#It's a masterpiece that doesn't deserve to be lost

[leoisaburger]

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE TO FIND THAT WONDERFUL ANIMATIC OF FUTURE DONNIE DROPPING THE JOE MAMA JOKE ON KRANG PRIME???

I've been looking everywhere on tumblr for it but I got nothin. Here's the original audio for it.

[negrowhat]

Friends. Homies. Fam. Here is a list of SOME of the series I'm IMPATIENTLY anticipating the most. No one asked for this but I just felt like sharing.

Your Dear Daddy. The moment I saw Poonpun in that pink silk robe with the thigh tattoo and wearing that anklet in the promo pics I knew I wanted the series immediately. Obsessed! I'm excited for Fluke to be a lead finally because he deserves it and he and Poonpun seem to have excellent chemistry. I'm looking forward to Saitharn being saved by Sila who seems to be lost himself. I'm looking forward to watching Saitharn put it on Sila so good the first time that he decides that he's going to secretly rescue him and love him and worship him...because I know this whole tea farm debt is going to be a guise to keep Saitharn. I just know the series is going to be *chef's kiss*

Century of Love. I don't even know what the plot for this one is but the BTS pics are letting me know it's going to rip me in half. I'm expecting some scifi, soulmates, action, hurt/comfort, maybe some sacrifice, and romance. I'm most excited that we're getting more DaouOffroad and most importantly Daou's buzzcut because he looks soooooooooo good with it.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans. IDK man...I don't even care about cooking series like that but I'm excited for more SailubPon and even more excited to finally get some GarfieldBenz after PB viciously teased us with them. I'm also looking forward to Sailub breaking every single health code while he fucks Pon across that industrial kitchen. And also??? Benz's character being unapologetically flirty with Garfield's??? GIMME!

4 Minutes. Highkey thought it wasn't even happening anymore because...well you know. But now Bible has a new partner and I'm excited once again. I just know 4 Minutes is going to break us all into pieces and I'm excited to see Bible shine like the star he is and I'm excited to see how his chemistry is with Jes. And I just know the aesthetic of the series and the actual plot is going to be 20/10...BOC sure has the funds to turn this series into a masterpiece.

Jack & Joker. YINWAR HAVE FINALLY RETURNED TO US! And they're not in school! Whoever they work for heard us say we wanted that Bonnie and Clyde criminal lovers series they dangled in our faces with that one fanmeet and decided to deliver. I'm excited to see Joker being the cheeky seemingly trustworthy mastermind thief and Jack doing whatever he can to protect him because he knows he won't be able to stop him from skillfully robbing people blind. I need more criminal romances in my life.

SunsetxVibes. Wild we're getting this before Big Dragon 2/The Movie. Even wilder that this series is ALSO based on an mpreg story. I am not particularly interested in omegaverse BUT just like Pit Babe I am making an exception because I know I'm going to enjoy the series and I miss MosBank. We thought the chemistry was insane with Big Dragon but they are closer than ever these days and I know it's going to translate beautifully one screen. Much like the title, I'm here just to vibe because I know the plot is gon be a mess.

[turvi]

Hi, i really love your ss x reader. MASTERPIECE ✨✨. Can i request this, young severus accidentally shout and slap reader because he is not in the mood to deal with reader after he got bullied by marauders, reader's feeling kinda hurt and she didn't get to tell him she is going to be transferred to other school (beauxbatons) and her feelings. She graduated and become a astronomy professor there after 10 years, then albus wants the reader back to teach at Hogwarts. She then came across into severus, he shocked at her but she just give cold shoulder because of the past. After a few months, Severus then realized what he did to her then says his apologise and his feeling towards reader, he regrets what he did to reader and reader accept it. Kisses and hugs and gazing stars together. You can ignored this if you dont want to or the request is closed😀🔫

TRIGGER WARNING: SLAPPING

She placed her palm on her cheek. It felt warm. But not the one that would comfort her. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes but she closes closes her eyes. She heard him immediately repeating the words sorry but the voice that used to feel like a balm on her pain felt like it was clawing her soul now. Y/n walks away not looking behind, letting her tears fall.

Severus stood there watching the one person who had accepted him turn her back on him. The worst part is that there is no one else to blame but himself. He let the marauders get to him and finally snapped and took it out on Y/n. Part of him wanted to go after her but he knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness.

The following days were hell for Severus. Hogwarts had already been hell for him and Y/n his warm sunshine that helped him get through this hell. But he doesn't have anyone else to blame except himself for how her eyes avoid him as if they were strangers and had not shared their secrets under moonlight far away from everyone. What makes it worse he has not seen her at all. He has looked for her everywhere but no trace of his beloved.

That was until one night he was walking in the corridor and bumped into Dumbledore. The headmaster of Hogwarts felt his heart break as Severus seemed more pale than usual. "Severus, what are you doing here so late at night."

"I don't feel like sleeping" his voice was hoarse

"Are you unwell?"

Severus huffed, he just wanted to have one glance at Y/n. "No...I". Severus couldn't even gather the courage to look into Dumbledore's eyes. He was ashamed of what he had done.

"Severus...what is the matter," Dumbledore asked calmly

Severus groaned, admitting defeat to his inner demons "I can't find Y/n. I messed up....well that is an understatement. I....." He felt tears threatening to leave his eyes but ultimately he couldn't stop the tears when he felt Dumbledor's walk palm on his arm.

"I raised hand at my Y/n....I slapped her." he acknowledged it. Severus couldn't understand if that made it better, but he hated this feeling. He couldn't stop the tears falling down his cheeks. He expected Dumbledore to yell at him, scream at him but he put his hands on his arms.

"Why?"

Severus gulped "The marauders. They got on my nerves. I didn't mean to-" he clenched his eyes "It doesn't matter. I can't find her. I have to talk to her."

"Severus..."

His heart drops. Severus could feel an uneasy heat in his body. "you know where she is"

"She has been transferred to Beauxbatons. She asked me to do so."

Severus sinks down to the floor. He had lost her and now all he could do was stay in darkness and watch time pass by. Dumbledore walks away after all time heals all wounds.

---------

Time didn't heal Severus' wounds. As each year passed he couldn't care less about living. But he lives...he lives for his duty, he lives for the slight hope that maybe he will see her again. Perhaps he will get to hold her in her arms and let her know that he will spend the rest of his life and the lives after that just to let her know how much he loves her, he lives for her.

Just as Severus begrudgingly made his way to the great hall he heard a familiar voice. No. No, it can't be.

He has never run so fast recently, maybe just in youth to escape Potter and his friends. Severus saw her. There she was standing, with warm sunshine bathing her. Y/n L/n. His hand clenched when his eyes fell on her cheeks. Severus is familiar with the feeling of self-hatred, but he loathes himself forever raising his hand to her. So even if his heart was screaming to run to her and take her in his arms, he knew your love for him ended right here in this corridor.

Y/n's eyes fell on him. His heart breaks as her smile drops. Severus knew he deserved it. Suddenly there is a familiar burn on his arm, he endures it. It's a risk he is willing to take to let her know he regrets what he did. "Y/n" his voice boomed across the corridor, she ignores the familiar chill that ran down her spine.

"Severus?" He immediately stopped. It was like she had control over his body. Her eyes. Severus wished he could stop time just so he could look into her eyes, hoping to find a sliver of love for him.

Severus didn't know how to win your heart back. She was about to speak up when he got on his knees, looking at her defeatedly. For the first time since becoming a death eater, Severus looked weak as he looked for mercy from the woman in front of him.

"Severus! What are you doing?" she immediately ran towards him

"Please forgive me." he folds his hand

"Severus...get up"

"There was not one second where I did not regret my action. I love you Y/n...I really do. I shouldn't have raised my hand on you. I don't ever want to raise my hand at you. Please even if you will never love me...please forgive me...I can't live like this." his voice cracks

Y/n looks at him. Even though she missed him, he still broke her heart.

"Say something, please," Severus asked desperately. "I can tolerate anything but not this silence. I have hurt you my love I know. But please give me one chance. One chance to prove how much I regret breaking your heart...how much I love you."

Y/n wipes tears from his cheeks that Severus didn't know were there. "one chance"

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

Severus held her hands as he gently tugged her towards the Astronomy Tower.

"Wasn't it enough that I have to spend my day here now you bring me here at night?"

He softly smiles, his velvety voice feeling like a warm blanket to Y/n "I am here making an effort to earn your apology. It doesn't matter how many years it takes but I will do everything to show you how much I mean it."

Severus' breath shuddered as he felt her lips on his forehead. He held back his urge to hold her. Not now. There will be time for that. For now, he was happy to sit beside her and listen to her talk as the stars glimmered in the night sky.

A/N: I am so sorry for the late response I have a big dissertation going on. REBLOG AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED

[the-fluff-piece]

heyyyy idk if your follower milestone event is still happening but can i get 1😭 Law?

Like Law doesn't think he's worthy enough. ANGST BUT FLUFFY

love your works!!

For you the event will be eternally running!

Sorry I am taking forever to finish these!

For the now closed follower milestone event.

Also check out my other stuff:

My Masterlist - Short and Multichapter stories

Headcanon Masterlist

I also didn't forget about the other request, so I will write that, too.

Broken

Law knows that he is not very sociable, that he's absolutely broken inside and has more emotional luggage than any other.

It never bothered him, though. He was comfortable keeping his distance: to his crew, the straw hats, everyone. Until he met you, and he felt like an empty loser unfit to make you happy Contains: negative self talk by Law, hurt/comfort, angst

Since Law and you became a couple, the devil powered, tattooed bad boy revealed so many facets to his character, you felt like he would forever stay a mystery. He was sometimes moody, sometimes, on rare occasions, he was giddy, he loved to tell you about his obscure interests. And sometimes, he just wanted to stay silent, not talking but insisting on staying near you.

And since you were visiting the strawhat crew on the Thousand Sunny, he was like a brooding child and almost a little bit hurtful in his isolation. He almost seemed mad.

You decided to let him have his alone time and enjoy your stay on the beautiful ship. They sure had a lot of commodities the submarine didn't have: a bar, a big bath, absolutely delicious food! You knew that a tasty treat was awaiting you as the handsome cook of the strawhats danced toward you, set a small masterpiece of a dessert in front of you and kneeled down to kiss your hand. You had to giggle - his small beard tickled your hand and his campy flirtiness did the rest. What a strange guy! He made a bit of smalltalk as you enjoyed the tea and dessert before he moved on to woo the women of his own crew.

You looked around for your boyfriend, who had decided to sit down in a dark corner and be grumpy. This amount of brooding was strange, even for him. You decided to finish your afternoon snack and sit down next to him to see if you could find out what was bothering him.

"Hey" You said softly as you sat down next to him in the lush grass. He didn't answer, instead, he lowered his gaze so that his hat obscured his face.

You got a bit closer and put your head on his shoulder, like you often did - he shrugged you off and moved away.

"Law?" You got a bit irrited at his behavior.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" You asked, already thinking about possible reasons for his reaction to you.

Law

She looked lovely out there in the sun. The blonde cook courted her like the goddess she was - while Law could only sit in the shadows, watching like the creep he was. He looked down on his hands and read the letters on his fingers. Death. The only companion he ever really had. He looked at his inked hand and for the first time in his life, he regretted it.

The cook didn't have tattoos. His skin was light and smooth, his hair shone golden in the sun. He made her giggle and twirl her hair around her finger. She looked so cute, so full of light and life. Unlike him.

Death. That was all he could tell about and bring to others. No joy, no life. Sometimes he battled death, when he saved a patient. But he was still using his power primarily to hurt. He felt like a monster next to her kindness and softness.

He thought about everyone he lost - everyone he failed to save. His family. His town. Cora-san. He was afraid he would loser her, too. Would it hurt more if she left him for the blonde one? Or if one of his enemies sliced her open before his eyes? He made a lot of enemies.

Lost in thought, he didn't even register her approach until her beautiful voice graced his ears. Not now, he couldn't be who she deserved right now, could only be the surgeon of death, incapable of flirting or kindness. She got nearer, her scent and warmth, usually a ripping him out of his brooding, painfully reminded him of what he would lose if she realised who he really was - what he had done. How broken he was.

Her small head lay on his shoulder, he didn't deserve that, he moved away. He had to protect her from himself and the pain he reliably brought to those around him.

"Law?" She asked, irritated. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

You're too perfect. You're too nice. Too everything. That is wrong.

"Just leave me" He told her, already feeling the deserved ache of loneliness in his heart. Now he did it, he basically told her to go. Unable to bear her presence any longer, he got up and left, sitting down just a few metres away from her on the bottom of the mast, looking away.

"Fine!" He heard her say and she stomped back into the sun, to the others.

You

Stupid Law. Whatever he was bitching about, you didn't need to punch it out of him. He should talk to you like an adult or leave it. Sanji already threatened to beat him up for making you sad, but you declined.

For the rest of the afternoon, you felt his presence like a sting in your neck. He didn't move, didn't talk. What a diva. But it wasn't your job to get him out of there if he didn't want to. Instead, you savored the time with the crazy members of the straw hats and ended up having a small feast on deck as sanji brought out a grill, Zoro got kegs of sake from storage and Brook began to fiddle a happy song. It seemed like they were always one step away from a small party.

Law stayed where he was. Until Luffy didn't allow that anymore.

"Tra-guy, you have to wear a party hat, too!" He screamed as he stretched his arm to fetch law - he got to grip him on his belt and almost pulled Law's pants down, it was absolutely hilarious. You had to laugh and were just glad that Law had changed his expression from brooding to annoyed - at least some kind of reaction.

"Leave me be!" He growled at the other captain.

"Yeah that's stupid" Zoro chimed in, holding a mug full of sake. "You should drink with me" He added and already held out the mug.

"Not in the mood!" Law snapped at the swordsman.

"Eat some cotton candy and you will feel better!" Chopper tried.

"I hate sweets!" Law bellowed, trying to walk away, but he was surrounded.

"Let's all sing together" Brook tried to soothe the irritated Law, resulting in the direct opposite, he looked like he would explode soon.

"No! I am leaving!" Law desperately said, looking for an opening.

"You've been a drag all day, you should be with your girl!" Nami berated him, quickly followed by Sanji who added: "You're not worthy to be with such a beautiful girl" which stopped him dead in his tracks.

"ROOM" Law screamed and summoned a blue orb from his hand, only to vanish to god knows where. You couldn't see his face clearly- but a tear fell down where he had stood a second before. You've never seen him cry, he was always in control. Always.

"The room was not so big, I bet he's somewhere downstairs" Robin calmly informed you and already pointed to the door on deck that lead down. "We'll wait here" She said as you already ran to the door to search for him.

You were listening closely as you moved down the hallway under deck. You could hear the continued party upstairs, muffled through the planks, until you heard sobbing. This was bad, you didn't know how to handle this. Cautiously, you opened the door to the room where you heard it. Between crates and barrels, Law cowered, small and miserable. He looked up with red eyes as he heard you.

"Go. Away." He told you, his breaking voice betraying his harsh tone.

"I don't think you should be alone now, Law." You put your finger over his trembling lip as he started to protest and he shut up, looking down.

"I know you're not used to this, but I am here now. Talk to me. What's bothering you?" you asked him as you sat down next to him, prompting a louder sob from him.

"The cook is right. I don't deserve you" He whispered.

"Sanji is just talking trash, what does he know about us?" You asked Law.

"He's seeing that we don't fit together" Law said in a weak voice. "I am just holding you back, I bring nothing but pain" he looked at his hands again. Those long, nimble fingers could do so much, you thought. They saved lives, they protected his friends and they lovingly touched you. You wished that he would see that, too.

"You may not see it, but you make me so happy, Law. I am so glad we met. You're so handsome, intelligent and funny" you told him as he avoided your gaze.

"And you're a little weirdo, and I love that, too" you planted a little kiss on his forehead, pushing his hat down in the process. It fell to the floor, unnoticed by Law.

"I can't cook, I am not a gentleman, I don't...party. I am just a...a monster" He concluded, sounding defeated.

"Who told you that?" You asked him.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, going through his hair nervously.

"You're not a monster! You're my wonderful Law. You saved a whole kingdom, your crew loves you, the strawhats love you. I love you" you told him, taking his hands into yours, "I know it's hard to grasp when you're not used to it, but you have friends, you have me" you desperately scrambled for words to express your feelings to him without sounding too melodramatic.

"Tss" he said and tried to pull his hands away, but you held on.

"It can be hard to accept that things have changed. You are not DeFlamingo's puppet anymore, you are Law, captain of your own ship" you realised that you didn't really get throught to him as his tears flowed freely now. You didn't want to let it come to this, but you were sure there was no other way to pull him out of this. It was a gamble, though.

"Just think, did Cora-san save you just you could sit around here and be miserable? While you have accomplished so much?" you told him and held your breath. Cora-san was sacred to Law, you knew that. You didn't want to bring him up, but you were pretty sure that he would really want Law to be as happy as possible.

Law's eyes widened and he began breathing faster. His eyes darted around as he seemed to think furiously.

Law

Cora-san! Law was furious that she would bring him up now - but he also couldn't help but replay his memories of their short time together in his head. And he couldn't say she was wrong. He dragged Law across the north blue to live, he desperately wanted that small, sick boy to live his life and not throw it away.

It hurt to admit it - but she was right. He couldn't see Cora-san's actions as grooming him for revenge. He wanted Law to be happy, to value the second life he was given. And the sacrifice it took to have it.

"Law?" her voice ripped him out of his memories once again. He was feeling dizzy, his brain foggy.

"I am sorry" he mumbled.

"Don't be. I can only imagine what you have been through, but I will be here for you for as long as you let me." She said.

She was so precious. He took her chin in his hand like he always did and gave her a soft kiss. She smiled. He felt his own mouth curl. Law promised himself that he would work to make Cora-san proud of him.

"Let's get back up" Law said. "But I won't wear a party hat." He stated.

Law was still grumpy, but he sat among the straw hats and took part. He looked at y/n as she enjoyed herself and kept an eye on him. He had an emotional bodyguard now. It was hard for him, in his current state, to be with people. But he had to start somewhere.

A plate with various barbecued foods was put in front of him, he looked up at the grumpy face of ship's cook that was exclusively reserved for men. What he said earlier still stung, because he was right.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that you were not worthy of her." Sanji apologised grumpily, looking everywhere but at Law. "But I still think you should value her! And I will kick you if you make her cry on my watch! She is so cute and nice and her nose is so adorable-" Sanji got into one of his rants. Law didn't have time or nerves for that.

"I agree" Law interrupted the cooks blabbering.

"What?" Sanji asked, confused.

"I agree. She is the best thing to ever happen to me. If I treat her bad again, kick me." Law stated.

"I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WILL" Sanji promised with a salute, standing at attention like a soldier.

Law immediately regretted that request, but he was pretty sure he would deserve every shoe that landed in his face if he began lashing out at her again.

So yeah, Law is seeing that he cannot keep pushing people away and he asked Sanji to check on that, because the cook has a magical "woman in distress" radar that will find any misstep by Law and will hold him accountable. I did that and I think it's cute!

I hope you liked it

[gabessquishytum]

Dream and Hob are friends with benefits. This wasn't planned - certainly not by Dream - but one thing led to another, and after one of their dinners, which became frequent after their reunion, they ended up upstairs, with Dream on his back and his legs on Hob's shoulders. Dream has never been in an FWB arrangement before, but he's a huge fan now (and why did Hob waste so much time talking to him about chimneys when humanity has invented this utter masterpiece??). Hob treats him like a pillow princess, takes him with equal vigor and enthusiasm in all his forms, and they fuck all around the Dreaming and in the most exotic locations of the Waking world. They also hang out as friends, learn more about each other's lives, and all that sans mindfucking that comes with relationships. Oh yes, Dream is a huge fan. He is, in fact, in love with Hob, but he'd never lay such a burden on Hob's shoulders. Love of an Endless is a heavy thing, and Dream doesn't want to see his dearest friend crumble under it. Hob is also in love with Dream, but if 1889 taught him something, it is not to ask Dream for more than he's ready to give. And Dream already gives much more than Hob has ever hoped. The teeny-tiny problem arises when they have an especially cathartic sex: Hob is so relentless and passionate, and they go rounds and rounds, switching between the Waking and the Dreaming. As Hob whispers filthy, unbearable things into his ear about how much he'd like to breed Dream and keep him, Dream gets lost in a fantasy of them having a home…and a child. It wouldn't be enough to get preggers if Hob didn't actually mean it and dream of it, too, but Hob very much meant it and dreamt of it. Dreamt of it for centuries. And that's how mere days later - because Dream is inhuman and his awareness of what's going on inside him is unmatched - Dream feels a new life stirring somewhere deep inside. He is ecstatic and confused and scared and everything in between. But besides being afraid of failing as a father (again!), he's afraid of Hob's reaction. Apparently, their arrangement didn't involve babies. Dream briefly considers keeping his pregnancy a secret but eventually decides to come clean to Hob: his friend deserves to know he'll be a father soon, even if this child is unwanted. Another thing is, Dream can already feel that the baby isn't human: they're taking more after his nightmarish side...If only the Dreaming's library had a book How to Tell Your FWB He Got You Pregnant with a Creature 101! Perhaps it'd appear there after tonight...

Awww this is so good!! Poor Dream. He's feeling like such a stereotype - an unplanned pregnancy, potentially losing his best friend. Why is his life like something out of a bad human soap opera?! He arranges to meet up with Hob and nervously sits with his hands covering his stomach. If nothing else, he's going to love his baby a whole lot. He's actually a little bit excited by the prospect of having a little creature to love and care for. He created a dozen little baby sleepsuits with multiple limb holes already.

Hob is rather shocked, of course, because he never expected to be a father again. But after the shock wears off, he's ecstatic! He's been so desperate to forge something permanent with Dream - fwbs has been great, and Hob will always want to be Dream’s friend, but he's greedy enough to want more. He's not scared of Dream’s love, he's excited to drown in it and reciprocate everything that Dream wants to give him.

Hob is like "I did say I wanted to breed you and keep you, sweetheart. Well, let me prove to you exactly how much I meant it." He wants Dream to live with him, at least some of the time. So he can take care of him and the baby. Of course he doesn't want Dream to abandon his work and function, but wouldn't it be nice to have a domestic life together? Can't they be best friends who are also deeply romantically in love and having extremely hot sex? Well, it's not something that Dream has tried to before. He's never actually been friends with any of his romantic partners. Could that have been the problem all along?

He senses that he'll need all the help he can get with the baby (who is living up to their function and being a proper little nightmare already). And if he moves in with Hob, at least he can get footrubs on demand. Maybe he'll finally get to be happy with Hob and the creature they've created through their love?

At least he's going to try. And Hob is so proud and grateful for that. He'll give footrubs 24/7 <333

[ayeliiss]

My two cents on MHA430 and Izuku's character

Disclaimer: this is NOT a hate post against Horikoshi and his manga. Simply, I need to lash my disappointment out somewhere and write my feelings down before I implode. I'm not trying to sound like 'ugh, I know better than them' at all, although I am aware some of my claims may give the 'why does the author think he knows so much?!' vibes, but keep in mind this is just my irrelevant opinion and it won't change anything anyway. So, please, don't come at me with 'lacking reading comprehension' or 'you're coping' (yes, I am) because I feel like fans are allowed to be upset at this ending even if you think differently! To each their own opinion, as long as it's respectful! Also, this might be unnecessarily long so, I apologize in advance.

Discussion about Izuku's character

First of all, if you're satisfied with the ending and what Izuku did/became, I'm genuinely happy for you. Truthfully, I envy you so damn much because I personally couldn't stop feeling empty and crying at night for him, and before you come at me with 'girl, he's fictional, it's okay you'll move on', yes, I know I'm a drama queen and I shouldn't be in one hell of a state for a fictional character, but I can't help it. I've grown as attached to him as I've ever grown to any character before, and there's no turning back. MHA is the first manga that ever moved me this hard and it'll forever remain a masterpiece for me, but it doesn't mean it's not flawed and should be free of criticism (always with respect for Horikoshi's work).

Funny thing is, I didn't even like Izuku when I first met him. He was the typical crybaby and too-optimistic MC I tend to dislike when I read a manga. Yet, the more I read, the more I started to understand him, the more I sympathized with him, and the more I loved him. I realized I related to him to such an outlandish extent, though I know we remain different in the way we act or think. But Izuku, even before Katsuki (and my friends know how obsessed I am with this blond lmao), became my first and greatest over-fixation and my main reason to continue reading/watching MHA. This manga changed my life; Izuku did too, and this isn't an understatement.

Just like him—and probably just like many of us—, I've endured bullying, been made fun of for being different, felt unwanted and hated, been belittled, and treated like shit for most of my teenage years. I think that's what really endeared him to me. I wanted to watch him grow, to watch him make real friends, to watch him receive the apologies and respect he deserved, to see him succeed. I wanted him to realize he was worth it and loved and, oh God, I wish he could know just how much his fans do love him.

And for 200+ chapters, I got what I wanted. Izuku got to live his dream, be around his idol who recognized him, and made new friends who admired him and wanted nothing but to be by his side. Then, the Vigilante arc happened, and everything changed. I won't dwell on the fact that, for me, this arc was the beginning of the decline of his character. It's worth noting though that it's at this precise moment that we've lost track of all his thoughts, but I'll focus on the ending, and how the way Horikoshi handled Izuku's character remains my biggest disappointment.

I sometimes joked with a friend of mine, saying, "Hori's favorite character is Katsuki and it shows so much, he even forgets he isn't his MC!" but I don't think it's much of a joke anymore.

Again, I'm very happy for those who are pleased with Izuku's closure. But, honestly, I can't grasp their process of thinking (I wish I could) because there's no way I can understand how it makes sense. It's not about him being quirkless—actually, I think this choice was cool—, it's about his obvious fucking depression.

After his initial withdrawal, there is never any resolution. He has never talked about his feelings to anyone, never opened up about all the things that bugged him, never taken it out on anyone. He just stopped having development, and never learned how to 'control his heart' (one of the biggest plots of the story, remember???). So, he continues to take everything up on his shoulders by the end of the story, and eight years later, he is feeling lonely, as he says himself:

Yes, I can read, and I know he's also saying he's happy with helping/encouraging other people. But it's literally denial. Izuku is in denial and it hurts me so much. He's alone (I'm not talking about how he's barely seen his friends, I know they didn't abandon him or anything, I'm talking about how he is feeling in general), deprived of his dream, and never got to talk about it to anyone (at least, on-screen. And if it's not shown, then it didn't happen). Even the adults around him don't see he's in pain—or, at least, don't think it's worth addressing. Aizawa can't even simply answer 'yes, you're cool' when Izuku obviously seeks praise and needs nice words after everything he's been through. He doesn't even get fans (except for two, waouh!) after saving the fucking world. He doesn't get a statue, no recognition. Katsuki leads a project for him to get a suit, but not the government? After everything he did? Why isn't he more recognized and acknowledged for his hard work? Killing him would've almost felt like a better choice lol (#it's a joke).

Even if, in the end, he gets to join his friends again and be a hero with them, he's still not opening up. How is it sane/healthy for him???? How will he even be able to maintain good relationships of any kind if there are already so many and huge miscommunication issues?

I hate this—I dislike how it's basically saying 'his feelings weren't that important!'. Izuku deserved better, a better closure. So much is missing from him; from this bitter ending, and I can't find any way to make myself feel better or to cope with it.

I am devastated, I feel empty for him, I just want someone to take him to therapy, to help him.

Some rumors have started to spread, about how 'Horikoshi has been forced to shorten his manga' but I don't believe this—MHA has been SJ's money-maker for a while. And even if it were to be true, the epilogue could've been handled differently. Hori could've focused on the most important parts (that he hasn't even shown/resolved at all) and left the irrelevant ones out (why introduce a new character if not to make us feel hopeful to see Tenko again, lol). He chose to not address the most important aspects of his story (including his MC's resolution and growth) and left us with huge plot holes. And now, we're stuck with our imagination, as usual.

I just can't with 'open endings' and 'it's left to interpretation' stuff. It's too easy to do that. I'm tired of mangakas not taking risks, rushing their own plots, and not digging deeper into their own MCs' traumas. I don't know what happened, but among the many issues left regarding this last chapter, Izuku's conclusion remains my greatest ick. I'm so sorry to say this, but Izuku didn't grow. He never learned from his mistakes and just didn't change—oh wait. Yes, he did change on one crucial aspect—his biggest trait, being obsessed with his childhood friend, totally disappeared! Maybe he started to stop caring about 'Kacchan and the others' and put himself first, to the point of forgetting the said childhood friend died twice for him, who knows? :))) (yeah, I'm especially pissed off at this lol don't mind me).

In my imagination, I see him being a pro-hero who continues to suppress his feelings and continues to act recklessly, to risk his life in the face of any danger that shows up. This is what happens when you leave it to fans' imagination, after all.

I know fanfictions exist, and I'm very happy this unclear ending motivated some writers to challenge their creativity. For me, it had the opposite effect. I'm disgusted, I am angry at Izuku and I know I'll struggle to finish my fics where he's involved because I don't want to deal with his character anymore. I'm too attached to canonical representation.

Man, I'm just devastated. I have no other words. And I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life. I feel betrayed. Shitted on. I'm dying inside and there's nothing I can do because it's over. Just like this long-ass essay, btw lol. Thank you if you're still here, thank you if you've read this! I'm pretty much open to discussion so if anyone wants to try and reassure me over some aspects or respectfully explain why I am wrong (I know I probably am, yet again those are my own feelings), please don't hesitate to do so. Also, I definitely need friends with whom I could talk about this deeper... so, my DMs are open too if you'd like to!

Much love to Izuku though; one of the best MCs I've encountered in my life, despite how he turned.

[iwasbored777]

I know I already posted something like this but I wanted to be more clear and I gotta say it again: the writers completely effed up Peter and Gwen in ATSV and it wasn't Peter and Gwen to blame at all.

(Sorry if I made any grammar mistakes, I write English for years but some mistakes still happen)

Ok, with Gwen, I know she didn't have a choice and blah blah blah but it's heartbreaking to see how much people loved her and now I see such horrible posts about her (some are so unhinged) that it makes me wonder what the writers were thinking when they did what they did with her character. After so much time has passed since the movie was released all I hear is "Gwen is a traitor". I rarely see a person clever enough to explain the situation and many people don't care enough to explain or understand. They love what happened because they hate the idea of her ending up with Miles anyway so this is perfect for them. I swear I had no idea what they're gonna do, I thought she's going to be with Miles and on his side the whole time. And while I know that she's so much more than a love interest and she deserves to be more, in the first movie she was only the love interest and that's exactly how people see her now and will always see her like this. According to the audience she exists only to please Miles, she has no room to have a story of her own, which is why her storyline in this movie was kinda disappointing even to me who really loves her.

But Peter also... At least Gwen has a reason and he just doesn't. You can't tell me that a guy with a character development so great from the first movie, the guy who loves this kid and who started his own family because of Miles, who was depressed and desperate when he lost someone he loves, would tell the same kid he apparently loves "you know it's ok if your father dies bad things happen lol". It's crazy. And him receiving the hate that Gwen receives too, people going from loving him so much to hating him because the writers forgot how much they tried to develop him and Gwen, how amazing their team was in the first movie, and then destroying their dynamic for the sake of drama because they needed a conflict but the first movie was so perfect the only way to create it was to mess it up.

Yeah sure they'll be friends later, yeah Miles and Gwen will end up together, I don't have a problem with it because I love Peter and Gwen and I still ship Gwen and Miles and I don't want anyone who hates them with passion to show up here and tell me about how much they hate them. But they already ruined the relationships and the angst will always be remembered. Fandom is so goddamn toxic that they will keep hating on them, using any racist and misogynistic expression they can think of, and to be honest the movies aren't as enjoyable to me as they were at first because the reaction of majority of the audience made me realize how bad you gotta ruin your characters for fans to go from loving them to hating them so so much. Now every time I see news about BTSV I'm not looking forward to it that much because the story is already effed up. You can fix it but you can't erase what happened. The ending can be satisfying but the journey is not, at least to me.

And it's a shame that no one is talking about this, all haters (and there's so many of them) act like Peter and Gwen are characters capable of making decisions for themselves when they're just products of their writers. But, no. The writers are praised everywhere while Peter and Gwen apparently suck because their characters are ruined by someone who's controlling them against their will. The kinda got the similar treatment to Wanda in MCU, whom I also adore, she had character development and learned how to move on in WandaVision only to go through the exact same thing all over again in Multiverse of Madness because they didn't know what to do with her now.

I don't hate these movies, especially ITSV cuz it's a masterpiece, but I'm just so sad with how the story turned out. I will watch BTSV and I will make tons of posts about it just the same, and I won't make hate posts about this movie, that's for sure. I just wanted to say this. I look forward to hearing your opinions in the comments, as long as they're respectful to the characters. Basically I already said all I had to say here.

[pinksmonkey]

The Ultimate Byler Evidence/Analysis List (Part 2)

If you missed part 1, here it is: Part 1

100. They Are In Love

101. Songs Associated With Mike And Will

102. We've Seen This Plot Too Many Times

103. Byler Isn't Far-Fetched

104. Byler Endgame Makes So Much Sense

105. Pocketgate

106. Hosegate

107. Love This Detail

108. Phallic Imagery In Season 4

109. I Didn't Notice The Queercoding

110. So Unserious

111. It's Supposed To Be About Love

112. How You Doing?

113. Mike Is Not Into Girls

114. Mike And Lucas Parallel

115. Not Love At First Sight

116. Mike Is Protective Of Will

117. To Illustrate How Weird This Shot Is

118. Yeah, Imagine

119. Still Dizzy

120. The Biggest Byler Proof For Me

121. These Scenes Happened Less Than 5 Minutes Apart

122. Mike Is More Attentive To Will Than Any Other Character

123. Oh, Love At First Sight

124. They Said I Love You

125. Byler And Heartstopper Parallels

126. I've Been Chasing After Some Other Kid

127. Jancy And Byler

128. Mike Feels Like He's Not Worthy In His Relationship

129. Why So Many People Complain About Mike's Character

130. That Boy Is In Love

131. Mike's Attention To Will And El

132. Mike's Self Acceptance

133. Mike's Playlist Is 10x Gayer Than Will's

134. No Homo Though

135. This Masterpiece

136. Mike's Guilt

137. El's Superhero Identity

138. It's Time To Switch Things Up

139. Why Byler If No Byler?

140. Mike's Playlist In A Bisexual Interpretation

141. Will's Playlist Analysis

142. Mike's Love Drives The Story

143. Will Deserves Love

144. From Anti-Byler To Pro-Byler

145. Mike And Locker Rooms/Bathrooms

146. Genuine Question About The Cabin Scene

147. Mike Literally Blinded Himself

148. It's Not Even Subtle

149. The Best Thing I've Ever Done

150. Will Deserves Better?

151. Will's Feelings For Mike Are Crucial To The Plot

152. Will's Love Is Beautiful

153. It's A Pattern

154. Mike Is Deliberately Queercoded

155. We're Friends

156. The Writers And Their Sense Of Humor

157. They Still Don't Understand Personal Space

158. There's No Point To The California Storyline If Not Byler

159. Let's Start A New Party, You And Me

160. Mike's Insecurities

161. They Told Us Exactly What's Going On With Mike

162. Find Someone Who Looks At You Like This

163. Heartstopper Parallel

164. Lettergate, Younger Mike To Older Mike

165. Everyone Is Disappointed

166. I've Been So Lost Without You

167. Mike's Gayest Scene

168. Reactions To Hugs And Kisses

169. No Platonic Explanation

170. They Have To Be Joking

171. Lighting Analysis

172. Hidden Expressions

173. The Papa Script

174. Refuting Anti-Byler Points

175. El Likes The Idea Of A Boyfriend

176. Are We Watching The Same Show?

177. I'm Not The Only One In Love With My Best Friend

178. Mike Is So Hopeless

179. Will You Be Like My Brother?

180. Bedroom Decor

181. Will Doesn't Want "Better"

182. Best Friends

183. The Truth About Hosegate and Lover's Lake

185. The Culture of Bylerism

184. Talking About Fictional Teens and Sexuality

186. Mike's Sexuality Is Tied To The Narrative

187. Not Production Errors

188. Good Writing And Bad Writing

189. Shared Shoes And More

190. Smalltown Boy Coded

191. Trying To Act Normal

192. It's Called Foreshadowing

193. More To Their Relationship Than Friendship

194. Refuse To Believe This Was Unintentional

195. There Has To Be An Important Reason

196. Byler Rain Fight Vs Mileven Breakup

197. The Eyewitness And Dawson's Creek Parallels, Too Gay To Be Straight

And unfortunately Tumblr will only let me add 100 links per post, so when I've posted part 3 of this list, I'll link it here: Part 3

[starqueensthings]

Colder Weather: Part One

Summary: a two-chapter (nice try, Holly! It’s three) ficlet that follows Post-Stassis/Pirate Kix as he navigates the see-saw of an unexpected love that he doesn't think he deserves, and the trauma of his past.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

POV/WC/Rating: 2nd, 4570, Teen + up

Warnings: extensive references of survivors guilt, grief, and mentions of previous character death. Seggsy time is implied but not described. This is emotional (it needs to be, so I'm not sorry)

A/N: the context of this ficlet won’t make much sense unless you’re decently familiar with the legends version of Kix’s life post-war (it might even be canon now? Not sure…). If you haven't listened to the song that inspired this little ficlet, I highly recommend you give it a listen; it's truly a lyrical masterpiece.

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | ao3

“I want to see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? [...] Well, it’s a winding road when you’re in the lost-and-found. You’re a lover, I’m a runner, and we go round and round. I love you, but I leave you. I don’t want to, but I need you.” Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band

You’d long since memorized his movements; long since perfected this dance, having performed the passionate choreography of this duet with him countless times.

It always began with the sound of his speeder bike nearing your quiet cottage; the roaring of the engine muffled only partially by the towering hedges surrounding your acre of secluded paradise. That rumble so artificial amongst the constant tittering of nature that it took a mere fraction of a second to recognize it, and even less time to send a fervor coursing through your veins so rigorously that your hands simply abandoned whatever task that had been keeping them occupied.

Triggered by the sound of his approach, your feet took you earnestly through the front door and out into the gravel drive. A small smile, often concealed by the expanse of a thick, dark beard, tugged his handsome features upwards as he swung a leg over the seat of his bike, helmet clutched absently in one hand and arms stretched wide in a motion so welcoming, even the sheer power of the Force couldn’t have kept you from leaping into them.

He never failed to match your enthusiasm, scooping you clean off your slippered feet and into the familiar tight embrace that you’d spent weeks longing to be secured in. Hushed coos of “Mesh’la” amongst other breathy salutations were words that never needed voicing; the way his eyes danced reverently across your features spoke more volumes than any muttered term of endearment, any hushed apology for his absence. Watching the crease between his brows soften at the soft brush of your thumb against his cheek was a feeling that could have sustained life for all eternity; every caress of your fingers atop his skin powered by an ineffable desire to remind yourself of him, to remind him of you.  

But there was nothing that consumed you as entirely as the dance itself… nothing that quite melted your mind like the way he laid you down on the soft cotton of that old patchwork quilt; the way that he stripped himself of his rigid encasement; the way his eyes locked on yours, twinkling with an unspoken promise that he was about to make up for his repeated extended absences… all the transmissions that he’d failed to respond to… the commitment that he continuously denied you.  

And while even the ghost of his touch still set your very nerves alight, time had seen the unpredictability of his visits robbed of their spontaneity; lust replaced with a devastating love; passion diminished by the anticipation of his impending departure. The dance had become less of a dance, and more of a contemptuous game: how many seconds would lapse in the forlorn quiet between when the heat of his skin departed yours, and the door swung closed behind him? How many shaky breaths would leave your lungs in the too-short span of time that it took for the shadow of the unseen monster, forever-perched atop his shoulders, to rob his eyes of the twinkle only freshly illuminated by the return of your embrace?

The answer: always too few.

He would only ever grant himself a dozen-or-so deep breaths to dwell in the lingering serenity once the cresting waves of pleasure had subsided, the heaving of his chest eventually stilling to match the motionlessness of the incipient dawn.

Unable to withstand the suffocating languor, a poignant sigh would trigger the initiation of his exodus, body following the command from his anguished mind to climb from the bed and methodically redress himself in that disguising, blue plastoid kit. A tender, whiskery kiss was always your parting gift. Lips void of the passion that had seen them so ravenously devour yours only minutes prior, now gently atop your forehead in a wordless goodbye-for-now; the roar of the engine echoing amongst the whispering pines the perfect soundtrack to the disappointment that pulled shameful tears from your eyes.    

Yet… sometimes… on nights like tonight, an inexplicable force inside of him would demand that he dawdle, and if the urge to flee stalled on its way from brain to body for long enough, he’d roll toward you, fold his arm underneath his head, and trail a gentle fingertip along all his favourite parts of your body: the fleshy space between neck and shoulder where he often sought the comforting fragrance of your skin; the shallow dimples on your lower back, perched just above the rolling swells of muscle that he could barely keep his hands off of; the gaps between your fingers that so-perfectly housed his, as if they were ten adjacent pieces of a puzzle crafted by divine artistry.

Time had yet to reveal any explanation for the mystifying tenderness of his touch… it didn’t seem possible that such rough hands could trail so gently against your skin, yet his calloused fingers could have been draped in velvet for how softly they graced your most sensitive areas. And his pillow talk? It was poetry. His honeyed voice would utter whispered stories of glorious mountain ranges on far away planets while the delicate strokes of his fingertips ghosted atop the swells of your hips. He’d speak of the freckles smattered across your cheeks, and how they almost perfectly mirrored the night sky in Wild Space where the stars were so many, that astronomy had become an obsolete science, the citizens opting to merely look upon them for their unrivalled celestial magnificence. And when he would speak of the vibrant array of wild flowers that adorned the meadows of Felucia, he’d scoop your hand into his and kiss each individual knuckle, as if the immense power to blossom such beauty dwelled inside the fingers interlaced with his.  

But they were rare, those quiet moments, their emergence so ephemeral that even the span of a somnolent blink would have seen them escape your awareness and vanish into the past, and they were as devastating as they were infrequent. Laced not with the dread of his imminent departure, those near silent moments of deep connection were saturated in a hope so ensnaring that its warmth momentarily overshadowed the pain of his repeated abandonment, and you became enraptured by the could-be’s… the if-only’s… the maybe’s.   

Maybe… maybe tonight would be the night that the orange glow emerging atop the horizon did not trigger his departure. Perhaps this would be the time that he’d stay and spend the morning with you, his muscular arms locked around your chest as you ceased to fight the blissful drowsiness engulfing your bodies, dozing together in the first rays of the ambient light. Perhaps he’d be so comfortable, there in your arms, that the ever-present impulse to run, forever-clenched like an iron fist around his soul, would be finally suffocated by the sheer power of your love for him.

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

A ringing silence encompassed the room, broken only by the occasional chirp of an uninterested cricket nestled in the tall tufts of grass just outside the window, and the soft brush of dry leaves twirling amongst themselves in the warm gusts of midsummer’s breeze.

Speaking his brother’s name had rendered Kix momentarily muted and seemingly paralyzed, his eyes wide and affixed on an image that cruel memory had imprinted upon the ceiling above him. His breaths quickened, shoulder rising and falling rhythmically against your palm while his nostrils flared against the same onslaught of turmoil also knitting his brows together.

“Kix?” you probed in a soft whisper, fingers raising from the swell of his shoulder to gently stroke his hair. Those waves of black, sparsely peppered with the beginnings of grey, almost entirely concealed the remnants of a tattoo… letters… pieces of a phrase that he’d consistently evaded divulging. The ink, seemingly unblemished by time, looked as if it had only recently been embedded into his olive skin, yet his repeated, vague explanation of ‘I was a dumb kid’, suggested it was a choice made long ago; a decision made deep in a past he refused to speak of.

“Tell me about Jesse, my love…” you implored to his continued silence, watching with bated breath as the muscles in his jaw contracted in near perfect cadence with the bounding pulse in his neck.

“My brother…” Kix muttered, wrenching his eyes away from the ghost hovering over top of him, his solemn gaze dancing around the room in every direction but yours. “He… he died a long time ago. They all did.”

Your fingers faltered in their gentle strokes only for a breath, the impact of his words sending a crippling wave of aghast sadness throughout your body. “Who did?” It left your lips in barely more than a whisper, the unexpressed heartbreak lingering in the air robbing your tone of the intense curiosity that he so often shirked from and dissuaded, but despite the feigned composure precariously wrapped around your words, he offered no response. “Babe?” you pressed, your fingers abandoning their soothing dance along his temple to trail under his chin and weave themselves into the dark bristles of his beard. Hyperaware of the fragility of that moment, you gently cupped his jaw and turned his hagridden face toward you. “Who is ‘they’?”

His eyes finally met yours, darkened by apprehension and a deep sorrow that had yet to be explained. “My family.” 

It was like nothing you’d ever heard before, the tension in his voice. Those two choked words constricted by a heavy lump in his throat, immediately transformed the gruff and callous pirate that you knew into a man so momentarily fragile that even the soft cotton sheets draped atop your bodies felt too abrasive. Even more unexpected was the mist gathering earnestly in his eyes, reflecting the moonlight beaming in the window as if suddenly encased in a dome of sparkling crystal.

Whatever was left of the feeble breath housed in your lungs escaped your parted lips in a devastated huff, your stomach torquing uncomfortably as your thoughts began to whirr frantically around your mind. Resisting the transcendent urge to lock him in an embrace, you merely swallowed the lump forming in your own throat and hastily blinked the wetness from your eyes. Like the quiet moment that he’d gifted you tonight, you were all-too aware that his vulnerability was fleeting; at risk of dismantling completely should you misstep. But this was the knowledge that you’d be aching to know your months… years; this was the monster on his shoulders that tore him from your bed… from your home so devastatingly often. You were desperate to know it all… desperate to know him.

“Your… your family?” Two stammering words were all that you could force from your parted lips as he wrenched his jaw from your grasp and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, grinding his knuckles aggressively into his eyes.

A heavy sigh was his only response, teeth clicking from how tightly he ground them as he seemingly tried to rub the image of his dead family from his sight. You swallowed heavily again and perched yourself up on an elbow, leaning in to him with every intention of planting a protective kiss to his temple.  

It might have been the shift of your posture that triggered it, or more likely, his patience diminished by your continued probes for information that he wasn’t willing to share, but a sudden banishment of lassitude saw him instantly tossing the sheet from his naked form and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Horrified and disappointed, you hurried to mirror his movements, kicking away the bunched cotton from your knees and pushing yourself to a kneeling position on the mattress directly behind him. Your lids narrowed to near-closed against the sudden ignition of the lamp on the nightstand, but neither the pain nor the spots now floating in your vision were enough to stop you from firmly wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him firmly against your chest. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips softly against his back, did he seem to notice your touch, and even then, his only acknowledgement was to peer, frowning, over his shoulder in your direction.

“Please, love,” you breathed against his skin. “Don’t run. Just talk to me.”

A soft sigh forced his shoulders into a defeated slump, and the tender drape of his hand atop his navel where yours were tightly clasped, lacked much of the warmth and intention that typically swaddled his touch.

“They were… tortured.” His head drooped sadly toward his chest, the previously urgent mission of collecting his clothes from their scattered placement on the floor, momentarily deferred.  

It was the initial shock that he’d even answered you that forced your lips to still against his skin, forgoing the ever-present urge to pepper him with chaste kisses for the sake of listening to the response that he’d previously deemed you unworthy of getting, but it was the horrifying implications of his explanation that forced your eyes open and the pain that drenched his words as they left his scowling lips that sent an all-consuming chill down your spine.

“All of them,” he continued quietly to his lap, absently drumming his fingers against the back of your hand. “Just— just stripped of their will, their identities… and made to carry out the commands of a sick, sick man. They never stood a chance. No one could survive that.”

He permitted himself one last, poignant sigh, the emptying of his lungs pulling his posture away from your still poised kiss, and it wasn’t until his palm departed yours, fracturing the wreath of your arms around his waist, that you returned to some semblance of awareness. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, beating against his back where the diffused glow of the lamp failed to soften the appearance of several misshapen scars along his shoulder; scars that you’d seen countless times previously, and had paid only little attention to.

Robbed of coherent thought by the repulsion surging through your veins, and rendered utterly speechless by the knowledge that you’d so desperately craved, you dropped your gaze to your knees, unmoving eyes watching them thrown intermittently into shadow as Kix moved about beside the bed, redressing himself in a suit of black compression, and the rigid, scuffed armament.

It was the soft scrape of plastoid against wood that broke you from your revolted torpor, his lean frame now completely encompassed in the blue suit that you despised, his helmet retrieved from the nightstand and hanging slackly from a gloved hand at his side. The sight of his impending departure returned you to a jarring cognizance and sent you frantically scrambling from the bed, bare feet ignoring the bite of the cold floor as you dashed toward the chair beside the window and collected the robe that you’d unceremoniously tossed onto it hours previously.

“Wait, Kix!”

You clumsily thrust your fists into the arms of the silk garment, your entire body laced with an exigent need to reach the doorway before he did. He couldn’t leave this time, not now… not now that he was finally opening up, finally sharing something other than trivial grievances about his crew members. He needed to know what you thought… how you felt. You had to tell him that none of it mattered to you… none of it made any difference. Except it did. It made all the difference. You thought you loved him then. That was nothing compared to now. And there was nothing that would stop you from loving him; not a past full of trauma, not tears leaking from his eyes, not the whispers that he denied hearing when the room got too quiet. None of it made a difference to you except that it did, and you would willingly spend the rest of your life banishing the ghosts that haunted his every move if he would just let you.

 “Can’t— can’t you stay this time?” you pleaded from your perch in the doorway, hastily tying a knot in the sash of your robe. “Even just a little longer?”

The snort that left his nose at the sight of your position, arms wide and clutching each side of the door frame in some pitiful semblance of a barricade, was anything but genuine, betrayed by the failure of the smile on his lips to crinkle his eyes. “Come on, Mesh’la,” he cooed, absently shifting the armoured belt around his waist. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you argued, refusing to let the softness of his gaze weaken any of your resolve. “You just don’t. There’s a difference and you know that.”

The desperate sadness that encompassed your words surprised both sets of ears; you hadn’t intended for the sentiment to leave your lips drenched in such disappointment, yet his departure tonight felt more like a robbery than it ever had; stealing a fractured piece of you and leaving nothing but a shadow behind to replace it.

That small smile slipped from his features and he froze, upturned helmet held slackly at his side as he hung his head to his chest again. Your heart drummed heavily in your ears, the lump in your throat threatening to all but suffocate you as he stepped slowly forward, the old wood floor beneath you creaking and shifting under the weight of his heavy boots.

“Please don’t start this again, Mesh’la,” he begged in a whisper, tenderly tucking a displaced lock of hair behind your ear as his eyes flickered back and forth between yours. “We’ve been over this. I… I don’t want this for you. You deserve a better life than what I ca—”  

“I want this life,” you choked, chin threatening to quiver under the intense duress of your welling disappointment. “I promise— no, listen!—  I promise, Kix. I love you more than everything that you’ve been through. In spite of it all… because of it all. Just trust me. Stay with me this time. Let me— let me prove it to you. Let me sho—”  

“I know you love me, Mesh’la,” he interrupted, gently cupping your trembling chin and guiding your jaw upwards to look directly into your eyes. “I have never doubted it for a second. In another time… another life, I’d be able to give you back the love you deserve, but… I’m too sad of a man, now. I’m too angry… too volatile… too restless. No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t stomach my past, and I love you enough to not let you suf—”

 “I’ll suffer if I choose to!” you blurted, voice thickening in earnest. “I’ll suffer with you. It’s my choice, and I choose you, so just choose m—”

“Why?” he interjected, releasing your jaw and perching his hand on his hip. “Hmm? Why am I your choice? Why do you waste your time with a pirate like me when there are decent men lining up around the planet for your hand? Men that will shower you with gifts and affection? Men that won’t selfishly come and go as they please, like I do?”

“My time with you isn’t wasted, Kix,” you spluttered, eyelids unable to contain the flood of tears blurring your vision, banishing them to the heat of your flushed cheeks. “You don’t listen. I want every minute to be a minute with you. Every hour, every day. Stop running away from what happened to you; stop running from me. We— we can have a real life together.”

The aversion of his gaze to the floor did not stop you. You were too resolute in your convictions; too certain that if he just listened to you, he would finally understand. “I’ll make you caf every morning,” you continued, pulling your hands from the doorframe to hold his.  “And… we can shower together every day if we want to. You can make the water as hot as you want, and I won’t complain… I promise. We— we can grow berries in the field out back, on the other side of the tree line. You know, in that clearing where the flowers grow? The spot that gets all the afternoon sun? And… and we can brew our own wine. We—”

“Please stop.”

He was pleading with you in more ways than just the despondent words that left his lips; his dark eyes watching in something near agony as the tears abandoned your cheeks for the draped silk of your robe, but you were deaf to the desperation in his voice and blind to the anguish in his eyes as vivid images of what could-be erupted like a tragic film in your mind. 

“We can climb onto the roof and look at the stars on clear nights,” you persisted, releasing his palm and guiding your trembling hands onto the rough and worn plastoid of his shoulder bells. “And when it’s not, we’ll snuggle on the couch and listen to music. We’ll get drunk… and giggle about stupid shit… and make love in every room… an—”

“Please, Mesh’la.” He clamped his eyes closed, cowering beneath your watery gaze and gently tugging your hands from his shoulders, pausing to hold them weakly in his own for a breath before dropping them completely. “You have to sto—”

“No, Kix!” you refused, stomping your cold, bare foot on the floor below you. “You stop! Stop saying you don’t want this life for us, because you do!”

“OF COURSE I DO!”  

Your hands flew back to brace yourself in the doorway, shoulders jerking with fright, choked breaths freezing in your lungs. He’d never shouted like that before… and if he had, it certainly hadn’t been in your presence. Never once had you seen his eyes shrink behind lids so narrowed that the even the bridge of his nose scrunched to assist in their efforts. You’d never seen his thick, expressive brows contract so tightly and shoot toward the messy curls of his hairline in such earnest, and you’d never seen a look quite like that in his eyes… the frenzied look of a man desperate to be understood.

“Of— of course I want all of that,” he continued, his tone softening slightly as the ghost of his outburst rang back at him from the quiet corners. “But it’s not that simple. You don’t understand. I want it, Mesh’la, but I shouldn’t have it. I can’t have it. Why… why do I deserve the promise of a quiet life, when they never even had a chance at one? Why should I be the only one gifted with a happy ending, when they were robbed of theirs? If they can’t have it, then I ca—”

His voice cracked… fractured under the duress of the emotion simmering too near the surface, and it echoed more poignantly around the room than the hoarse shout which preceded it. That quiet moment, as you watched his shoulders sag in complete and utter dejection, with his head slowly shaking against a myriad of thoughts that he refused to speak, you would have withstood nearly anything to ensure the music of his voice never cracked like that again. You would have agreed to stand near-naked in the doorway for all eternity, willing to shoulder any amount of shouting, any verbal reprovement… anything if it promised him true peace from the sorrow that robbed him of his voice… of his life.

The threat of a sob forced your face into your clammy palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until tiny, glimmering phosphenes erupted in your vision. Why couldn’t it all be as beautiful as those silly little dancing lights, brought to life with just a slight pressure from a small hand? Why could people not be free to dance about in darkness, as they are? Why must our darkness diminish our light? Why are those pretty dancing lights, free from the plague of guilt and sorrow, forever permitted to slumber until external pressure brings them to life, an occasion in which they shine so marvelously?  

The thunk of his boots and the creak of the floor signaled his slow approach. “I have to go, Cyare,” he mumbled into the space beside your ear, his free hand dusting soft strokes up and down your forearm.

You exposed your tear-streaked face and stared blankly across the room, unwilling to nod and acknowledge the disappointment. So this wasn’t going to be the time that he stayed.

“You know I love you,” he muttered into your hairline before planting a soft kiss on your temple, but the disillusionment had numbed you almost entirely, and you felt nothing of his lips on your skin, nor the brush of his body slipping past you through the door… you heard none of his footsteps fading down the hallway… nothing of the door closing behind him as he disappeared into the diminishing darkness outside… nor did you hear the roar of his speeder engine reverberating around the corners of your secluded paradise, all too eager and willing to rob you of him again.  

tags: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @523rdrebel

[andreilslovechild]

Could you do The Second Butcher for wip Wednesday?

The Second Butcher Pt 2

Nathaniel had been bored lately. So very very bored. So the next time he sets out, he decides to get creative. He finds a deserving man, rigs him up, and takes his sweet sweet time. He carves pattern after intricate pattern, making sure to leave the skin attached to the muscle so it doesn't fall off, and he uses his blood to paint another mural behind him. He leaves him hung up and spread out in the center of his masterpiece. He usually likes to put his displays elsewhere but he could afford to lose one warehouse, and the police were mostly on his payroll anyway.

He's just getting ready to anonymously report it as he usually does when he hears a low whistle from behind him.

As he turns he sees a man just slightly shorter than himself, well-built, with blonde hair just long enough to begin curling, and piercings that pull at his lips as he gives a sardonic smile. He's all in black as if it's the fashion colour of the day. Nathaniel prefers red himself. He raises an eyebrow at the man, who finally speaks in a low husky timbre, a smoker then.

"Quite a piece of work here. How much time you spend on him?"

"A fair few hours"

The man nods and looks around. "I'm almost not sad I lost him to you. Been hunting him down for forever."

Nathaniel's eyebrow climbs higher. "Oh?"

The blonde smirks and seems to sink into his casual stance even more so. "Maryland Monster at your service"

The name peaks Nathaniel's interest. Hes heard it floating around here or there. Even admired a few crime scene photos. The Monster knew his fair share of crime scenes and often left convoluted threads of information at his own, which were supposed to lead authorities to the victims of his victims. It was all quite intriguing if Nathaniel was telling the truth. Not that the cops had figured it out. So he tries on his father's smile and responds.

"Butcher of Baltimore. Charmed."

[rockislandadultreads]

May is Asian American & Pacific Islander Heritage Month!

Check out these fiction picks as we celebrate Asian American & Pacific Islander Heritage Month this May!

Late Bloomers by Deepa Varadarajan

After thirty-six years of a dutiful but unhappy arranged marriage, recently divorced Suresh and Lata Raman find themselves starting new paths in life. Suresh is trying to navigate the world of online dating, while Lata is enjoying her newfound independence. Meanwhile, their children, Priya and Nikesh, embark upon their own relationships, but hide the truth of what they really entail. Over the course of three weeks, the family uncovers one another's secrets, confront the limits of love and loyalty, and explore life's second chances. 

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

Authors June Hayward and Athena Liu were supposed to be twin rising stars. But Athena's a literary darling while June is literally nobody. So when June witnesses Athena's death in a freak accident, she acts on impulse: she steals Athena's just-finished masterpiece, an experimental novel about the unsung contributions of Chinese laborers during World War I. Doesn't this piece of history deserve to be told, whoever the teller? But June can't get away from Athena's shadow, and emerging evidence threatens to bring June's (stolen) success down around her. 

Portrait of a Thief by Grace D. Li

History is told by the conquerors. Across the Western world, museums display the spoils of war, of conquest, of colonialism: priceless pieces of art looted from other countries, kept even now. Will Chen plans to steal them back. His crew has every heist archetype imaginable and each member has their own complicated relationship with China and the identity they've cultivated as Chinese Americans. If they succeed, they earn fifty million dollars and a chance to make history. But if they fail, they will lose everything they've dreamed for themselves, as well as the chance to take back what colonialism has stolen.

Happiness Falls by Angie Kim

Mia, an irreverent, hyperanalytical twenty-year-old, has an explanation for everything - which is why she isn't initially concerned when her father and younger brother Eugene don't return from a walk in a nearby park. They must have lost their phone. Or stopped for an errand somewhere. But by the time Mia's brother runs through the front door bloody and alone, it becomes clear that the father in this tight-knit family is missing and the only witness is Eugene, who has the rare genetic condition Angelman syndrome and cannot speak. 

[mysteriousmissfsart]

BNHA Rambles #1

I would like to thank Horikoshi-sensei for creating Boku no Hero Academia. I appreciate his hardwork and effort that he has put into his work. Thank you.

However, I am incredibly sad about episode 11 of season 7. Episode 10 as well.

I warn anyone reading this that there will be spoilers if you are not caught up with the anime or the manga (up to this point).

This post is just me rambling about a few things. (I mean a lot of things, actually)

Do tell me what you think as well!

Spoilers under the cut!

First of all, WHAT IS IT WITH THE RIGHT ARMS OF PEOPLE GETTING BROKEN OR SOMETHING????

Like, Endeavor lost his right arm??? Now Bakugo is most likely not going to be able to use that arm as well???? Are we drawing parallels between those two? Is their redemption in not being able to use one side of their body???? This is sad???????!!!!!!!! I was literally rooting for Katsuki to become a pro hero by the end of the series.

Speaking of KATSUKI BAKUGO-

Like, is my boy dead? (I already know the answer so please, no need to tell me. Also, I really had to know, okay?)

I basically grew up with this guy???? (I was 14 when the first season came out and now I'm 22)

Am I literally going to be watching bnha without Katsuki? He was literally the reason why I watched it in the first place! I could see where his character development was headed and I knew that it would be good! Yes, the other characters are amazing as well and I am going to watch the series anyway, I don't like leaving things unfinished unless its really bad. I am happy about Shinso getting some good screentime, though. Hope he doesn't get hurt in some way, seen or unforeseen.

(Fun fact: There are only two series I have dropped and will never finish watching; 1. Kuroko no Basket. 2. Shingeki no Kyojin. Reason: For Kuroko, the only characters that were interesting to me were Kuroko and the Blonde guy, I literally forgot his name, I also didn't like the cherry stem girl really. Overall, didn't find it appealing. For Shingeki: Only character I liked was Levi, still like him. It has too much gore, I didn't know that when I was told that it was a masterpiece. I couldn't stomach anything everytime I watched an episode. Bnha is MILD in comparison to whatever was going on in Titan land. Also, I always disliked Eren with a passion. If you know you know. My friend and my sister have already told me the whole thing. I was right about you Eren Yaeger!!!!)

But-

I never expected his heart to get pierced????? Why did we have to do that?????

I was peacefully eating dinner today when I was shocked by the sheer evilry that scene presented. I have not cried this much over a character death before. The first time I cried over one was over the death of Hiccup's dad from how to train your dragon (I was maybe 11 at the time). But, never like this. Never like somebody I know has died. It's strange that I felt so connected to him. I don't know, my emotions never make sense really. Like, my breath literally hitched and my eyes just teared up and flowed down my face???!!! Like, what???? Why did he have to be done like that? The scene with him talking to All Might's Shadow (ghost, spirit????) and that tone change. We have never heard Katsuki talk in that way before, he seemed like himself there and not the tough facade he always dons.

The scene at the end when we see his heart get pierced and then when Jeanist realizes what has happened was just heartwrenching. I couldn't stop crying. He doesn't deserve this, none of them do. I literally made myself pretend that didn't happen but when Jeanist pointed it out, all I could do was stare in disbelief at the screen. The saddest part of all of this? His mom realizing that it will rain and saying "that kid doesn't like the rain". Why? Because that's when Jeanist realizes that his heart has been pierced by Shigaraki/All for One. IT RAINS WHEN THEY REALIZE THAT KATSUKI'S HEART HAS BEEN PIERCED.

Sad, I'm just unbelievably sad.

I just wish this series ends on a happy note.

To Horikoshi-sensei,

If you are reading this, may your readers' tears soon dry and there be a happy ending to your series. I am truly a big fan of this series and how it has turned out. I never expected to stick around for so long but it has been interesting. This series has kept me on my toes and has fed into my love of mystery solving. I loved discovering things along with the characters as well as figure things out on my own. The angst and horrifiying theme has been carried out so well. I hope I will be around for the ending as well.

Thank you!

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

What did you all think of this episode and Katsuki's development? I am dreading the next episode. Were you shocked by this scene? I literally couldn't keep my eyes on the screen. It hurt too much.

See you again sometime!

[whyshouldihaveanam3]

Taylor Swift x ACOTAR

Feyre Acheron and Tamlin's relationship in ACOTAR is the embodiment of All Too Well 10 Minute Version. Fight me if you want but it all adds up.

'Your sweet disposition' = Tamlin, no he wasn't exactly sweet, but Feyre had a 'Wide eyed gaze' when she first stepped into the Spring Court. Terrified, but intrigued.

'And I no it's long gone, and that magics not here no more' = obviously when she comes back from UTM. She misses that relationship her and Tamlin had, but it hurts to keep trying. The glee and magic she found in it as a human is gone as she becomes fae. Though the world is meant to seem brighter all she sees is darkness, misery.

'You taught me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me' = Pretty obvious I suppose. Tamlin wanted Feyre in his future so told her about his experiences with his Father and brothers. How he was never even meant to be High Lord.

'You were tossing me the car keys, fuck the patriarchy, key chain on the ground' = This one is a stretch, but think of it metaphorically. He tells Feyre about a bunch of stuff he wants to change. How she can be his, but he doesn't give her the freedom she deserves. He throws it at her feet, just out of reach.

'After three months in the grave' = Three months UTM ruined their relationship.

'And you wondered where I went to as I reach for you, but all I felt was shame. And you held my lifeless frame' = When Feyre begs Tamlin to let her out, try and break down the barriers. She doesn't want to be trapped, she wants to be let out. But Tamlin won't let her, he locks her away out of reach. She's a lifeless frame and he only realises after his own rage, when he holds her.

'There was nothing else I could do' = She knows she can't do anything. Dammit, she wants too, but she can'.

'You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath' = Tamlin initially kept her secret, from the Attor from Amourantha. Feyre kept their relationship more hidden, even from Lucien for a while. She kept so much a secret even when Rhysand took her for the first time, even when she began to feel safe. She tried, did Tamlin try as much?

'But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up' = Self explanatory. Tamlin shredded their relationship. Is he the only reason they didn't last? No. I wouldn't say so, but he was more outwardly destructive (ruining the study, damaging walls etc) than Feyre ever was.

'I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here' = Feyre is fucking broken. After everything UTM she is a shell of a person, less than that, and Tamlin's rage only makes her feel worse.

'The idea you had of me, who was she? Some never needy ever lovely jewel, who's shine reflects on you' = Tamlin can't see Feyre for who she is after her trauma ATM. She's broken, he's broken, he refuses (or is too upset) too see how badly it's really turned out. He still sees her as a weak human, the girl he stole from the woods that year. He still sees her as the weak that makes him stronger. He doesn't want to see her as she is now, out of ignorance perhaps, but also to try and deny everything that's happened.

'Not weeping in a party bathroom, some actress asking me what happened' = Lucien is the actress here, he's asking her what happened. He's being sympathetic, having the empathy his friend doesn't. He can see how destroyed Feyre is. He saw it UTM as well. Saw every second of change within her.

'Time won't fly it's like I'm paralysed by it' = She's so deep into her own depression, she can barely even register how time is passing, how every day she's trapped in the same routine. How Tamlin isn't there to help her, to hold her, to move her.

'I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it' = The wish I think they both have for things to return to normal the moment after everything happened UTM. Tamlin, on the surface, easily falls back into routine but Feyre can't.

'Back before you'd lost the one real thing you'd ever known' = Tamlin's only, as far as we know of, true feelings of love start with Feyre. He lost her because of his own mistakes, they both changed but not both of them grew or accepted that.

'Cause in the city's barren cold, I still remember the first fall of snow. And how it glistened as it fell.' = Feyre remembers the golden days, the days where she started seeing everything with the colour and the happiness. When she was still human but when the Spring Court was less terrifying, more like a home.

ANYWAY, essay complete. This ramble turned into a fucking English essay lmao. Sorry. Oh yeah, no Tamlin hate please. Pretty please. I feel kind of bad for him. I just ATWTMV'd him, no one deserves that, not really.

[naryrising]

3 easy things to do so you don't get locked out of your AO3 account

(Prefacing this by saying that while I am chair of the Support committee and thus handle plenty of attempted account recovery situations, this is unofficial advice based on my own observations.)

OK, ideally you would never get locked out of your AO3 account. You would keep your email address there up to date so if you ever did forget your password, you can request a reset and get right back in. Or you would use a password manager and never forget your password again. But sometimes things happen - maybe you used an older email that you no longer have access to, or you can't remember which of 27 different fannish emails you used, and now you want to get back into your account but you can't. I get it, it can happen easily enough.

Here are 3 things you can do with relatively minimal effort that would potentially make it easier to recover your account if you do get inadvertently locked out.

Put some social media links in your AO3 Profile. Add your tumblr, your twitter, your dreamwidth, your fanfiction.net or wattpad, or whatever you feel comfortable putting there. If you don't want to put your "real" social media there (for whatever reason - stalkers, nosy family, don't like mixing fannish and real life, etc.) go MAKE a fannish account somewhere else purely for the purpose of linking it on AO3. Keep those accounts active (by which I mean, don't lose the email/password there too! Maybe even use a different email address than you use on AO3, so if your email access suddenly shuts down one day, you haven't lost both accounts.)

Post a work or two! Even if you are mainly using your account for reading/bookmarking/subscribing, write a drabble or a short fic and post it. You can disable comments, make it restricted to archive users only, etc. if you don't want to deal with potential feedback. You can even post it to an anon collection if you want to keep people from knowing it was you. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece, just a valid fanwork (so don't just post some random words or something).

In conjunction with #1 and 2, cross-post a work from another site. If you have older fanfics you never imported from Livejournal or Wattpad or fanfiction.net, import them now! If you have a little series of ficlets you wrote for a prompt on tumblr or twitter once, archive those. (Yes, even if you think they're bad or embarrassing. They still deserve to be archived! See above about making a work anon or restricting access if you prefer.) If you don't have pre-existing older works posted elsewhere, write a new story, post your story somewhere else (say, on dreamwidth or tumblr), and then a day or two later, archive it on AO3.

Even doing one or two of these things would make the chances of recovering your account higher, but doing all three would be ideal!

[diamondsandlemons]

FLCL is only good on odd numbered attempts

text transcript under the cut

([this graph] is based off vibes, don't think too much about the numbers)

FLCL

OG

goes without saying: a masterpiece, not really worth comparing to the rest of them

-- -- -- look I know these are just cash grabs, but maybe they can do something interesting with it

Progressive

mid as hell

entirely forgettable

art style lost (and it doesn't come back), looks pretty generic

I like Julia Jinyu tho

also new Pillows music is cool

Alternative

this one's for the girls =)

still straight tho =/

tbh I forget the specifics of this one too, but I remember how it FELT and it was COOL

hits the emotional beats right. they were cooking with this one ngl

-- -- -- huh? there's more? and they're... shorter now?

Grunge

kind of a retelling of the OG but not really???

basically pointless

half-length is a blessing, this one could not have lasted 6 eps.

it's not that there are no ideas here, but the execution is not there

cheap 3D animation basically kills any redeeming factor it may have. Looks bad, chief.

Shoegaze (direct sequel to Alternative)

oh they're doing something with this one

goes for the previous sequels as well, but there is too much focus on The Lore. as a certified sci-fi lore enjoyer I kinda dig trying to piece it all together, but any kind of FLCL successor should be more about the themes than having a story that makes sense. Luckily this one's got that too!

all in all this is the most unique one, so I feel it's the most deserving of the FLCL title

nonbinary character ?!?

[I couldn't fit this in the image so you text readers get a secret bonus bulletpoint] the shorter length here feels more like a creative decision than an executive one. Grunge may as well have just been there to fill space so Shoegaze could be as good as it was



[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 5

Here we are with prompt #5 from @hprecfest! Big fan of this one although I must admit that I lost track of almost all the HP fics I’ve read back in my pre-AO3 days. A downside of indulging mlm fic at home in your early teens is that you can never trust your browser history lol anyway, I’m very pleased with today’s picks because these two brilliant yet devastating fics felt quite transformative for me back then, and I think they deserve special recognition for that alone. They’re two of the saddest stories I’ve ever read and tbh I don’t think I can handle this brand of hardcore angst anymore. Well I hope you folks are in the mood for it today! 😇

Day 5) A non-AO3 fic:

Drarry

Nightingale by michi_thekiller (NC-17)

God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval

this is make up break up angst taken to a whole new level 💀 gosh, the ways this fic ruined me with the heartbreaking depiction of post-war trauma. only for those with a strong heart, as for mine it belongs to this doomed Draco and this sad and lonely Harry who can’t help but long for him. painfully raw but also thought-provoking, pls check the tags before giving it a go then come scream with me

Rare pair

If You Are Prepared by Cybele (Snarry, NC-17)

A task he can't refuse. A boy he doesn't want to refuse.

this series is an epic tragedy that has haunted me ever since I first read it back in the 00s. it’s the masterpiece that made me truly feel for this ship for the very first time, not only due to its urgent, devastating, ill-advised war romance but also thanks to Cybele’s sexy and gripping storytelling. a masterclass in tension and angst, grab some tissues for the MCD finale ⚠️