, scruff, and strands of hair that were a little longer than they’d been last season, and she felt him inhale. Like he was trying to breathe her in, or possibly them. The specifics didn’t matter. They were something of a package deal now, anyway.

“Did you cop this jersey from equipment?” Leaning back was impossible with the wall behind her, but Emma was something of a glutton for emotions now and inherently greedy. Killian’s eyes noticeably darkened when she moved her tongue. Directly across her teeth. “Nah, I own this.” The thump of his forehead falling to her shoulder was the most satisfying sound she’d heard in two weeks. Bar none. 

“We’re leaving now,” Killian said. “Now.”

“You don’t want to—” Lacing his fingers through hers, he didn’t quite tug her back down the alley, but it was awfully close and Emma was glad she’d thought to bring her phone with her. “They’ll figure it out.”

She hoped they did. 

Checking her phone was somewhere near the bottom of the list she had absolutely no intention of making that night, opting instead to leave a trail of clothes back to their room and she couldn’t wear the jersey to the game. They made out in the hallway outside the visitor’s locker room, though. So Emma figured it something of a wash; and the first win of the season. 

[qprstobin]

the scenic route

i saw this post by @henderdads yesterday and started CACKLING at the image of eddie trying to hide from steve only to stumble across the rest of his stalkers fan club, so here it is

Ao3 link

--

Eddie was pretty sure he was supposed to be better than this.

He'd had more than his fair share of ill advised crushes over the years. His middle school science teacher, the entirely too-nice-for-the-popular-crowd head cheerleader, the bartender at the Hideout that he sold coke to on more than one occasion. And yet, here he was. Leering after Steve Harrington.

(Crush was maybe too strong of a word - that would imply he felt any positive emotions towards the man other than carnal lust.)

Every day at work, Eddie told himself he would take the shortest path outside for his smoke break, and every day he ended up taking the scenic route.

It was like he couldn't help himself. He'd shove his hands into his pockets, and meander his way passed the food court, trying his hardest to seem natural as his eyes strayed over to the Scoops Ahoy.

And there he was, Harrington in all his post-popularity glory. Eddie wasn't sure whose bright idea it was to put the Scoops employees in sailor suits, but he wanted to shake their hand. Or slash their tires.

The shorts clung to Harrington's thighs, somehow even thicker than they were when he was still playing sports regularly. The little hat was less flattering, causing his signature hair to fall limp beneath it, but that was fine. Eddie had seen his hair in all its glory more than enough to fill in the blanks.

As he got closer, he could see that Harrington was chatting up a female patron - typical of the high school heartthrob. It sent a pulse of jealousy and disgust through him. Harrington looked up at the girl from under his eyelashes, pulling his pink, glossy lips into a smirk.

The things Eddie would do to that mouth with half a chance.

The girl let out a laugh, turning in a whirl of curls as she giggled with her friends. He would've thought that response was a positive one if Harrington hadn't immediately let his head fall forward with a groan. Robin Buckley, the mousy band geek Gareth was infatuated with last year, popped up from the back room with a white board that seemed to be a record of all of his strikeouts.

Harsh.

Seemed even pretty privileged popular kids had trouble wooing fair maidens sometimes. Who would've thought. A feeling of satisfaction curled in his stomach - both at watching Harrington get put in his place and knowing that he was still painfully single.

He didn't let himself examine why that was.

While watching the interaction, Eddie hadn't realized he had been slowing to a stop. Until Buckley looked his way. Panic surged through him and he dove to the left, towards a gathering of potted ferns that should be leafy enough to hide him and his hair.

There was a snag in that plan - someone was already hiding there.

Eddie stumbled, arms pinwheeling as he tried to stop himself from running over three middle schoolers. Several little hands snagged the front of his shirt, keeping him from pitching backwards and falling on his ass.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ-" he cursed as he wobbled to a stop. He clamped his mouth shut, taking in the three children in front of him.

The two nearest to him were barely holding back giggles, one a boy with an unfortunate bowl cut and the other a redheaded girl who looked like she was trying to judge him but couldn't smother her mirth. Another boy with dark skin and a bandana tied around his head was looking embarrassed, crouching as close as possible to the girl as he could.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Eddie asked, unable to help himself.

"Same thing you are," Red replied with a smirk playing at her lips. He blanched.

"What."

"Eye candy," she said. It was clear what - or rather who she was referring to.

Bandana groaned softly, the embarrassment on his face deepening. Bowl Cut started giggling again. A fern was tickling Eddie's ear, and he desperately wanted to melt into the floor like the ice cream on a Scoops Ahoy cone.

Eddie didn't even bother to deny it. "You're like, 10. Aren't you a bit young for crushes?"

Red gave him an unimpressed stare.

"We're about to start high school, man," Bandana said as he wrinkled his nose. Judgment colored his tone.

"You don't look like the type to normally go for preps. So do you really have a leg to stand on?" she added.

Sheesh, the attitude on these kids.

Eddie refused to give her any ground.

"Also, I don't have a crush - I was dragged here against my will," Bandana continued.

"I can't believe my boyfriend is lying to my face like this."

"Steve's basically our babysitter, that's weird."

"I don't know," Bowl Cut piped up for the first time, "I think crushing on your babysitter is pretty normal."

Eddie's head was spinning as he tried to keep up with the back and forth. Steve Harrington was their babysitter? He pinched the inside of his wrist, convinced this whole situation was a bad trip or a surreal weed dream. It made more sense than a couple of toddlers claiming that Harrington babysat them regularly.

"I don't have a crush on him!"

"Then why do you keep asking him to 'shoot hoops' with you?" Red asked, turning her judgmental haze onto her sweating boyfriend.

"You know I'm thinking about trying out for basketball next year," Bandana said with an almost pretentious air. "I need all the practice I can get!"

"I didn't know getting smacked in the face with the ball when Steve takes off his shirt counted as practice," Bowl Cut said, a deceptively sweet smile on his face as he drove a dagger into his friend's back.

"DUDE!"

Bowl Cut and Red shushed him, tiny hands flying to cover Bandana's mouth. Eddie reflexively peeked through the fronds, checking to make sure the object of their well - their object hadn't noticed them.

(He hesitated to call him the object of their lust because the three in front of him were literally babies, but he refused to use the word affection in the same sentence as Harrington. Even if this entire conversation was throwing his carefully crafted view of the man through a loop.)

It was fine, though. Harrington and Buckley were wrapped up in their own world, chatting back and forth. If he had a heart he might even say they looked good together. Eddie's eyes strayed towards Harrington's fingers as he twirled his scooper in his hand.

He wanted to shove them in his mouth-

Not the time.

By the time he tuned back into the infants' conversation, Bandana was sulking. Clearly, he had lost, especially with how smug both Red and Bowl Cut looked. Red had even pulled out a little snack packet that she was triumphantly munching on.

"You brought snacks?" Eddie sputtered out, not sure if he was impressed or put out by the sheer balls on this little girl.

"Uh, yeah? Food court food is expensive," she said like it was a no brainer.

The balls, man.

He kinda wanted to be her when he grew up.

"Let me get this straight, you brought snacks along while you stalk your babysitter?" he asked anyway.

"I get hungry," Red said. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and pulled out another snack pack, throwing it at him. It smacked him in the face, but he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "You're welcome."

"Thanks?" he replied automatically.

This may as well happen.

She distributed two more snack packs to her friend and her boyfriend, and the three returned to peering at Harrington through the ferns. Eddie just stared at them, once again feeling like he must have fallen into a different universe.

This whole thing was getting to be too much for him. His knees and thighs were starting to ache, and not for any particularly pleasant reason. He didn't want to know how long he had been crouched back here.

He needed to get out of here before he reached his limit. His boss may give him a lot of leeway, but he didn't want to keep pushing his luck hanging out in the food court for the rest of the day, babysitting Steve fucking Harrington's children.

Even if the view was pretty good.

"Well, this has been fun, but I need a smoke," he said finally. The three barely spared him a glance. Figuring that they were done with him, and because he didn't know how to leave well enough alone. "I'll leave you to your... stalking."

"Same time tomorrow?" Bowl Cut asked, turning that shy but cheeky grin onto him, revealing that not only had they done this before, but that they had seen Eddie here before.

Fuck. His face was turning red.

"Don't plan on it," he scoffed. The trio spared him disbelieving glances, but let him rock to his feet and start walking away without another word.

They all knew he'd be taking the scenic route again tomorrow.

[dorkydragon]

Yakuza games kanji info 23

Morning Glory children

The heart of the Dragon.

(This will be a little bit different from the other ones as it contains multiple characters. Saki is included because why not. Please forgive the poorly edited family photo)

- About the morning glory itself (あさがお, ‘asagao’): This plant was very popular during the Edo period. It was initially introduced into Japan as a medicinal plant, but it was later sought for its ephemeral, colorful beauty. Its popularity grew after the plant developed new colors and shapes through natural mutations. The orphanage named after the plant certainly has a healing factor on Kiryu. A peaceful life surrounded by nature and his beloved children is what he deserves after all the pain he's suffered. Unfortunately, later games would show that this happiness, like the morning glory's flower, is only temporary.

Now, let’s see the kids:

Ayako (綾子)

綾 aya = design, figured cloth, twill

子 ko = child

- Twill is a durable and versatile type of fabric used to make a great variety of high quality clothes. This is quite fitting for the ever dependable second eldest child, the one who works with Haruka and Kiryu to help everyone else with various tasks. We could say that Ayako, who acts like a mother to the others, is like a protective and warm 'cloth' that wraps itself around the other children.

Taichi (太一)

太 ta = plump, thick, big around

一 ichi = one

- The kanji 太 in his name could be related to his heavy build, which should come in handy to achieve his dream of becoming a professional wrestler to provide for his family. The kanji 一 could be related to his status as the oldest boy in the orphanage.

Koji (宏次, Kōji)

宏 ko (kou, kō) = wide, large

次 ji = next, order, sequence

- His name could be related to how he tries to share the sport he loves with others. Koji's event shows him welcoming and encouraging a lonely boy to play baseball with the rest of the kids. Subsequent games show that Mitsuo, who learnt how to play the sport from Koji, ends up being the more skilled player out of the two.

Mitsuo (三雄)

三 mitsu = three

雄 o = masculine, male, hero, leader, superiority, excellence

- The kanji 三 could be related to his status as the third oldest boy. The kanji 雄 and its meaning of 'hero' definitely appear when Mitsuo confronts the children that were cruel to Riona and later comforts her.

Riona (理緒奈)

理 ri = logic, arrangement, reason, justice, truth

緒 o = thong, beginning, inception, end, cord, strap, mental or emotional state

奈 na = Nara, what?

- Here we have many meanings that could relate to Riona, her family history and her event. Riona feels very insecure about herself because of the burn marks she has on her arms. She refuses to let anyone see them, as she believes people will consider the scars, and thus Riona herself, disgusting. It is most likely that Mitsuo's heroic rescue and kindness helped her realize that the people who really matter are the ones who accept her and love her for who she is, regardless of how she looks like.

Eri (エリ, 絵里)

絵 e = picture, drawing, painting, sketch

里 ri = village, parent's home, league

- The kanji 里 gives us the meanings 'village' and 'parent's home,' which convey the idea of a small community and a place where you feel welcome. During her personal event, Eri explains that she stole Ayako's money to hang out with her friends, who never invite her to join them because they know her allowance is small and she can't afford to ask for more. She is so happy to be invited for the first time that she resorts to stealing just to be able to finally hang out with them.

Note: Eri's name is originally written in katakana, but it appears written in kanji in the orphanage's chores board (source: Yakuza Wiki). Katakana and hiragana are forms of syllabic writing, composed of sounds that make up words or expressions and indicate how to read kanji. Characters from both systems, besides kanji, are accepted forms to write names. Hiragana includes all the sounds/syllables used in Japanese words. Katakana has many uses, but it appears mostly in foreign words that are made up of sounds that are different from the ones heard in Japanese. Other uses include animal names (like マメ 'Mame'), onomatopoeias or word emphasis, among others.

On a similar note, the other important Eri, Eri Kamataki from Yakuza: Like a Dragon, has her name written in hiragana (鎌滝 えり, Kamataki Eri). This Eri, however, is based on an actual person, so here we have a real life example of a name written in syllables.

Shiro (志郎, Shirō)

志 shi = intention, plan, resolve, aspire, motive, hopes, shilling

郎 ro (rou, rō) = son

-  The kanji 志 could be related to his determination to endure the bullying in order to protect the orphanage and to his resolve to stand up for himself and face the bully that threatened his family's home once Kiryu assures him that Morning Glory won't be targeted if Shiro fights back.

Izumi (泉)

泉 izumi = spring, fountain

- She is the only Morning Glory child with a nature-related name and also the one who is interested in dogs. A 'spring' is a natural source of water that may form streams or lakes and support the animals and plants living around it. Our Izumi may not be a source of water, but she is the reason why the beloved pet Mame joined the family.

Saki (咲)

咲 saki = blossom, bloom

- Poor Saki is a gentle and shy flower who endured a horrible and traumatic childhood that left her mute and seemingly unreachable. Her bond of mutual love with her adoptive father and the friends she finds in Morning Glory finally allow her to break out of her shell, recover her voice and bloom.  

Extra: There almost exists a number theme with the boys and their ages. Taichi and Mitsuo have kanji for numbers in their names, and these may reflect that they are the first and third oldest boys, respectively. Koji (second oldest) and Shiro (fourth and youngest) do not follow this pattern. However, the pronunciation of some of the kanji they do have is similar to the pronunciation of the kanji for numbers 2 and 4. The kanji 二 means 'two' and can be read as 'ji,' and the kanji 四 means 'four' and can be read as 'shi.' As examples, we have Joji Kazama (風間 譲二, Kazama Jōji) and Seishiro Munakata (宗像 征四郎, Munakata Seishirō). We could say that Koji and Shiro sort of continue the pattern, at least when it comes to pronunciation.

[thefanbasewhore]

Bucky being away on a mission for 1 + month and pregnant reader is at home but starts showing and sends Bucky a picture and he's all like 😥😥😥🥰😍

This is Soo fucking cute ❤️ here's a little head cannon:

It happens out of no where, the notification that you had texted him an attachment, and of course he clicked right on it, curious to why.

His heart melts, literally does flips inside of his chest as his breath sezies.

The picture isn't fancy or extravagant, which he appreciates. It's clear you just woke up, face bare from any kind of makeup.

He feels his lips stretch with a smile, it burns but reaches his eyes as he notices the different directions your tangled hair sticks up in.

A simple black sports bra and a pair of biker shorts, cupping the small bump. It's not enough for anyone to even suggest your pregnant but he knows.

Bucky can see the difference in the way your back slightly leans forward, how your hips are widening and fattening up to support HIS baby. The small bumps fits perfectly in your hand and he's emotional.

He tries to blink away the few tears that sting his waterline but he can't look away as his finger sclups over the screen to touch your skin, he wishes he could it's been too long.

He notices the three small dots and after follows the text, "Look who decided to show today, we miss you daddy 👶❤️"

Bucky sighs softly, fingers threatening to press the call button but mumbling voice in his ear piece kindly reminds him of the rendezvous point only being five minutes away.

He quickly replays with, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I miss you so much sweetheart."

He bites his lip, looking at the picture again, he can't help but stare at the bump in all its glory. It's there, round and full and it belongs to you both.

The best parts of two imperfect human beings to form into one beautiful human, one he loves with all his heart and hasn't even met yet.

Bucky just can't leave it at that. "I'll be home soon. Can't wait to see you both, he's growing so much, I'm missing it all :(."

"He?, Well 'he' isn't even close to being done growing. You're not missing anything, be safe, I love you."

Bucky bites his lip, chewing the fat lamelessly, "I'm always safe, I have you at home waiting for me. See you soon, sweet girl."

[icccricketschedule24]

Unlocking the Cricket Carnival: ICC Cricket Schedule 2024 Revealed!

Are you ready to be swept away by the whirlwind of cricketing action? Brace yourselves because the ICC Cricket Schedule for 2024 is here, promising an electrifying array of matches that will set stadiums abuzz and fans’ hearts racing. From the glitz and glamor of the IPL 2024 to the pinnacle of cricketing excellence in the World Cup 2024, cricket aficionados are in for a treat like never before. Let’s dive into the excitement and explore what’s in store for cricket lovers worldwide.

IPL 2024: Where Stars Collide and Legends Are Born:

Kicking off the cricketing extravaganza is none other than the Indian Premier League (IPL) 2024, a tournament that needs no introduction. Renowned for its high-octane clashes and nail-biting finishes, the IPL is a melting pot of talent from across the globe. With powerhouse teams battling it out for supremacy, expect nothing short of edge-of-the-seat action and jaw-dropping performances.

From the ferocious batting of Virat Kohli to the crafty spin of Rashid Khan, the IPL 2024 promises to showcase cricketing brilliance at its finest. Whether you’re a die-hard fan cheering from the stands or a fantasy cricket enthusiast fine-tuning your dream team, the IPL 2024 is a spectacle you won’t want to miss.

World Cup 2024: The Ultimate Showdown of Cricketing Titans:

As the dust settles on the IPL, cricket fever will reach its zenith with the highly anticipated ICC World Cup 2024. Held once every four years, the World Cup is the epitome of cricketing glory, where nations vie for supremacy and players etch their names into the annals of history. With the world’s best cricketers converging on the grand stage, prepare yourself for a rollercoaster ride of emotions and unforgettable moments.

From the thunderous roar of the crowd to the nerves of steel displayed by players under pressure, the World Cup 2024 promises to deliver a spectacle like no other. Whether it’s the raw power of a blistering century or the finesse of a perfectly executed yorker, expect every match to be a testament to the beauty and drama of the sport.

Stay Updated with the Latest Sports News and Updates:

As the cricketing calendar unfolds, staying abreast of the latest sports news and updates is essential for every fan. Whether it’s injury updates, team announcements, or match predictions, our blog site is your one-stop destination for all things cricket. With expert analysis, insightful commentary, and insider tips, we’ll keep you ahead of the game throughout the season.

Match Predictions and Fantasy Tips: Unleash Your Cricketing Genius:

Think you have what it takes to outsmart the experts? Put your cricketing knowledge to the test with our match predictions and fantasy tips. Whether you’re strategizing your dream XI for the next IPL match or predicting the outcome of a crucial World Cup encounter, our expert advice will give you the winning edge. With invaluable insights and insider knowledge, dominate your fantasy leagues and revel in the glory of victory.

As the ICC Cricket Schedule for 2024 unfolds, brace yourselves for a cricketing carnival like never before. From the glitz and glamor of the IPL 2024 to the adrenaline-fueled drama of the World Cup 2024, the stage is set for a season of unparalleled excitement and entertainment. So, gather your friends, don your team colors, and get ready to embark on a journey filled with unforgettable moments and cricketing magic. Let the games begin!

Click here to know more

[kodzumie-archived]

First kiss headcannons with Nagito, Kokichi, and Keebo (my 3 favorite boys) please?

❝FIRST KISS❞

Synopsis; What their first kiss looks like.

Featuring; Kokichi Oma and Nagito Komaeda x GN! Reader

Warning(s); Kissing, established relationship, and Nagito’s self-degradation, but that’s all, I assume!

Kodzumie’s Note; I apologize, but I don’t accept requests for K1-B0/Keebo/Kiibo(?) yet! (Woah, so many ways to spell his name, haha.) I, hopefully, one day will, but I’ll gladly do the other two characters for you! Thank you for this request, it was adorable. I hope you’ve had a lovely day! Muah! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA

⤷ Ever the jokester, he’ll likely play off his advances as nothing more than a quip; yet another jest of his. Every brush of his lips against yours, so close yet too far to be considered a proper kiss. He tests the waters, instinctual caution before truly diving within.

⤷ He’s analytical; inspecting your visage in order to determine whether or not he should follow through with the underlying verity of his intentions. Every pinch of your brows; the twitch of your lips in which form spherical as you gasp; the tops of your fingers brushing atop his chest in either an attempt to push him away or draw him in.

⤷ It’s an insatiable desire; a thirst he’s rendered unable to quench. For as long as he’s been with you, he expected the anticipated kiss. Though he’d began to dread the unpredictable ticking of time.

⤷ A timer held above his head, tantalizingly searing through his mind as a reminder of what’s to come; what he must prepare himself for. He questions whether he should leap, plunging forth and subduing his inhibitions.

⤷ But—albeit he’d never vocally admit such—he’s anxious. Even as he snickers, pulling his face away from yours to admire your flustered countenance, his leg bounces in response to the flurry of butterflies encapsulated within his gut.

⤷ If he was being honest with himself, he truly wanted to share this with you; to share his firsts of such sensual innocence. But where he faltered fell upon you; did you want to share something so intimate with him?

⤷ It was a matter of your approval. After all, the last thing he wanted was to royally embarrass himself at the ontological possibility that you simply didn’t want to engage in such a thing with him. Truly, he’d bury himself alive if your rejection were to occur after he’d already committed to the kiss.

⤷ So—with due diligence—he preserves his temptations and treads upon steady waters. His eyes keen on pinpointing your reposte to his jests; he’d always been skilled in the art of reading others. In due time, he’ll deduce your answer.

⤷ Thus was the beginnings of what Kokichi dubbed as The Chamber of Paradox. Well, for such a theatrical title the notion itself was rather burlesque.

⤷ Amidst this time, Kokichi’s tongue was laced in the plaguing of fallacy; a lie of self-contradictory. Poignant brushing of lips against the plush skin of your cheek as he draws away with a cheeky grin, and an all-too-knowing sheen within his violet orbs.

⤷ He’s aware of your perplexion. He’s tauntingly aware of the dissatisfaction veiled within your pout. And, within that very moment, he instilled that the tendrils of bitter reluctance were merely a kind lie. That feeling—the suffocating fear of rejection—was a falsity born from within the clutches of kindness.

⤷ But there’s a glory within masking his intentions. Tugging himself back, he departs his lips from your cheek and sports his infamous, mischevious grin as you raise a brow at his antics. When questioned for hos reasonings behind the fleeting peck, it’s as though he’s rehearsed it all before.

⤷ “Do I have to have a reason to kiss you?” He jabs. To the surface, he’s composed; delighted, even. Though that’s the beauty of masquerade, isn’t it?

⤷ He was poigantly forced to bare the weight of your underlying conviction; an impression he wished to have been blinded of. Your displeasure to his initiation upon your cheek; a destination far from his true intent.

⤷ Underneath the grin and boisterous laughter, his heart ached. A prick of a thorn dipped in venom, gradually spreading to the entirety of his heart and enveloping him in a state of melancholy.

⤷ He shouldn’t be feeling this way; he knows this. After all, a mutual desire was needed for him to begin to culminate the possibilities of initiating such shared moments. If you weren’t willing to engage then he would respect your wishes. Your comfort a priority far above his own impulses.

⤷ He respected your innermost discontentment. Thus, he strayed from initiating anything he deemed to reflect such a negative swirl of emotions within you. Even managing to restrict himself from pressing his lips against your cheeks; what he once considered a secondary form of jesting.

⤷ Yet it unnerved him that—despite his restrictions of physical intimacy—you still seemed dissatisfied. In fact, you seemed further displeased. He began to question whether or not he’d done something entirely unrelated to upset you.

⤷ Abiding by the tactic he’d come to know best, he pesters you. Picking at your patience to pry apart the genuine root of your vexation.

⤷ Through the ever-so playful baritone of his, he prods. “Are you mad at me?” A chuckle following soon after as he meets your eyes, hands poised behind his hands, casually.

⤷ To the ears of bystanders, his words hold no truth; a mere travesty of fallacious hurt. But you were not a bystander, and you were not heedless to his innermost concerns. And thus, with a sigh, you caved.

⤷ Truly, Kokichi wondered if he’d began hallucinating in that instance. He questioned if the words he’d interpreted you to utter were a mere figment of his mind; that you hadn’t rethought such a thing. A resonant question; why don’t you want to kiss me?

⤷ Well this was certainly a turn of events. You—of all people; of the two of you—were inquiring whether or not he was opposed to kissing you. In another instance, he’d have dubbed it comical. But the redundant suppression of his impulsivity induced his jaw to slack open, surprise evident within his visage.

⤷ “Say, what now?” Though the words passed through his lips as a question, you both were fully aware of the rhetoric implication. His eyes trained on yours as he attempts to decipher your thoughts within the encompass of your thoughts. But Kokichi isn’t a mind reader, and neither are you; the two of you needed to communicate verbally, desperately.

⤷ You’re hesitant. Your reluctance seeling into the quiver of your lips as your fists clench ever-so slightly. You needed to talk it out. No matter how abnormally in sync and tune, internally, with one another, you still needed to vocalize your true feelings.

⤷ So you swallow back the last traces of reticence, and utter your concerns. The avoidance of pecking your lips, the gradual decline of the kisses he’d brush up on your cheeks as a playful greeting, and his general reduction of previous normalcy of physical affection. Everything he’d done, you’d noticed. And it—albeit unintentionally—was swallowing you in grief and self-consciousness. How ironic.

⤷ Kokichi nearly allowed a laugh to slip at the irony of it all; the comical contradiction of both your perceptions. He was wallowing in dejection at your interlaced satisfaction of, presumably, his advancements whilst you were despondent of his withdrawal of the aforementioned advancements. Oh, how key communication was to the engagement of intimacy.

⤷ “Ah, man! And here I thought you didn’t want me to kiss you.” He admitted, jovial swirling within his remark. Your eyes widened instantaneously at his admission. Why on Earth would he assume that?

⤷ Though you don’t verbally voice your dumbfounding, finding it far within your mind as you eye Kokichi. He paces towards you, violet orbs masquerading with flickers of zeal as he nears you, craning his neck to leans closer towards you.

⤷ You rapidly discern his intentions as you, too, begin to tilt your head; allowing passage for him to—after long last—press his lips against yours.

⤷ Even as his lips hover over yours, a mere few centimeters away from yous, he falters. His eyes flickering to yours for some sort of confirmation; assurance that you truly wanted this just as much as he did.

⤷ Yet rather than the nodding of your head to ease his worries upon your potential second thoughts, he’s greeted with the weight of another’s lips atop his own. A reciprocated desire; swallowing his gasp as your hand finds its way through his hair, cradling his head to draw him closer.

⤷ Time seemed to slow, yet paradoxically begin to race as your lips overlapped his, suckling on his bottom lip in which quivered ever-so-slightly in stimulated fervor.

⤷ You pulled away far too soon for his liking, but the lingering taste of you kept him at bay. He could still feel your lips; the vivid, dream-like sensation of pure eloquence.

⤷ In that instance, he’s breathless. Cheeks lit aflame with roseate sincerity, he allows his lips to curl into a smile. One that you, yourself, find to be taken aback by as he steadies his breathing. Of all the smiles you’ve seen from your lover, Kokichi, this was his most solemn one.

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ The initial kiss was long anticipated, yet perpetually prolonged. It’s a dream―akin to a mind-fogged daze―to share something so daringly intimate with you. Especially it being his first kiss, of all things.

⤷ He’s aware of how his inexperience will cater towards a sloppy attempt, and it petrified him; the haunting, ontological realization that he’s bound to disappoint you. He’s tantalizingly conscious of the relentless ways his miserable self could potentially offend you with how out of tune he is.

⤷ Thus, he avoids initiating anything in fear of a countenance of disappointment from you. He wouldn’t be able to handle such an expression from you; the one who believed in him, and assured him he had value.

⤷ It’s tormenting; yearning for something yet persisting to push it beyond his own reach. At times, he claims himself to be a masochist. Relinquishing his desires in favor of uncertainty.

⤷ He’s already milked his luck; being in a relationship with you was enough to be considered a lifetime worth of luck. As much as he yearns for the feeling of his lips upon yours, he musn’t. He’s already been selfish enough, claiming you as solely his lover.

⤷ Yet the humanistic temptation seemed to encapsulate him within its clutches, easing his mind into a fantastical realm of the ever-so ontological sentience of how your lips would feel.

⤷ Nagito, much to his dismay, was reluctantly selfish. His desires to bask within the essence and encompass of you, you, you overriding his belittling mindset of his absent worth. He wants to smother himself in shame at the thought of taking more of you, but the urge is increasingly suffocating.

⤷ He wants you. He wants you in your entirety. A selfish yearning that he undeniably loathes himself for and insists that he never act upon. Subduing to a misery of helpless longing in which he’ll never allow himself to be satisfied with relief. Nagito, really and truly, was a masochist.

⤷ Even as the inklings of inclinations plagued his every thought, seeping into his casual behavior, he resisted.

⤷ For every moment in which he’s seated beside you, his eyes flickering downwards to admire what he truly craved to graze his own lips upon, he resisted. Biting back his urges and swallowing the remnants of greed.

⤷ He knows it’s become unfair to you. A cage of degrading thoughts compiling over him and staining his heart with the perpetual ink of self-loathing has managed to poison your hope amongst him. With every time you steer your face to meet his, gazing into his eyes for any hintings of unwanted touches, he reels himself away; your lips meeting the skin of his cheek instead.

⤷ It devastates him to be poignantly aware of the doubt he’s inflicting upon you; the despair he has induced within you.

⤷ He’s riddled his professions into a mangled cobweb of mutual desire. Each seam a confession of his absolute, undeniable yearning for you; for the entirety of you. A selfish feat, but one you’ve astonished him with how complying you seemed. Would you truly want someone like him to take this much of you?

⤷ Truthfully, he attempted to gauge himself into believing you wouldn’t want him to. That every instance you attempt to initiate a kiss, it was merely a coincidence; a mistake.

⤷ But he knows better. Nagito is as self-loathing as he was clever. He knew how to read people and decipher situations expertly. He was aware of your genuine intentions, and yet he continued to bury himself beneath fallacy; excuses.

⤷ It’s selfish, selfish, selfish! He knows better than to continuously withdraw from you, when he swore his mere purpose was to provide for you. He’s your devoted lover; the one who gives you all that you ask under no condition nor reciprocal.

⤷ And yet you’ve provided him with much more than he could have ever imagined; much more than he was aware he could be seen as worthy of.

⤷ Time and time again, you’ve wagered yourself in order to reel in his temptations; allowing him to succumb to the piercing tendrils of greed. Hook, line, and sinker.

⤷ One can only dwindle in denial for so long before they’re subdued. The ontological realization that you, in fact, share his desire. That the yearning to press his lips atop yours, smothering you in a newfound world of intimacy, was mutual.

⤷ It’s gradual; a build up of overwhelming tempation as well as the underlying guilt of daring to reject your request. Yet, as ticks of time pass on, he finds himself surrendering to the pith of his long-lastingly suppressed infatuation.

⤷ Fingers curling beneath your chin, he secures a hold your face, cradling it to tilt ever-so gently. His grip just barely burrowing itself into the supple skin of your plush cheeks, inducing a slight pucker of your lips.

⤷ Nagito—with hesitancy painting the canvas of his visage—smiles upon your startled yet covetous expression. A glimmer within your eyes that rivals even the stars as you begin to flutter them to a delicate close; anticipation seeping through your lidded eyes.

⤷ He falters momentarily, pondering of what scum like him has the audacity to hold you this way. He knew he had no right to be cradling your face, pulling you in to just barely graze his lips atop your own pair. Your breaths fanning in synchronized gasps.

⤷ But he pushed forth, leaning in to close the prolonged gap between you two, sinking into the kiss.

⤷ A moan is muffled admist your joint lips as he parts his lips to envelope yours once more. He savored the sensation; the warmth of your lips atop his, the brush of your lashes against his cheek, and the engulfed mewls that you’d unintentionally released.

⤷ He treasured the entirety of that moment, smothering himself in the aftershock as each breath he took that melted with yours was electrifying.

⤷ Even as the two of you pulled away—taking the opportunity to relieve yourselves of the tension and regain steady breathing—he realized the true intensity of his passions; his craving that seemed to be perpetual.

⤷ He realized that he, Nagito Komaeda, was a selfish man. Claiming your lips under the engulfing of his virgin pair. He realized his greed as he took a deep breath, and leaned in for another taste.

[cuddlesslut]

Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

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[arkus-rhapsode]

Bnha chap 302 was crazy! So many stuff have been revealed! What did u think of it?

(So before I start, I just want to say, sorry it took me a few days to answer this. when discussion recent chapters of MHA, I’m trying now to wait for the official release before posting anything. I know I haven’t always been the best when using scans vs official releases, but I’m going to try and make this more a  thing. Given some flack I’ve received in the past, as well as recent crack downs by shueisha. So you can send me asks like this, please I’m not discouraging it. but you’re just going to have to wait till after the official releases.)

With the preamble out of the way OH MY GOD! This flashback chapters are amazing! Like this has been the kind of stuff I’ve been waiting for in MHA after the metric crap ton of build up by Horikoshi. And its not disappointed.

First, I do likeEndeavor’s gradual decline into is asshole self from Shoto’s memory. It’s vocally recognized that Endeavor is breaking societal taboos with his Quirk Marriage. Not only his selfish wishes to have an ultimate child to surpass All Might, but Toya is basically one of the worst combinations of this selective breeding. Being that he has stronger fire than Endeavor, but he has resistance to cold temperature so he’s just burning his body.

Yet Endeavor still is more focused on surpassing All Might. And when he comes to the realization that Toya will never surpass All Might, he decides to make a his real ultimate child. Now the reason I like this is because this isn’t Endeavor just being like “I need to surpass All Might with the perfect child”, its also, “I need to create my ideal child which will surpass All Might and act as a deterrent to Toya wanting to be a hero.”

Now, I love this scene, not just because no matter how Endeavor tries to justify his actions, he is still ultimately breaking societal conventions just to selfishly surpass his rival. But it also shows, Endeavor is aware of Toya’s feelings. He KNOWS Toya won’t stop trying to be a hero. He’s not some ignorant to his son wanting to live up to his dream of the ultimate hero. But his plan to stop Toya is not altruistic. It’s still selfish. His plan is literally to make an actually superior child, just to get his son to give e up. Its probably the worst thing you can do.

And most recently in 302, when that doesn’t work and Toya still burns himself and tries to attack Shoto. Endeavor finally just decides to no longer deal with this. personally. He is leaving Toya to Rei and is just going to focus on Shoto. He’s pushing a problem onto someone else and NOW he’s just ignoring it.

And then he just doubles down worse from there. Actually becoming more of the abuser that Shoto and Natsuo remember. All because Rei couldn’t keep Toya in line. Even though Toya was his son too.

It’s been awhile since we have seen Endeavor as the antagonistic figure. And I know the story of Endeavor will always be a tough one because its ultimately one trying to redeem an abuser. And I like that in this flashback, we are really reminded of why Endeavor wants atonement, because what he did to his family was wrong. And now we’re actually seeing it. Hell, some of it is more uncomfortable because we now see, its not like Endeavor was so pure evil psychopath, he gradually slipped from some wrong-headed jerk who was breaking taboos who is aware he’s doing bad things but pushing forward to ignoring his problems he’s caused to finally lashing out at his family as if it’s not also his responsibility. 

And we see a man who is regretful. But he still made mistakes. And I like that this hasn’t just been for the audience, this has been for Endeavor. Because he can no longer keep those skeletons in his closet nor is he in a position to throw himself a pity party. Again, we still have to wait a few chapters before we see like how this pays off. But Rei is reminding him that if he really wants to make things better and prove he’s a better person, then let’s start by getting his house in order.

Speaking of Rei, this has been a pretty interesting character study for her as well. We see Rei as pretty much a passive player both in the series up to this point being in a hospital, but also in this flashback. She agrees to be Enji’s wife and while she’ll speak up, she doesn’t stop Endeavor from having more kids. Nor does she stop him from really separating the kids. She also brings it up that like Endeavor, she didn’t really “see” what was really going on with Toya.

While Endeavor may have thought a deterrent of making him Toya give up would work, Rei try to just talk to Toya about looking beyond his father, but its not just wanting his father’s attention that is driving Toya mad. Its the fact that his birth was solely to make an ultimate Quirk users and if he’s not then his whole creation is pointless.

Because at he core, she is still complacent with this arrangement. From her family to the fact that when she can’t actually stand up to Enji, she then starts lashing out at the children who remind her of them. She has hurt her children too and its wrong. But unlike Endeavor who is really now just trying to come to grips with that, Rei has clearly stewed in that self loathing for a while. And now, she’s not being passive, she’s now taking a stand and being the one who needs to pull Endeavor out of his own self-pity.

Its very nice to see this character who, like Endeavor, has transformed over the course of this union.  

Now what does this mean for their marriage? As this seems to be the root cause of here passivity. I’m not sure. But Hori has given me no reason to think he’ll do something crazy with it. So I’m going to wait and see.

Now onto the man himself, Toya. Man finding out about Dabi has been a trip. Because at first it seems like he just wants his dad’s attention. To be proud of him. But its more than just that. Toya has a fire in him that won’t go out.

Toya’s “fire” isn’t this drive to be number 1 hero and get the glory. Its literally the validation of his existence. Because he was made to surpass All Might. If Toya can’t do that, then he failed at his existence. 

It really pulls back that Dabi doesn’t hate Endeavor because of abuse like Rei, Shoto and Natsuo. Dabi hates Endeavor because he was born solely to fulfill his mission, and when he was physically incapable of doing so, he replaced him with a child who could. It hurts to watch.

Because Dabi will never get over the fact of why he’s here in the first place, I think a lot of kids when they get older have that realization about why they’re here is because of their parents. And Toya can literally trace why his father made him. As he recalled with Snatch.

Just contemplating his family and why he’s here. He lost it.

We also get some cool details on Dabi’s powers. With his flames growing even stronger from red to blue, but also that the burns around his chest that we first saw in his video is intentionally so he could both hide the burns but also avoid hurting him.

There’s also the fact that his flames are tied to his emotions. Probably why whenever we see Dabi he’s mostly irate and disinterested. But when he finally had to get infront of Endeavor and the world, Dabi lets all his emotions come out. Letting him use flash fire and be wary more gleeful in his destruction. Yet we see that any times he cranks up his emotions, he always starts crying. Like he did with Snatch and Hawks. Which is such a subtle touch that I love.

There’s also his unique resentment towards the women in his family more than Natsuo. Now Endeavor we know he clearly hates, but when it came to Natsuo, he ignored him. But he knew Rei and Fuyumi the longest, and they did nothing for the longest time.

We also see the beginning of Dabi’s use of faux concern about society and using it as a way to turn people on Endeavor. 

Dabi has stated he doesn’t care about the League of Villains. Even in his big speech about how its Endeavor’s fire that let him kill people, he knows that’s a lie too. He would talk about confiding in his beloved brother, but if it meant making his dad suffer, he would’ve killed him.

Dabi’s hate is for one man, and if he can use anything to make Endeavor’s existence a living hell, he’ll use it. And we see that his hate is justified, but he will wrap that hate in a way to get others to feel like him. Its very effective.

Its just nice to see a villain who gets a bunch of build up LIVE up to all his hype. Its not like a let down, its just opening more doors to explore.

And now we get to the Todoroki family. Where do we go from here? Well Dabi isn’t just an Endeavor problem or a Rei problem, its a family problem. They all share the burden and Dabi will be their goal.

And I like this because, for the most part, Shoto completed his arc in the Sports Festival of hating his dad, but then accepting this is his power and looking beyond Enji. And while that wasn’t the end as he still has to make his choice on wether to accept his dad as a changed man or not, that’s more part of Endeavor’s goal. Shoto has been sorta like Deku and Bakugo with a focus on being number 1.

But now he has real and true personal motivation that no one but this family can really address and I am excited. I’m glad that the prominent characters of this series like Shoto has something to do. I get that all the kids in UA will never truly get this treatment. They have focus, but they are still mainly supporting cast. But having a main character really be able to justify why they’re up in front is great. I’m eager to see what awaits the Todoroki family in the future.