#the whole damn manga is like this honestly

[chiarrara]

jjk culling game arc be like "this character you just met who *is* going to die in 2-3 chapters has a backstory and a gimmick! would you like to know what they are?" and then they die in 2-3 chapters

[beanghostprincess]

I'm still fixing some stuff before opening my kofi for writing commissions but I think I'm just gonna do One Piece fics commissions for now because I don't know if my hyperfixation on this manga has a place for me to write about other fandoms right now

[climbing-starrs]

FINISHED TG:RE THIS WEEKEND!!!!

[whimsicalcotton]

they're so normal and hinged <3 <3 <3

[poisonf0rest]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files. 

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request. 

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :( 

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further. 

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again. 

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for. 

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now. 

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line. 

You groan  as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor. 

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent. 

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case? 

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat. 

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer. 

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings. 

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

 “What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered. 

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day. 

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either. 

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers. 

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain. 

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling. 

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside. 

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table. 

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content. 

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way. 

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth. 

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s. 

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever. 

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth. 

If that were all, then everything would be perfect. 

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own. 

But of course, the plot has to thicken. 

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all. 

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming. 

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone. 

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture. 

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?” 

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows. 

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t. 

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected. 

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked. 

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes. 

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.” 

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him. 

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself. 

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I���m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you. 

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck. 

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone. 

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you. 

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue. 

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next. 

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are." 

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.” 

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin. 

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm. 

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop. 

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive. 

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser. 

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion. 

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?" 

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you. 

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers. 

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase. 

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own. 

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit. 

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. 

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly. 

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force. 

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor. 

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.” 

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth. 

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

 “That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob. 

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest. 

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls. 

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it. 

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.” 

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you. 

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine. 

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

[emilibro]

Ughhh I'm so sorry to be an ass but I see so much popular art on tumblr and around the internet that really woobifies both Laios and Kabru and their relationship, especially when they're together.... You guys are aware that Laios eats monsters the way people would like. Eat animals, right? He's not crazy or stupid or sadistic or anything. He has a special interest and it's monsters.

Furthermore, his past having himself and his sister be shunned for their interests in the abnormal made him develop a distaste for humanity. Laios has just thought monsters were way cooler since he was a kid, and Falin really looked up for him for his dedication to his interests and personal code of moral ethics. He never loved his sister less for her abilities, he admired her for what made her different. Because he's fucking awesome and they're autistic as hell.... they both went through so damn much. Laios never fit into the military, into his hometown, he barely fit into most groups of adventurers since he met Marcille, chilchuck, and company, and two of the members of that original party didn't care enough to join him. His feeling of worthlessness to his friends in the beginning of the story are enough to make him imagine a whole scenario in between major chapters where he was the one who was eaten.. and he thought nobody except Falin would care enough to save him.

Point being Laios has a much richer character that goes ALONGSIDE his special interest in monsters. Which honestly is more comparable to, like. A fucking biologist. Not a monsterfucker, not a cannibal, none of that shit. Monsterfuckers are cool as a monsterfucker but he's not one.. he's more like a furry man.... And he's not stupid he's just. Autistic. Why are we making autistic characters with a silly side seem stupid? Everyone has dumb moments sure but like.. he's really smart guys... there's a reason he's such a good leader outside of his ability to listen to his party members. Don't fall for the mischaracterization of Laios that his party members originally set for him before major important arcs guys...

And Kabru. Oh my God. Kabru. Kabru is also autistic but for humans, social interactions and culture... he's a nerd for politics and the humanities, and I'll avoid saying much more to avoid spoilers for non-manga readers but you'll see more of that as time passes. But he's not the type to be easily flustered. Laios only gets to him, not even because he's that difficult to read, but because he catches him off guard. He's an interesting critter, bro. And Kabru definitely sees that. It takes time to respect that, but within a period of time he learns to see him as a relatively competent adventurer and places a lot of faith from him. On some level, this guy has learned to understand this very interesting autistic guy who is forward with his feelings that a very autistic Kabru hasn't learned to understand. That's what makes their relationship so cool, man. He's not cold in reality (though people may perceive him that way due to backstory motivations and attitude within the dungeon), but he's a lot more serious than this... c'mon guys.. let's be a little real here please.... at this point I barely like Labru anymore because they've been so like. Babied. Woobified. Whatever the word is man. I'm starting to appreciate their friendship more as a friendship now because I just think the beautiful qualities I saw in their romance have been sort of overlooked or misinterpreted. Nowadays I just think their platonic relationship is beautiful. Sighs.

Farcille is awesome though and these girls are awesome slay

-

Edit: hey guys, I wanna address a couple of things here! For one, this isn't intended to be ship hate. Labru is a perfectly valid ship - rather, I'm just not a fan of how deep the mischaracterization of both characters runs, and how it results in the subsequent babying of their relationship. While it's driven me personally away from the romance a bit, I have no problem with the ship itself. Additionally, Farcille has its own issues with woobification that could use some addressing, I just haven't had to see as much mischaracterization on my feeds. Maybe in a future post I'll address some of my personal peeves with many people's characterization of Farcille, ESPECIALLY Falin.

[pikahlua]

Fourteen Days of MHA: Day 3

Light Fades to Rain

Okay, let's gush. Here are my feelings about the anime adaptation of chapters 360-362: season 7 episode 11. This will quickly devolve from eloquent discussion to raging madness I promise.

The opening five minutes are the weakest part of the episode. This is the only section I will lodge any complaints about, and honestly they're not that serious.

The sadomasochism got toned down :P

I kind of expected it, and honestly I get why. Even though it was scaled back, the scene was effective enough for most viewers because there's just something about seeing it animated that makes it feel visceral anyways. The detail was always going to be reduced in the art when adapted to animation, and a lot of that art could've looked really bad without the necessary detail.

But it wouldn't be on brand for me if I didn't mention that it bummed me out lol.

The only other thing I can complain about isn't even an issue with the episode, it's an error in the subtitles.

"...you're just goldfish poop next to All For One."

a) It should be "One For All," not "All For One."

b) I don't think they should have kept it as "goldfish poop." Sorry to any language purists out there, but the idiomatic meaning of this phrase in Japanese will not get picked up by an English-speaking audience--and that idiom is important. It has an impact on how Katsuki behaves going forward. I think the subtitles should have changed that to something like "a minnow in One For All's wake" or "a tag-along weakling," ANYTHING to get the point across that Tomura is trying to inflict psychological damage by telling Katsuki he'll never amount to anything on the level of One For All. That message informs the rest of the episode!

Now, if that's the only complaint I have about this whole episode--a slightly too-fast-paced-under-detailed opening scene and a bad subtitle--then I'm a happy camper. And indeed that is the only complaint I have.

This episode is a masterpiece of adaptation.

The focus on the Big Three is so good because it does such a good job of masking where the episode is going but it's perfectly in-theme because of the parallels the three of them have with Izuku and Katsuki. IT JUST WORKS MAN. I LOVE IT.

The music that plays when Katsuki mutters is an excellent choice, though I wish they could have done something to hammer the point home more that he was indeed muttering and analyzing like Izuku does. Maybe the little "mutter" text would've been dissonant in tone lol but still I wish there was a way they could've done it. I do think the point does come across in the end still, but it's just more impactful when you get to see the little "mutter" text come full circle. Yeah yeah, manga vs anime and all that.

I didn't expect the tone they went with for Jeanist's reaction to Katsuki's muttering, but it was just different not like bad or anything. I kinda liked the whole "what the fuuuuck" vibe of it. I was thinking more like "Holy shit, I'm a proud dad" tone but this works XD

Jeanist is such a dad.

HE SPARKLE. KATSUKI, HE SPARKLE. IT SO PRETTY. AT LAST.

The animators were SOOOO trying to hide the twist this episode from the anime-only viewers, they didn't even put Katsuki on the commercial bumpers, they didn't want to SPOIL THE SURPRISE. IT'S SO GOOD.

Lost it at Tenko's freak out (damn voice actor wow) and Mirio's "g-gomen." I need the dub of this scene so bad.

JEANIST MY FIRST LOVE, DAD-ING SO HARD ALL OVER THIS EPISODE LOOK AT HIM GO.

Nejire is adorable as hell and everyone in MHA is so easily read as autistic it's remarkable actually.

They really put the typography behind the plasma cannon they actually did that.

UNF THAT PIANO. THE PIANO GOES OFF ALL OVER THE PLACE THIS EPISODE, DAMN.

Also good job on making the plasma cannon blast look small and precise to contrast Katsuki's attack last episode, because Katsuki definitely has more firepower but Tamaki has the finesse to concentrate the attack for a sustained period.

BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS

Everything from BOOTS on is perfection I know you all already know that.

Jeanist's voice acting is underappreciated, I really loved him this episode.

The little special sound effect for his clusters now!!! IT MAKES ME SO EXCITED. I CAN'T WAIT TO SUPERIMPOSE IT OVER KATAMARI DAMACY NEXT SEASON

Present Mic with the La Brava's-Love-quirk soft narration omg [chef's kiss]

OKAMOTO. OKAMOTO OH MY GOD. YOU GIVING ME FEELINGS WITH YOUR VOICE CRACKS I CAN'T SLEEP

The slo-mo shots are so pretty ;_;

THEY GAVE US MORE KUDOU TOO AND IT WAS SO GOOD, THE CONNECTION WAS DRAWN SO WELL BETWEEN HIM AND KATSUKI I AM LOVING IT SO MUCH. IT ALSO HELPS THE ENGLISH-SPEAKING AUDIENCE UNDERSTAND THIS IS DEFINITELY THE AFO-DOMINANT PERSONALITY NOT TOMURA.

Even if this series ends without explaining it, I'm going to come up with my own explanation for that vestige world shit. That cannot just be symbolic afterlife bullcrap. IT MEANS SOMETHING.

He's just a boy ;_; He's just a baby boyyyyyy

GIVE HIM HIS AUTOGRAPH BY THE END OF THIS SERIES SO HELP ME--

he spin thru the air like a meme

It's time for Horikoshi's favorite character: Bakucorpse!

You wanted the blue sky gone, but at what cost?

YES I'M LOVING THE VIBE FROM THE THUNDER SOUND

Oh...oh it hurts a lot to see in color, oh he's so pale...ohhhh no

THAT ENDING SONG? NOW? HOW DARE.

That horrifying feeling of emptiness at the end :)

The joy of watching others cry over this 👀

Katsuki is the actual symbol of hope I don't care what anyone says. All hope of victory is lost with his death and the only chance of winning comes from reviving him with the literal power of hopes and prayers and wishes. He is Hope Incarnate. A very Sassy (Soft Precious) Hope Incarnate.

[dekusleftsock]

MMMMM OKAY OKAY OKAY

I’m surprised no one has talked about how interesting Izuku breaking his mask is???????? Like oh my god?????

He even comments on the fact that it’s probably useless to wear in a scene like this, since he only put it on previously to shield his face from the waves while fighting and running away from Himiko.

In fact, I could even compare this to another Himiko scene altogether!

Himiko’s broken mask.

It’s a metaphorical mask, but honestly, so is Izuku’s. In this chapter (and previous chapters, obviously) Izuku is hiding from the fact that he has… deeper than desirable feelings for Katsuki that makes him violent and hateful. He does not want to be violent or hateful, but currently, he is at such an awful state of mind (due to Katsuki’s death and then reawakening, and also partly the state of his friends and colleagues) that he can’t help doing so.

That hate and violence cannot be stuffed down deep in his bones like usual, oh no, his quirk elicits a PHYSICAL reaction. But he didn’t have a quirk before, how could he really know that this would happen? It’s like walking through daily life as a teenager, and then in your early adulthood being hit by an extreme anxiety disorder or other health conditions. With no real reason, it just happened one day! Other people have dealt with this before sure, but they had several years throughout their adolescence to figure it out, how to cope with it. And just like it’s said in the manga, it’s like everyone else is running far ahead, and you’re just starting to crawl.

And that’s what the mask is (fuck you dream 🫶🫶🤭) really for. It protects Izuku on a very emotional level. The mask is broken, chipping, dirty—yet he wears it anyway because it’s the only way he can really smile like allmight. Just like allmight found his mask, he also found his smile. It’s also probably why his first reaction to having a quirk stolen (while also strategical) is to hide hide hide in blackwhip. A bubble that hides him from Shigaraki, from Katsuki, from everyone who could see his face.

And comparing this to toga, hello?? Her masking metaphor is about MASKING AS A HETEROSEXUAL GIRL, and her breaking that mask makes her a deviant, an outcast! And here Izuku is, doing the exact same thing.

Shigaraki has danger sense now, by all means, the table has flipped—Shigaraki now knows that Izuku wants to hurt him. Izuku wants to destroy him. Danger sense doesn’t work on just anyone, it has to be coming from a place of malice (because Himiko doesn’t affect danger sense), and an urge for violence. Very Himiko trait.

AND IZUKU KNOWS THIS, HES BERATING HIMSELF, INDIRECTLY ONCE MORE—saying that he has this useless power (similar to how he berated the fish when he was mad at Katsuki in chapter 1), comments on how the mask is broken and that allmight found him that mask, and he even holds this disappointed look on his face.

THIS is the weight I was talking about. This. The berating, the indirect hatred, because Izuku hates. He hates people and things just like Shigaraki does. That’s why danger sense was the only power shigaraki should have taken, it’s the literal power to feel who is loving and who is hating.

AND OF COURSE WE HAVE THE THROWBACK CHAPTER TO 342 OH MY GOD

The fact that Izuku has to say, “you’re a person”, ITS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL YALL IM DEAD

Oh also! Izuku having matching blood falling over the other half of his face is just too fitting.

To me, with this whole chapter, Izuku and Katsuki, the parallels Katsuki had to ochako last chapter (the falling on the ground, passing out because “it’s getting cold”), it’s just given me a lot to think about.

And I’ve thought and paced and I really really hope I can describe what I’ve been thinking.

Pikahlua (or however their name is spelled, sorry!) translated the text on top of ochako as “Im still not sure what was obvious to that person”. These are the rough translations which is good to keep in mind, but there’s a few ideas I’ve had floating around from that line.

I went back and read 342, Ochako is ofc looking out into the city, calling herself an oddball, even saying she feels like she doesn’t know anything about Toga; if, and this is a big if, but… if this is Izuku thinking about Ochako, then that makes this line far more interesting.

What was obvious to her? A couple of possibilities—possibly understanding that she doesn’t really know Himiko, maybe it’s the fact that Ochako is so openly ready to accept Himiko (unlike Izuku for shigaraki, though this doesn’t apply to Katsuki. Showing Izuku is capable of feeling long term resentment for someone who wronged him, so long as that person doesn’t just wrong him, izuku), or maybe, it was the fact that she was so openly ready to say that she was weird, an oddball (a queer trope for coding characters, “she’s just so weird about that girl”, “I feel like I don’t really fit in”, or “I feel like the way I think of this same sex character—regardless of contextual status such as being a villain or an arch enemy—is wrong, and I should be condemned.”)

Though this could also be Ochako talking about Himiko that wasn’t directly said/shown in that scene, “I’m still not sure what was so obvious to Himiko about me.” (Though personally I find this harder to believe since this isn’t a panel directly taken from the chapter, rather a redraw from Izuku’s perspective. The drawing even makes her look taller than Izuku, which is interesting. Maybe he thinks that she’s better than him, morally)

And if we take Izuku’s comment of “You’re a person” then that furthers my belief that these are thoughts ABOUT ochako. Maybe the “obviousness” was the seeing the villain as a person. She EVEN TELLS HIM that she was thinking of Himiko during her speech about how Izuku is still human to the civilians. Maybe that speech was never about Ochako to Izuku, maybe it was ALWAYS ABOUT HIMIKO.

And ntm, this is another case of Izuku projecting onto someone else; not only is this a declaration to Shigaraki, “You’re still a person (that’s why I know I’m going to save you)!” But it’s also a declaration to himself, a motivator, a reminder that Ochako made to him during her speech, in Katsuki’s apology, and from allmight during his vigilante arc.

“You’re still a person (Izuku).”

The same declaration he made to the fish in the first chapter, to Shoto during the sports festival, and to Katsuki during dvk1.

“I matter.”

And it’s this that truly makes all of this so ironic—izuku speaking for himself, projecting onto shigaraki… honestly they feel the same way about hero society. The only reason Izuku can and does relate to Shigaraki is that he also feels cast away, no adults to reach out to as a kid, therefore making decisions on morality and bias that he mostly made on his own. Not only that, but Izuku has been the boy that was not seen as human. He has been the one to be isolated and shamed for being dirty and looking like a villain.

That’s honestly probably why he agreed with Ochako at all—he saw the little boy Shigaraki once was in ofa yes, but he’s also been an isolated and dehumanized teenager at UA. What if what Izuku was thanking Ochako for wasn’t actually standing up to the people and the speech she gave to him, but that she was able to truly open his eyes, see the bigger picture. Save Shigaraki.

Do I think shigaraki and dekus relationship and ideas of relatability are vastly different from togachako AND dabi + shoto ideas? Yes. Extremely so. Shoto and Ochako don’t and never really did hate Himiko or Touya. Obviously, to an extent Izuku does. Ntm, Shoto and Ochako brought up their conversations about their respective villains on their own, professing their insecurities and doubts, unlike Izuku who only expresses that he relates to them.

Maybe this anger and hatred came more recently, after seeing Katsuki’s death, but I have a feeling it more has to do with a built up grudge of Shigaraki targeting Katsuki.

Regardless of all of this, I see something bigger; when Izuku breaks his mask, he smiles. Genuinely smiles. Not his bright allmight smile, but he smiles regardless on that last page. It hurts and it takes a lot of power to push it, but it happens anyway.

This is the first time I’ve seen Izuku happy, or at the very least motivated, since seeing Katsuki dead. Even when Katsuki woke up, he still looks heart broken.

But the mask is gone. He’s free. Just like Himiko was free, so is Izuku.

And I thought for just a second that he would cover himself up another way, but he didn’t. He got up and he said “You’re still human” And smiled at him like the badass he is (yes I can compliment him, I promise. He’s my favorite character for a reason, I also just wanna kick him in the balls 24/7 for being so dumb).

And what did Himiko do when the mask broke?

She gave in.

She was free.

She let the world know, “this is who I am, take it or leave it.”

And I know, in my heart, that this is what Izuku will do too.

Yk how I mentioned earlier that this was a parallel to this?

I mean that, down to the fact that Ochako is calling Himiko by her first name.

Will Izuku try to give his life to Katsuki? I doubt it, he can’t do much in the medical sense.

However, do I see a shared moment similar to this? Maybe.

Okay all I’m saying is that it’s undeniably canon atp. Like I’m gonna wait for some kind of confession or kiss (bc yes I still believe that will happen, I am in that camp and you couldn’t drag me out unless I was cold and dead on the ground), but Himiko literally says she loves Ochako multiple times, INCLUDING is 395, so like. Idk what else you want. It’s this. We did it. Horikoshi you bastard.

[eijiroukiriot]

i'm looking through old posts and i cannot BELIIIIIIEVE this is an ask i got all the way back then. planetary is one of my ABSOLUTE favorite bkg songs these days. the way this verse twists the "i'm unbelievable" back on itself and then gets so much louder and anti-self-deprecation, anti-what-people-say-about-you with every line makes me think of bkg and pick up my walking pace and laugh at myself for it

i actually can't stress enough to you how much i listen to this as a bkg song these days. i can't BELIEVE i was put on to it all that time ago and i didn't get it!!! i'm genuinely so sorry. i'm sorry i didn't see the vision

My fav song that has Bakugou Energy is Planetary (Go!) by MCR

LOVE a good mcr song for bkg, i’m sort of surprised though because i’ve never listened to that song and it’s unexpectedly upbeat? both for what i expected it to sound like as a mcr song and a bkg song 

[hopefultimemachinedelusion]

SPOILERS

the way they look at each other drives me crazy! I see this look in comics/manga/webtoons AT TWO FRAMES MAXIMUM. AND HERE THAT LOOK IS ALREADY LASTS FOR TWO WHOLE CHAPTERS!!!

Damn... the INTIMACY! (When two friends just casually chatting but you can feel SOMETHING)

And I'm soo happy with how Julia is permanently so honest like "yes I want you to tell me about your childhood trauma and hobbies". she disarms Sahed completely.

AND HAAAAANDS AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Also it’s cute how easily he flirts, but in order to say something sincere, he first needs to gather his courage and prepare. But for Julia it’s the other way around. Flirting is hard, but she will easily and honestly tell everything about what is in her soul and in her head.

And the way he sits with her 😭😭😭

Maybe I'm delulu dut I think he sits like that so the light from campfire didn't disturb her sleep.

Also reminds me of this photo

[komuite]

Some Togame Thoughts

Rereading the Shishitoren arc for my fic and I'm having a lot of feelings about Togame again.

He's honestly such a fascinating character, and now that it's my third time reading the manga I've started to notice some more details. On first reading I didn't care much for this arc but honestly the themes and messages are really well done despite some pacing issues.

Togame created this whole violent persona that goes against everything that makes up his original personality and beliefs and it's so so tragic.

Because DAMN he's violent on his first appearance!

He cracked that glass bottle on his comrade's head like it was nothing. AND THEN CONTINUED TO BEAT HIM UP AFTER. Idk how they portray this scene in the anime but I never took the time to sit and understand how absolutely brutal that is before.

And later we learn how truly gentle and sweet and level-headed Togame is, and all I can think about is how much it killed him inside to have done this, to have BEEN doing this for a long time. He's destroyed himself for Choji because he thought there was no other way to make him happy.

(also I just realized how Choji-Togame foil Takiishi-Endo maybe I'll post on that later)

He loves his fellow Shishitoren members, yet he sacrificed them for Choji's sake. He's bloodied his hands just so Choji wouldn't have to live with the horrible consequences of his decisions. It's just. so heartbreaking.

Togame must have loved Choji a lot. He turned himself into something horrible just to get Choji out of his depression. It will be a long journey for Shishitoren to forgive them, for Togame to truly forgive Choji (even if he might say otherwise), and for Togame to forgive himself.

Togame 😭 you'll always be enough for me

[doodlegirl1998]

I'm honestly appalled at the ending of this manga.

It's so mean-spirited of Horikoshi to drill it into the narrative that Izuku can't be a hero without a Quirk, and when he does have a Quirk, he's only a liability with it so he should just give up. Then for him to take that Quirk away from him when that's all he ever wanted is just a slap in the face to Izuku and what little character development he had.

Not only that, but for how much 1A is supposedly close to one another, they sure were quick to forget about Aoyama when discount Goob replaced him. He's been nothing but an asshole to them, so why are they so excited to see him?

Why can't the adults get off of their asses and be the primary ones helping with rebuilding? Why rope the second years into it? Furthermore, why the fuck are they having school so soon after a near apocalyptic war?

Also, I love how Bakugou is supposedly praised for his "effort" when all he did was nearly get himself killed because AS USUAL, he charged ahead without a plan, and just waited for AFO to rewind out of existence. Meanwhile, Izuku's just left by himself with All Might, because God fucking forbid anybody actually give Izuku the time of day for the right reasons.

Bakugou can go fuck himself for making Izuku's Quirklessness about himself and their "rIvAlRy", and Horikoshi can go fuck himself for making Izuku's attitude towards losing the thing he dreamed of having for 12 years: 🤷.

PS: So much for Aizawa's "apology" towards Izuku meaning anything. All he said was sorry, used Izuku's first name without earning the privilege, and then onto the next scene.

Hi @nutzgunray-lvt 👋

You and me both.

Hori hates Izuku. It is as plain a fact as the sky being blue at this point. It is intensely mean to have Izuku suffer for being quirkless (especially at the hands of Bkg*), gain OFA and work so hard with it only to lose it by the end of the story and then Hori doesn't allow Izu to have any form of upset about this. Instead, he is forced to comfort BAKUGOU about this*- the same Bakugou who calls him Deku (useless) for being quirkless! The same Bakugou who abused him for a decade largely for this!?! What the fuck is this Hori? Get boo-hoo'ing Bak-U-Go out the damn door! Focus on Izuku for once! This is traumatising! Let Izuku actually feel it instead of being puppeteered to make Bkg look good!

This is one of the reasons Izuku feels kind of flat now (I hate to say it as an Izuku fan but he doesn't react in a way that makes sense and we haven't seen in his head in so long...)

I don't buy "Class 1A is a Family," not after they chased down Izuku in the Dark Deku arc and certainly not now. Look at how easily they let Aoyama go! No crying or anything? Like wow...

And for Shinsou? Who has canonically only been an asshole to all of 1A this whole time? And no one has a problem with him or is gutted about Aoyama leaving? Nah... that's some B.S. right there.

To add Ochaco, making fun of Izuku's new hair and saying not to talk to her with that hair was in very poor taste. They were all in a WAR, Izuku didn't just have poor luck with barbers. She comes off like a bitch here not gonna lie...

Having school so soon after a whole WAR and floating UA occurring is so unrealistic... 😑 The fact that students are helping proves the school shouldn't be open yet. But Nedzu gives no shit - who is one of Japan's smartest beings, apparently...

Bakugou being praised for his "effort" over Izuku is simply laughable but sadly nothing new.

Aizawa's "apology" was hollow, simply an item on the checklist for Hori, and it shows. Also, using Izuku's first name was OOC for him and rude for him to use without asking.

In addition, we have seen the Bakugou's, but where is Inko? Hori gives no shit to her, clearly. At least she isn't there for Izuku to be forced to comfort alongside Bakugou - about a traumatic thing that happened to HIM! What is this mess Hori?!

[chaoticlivingperson]

Its painful good to be here bestie o(╥﹏╥)

So i got into jjk recently and.... Someone fucking shoot me please

[literaila]

Hey you! <3 I’ve been wanting to send an ask but sending them even in anon gives me anxiety. I’m sorry that I finally got the courage to at possibly the worst moment but Idk when the next time will be.

Idk if it’s just me but that one ending comedy short when Gojo and his students were freaking out about Megumi being seen with a girl, I liked the goofiness of it but mostly hated how they portrayed Satoru as creep. Idk if that was in the manga but whoever green-lit that, wtf 😬 that’s just me. I was just hoping you could rewrite it including reader from TF and however she would react. I can imagine Satoru trying to ruin it but oc is holding him back. Or whatever you can come up with, I’m not creative as you lmao. Sorry if this is too long.

Hoping for a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

(PLEASE never fear me and my inbox we are very open and bored constantly. send me a hate anon even!!! i will be inevitably entertained!!)

so i thought about it for… couple hours. and honestly—i can’t see the scenario really playing out if reader were there because she would want to go with megumi wherever he wandered off to… unlike satoru and nobara who are discouraged by the heat

but…

you’re not watching anything, really.

if you’re standing ten feet away from yuji and megumi while they look at some kiosks with ridiculous accessories and good luck charms—the sorts of things that megumi would never buy (you know because anytime satoru picks him out something of the sort you find it in tsumiki’s room a few days later)—then it’s just because you’re browsing.

you are not trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. it’s just that, well, yuji talks a little loud and you’re a naturally curious person.

it’s nothing much.

and you’re definitely not leaning a little bit closer to them every time megumi responds, not trying to hide a grin when you pick up on the conversation that’s going on. you’re shopping. there’s no ulterior motive here.

(but if there were… who could blame you, really? is it so wrong to care about your sons friendship? about the one person he’s acted slightly… reckless towards? your sensible, nonchalant son? the same one who you’ve caught smiling around fives times now?)

still, when satoru sneaks up behind you—resting his head on your shoulder in a split second��you jump a little.

okay. maybe you’ve gotten a bit distracted.

“what are you doing?”

you flinch away from his breath on your ear, your heart picking up almost involuntarily. it’s ridiculous that your body has the urge to shiver, even after a decade of this kind of interruption.

“satoru,” you say, breathing out. you look over to him, where he’s grinning by your side. “i thought you were too exhausted to come.”

“i was. but i caught a scent of some manju nearby.”

you roll your eyes. “of course.”

satoru’s hand sneaks around your waist, his eyes twinkling behind his sunglasses the whole time. you allow it, because you’re stupid, and lean against him.

“and i wanted to check on my wife, of course. make sure she wasn’t wasting away without me.”

“it was mostly the manju though, right?”

he kisses your head, rubbing his nose against your temple. “you’re so cute. have i ever told you that?”

you just roll your eyes again. but don’t bother to push him away—even though it’s dreadfully hot outside and you might die of heatstroke.

at least it’d be a happy death… and satoru’s more likely to share his sweets with you this way.

he hums. “are you going to answer my question?”

“i’m shopping,” you pointedly look away. damn it. he’s distracting you.

megumi and yuji are a couple of stalls away now, and you have to pick up your pace a little bit, so you can catch up to the boys.

satoru laughs. “huh. that’s weird.”

“i don’t know what you’re implying.”

“i could’ve sworn you were attempting to spy on megumi and yuji.”

you give him a glare. and then attempt to pinch the arm clutched to your side, but satoru takes your hand before you get the chance. “i don’t spy, satoru.”

“clearly.”

“did you leave nobara behind? you’re supposed to be watching all of the first years.”

“you think kugisaki is the one i need to keep my eye on?”

you look forward to where megumi and yuji have stalled—the latter placing some ridiculous sunglasses on your usually prickly son. “okay, fair.”

satoru grins at you again.

the two of you share a knowing glance, looking at the boys. there have been many late night discussions about this very subject. many lectures about satoru keeping the very boundaries you’re breaking currently.

but who can blame you? honestly.

“what’d you hear?” he whispers in your ear, already in on this agenda.

your smile is mischievous, and you just open your mouth when there’s another body on your left side, arms already crossed.

“are we watching itadori and fushiguro try to flirt again?” nobara asks.

[tossawary]

Looking up some things has turned into reading the last 100 or so chapters of the "Naruto" manga for fun, because why not. Some random assorted notes so far (as of finishing Chapter 661):

This end fight is so fucking long, there are so many characters, and the pacing is bordering on excruciating. There's some stuff happening here that's delicious, but there's a lot of messy back and forth of the narrative focus that I personally am not fully vibing with. I cannot imagine trying to follow this split story weekly. This is common enough to a lot of big shounen mangas.

I generally like the basic artstyle here (the use of white and black especially), but the quality of page composition, panel composition, and scene clarity generally is obviously suffering heavily from these chapters being pushed out too quickly. I can barely tell some characters apart and some panels are just messes of lines. This is also common enough among mangas, so eh, it's also whatever.

It's kind of funny to me how Hashirama and Tobirama and Minato suddenly become major characters for like a solid 30 chapters or so. Like, yeah, I can see why Founders Era fic is popular. The flashback chapters themselves are pretty short, but Madara is one of the main villains in this fight, and the undead Senju brothers are suddenly here to kick ass on a level apparently far beyond most other characters. The grudges and betrayal here are delicious. These are also the people who founded Konoha itself, the main location of the manga for hundreds of chapters now, honestly not that many generations ago. It also helps that the Founders feel like they have nicely complete tragic arcs and lives to work with, instead of the relatively open-ended narrative mess that the main Naruto characters live in.

Also, Hashirama can definitely act the idiot and I think some of his choices / opinions are stupid as hell, but he's obviously a very clever and observant and ruthless person. Tobirama went on to become Hokage after his brother and will not hesitate to forcefully give his opinions, but it's also clear in some scenes that Hashirama is still the one in charge between them. Tobirama seems to fairly naturally fall into a very useful support role to whoever he's fighting with, including Minato and Naruto.

I like both Minato and Tobirama because I have a weakness for characters who engage with their magic systems to make new things. Minato improved on the Flying Thunder God technique and Orochimaru improved on the Edo Tensai technique, but Tobirama invented BOTH of those things? PLUS Shadow Clones??? All of which are basically carrying a significant part of the battle right now? Like, damn, Hashirama has his Mokuton, and Tobirama was stubbornly like, "Not being left behind. Fuck you."

So, yeah, the "Hashirama versus Madara", "Tobirama versus Madara", "Minato (plus Naruto & Tobirama) versus Obito", and "Kakashi versus Obito" are probably my favorite parts of this. Not knocking on Naruto or Sasuke or the large background mob of characters here, but they just do not have the same personal, ugly, emotional history in this fight, so I don't really care as much.

Ino can forcibly link hundreds of unknown minds together so Shikamaru can broadcast battle plans??? Holy shit??? The vibe I'm getting is that she was using the link apparently created by Naruto's chakra to do this, but still. Both Ino and Sakura have the potential to be incredibly OP badass characters and they are generally just... Not Allowed to take the spotlight here.

Shikamaru had this big dramatic chapter about surviving to become Naruto's future advisor someday, and I had to repress the urge to holler, "Gaaaaay!" at the screen. I do love the inherent homoeroticism of a right-hand man. (Also, *waves a hand vaguely* Gaara's whole everything.)

To be honest, though, I'm not even sure what Sasuke has spent the past fifty chapters doing. He's there! He sure is there! I think he just got stabbed, so now he gets to be emotional motivation for Naruto again. As far as I understand it, not being sure what Sasuke is actually doing sums up basically everything he does in the manga. There are too many characters here.

On that note, the vibe I'm getting from Orochimaru is that he's also mostly just here to spectate. Like, yeah, I know. Characters like Orochimaru and Sakura and Tsunade are keeping everyone alive with their bare fucking hands right now, but also, give Orochimaru some opera glasses and an alcoholic beverage and it wouldn't feel that out of place.

I'll probably have more to add at some point, but these are the (not that serious) notes off the top of my head.

[redriotinggg]

I need anyone who genuinely dislikes Usopp to take a long look in the mirror because yeah, he can be a bit annoying at times but he is honestly a good and interesting character!!

He is just as loyal as any other member of the crew and fights the strongest when he’s fighting on someone else’s behalf. (See: him fighting for Sanji in Skypeia, fighting for Robin at Eneis Lobby, fighting for Luffy in Dressrosa, fighting for Tama and Nami in Wano.) He is a major player in so many of the battles in the series that it baffles me that people can think of him as an unimportant member of the crew.

And Usopp is a fucking genius??? Hello???? He’s able to make weapons powerful enough to create storms and tornadoes. He is canonically a jack-of-all trades that supports the crew in their daily lives and in battle. The Going Merry only lasted as long as she did because Usopp was around to care for her. He was the only one to see her Klabauterman!! Usopp is not only creative and fun but is able to bring those creations to life, whether it be his drawings or his gadgets, and I think that’s so beautiful. I miss pre-TS because of all his inventions we got to see.

Let’s not forget that Usopp is so, so kind!! He made friends with the kids in his village and told stories to Kaya to help her feel better when she was ill. He fought to protect her and Syrup Village from Kuro. Personally, I will never get over filler ep on Fireworks Island (ep. 134) where he cheered up Kodoma and encouraged her to continue her pyrotechnics, assuring that her parents were proud of her. Knowing he also lost his parents at a young age makes the scene hit that much harder. (And again, he showed his genius by figuring out a way to launch the firework that killed Kodoma’s parents!!) It may not be canon to the manga but but I think that episode is super accurate to his character.

What I think makes him the most interesting is that we see his flaws and mistakes more than any of the other Straw Hats. We see his insecurities in Water 7 and his fear in Dressrosa. But we also see him growing and learning and being encouraged by his crewmates. Aside from Robin, I think Usopp has changed and grown the most out of the Straw Hats. With his goal to become a brave warrior of the sea he has so much potential for even more growth!!

Like I said earlier, some people think Usopp is annoying which he can be sometimes, but that’s also because he’s literally comic relief. And he does so well at it bc he’s actually so damn funny?? He makes me laugh out loud all the time. One Piece wouldn’t be even half as funny without Usopp.

I also appreciate that as an individual he has so many moments with the other Straw Hats. There are a lot of relationships that don’t get explored as much as we’d like, but I think we get to see Usopp’s friendships with the crew pretty often. He fights for Luffy, plays around with Chopper, teases Zoro, is teased by Robin, gossips with Nami, hangs around Sanji, and his whole relationship with Franky has so many layers to it.

Aaahh, I have so many hopes for Usopp in the series that I pray will be fulfilled!! I want him to have a badass arc in Elbaf full of character growth. I want to see him develop and continue to use his Haki (which he gained when trying to save Luffy are you KIDDING me). I want his reunion with Yasopp to be emotional and bittersweet. If he could personally beat Yasopp in a fight I would ascend to the heavens.

Usopp is such an important, complex, and interesting character and I absolutely hate to see him reduced to being a gag character or the weakest member of the Straw Hats. He may not be a monster but he is amazing and I love him.

TLDR; if you disrespect Usopp I wish you a very Die.