#and there may or may not be brainrot occurring

[tiny1nther3d]

SFW VORE scenario :3

Merfolk brainrot got me.

Tiny works at an aquarium cleaning the fish tanks. Giant works there as a performer; a merman/mermaid show.

--

While the latter takes a break, the former dives into the fish tank. Usually, there's no risk of the tiny one getting eaten by any of the aquatic animals. Usually. Why? It could be anything—maybe their diving suit has a special scent that drives the fish away, or maybe they're a fast swimmer. Whatever the case, today it doesn't apply.

While they're scrubbing away, doing their duties, a fish comes up from behind. The giant could be walking back to the tank to warm up, or say they're actually a merman/mermaid messing around in the human world. Let's say it's the second option.

They could have a way to hear the aquatic life around them, be it coherent thoughts translated into something they can understand, or maybe just slight snippets of the animals' wants.

In this case, the big guy catches the wandering thought of a very hungry fish that's about to feast.

"Great, the fish are being fed,"

they think to themselves, till realizing it's much too early for that to be the case. Rushing over to the tank, they dive in. Did someone throw in something for the fish? Did the cleaner not do a good job and leave something for them to eat? Speaking of the cleaner, shouldn't they be inside the tank, doing their job right about now?

All these thoughts race through the giant's head as they swim around, looking for the fish. Following the creature’s thought process, hearing as it got louder and louder, they find a sight to behold.

They spot a tiny silhouette racing through the water, desperate motions of their body as they try to gain speed. The smaller one could spot, or maybe sense a shift in the water. Turning around, they see a much larger shadow looming over them than the fish chasing them.

A second or two later, the tiny finds themselves being sucked in the direction of the large shadow. The fish, unaware and possibly not caring about this other entity, stubbornly chases the tiny, denying to let go of this free food.

The tiny, gasping for air that they don't have, and is quickly running out of, tries their best to outswim both of them. The bigger fellow, sensing the tiny’s distress, shoos away the fish and gets closer. On the brink of fainting, be it from fear or lack of oxygen, they don't recognize their coworker.

They hear a muffled voice and feel gentle pokes at their body. Feeling like an eternity passed, they blink and hear a faint, "Sorry." The giant shoves the little one into their mouth, swallowing as gently as they can. Feeling the small round lump go down, they feel their gills starting to filter out the water. The tiny, now safe inside the giant's stomach, rests.

The day goes on with the giant going about their usual schedule. In the middle of their show, they feel a small squirm.

"Now of all times," they think to themselves.

Swimming further, away from the visitors' prying eyes, they tap their stomach gently. A shiver runs down their spine as they feel tiny vibrations throughout their innards. A small, muffled voice calls out,

"Hello...?"

They smile.

"Hi. Mornin', sleepy head. How are you feeling?"

A second or two pass.

"Better. Uh... where... am I?"

The bigger one's smile falters a tad. Right.

"I—"

The interaction gets cut short by a banging on the glass.

A kid smiling, watching the merman/mermaid.

Sighing, they swim over slowly, remembering they're still on the clock. Shushing the smaller one, they promise them they're safe. Not too convinced but without much choice, the tiny snuggles into the bigger one's walls. If they're going to stay here, may as well get comfy.

The bigger one, feeling this, smiles gently, putting a hand over their stomach as they swim over and continue the show. A lengthy explanation would occur a few moments later, but that was for another time.

[scentedpepper]

Guilty Pleasures

AEGON II TARGARYEN X SERVANT!GN READER

Part 2: The Cockcrow of Dalliance

Summary: Aegon II Targaryen seeks out his servant in the most desperately pathetic of times.

Content Warnings: Implicitly explicit sexual speech/themes, drunkeness, established relationships, complicated dynamics, may come off as reminiscent of non-con at some points(?) but was written without intent of such nature, friends (not really) with benefits (also not really), aegon ii targaryen, touch starved (reader and aegon)

Other Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x GN! Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Is this brainrot?

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

"Please, please. "

You're not sure what about this situation perturbes you more.

The situation itself, which contains that of a drunken Prince Aegon clinging onto your red tunic in the midst of a dimly lit corridor as you attempt to carry dirtied dishes over to the others in the kitchen, falling over himself and pleading.

Or the fact that there is, inexplicably, no one around to witness this outrageous display of drunkenness occurring before the very eyes of the prince's subjects—not even the knights you'd passed on your way here, it seems, as the hall leading to the kitchen is practically empty.

There's almost a feeling of being stranded out at sea, out in a thick, harsh, uncaring, overpowering fog as you find yourself drifting aimlessly to and fro in the absence of a guiding beacon, desperate to return home; a sense that those who came down these halls are surely gone, or somewhere else altogether, but the general, indescribable loneliness this leaves one with still persists in clinging onto your skin, and it isn't a pleasant feeling.

You don't want to know how or why you're being required to look at this god-awful display, yet here you are, with the Prince himself, grabbing you and holding you closely.

You can smell his breath.

The Prince Aemond had advised you many times to stay clear of his brothers line of sight when he was like this, stupid with drunkness. It was always the same warning he'd pass quietly to your ear, gesturing from across the throne room, as if you couldn't see the wine become of him yourself.

His breath is a putrid mix of fruity, sweetened wine and rotting meat, the stench alone just about ready to have you empty your stomach right into the corridor—you want to move him off, or away, or something, but in the near darkness, he simply holds onto your clothes and lays against you, pathetically.

As you fidget to find a way to escape his steel vise grip without causing him offense, he clamps a hand to the side of your face, firmly, not a slap but rather a moment of stillness. His gaze snaps up, meeting yours and flashing his glazy, violet eyes.

You slowly come out of your squint, out of your hunch. He has only taken a very short few seconds to simply gaze through the dark at you before making a wet snort noise. A cough follows it.

A repulsive sound.

He giggles then, almost, or moans? It could be an admittance of his intoxication, as he rests his weight into your side, but the way his hands are tightening into a fist in the fabric of your tunic isn't very encouraging.

"My Prince..." You start, but he forbid you from continuing.

"Please. " He says again, swaying, sniffing, slurring. One of his hands gently traces up the material of your sleeve. "Please, Y/N. "

It is not particularly surprising that he calls your name. Despite yourself, you have come to know both princes more than you would have wished yourself to when you first came here, from Dorne. But somehow, hearing the sound of your name fall from his lips in this particular tone isn't as familiar as you'd hoped.

Nonetheless, its an otherwise strangely sober utterance from his mouth, except for the mild stumble over each syllable, and an oddly solemn cadence. You'd think by now there was not a shred of lucidity left in him, judging from his actions and words prior, but there's a certain formality to it that rings all too clear in the hazy atmosphere.

"Please. " He says again, in your silence.

And you're really not even sure what he's pleading for, anymore.

At first, you'd assumed his call had been one akin to assistance; to carry his belongings–or rather him–to his chambers and pull the covers over him, like you always did. But this has transpired into something far more...unfamiliar. And you're not certain that it should even be a possible interaction between the two of you, even if he had become thoroughly entrenched in a state of drunken obliviousness.

And you are not eager to determine the sincerity of his pleas.

"My Prince, you are much too given away. You do not know what you ask of me..." You say, gripping his wrist away from your face and furthering yourself backward as to give him space. "And I do not know what you request so vehemently from me. "

He stumbles forward and you do your best, with the dishes shifting to one arm, to catch him. The food falls from atop the pile and bounces twice and rolls to your feet as the dishes and cutlery clatter to the ground. Displeased sounds pass your lips.

"You need not worry for the plates. " He slurs, unbothered by the loud crash nor the glass crunching under his feet.

It's an awkward position; his arm locked around your neck, pulled up toward him and stumbling as if to drag you along as well. He can hardly support his own weight yet is unwilling to free himself from this strange embrace.

"My Prince. " You utter in exasperation, your arm curled around his waist. In hopes that he will be steady enough to lean on his own feet, you try to let go. But his grip only tightens. "Allow me to help you to your chambers and I can see you go undisturbed. "

"I don't want to walk. " He sniffs, bringing his face closer to yours. With your hand still wrapped around the crook of his elbow, you lean back. It was a routine situation you've found yourself in, but certainly not a pretty image that anyone would hope to stumble across.

As you lean back, so does he and his dead weight pushes you harshly into the wall. "Y/N, please. " He breathes out dramatically.

Perhaps if you remain quiet, he will tire and slip away just as he did the last dozen times.

He tries to rest his cheek on your chest, eyes growing misty and drooping, but unable to find a comfortable perch because of his drunken inclination to muss and disrupt the space he occupied.

Frustrated, you tap him lightly and try to roll out from under his weight.

He doesn't budge.

"My Prince, you burden upon me too heavily with such unseemly behavior..." And there was more you wished to say, but the burning at your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose has stifled your speech.

"I couldn't care. Less. If I tried. " The Prince mutters.

He adjusts his arm around your neck, a drunken repositioning of limbs, and tugs your head closer to his. Your skulls mingle there in the dark, cold air in the most unspeakable manner.

There is no way, no chance in all the heavens above, that your actions have been even a grain of worthy. And despite the temptation you feel for motion against the foolish, insolent, ridden of capacity to think man before you, you know nothing will come of it other than pain to be regretted for the rest of time, probably.

"You must remove yourself from me, My Prince. So that we may return to our respectable places. And not disgrace each other's positions before the palace. "

"Fuck the palace. Fuck my place. " He spits, swaying and throwing his other arm around your neck, pulling himself even closer.

It clicks then, as his body pushes fully against you.

"If you're asking for me to give you relief, My Prince, then there's nothing I can do for you–"

"Y/N. Please. It's getting painful. Please. "

"Is your hand insufficient?"

You swear, if there were light, his skin color would match perfectly with your crimson tunic.

It is such an inappropriate, improper conversation that you would scarcely wish to have. Least of all here. Where anyone could walk by.

"It would...not be the first..." His voice is weak and quiet. You can hardly hear him. "The first time you..." He doesn’t finish, too consumed by his indulgences.

"My Prince. " You reply sharply, though you wished to say so much more. "Your hand is sufficient. This is unspeakable. I have never sought you in such treacherous ways. "

And though you could not see his face, could not read the thoughts that crawled through his foggy, drunk-muddled mind, you could hear his sighs of displeasure. As if he were the one suffering through all this nonsense.

You take his silence as a plea for your goodwill and pry his hands off your neck, leaving him against the wall of the hallway while you crouch to collect the discarded tray and its broken contents.

"If that is all, My Prince, then will you not go to your chambers now?"

He stares up at you in utter defeat. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and uncertain, a stark contrast to the iron-willed royal who had dismissed you without a second glance no less than three moons ago.

He has that look in the irises, those violet pearls, that you recall seeing a handful of times in the other nobles of House Targaryen. A fleeting moment, a window into something far greater and more complex than a single second could reveal. A deeper and darker emotion that stirs within you pity. You believe the color would be similar to what is felt when someone is terribly remorseful, regretting what they said or did in a time that is long past.

"Please do not start crying, My Prince. " You say and the vexation has not left your tone. "You'll have forgotten the conversation within the hour, a tear will do you no good. "

Your tone was harsh, unkind, not quite vicious. But it is curt and strong enough, from a mere servant no less, to strike like a whip to his spirit. He blinks once, and looks away, not a sound leaves his throat as he stiffens, and waits.

And then his lips pull up, he goes rigid, and he sniffs and wipes his nose with the cuff of his blue shirt. And finally, without another word, his eyes well up and the tears burst forth and run down his face like twin waterfalls.

"My Prince. " You whisper. But he's not listening to you. He's red in the face and sobbing uncontrollably. "Stop. Why are you-please stop. "

"I've known it. " He manages out, his voice thick with mucus. "You-dislike me so much. I apologize. " His body is like a loose feather floating in the air and you know that he is soon to make it to the ground if you do not intervene.

It pains you, somewhat, to watch him unravel. It's like observing a bird unable to find its wing. Or the crumbling of a home, a castle that has stood for lifetimes but not strong enough to bear the weight that has piled upon it.

But nevertheless, you are used to such outbursts. Such grand feelings of pity.

You set the tray accompained by shards of glass down on the floor and wipe your hands off with a sigh. Wordlessly you maneuver yourself to the prince's side, scooping him gently with your arms around him and drag him toward the exit.

He whimpers at being jostled, but you suspect it's from surprise rather than true hurt. He doesn't do anything else for a long few seconds until his legs finally unlock and he manages to fumble into a somewhat coherent position beside you.

He is still crying.

"My Prince-" You say, worried, slightly alarmed, as you've heard no noises yet from the people of the palace, but the walls beg to wake them. "Please, I implore you. It would not behoove the both of us if the servants saw you like this. "

He sniffles and sniffles and lets out another trembling sob as his pace lurches a little closer to a stagger rather than a stand. "You didn't even deny it. "

"Deny what, My Prince?"

"That you hate me. "

Your frown deepens.

"My Prince, why would you presume such a thing?"

"You are so cruel. Cold, even. "

"I beg your pardon, My Prince. "

"And I cannot get it out of my head. The idea that..." He trails off and hiccups. You gently guide him away from the banister of the walkway to the stairs, pushing him softly to continue his disheveled wander.

"Shhh, " you say, "keep going, My Prince. "

"Please...can we-please ta–talk. " He stutters out.

You contemplate for a moment as his fingers dig into your arms.

"Yes, My Prince. But your chambers are more befitting this conversation. "

He seems content enough with this, for now, to shut his trap and allow you to escort him down the long, twisting path. You can feel his heart pound through his ribs against your arm. It stirs a deep, familiar, and unnerving feeling in you.

"Almost there, My Prince. "

He mumbles something under his breath, too quickly and too choked-up, to understand. You focus more on the wet sniffle his nose emits afterwards than the actual words that have passed his quivering lips.

As you guide him further in the direction of his chambers, the distance between the both of you stretching even farther, his eyes dim, and his lips curl down, and he releases a long, audible sigh. But there's no tear that follows with it; his sobbing is under control once again, even if just barely.

Thankfully, the chambers aren't as far now, it should take only a few minutes, five at most, to make it there. When you eventually see his door come into view, he stops you abruptly.

You pause momentarily and look back, taking notice of his expression as a troubled frown plagues his normally semi-collected features, giving him a more somber and saggy aura. Something in your chest feels hollowed out as he glares down at the ground, his purple eyes looking incredibly sad.

"Why...Are you forcing me to go in there...? " He mumbles, slightly dazed.

"My Prince, the night is late and all those around have gone to sleep. I am sure you are fatigued by the wine, and that is why your thoughts have become so out of order. "

He allows himself to be dragged closer to the room. You make fleeting eye contact with the knowing knight posed stiffly at Aegons doors before you release him, moving to open the oak yourself.

As he stumbles in, mumbling still under his breath, you turn to walk away but the hand that suddenly comes to snatch at the sleeve of your tunic causes you to take pause.

You glance back towards him, trying to convey a question through your unwavering eyes, but his entire attention is drawn to the floor.

"I am only closing the door, My Prince. " You say simply as the wood slides closed behind you with a loud click.

Silence.

A long silence, followed by a quick gulp, and then, at last. "Don't leave. "

But his eyes are shut, his head cast to the side as he slumps forward, barely managing to stay on his feet, leaning heavily on you for support.

"I won't leave, then. " You say and pat his shoulder sympathetically.

Still silence. Another swallow. "Good. "

"Very well, My Prince. "

You begin pulling him toward the bed; he lets you, swaying and stumbling and rubbing his eyes with his fists. As you maneuver him down onto his comfortable sheets, he lets out a weak giggle.

His eyes flutter open, cheeks rosy red and wet. He blinks twice.

"Goodnight, My Prince, " you say softly.

He is frowning.

You wipe the stray tear tracks off his face, careful not to scratch the delicate, wet skin, before bringing your hand away.

He reaches out and catches the sides of your palm.

His skin is soft and warm and slightly damp. He smiles hesitantly. His eyes slowly come up to meet yours; they're glazed and watery with tears and a deep sense of vulnerability and uncertainty as his lips quiver ever so slightly.

"You hate me, don't you?"

Your eyes close briefly as you sigh. "My Prince, this conversation can wait until you awaken with a clear mind. "

"But you hate me, " he accuses. "How can I let it be...if you hate me?" He grits through his teeth.

You remove your fingers from his, stroking his jaw instead, comfortingly. "I could never hate you, My Prince. " You say it, but it is only pleasantries and both of you know that.

"Please answer me. Please...don't..." His cheeks are wet again, fresh new lines of salty tears streaking down his red face and dripping into his collar. Your thumb catches one, halting its miserable descent.

"I must protest, " you say smoothly. "You will awaken without any recollection, any trace, any hint that I existed. We will both forget this conversation, as so much of our time has been forgotten. And my feelings will return to nothing of note, My Prince. "

"Please don't. " He shakes his head and scrunches his face, pouting. His cheeks flare darker with his pathetic frustration. "You can't...Can't tell me these things and-"

He hiccups.

You lay the hand on his cheek, tenderly, letting his face lean into it.

"Can't it just be that?" You ask him in a whisper.

He's nodding fervently, his legs quivering a little, still in a woozy state of mind; the warmth is radiating off his pale, drunk skin in strong, overwhelming waves and you bask in it while you're able. He hums after a few seconds.

"Y/N, please come closer. Please. " He pleads, quietly, urgently, his entire being seeming almost distraught at the request.

It is so hard, and yet somehow so easy, to deny him the thing he wants the most right now.

"What, My Prince?"

He doesn't speak or move.

"Will you try to kiss me again?" You wonder.

At your words, his breath hitches and he parts his lips. Though, if the flicker of violet within his gaze reveals anything, it is more a case of an impelling reluctance. His eyes dart away, anywhere else in the chamber.

"Would you permit me a kiss?"

You do not answer, and his whole body stiffens, his hand slipping to encircle your wrist. The grip itself is too tight to be truly pleasant, an unhappy emotion he can't quite reign in completely.

You think, to yourself, that it would be no use to try to speak reason to him now, even if you wanted to. It would fall upon his wine-heavy ears and make little sense.

You wrap your free hand against his back, feeling the subtle movement of muscles and the bone of his spine. His hair is soft and frizzy and nearly glossy when the two of you reach an emotional equilibrium with one another. You hold onto him, breathing slowly in tune with him, savoring the rise and fall of his chest under your touch.

Your heart beats in perfect unison with his, echoing his every breath and shiver. He's a heavy weight on your leg where he has apparently found rest, your clothes rustling against his equally silken shirt.

His arm, heavy with sleep and wine, hangs at his side as you quietly push the sleeve of your tunic over his shoulder, pressing your mouth against his forehead.

In moments, the air is silent and there is no sound except the soft breathing of the two of you. You withdraw your lips and look at him with the same, unabashed expression you always carry when he begs like this.

"A kiss for bedtime, if you'd like one. I doubt any more will stir a useful reaction from you. " You comment, amused, as the back of his skull falls against his pillows.

"Please. One more. " He requests weakly, sloppily pulling himself up against your side to meet your daunting gaze. His grip on your wrist eases a bit but it doesn't let go, nor do his eyes and only do they close briefly for a small but content sigh.

"No, I don't think so. You are beyond exhausted and drunken. A proper rest will do you well. I am not your mother, I will not sing you a song and rub your belly. " You laugh at his pout. "Though, you'd probably like that, My Prince. "

"Perhaps, if it's from you. " He stutters out a second too late.

He pushes against your wrist, and it is such a smooth, deliberate movement that you are thoroughly thrown off guard. His eyes flutter half open, a sliver of dark purple and a dash of white. His sclera, despite their usual pinkness, shine somehow brighter in the cold moonlight.

"One more. " He says. "A goodnight kiss. You're not leaving after just this. "

And how could you deny him what he was asking for? He still looked so fragile. So torn, not apart but not together, either.

He was waiting expectantly for your next move.

You press forward and push your lips to his, very gently, sliding your arm free of his grasp so that you can hold his face. His nose is cool and blunt where it presses into your cheek.

And before you can taste the strange mixture of his drink and his supper on your tongue, he pulls back and swoons.

Just before his body collapses back onto the mattress, though, you manage to nudge him with both hands. He goes willingly, letting you rearrange him onto his bed, the beddings around him, and covering him with a blanket or two.

He hums softly, smacking his lips as he gets comfortable, eyes already shut.

"Please close the curtains before you leave, Y/N. I sleep...better in the dark." He sighs out the last few words, exhaling loudly, like a long, relieved breath he'd been holding in for years.

"You ought to rest now, before you sober up and get me whipped. "

"Do not fret. " He whispers. "For you will always have a place at my side. " He lets out a puff of amusement.

"I thought I was cruel. Cold. Not fond of you in the slightest. "

"You had a..mo..men...tary lapse of poor judgment. " He says with a bit of struggle but he gets it out, nonetheless.

"Mmm. Rest now, My Prince. Your whims will be satiated tomorrow. "

He reaches out, an arm trying to cross the expanse between the two of you. An invitation, but you've never taken it, never dare to lie beneath the silk sheets beside him.

You pull away.

He lets his arm drop.

"Aegon. " He mumbles out to you.

It stops you in your tracks. Your expression smoothes. "...What did you say?"

"Aegon. You haven't called me that...long time. " His murmur is barely a coherent sentence.

You stare at him for a moment, a light sigh of resignation escaping you.

"Goodnight, Aegon. "

He watches you stride across the carpet with barely open eyes.

"Goodnight. " His voice goes soft and sweet. The mirth in it is quiet but genuine.

A smile washes away the frown he wears most days, and his eyes snap shut as soon as his head falls completely to the mattress.

Like a light being extinguished.

He'll awake just fine.

As will you.

Your duty to the family awaits, as does his.

[viburnt]

Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons

I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3

Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse

Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.

• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).

Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers

• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?

• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.

• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.

• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!

• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.

• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?

Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months

• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?

• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.

• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...

• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.

• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.

Last resort: Mediatic battle

• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.

• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.

• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.

The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers

• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.

• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.

• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')

"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"

Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."

"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.

"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"

"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."

...

"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."

"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."

[morganas-pendragons]

The Prophecy | Celebrimbor

Guys. The brainrot is all consuming. Send help.

I was listening to the Tortured Poets Department the other day and felt like this really fits with what I’ve written for him so far. I know I’m writing this plot out of order, but it will eventually all make sense. I am still training at work, and while that constitutes nothing for me, it means I have too much time on my hands.

This will fit into the 3 part fic called Where Are You? that will cover 2x06-2x08. I haven't rewatched 2x08 yet, but that's coming. I have so many ideas for you guys that I may just start rapid fire releasing the drabbles first.

next fic is for High King Gil-Galad

Secondly, this concept is turning into an OC fic. It will be on Ao3 by the end of this year!

Tag: @pentaghasm @celebrimbormylove @thesolarangel @wild-typo-turtle @ladyoflindon @sandwichmustbetasty

Song inspiration: The Prophecy - Taylor Swift

Prompt: You ruminate on what little you remember in your purpose of being in Eregion while Celebrimbor sleeps at your side. The Valar may grant mercy on occasion, but you wonder if this ends in doom for you both.

***

Things are beginning to come back in pieces. You aren’t exactly sure why. There are flashes of gentle eyes and gray hair. Whispered words in Quenya as you perfect your natural healing ability. Your name, the real one given to you, but you don’t remember by who. Not yet.

You prefer the name given to you by Celebrimbor.

Said elf lays beneath your palm, breathing steady even as he sleeps. You had been the one to seek him out for comfort this time. It was a rare night of him succumbing to sleep early, and so you had sought him out in desperation, aching for the comfort of Celebrimbor’s embrace to shelter you from your memories.

You’d forgotten until you’d fallen into his bed how far away he was. It didn’t matter that you could feel his heartbeat, or touch his skin. He was worlds away from you.

And all because of Annatar.

Now you lay here, head pillowed against his chest, fingers tracing shapes against his abdomen, too distracted by your racing thoughts to sleep. Annatar’s constant demands and high expectations in the crafting of the Rings had put you both on edge. Celebrimbor had been elusive as well. So much of his time was spent locked away in The Forge, just out of reach.

He’d never deny you. Not even with the distance between you both.

No one but you could feel the dark magic in that room. The shadows that shrouded the elf you love, even now, so suffocating that it remains difficult to breathe.

“Please,” You whisper. No one may be listening. You have no idea. You would beg whatever entity did listen for this. “Please do not let this end in doom.”

With the trajectory of what was occurring, you had been trying to fight the impending sense of doom lingering in your heart for weeks. The nagging feeling in the back of your head that you are to be preparing for a funeral for you or Celebrimbor by the conclusion.

Or both of you.

You shiver at the thought and bury your face in Celebrimbor’s shoulder. His arm tightens around you instinctively, like the elf you’ve fallen in love with still resides deep within the recesses of the mind he’s been made prisoner in.

Please, I’ve been on my knees

Change the prophecy

“He’s so good,” You whisper. “Everything he does is from the goodness of his heart. A kind heart.” You hold your breath as your tears collide with Celebrimbor’s skin, causing him to shift beneath you and press his face into your hair with a quiet grumble. You don’t dare speak again until you’re sure he’s asleep. “All of Celebrimbor’s intentions have been pure. He wants to do right by his people and rectify the sins and shortcomings of the House of Fëanor. This should not end in ruin. Not his.”

Don’t want money, just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

You wish you could pull him out. Use your magic to break through the darkness that has settled upon this city, settled upon him, and force your way through the walls Annatar has erected to keep him complacent. It is Celebrimbor’s own chains that keep him prisoner.

Chains built by pride and ambition.

No. If anything, Celebrimbor will have to awaken from the depths of this illusion when the stakes are too high and he has something to lose.

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo the prophecy??

You run your free hand to rest your fingertips against his temple, smiling against the curve of his cheek as Celebrimbor begins to stir beneath you. Heavy lidded eyes flutter open to meet your own. In those few moments of silence, you can see him.

“Why-“ Celebrimbor starts, cut off by a yawn as he buries his face in your neck and rolls to slot a leg between yours. The action has you blushing as you raise your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair. The action usually puts him right back to sleep. “It isn’t even dawn yet, love. Why are you awake?”

You contemplate an answer for several seconds. Part of you wants to tell him, to confide in him about that underlying fear of ruin, but you don’t. You don’t know what he’ll say if you directly mention Annatar.

You don’t even know if you could trust in him not repeating what you’ve said to Annatar.

So you instead allow him to place a lingering kiss at the corner of your jaw, humming softly as his fingers soothe your body's aches by massaging at your hip.

You’re so tired.

“Too much to ruminate on. My mind will not let me rest.” You reply. Celebrimbor frowns, the furrow in his brow deepening as concern flashes behind his eyes. “I will be fine. You sleep, my love. I will be here when you wake.”

Celebrimbor does not complain. He can't. Too many times have you been the one to hold him, to shelter him from the storm of his own mind as he wakes briefly enough to seek you out. Too many times have you been the one to leave food at his table, to bring him tea, to offer him your company when his solitude becomes too great to bear.

Too many times have you fallen back asleep while Celebrimbor wept in the silence.

You hear Celebrimbor whisper his, "I love you." before settling again, this time with his hand pressed against your stomach and his hair tickling your nose. The sheer vulnerability of being so willing to sleep in a position like this when you've been apart for weeks has tears burning the back of your eyes.

Who do I have to speak to To change the prophecy?

You hold him there on the precipice of sleep and allow, for just this moment, your fear to breach the surface.

"Please," You whisper. "Please, just this once, grant us mercy."

***

And far above the reaches of Middle Earth, she heard you.

The Lady of Mercy and Grief did not ignore the suffering of those who dared to reach for her.

[mmmelahii]

Mel audiodrama rec list!

I'm gay sad and picky, read into that how you may - in no real order - heed each show's TWs

RED VALLEY!! LOVE THIS SHOW TO DEATH. Great beginner audiodrama, such excellent audio and writing and chemistry and woayfhhtm. Cried a lot. A good amount of existential dread. Ough

Woe.begone: lots of wbg brainrot as of late. Genuinely the most scary podcast ever to me - but only if you think about it. Don't get too attached to the ARG format of the first season. Its long, a mind fuck, and not for everyone. It took me 2 tries over a year and a half to lock in properly. Best consumed in a binge as to keep the plot threads fresh in mind. Great discord server <3 cried a lot too

The Grotto: Wbg has great music but Grottos hits different. It makes me want to teeth. I adore the writing personally, but be OK with your pov character sort of being a toxic person. He's trying he really is. This show portrays nuances of grief and mental health issues so well imo. Also great discord server <3

The Kingmaker Histories: Very very charming writing and world building. The world building is alternate history in a way that the fantastical elements occur to you naturalistically as you listen. Lovely lovely cast. Self aware about its tropes and excellently uses em to their advantage. Acknowledges a lot of the darker facets of history in an almost satirical manner to its absolute benefit

The Bright Sessions: Was actually my first full audiodrama! Was obsessed with it for a while. A good comfort listen imo, it's character chemistry is definitely a strong suit; a very human look at fantastical people

Fawx & Stallion: Narm-y but so genuinely charming. I absolutely love the casting choices, I think they're all so perfect for the characters. I'd almost call it a satire played straight, where the main characters behave in nearly caricature levels of eccentricity, but their consequences are shockingly grounded. It's pleasant! Can't wait for the next season

Ethics Town: I'm a philosophy sociology student, legally cannot not recommend. It subverted my expectations for what the format of the story would be tbh! In a neutral way, it just took me by surprise the first time. The world building is very fun and relatively unique, it gets you attached in a way that can really make your stomach drop

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: SO GOOD AND SO SLEPT ON!! I loved this show so much, its one of those that leave you craving for something to hit you the same way it did. One of my favourite anthology shows, mainly because of how interlinked the over all plot is to all of it, all while keeping the stories so fresh and invigorating. Listen to it!!!

SCP: Find Us Alive: The characters and cast are excellent; and I like how strained and tense the relationships between them get! It's not necessarily comfortable to listen to, but it's investing and leaves you on edge just like the characters would be. I like their personal lives breaching the strict professionalism of their work gradually. No prior knowledge of SCP really necessary

Jar of Rebuke: Really poignant in the alienation it portrays. I love the way Jared experiences the world and himself; his understanding of his own gender, the way that his innate abilities don't correlate to those of others, the way that he never feels quite like he's saying the right thing, it's all such mfmfjdndmdm good show. Unfortunately audio does sometimes tick off my sensory issues

Neighborly: I LOVE GOTHIC HORROR SO MUCH OH MY GOD. I love the narrative structure and the domestic horror of this show. The ambiance and the dreamy story telling all excellent. The one issue I have is that listening to it with headphones REALLY fuck with my sensory issues :((

Blake Skye Private Eye: Really slept on imo! The exaggerated noir setting and pacing are great, unfortunately the audio leveling does mess with my sensory issues :( is someone willing to lend me a better auditory system

Shelterwood: As aforementioned I LOVE GOTHIC HORROR SO MUCH. THE SUBLIME. THE DOMESTIC SUSPENCE. LOVE THAT SHIT. I really love the sound design here. Characters are so so real. Love them. Can't wait for more

Keep it Steady: Fuck fuck fuck man. I cried most of the way through heart brockoken this is so good I love it cant wait for more.

Speed round for podcasts I like to throw on for light hearted (to me) quick, queer fluff

- Love and Luck

- Kaleidotrope

- The Two Princes

- The Lavender Tavern

- Tales from the Low City

- Monstrous Agonies

[likeabhosz]

JACEGAN BRAINROT HAS TAKEN OVER, I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN SOMEWHERE SJDJSJDJ

I believe we can rework the pact of ice and fire to fit the show canon, just with a different context. In fact, I think it's necessary to have it to push Cregan and the greater northern army back in action towards the end of the war! Walk with me here -

Conditions

- The Battle of the Gullet should, at earliest, occur mid-season and be replaced with minor battles where the Winter Wolves participate in. Jace and the dragonseeds can fight in these battles before getting called to the Gullet. Despite this, Jace should still be skeptical of the dragonseeds - I imagine he'd learn to like Addam, maybe even Hugh, but I don't see him respecting Ulf anytime soon lol.

- Cregan is among the Winter Wolves at first but has to return to Winterfell at some point so that he can march back with a bigger army for the hour of the wolf (can be before or after Jace dies)

Scenario

- Jace and Cregan can take a bit of time to re-establish their friendship during and in between the smaller battles. Jace finally gets someone to talk to about his fears re: possibly facing his own succession war once his mother passes the crown. Cregan swears allegiance to Jace. He tells Jace that his claim is solid and deserved, but if it came to a war, Cregan would back him. Jace may or may not mention the conqueror's dream - it will definitely be a more convincing reason for the Starks to back Rhaenyra's line, but I personally prefer it if their pact hinged less on prophecy and more on their actual relationship.

- boom, PACT. The conditions for this may or not be the same as in the book tbh. Honestly, it wouldn't matter, it went unfulfilled on Jace's part because he died T__T still, Cregan has so far only promised 2000 men to fight for Rhaenyra - as far as his father's oath is concerned, it has been fulfilled and if he wanted to, he can excuse himself to prepare for winter. A renewed pact with Jace will push him to bring a larger army, both to secure Rhaenyra's reign and the claim of her named heir.

On how Cregan goes back to Winterfell, I imagine two scenarios:

- There are problems up north due to winter. Cregan is compelled by whoever he left in charge to come back and fix things. If he leaves before the Battle of the Gullet, he promises to make good on the pact (Jace and Cregan part and promise to meet on the battlefield, then hunt and feast after the war, optimistic vibes huhu). If it's after, the scenario below can also apply.

- Grief-stricken at what happens to Jace, Cregan himself retreats back to Winterfell to build his bigger army to avenge Jace and end the war. The remaining Winter Wolves stay and support Rhaenyra's army.

I kind of want to work all of this into a fic haha, I wish I had the time, lol.

[askganon]

Zelda brainrot is a thing the other day, I was driving in the early hours in the morning, and i thought that a bunch of spider lifts were gloom hands... and I may have passed away a bit why do you haunt me???

A shame you survived long enough to speak to me. Perhaps I should enhance their power so this does not occur a second time.

[skyward-current]

(tarot) cards v. penacony symbols

beware, HSR 2.1 spoilers ahead

i just saw somebody on formerly the bird site comparing Gallagher's "I'm Thirteen" voice line to the thirteenth tarot card (that is "Death", more on this below, which was SENDING me–), so bear with me as i walked the rest of this brainrot pipeline because reading too much into media when nobody asks is my favorite pastimes.

so, a major pointer of this theory has to be how the first character and web event (where we had to suspiciously collect 13 cards to obtain the special one) we were introduced to on penacony is Black Swan, a tarot reader. what's more, she also refers to them as "fate cards".

therefore, when gallagher says,

notice how "Thirteen" is capitalized, signifying its importance beyond just a number. apparently, the thirteenth major arcana is

"Death", that's started enveloping penacony. but considering Sunday refers to him as a "servant of the Enigmata" who wishes to undo absolute truth or order, this "Death" may not be literal, as some tarot decks opt to title the thirteenth card as "Rebirth" or "Death-Rebirth." i'm going to work off the assumption that Gallagher's role is breaking cycles to start anew. as Acheron deduces, "as people immerse their souls...where consequences and pain cease to exist...they draw closer to necrosis. regardless of the perceived bliss, death looms as the inevitable conclusion", Gallagher may bring about these fake "deaths" to encourage people to wake up from dreams and challenge The Family over all their stubborn means to uphold the dreamscape as it is since it's always been giving into human vices and sinking back into the memoria.

another explanation i've come up with is how thirteen also foreshadows Gallagher's "assassination" of Sunday (if you count that as assassination), since there are 12 dreamscapes The Family oversees = 12 apostles, and Sunday is the day of god (plus everything about his character design), who is betrayed by gallagher as judas, the thirteenth disciple.

then of course, not my interpretation but i've also seen a theory worth mentioning where, say, Gallagher was born on februrary 29th and it's only been 13 leap years since his birth. a leap year occurs every 4 years, a number pronounced closely to death in most asian cultures, and 13*4=52, the number of "loyal" Family members he stole his features from.

moving on, the second character i've gathered with a connection to tarot, or cards in general, is our beloved suicidal gambler, Aventurine. when he was under the penalty from The Harmony, he had 17 hours to prove his case. the seventeenth major arcana is

taken literally, Aventurine is the lucky star, blessed by Gaithra Triclops – as the card also signifies hope, which fits the narrative when Acheron helps free him from the curse and proposes him a way out of the dreamscape and the IPC. when reversed, however, the card spells loss and abandonment, sometimes even impotence, all of which Aventurine used to be helpless against. this interpretation aligns with the Ace of Spades on his character, as it's not only the most valuable card in poker, but is also historically linked with death and war. From WWII where soldiers of an American airborne division were marked with the spades symbol on their helmets to bring about good luck, to the Vietnam War where the ace of spades was a tool of psychological warfare when US soldiers would leave the ace on bodies of their victims. they thought the card's connections to past French colonial rule of Vietnam would demoralize them from putting up a resistance, and what Aventurine's homeland Signonia went through was pretty much a colonization.

The Star also immediately follows the sixteenth major arcana – The Tower, which leads to my next point

this one is more familiar to HSR so far, as it quite literally inspires the logo of the Path of Destruction. it is often associated with disruptive revelation, misery, and unforeseen catastrophe, which as I said, Aventurine must've also suffered through to prevail as he is today. but imo it also befits the shady dealings we have with Misha – a Destruction character on penacony so far. we know "Mikhail" is the Watchmaker, and Misha is a common diminutive of the name "Mikhail". the trailblazer seems to be the only one aware of his presence, he stands guard at an alternative entrance when we first try to visit the golden hour, clock details on his outfit plus the "room" in A Child's Dream, and he can also see other dreamville characters like clockie, which are heavily hinted to be inspired from historical rebel figures. i wouldn't say it's a stretch to imagine Misha having something to do with the Watchmaker's Legacy that may be a calamity later "revealed" to him.

finally, i'll give some honorary mentions a shoutout, as every key player on penacony so far all has a tarot card relating to them.

the wild card "The Fool" that spells folly, mania, and delirium of the likes for Sparkle's Masked Fools

and Acheron, as the Emanator of Nihility, the ninth (IX) card of The Hermit – which sometimes indicates dissimulation, roguery, corruption – that may be the aeon's namesake

that's it for me. if i miss anything of value, i'd love to hear your thoughts in the reblog.

and, tagging my bsf @cheezyharu here because my swiftie braincell jumpstarted so now you're liable to read this rant and blow your own mind with me.

[poisonofmind]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 𝑴𝒂𝒗𝒖𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒙 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕

I fear the mavuitano brainrot is getting to me (Yes, I firmly believe in playable Thrain) But on another note a read is appreciated <3

The sun was already setting, so that the huge mountains of Natlan appeared in a golden glow where they were touched by the warm rays of the sun. The graffiti that the Natlanese painted on the bronze-colored walls during the day in intimate silence appeared in their play of colors with renewed vigor. The roar of an engine could be heard in the distance, a sound to which most of the Natlanese were already accustomed to and which no longer startled anyone. At most, it was to offer a gesture of respect to the woman dressed in black leather with fiery red hair that almost seemed to glow. Even though Mavuika had tried countless times to counteract the changes in the behavior of her people that occurred as soon as her presence was detected, her role as Pyro Archon made her stand out with her mere presence, even if this was rather unintentional on her part. After all, she was still a human herself, which in her eyes made her no different to the rest of the people of Natlan. She had long since become accustomed to the decorum with which she was confronted as the Pyro Archon. 

Towards the evening, most members of the various tribes are rarely out and about. The majority were with the tribe itself; with their families and friends, dining and winding down from the day. Only a few patrols were still out, treading the dusty paths through the green landscape of Natlan. The end of the war brought peace for the first time in Natlan's history. At the moment, all the tribes were busy rebuilding the country. Difficult weeks were already behind them, but Mavuika did her best to provide help where it was needed. Most of the victims had already been found and buried after their families had been traced by Kinich. Most of the superficial damage had also been repaired, as well as the repairs to the houses of the tribes, which were in the final stages of completion. What could not be repaired or renewed so quickly, however, was the internal damage caused by the seemingly endless war. In the past few days, Mavuika had made it her mission to visit as many people as possible and to offer them comfort, in addition to all the other duties she had been fulfilling. 

Although she had already achieved a great deal as the Archon and leader of Natlan, it was only human that she had reached her limit. After 500 long years of war, the time had finally come for her to also enjoy some peace and quiet. She herself still deals with the loss of her family. It was a constant companion in her very long life, to which she had already come to terms with. With her longevity, she resisted the permanence of her actual human life. She had already seen many of her loved ones go, if were family, friends or people who fought alongside her. Loss is a considerable part of her life, yet she forbade herself to never not acknowledge those who fought for Natlan, but also make new friends as well.

Natlan may have been cut off from the rest of Teyvat, but news of the traveler and their companion, as well as the encounters with the Archons of the other five nations, had reached her as well. Mavuika knew it was only a matter of time before the by now well known traveler and their companion stood before her, too. This was also accompanied by an encounter with another fraction, although this was rather less surprising. The Fatui were already known across the continent, so it wasn't a wild guess that they would eventually make their way to Natlan as well. 

Mavuika even had the honor of facing the highest ranking - The Captain, First of the Fatui Harbingers. However, it turned out during their first encounter that he had not only come to take her Gnosis. When she thought back to their fight, she felt nothing but satisfaction. They were both human, but it had fulfilled her to go into battle against someone who seemed her equal. Even though the abrupt end to their fight had initially made her suspicious, as she had not expected a member of the Masters of the Night Wind to cooperate with the Fatui. After extensive research it was clear to her that the Captain was pursuing a plan that was superior to simply taking her Gnosis and more of a personal matter. 

What she had not been able to understand, however, was The Captains tragic life story and how it ultimately ended. At least an end, if there can be one for someone punished with the curse of immortality. It gnawed at her that The Captain had willingly sacrificed himself. It was precisely for this reason that she had gone to Ochkanatlan and stood before the throne of primal fire once again, as she had done for the past few days.

Mavuika got off her motorcycle, pulled her helmet over her red hair and took off her glasses, which Xilonen had made at her request. She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching as the look on Xilonen's face flashed through her mind after she had tried to leave as quickly as possible as soon as she heard her motorcycle approaching from a distance, knowing that there would only be more work waiting for her as soon as Mavuika arrived at her door. Luckily, Mavuika already knew her longtime friend well enough to know all her escape routes like the back of her hand. Memories like these kept her alive over the curse of time.

A breeze of wind blowing through her hair finally snapped her back to reality. She turned her gaze up the many steps that led to the Throne of Primal Fire and looked at the huge chunks of ice that had erupted from the ground around the throne as Capitano surrendered to his self-determined fate. An icy chill surrounded her, and though she had never set foot beyond Natlan's borders, she could almost imagine the cold that reigned in Snezhnaya. It felt very different from the warm air that surrounded Natlan and felt like home to her. Mavuika closed her eyes for a moment, breathed in the icy but clear air and made her way up the many stairs. The climb didn't take long and she was standing at the foot of the Throne of Primal Fire. She let her gaze wander over the body that was enthroned on what was once the very place of the first Pyro Archon Xbalanque. Nothing had changed since she had left yesterday. The Captains gloved hand still clutched his sword in a firm grip, while the other rested on the armrest of the throne. His body was facing forward, as if he were holding an audience and not bound to this place for eternity. Mavuika could still feel a certain presence emanating from him, letting her gaze flow over the breathing of his body, but she knew that this was just a bleak attempt to dull the pain she felt in her chest. She had not yet been able to accept what had happened a few days ago. 

Mavuika had rethought her plan again and again, twisting and turning, looking at it from every possible angle - for 500 years. She thought of the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years and ultimately centuries that had passed. She always had one clear goal in mind: to establish the security of peace in Natlan, a real change at life. Being the Pyro Archon was something she had committed herself to. She had taken on this burden in disguise back then, when she was still young and full of thirst for action. A fire had burned inside her and it had not died out even after 500 years. Despite countless battles, losses and the almost unshakeable presence she tried to face her people with every day. But as she stood here and looked at the shadow of the man who had sacrificed himself for his country, his beloved comrades and now for her, she was overcome with gratitude as well as an infinite emptiness.

“You never told me your name, but I know your story by now, Thrain. You fought not only for Khaenri'ah, but also for Natlan. 500 years ago, as well as today. So much that you even gave your curse to grant us and the souls you have carried in your heart for so long the long awaited safety and peace. And although I am not the Archon you serve, you have also protected me in the process. We had our differences and clashed on those, yet you decided to be my ally and trusted me to finish what I planned. I thank you with all my heart. I can feel that your life force is not here anymore, but I know that you are somewhere. I hope that you too can finally feel the peace that you have more than earned,” said Mavuika as she stared into the mask, which, as usual, only cast a shadow. She took a step towards the throne and his figure, so that she was standing directly in front of him and held out her hand. Her palm gently touched the spot where she had created a fiery wound during their duel, directly above his heart. She could feel the slight tremble of his chest, which rose and fell with every breath.  

“I'm sorry I almost hurt them,” she said, placing the same hand with which she had touched his heart against hers. Mavuika took one last look at the mask that hid his face and turned around to go back home. She was already sitting on her motorcycle when an icy chill enveloped her for a brief moment, brushing along her cheek before the feeling of her own familiar warmth filled her once more. Mavuika glanced at the throne and Thrain again. Nothing had changed, except for the small spark of hope that sprouted within her. Mavuika pulled on her helmet and made her way back to the stadium via a soul path. She knew that her path would lead her to a certain shaman tomorrow.

[b1uemayhem]

Infamous deviance

This is my first public fic, so please bear with me! I've had Connor brainrot lately, and so many ideas came into my head that I just had to write something xD. I'm not familiar with tumblr so excuse any weird formatting.

Chapter 1

Jericho had always been a place you considered a safe haven since the moment you arrived—a place that felt like a dream. While some may not see the beauty in a rundown ship filled with others just as flawed, you do. You've come to appreciate its imperfections and the community of peers who reside there with you. They welcomed you with open arms, providing you with the safest embrace you have ever known. Maybe it's not the utopia that some envision when they hear about the mysterious Jericho, but to you, it's home. Of all the places you have lived, none compare to Jericho. Even though you have only truly been there for about 6 months, it feels as if you have been part of this place for years. It’s as if you have grown alongside everyone else, transforming into a completely new person. Your former self is a memory you would rather forget—weak and always under someone else's control. It pains you to recall those days in the Eden Club, but now they seem like a distant memory. Here, you feel safe. While it may not be perfect, it's the only place that has given you the one thing you have chased for so long: freedom.

During your time here, you have rarely encountered new faces, and you’ve heard that others haven't either. With the increasing number of deviant "cases" occurring, especially in the last couple of months, you would expect to see more people like you. However, it isn't normal for another deviant to trust someone enough to share the directions to reach Jericho; it’s simply too risky—especially with the infamous deviant hunter lurking around. Recently, there have been more reports about him, which scares everyone, rightfully so. Every time we venture outside, we never know if we will encounter him. What would happen if our paths crossed? What if he discovers Jericho? His ability to find deviants with the slightest trail just to hand them over to the humans, without any remorse, is horrifying. He knows exactly what they do to people like us. You wonder if he even bothers to listen to the stories of those deviants, or if it's all about gaining praise from humans by completing his job.

While leaving the comfort of our home isn’t ideal, it is necessary. The longer we remain hidden, the greater the risk that more of us will shut down. You can’t allow that to happen after all the effort you've put into making it here and all you've sacrificed. It wasn’t for nothing. You cannot afford to lose anyone else dear to you, even if it means venturing out for supplies on your own. You’re willing to take that risk to help everyone. However, you know of one person who might be willing to join you: Markus. Your conversations with him about your dreams—his dreams—have been beautiful. The dream of living in harmony with humans. Is it even possible? You’ve had your doubts, especially recently, but you push those thoughts aside. Focus. Right now, the priority is to help everyone and find Markus. He's probably with North, so locating them shouldn't be too difficult. It feels like they've been inseparable ever since they met, which is quite sweet. It almost makes you jealous—no, it DOES make you jealous. Not because you have any lingering feelings for Markus, but because it reminds you of what you once had. You had someone you would have done anything for too, someone who was also your reason for enduring human control for so long. You feel so stupid for letting your emotions toward someone have you deal with everything for so long, why? Now's not the time; you need to keep reminding yourself of that. As you finally collect yourself again, you venture down the rundown staircase and analyze the room, finding only Simon. Surely he should know where Markus and North are.

You approach him, and he stares at you, slightly taken aback by your intrusion into his personal space. You try to ignore his sharp gaze as you start speaking. "Do you have any idea where Markus might be? Aside from being with North?"

You chuckle at your comment, which seems to amuse Simon as well; he cracks a smile. "Why yes, I do! What do you need him for, if you don't mind me asking?" he replies cheerfully, as always.

Your laughter gradually fades, leaving a smile on your face. "Well… as you know, we're out of blue blood and key biocomponents are running low again." Your smile quickly turns into a frown, which is something everyone hates to see in your usually cheerful demeanor. Simon nods and replies, "Yeah, we're all aware of that fact. There's not much we can do about it. It's too risky." Feeling defensive, you step closer to him and say, "Risky or not, we need biocomponents. We both know that." Your words are filled with frustration. You realize the situation and don't want to do anything you'll regret, so you decide to back down. A sigh escapes your lips as your expression darkens. You pinch your nose bridge and ask, “Can you just tell me where Markus is?” Simon's gaze softens, but disappointment is evident on his face. “Right, he and North went to their usual spot. I assume they wanted some alone time.” His emphasis on "alone time" irritates you. You know he’s hinting that you shouldn’t interrupt, but this is important! How can you just wait for their moment to be over? Time is of the essence; every second counts. You turn your back and start to leave, forcing yourself to say, "Thanks," though it stings your ego. Any remaining gratitude vanishes when you feel his grip on your wrist. He pulls you toward him, and you face him again, your expression hardening. "What? Let go of me! I need to talk to Markus."

He gazes into your eyes with a pained expression. "It's dangerous. Please, what if we lose you too?" Your expression softens as you study his features. Your hand slips onto his, and you grip it tightly. "I know, Simon. I understand why you're worried, but I can't just stand by and let people die around me."

He glances at your hand resting on his before speaking again, this time more urgently. "Usually, I would be all for going out to get them, but with everything happening around us—and your disregard for your own life—it’s concerning." He raises his voice and continues, "I just want to emphasize that you’re important to everyone at Jericho. You and Markus have opened our eyes." His tone softens. "We’ve started to realize that there may be hope for a brighter future, but we can’t pursue it at a time like this."

You pull away from his grip. "You're wrong. If we ever want to achieve our dream, we need everyone with us." You head in the direction of Markus, Simon's voice fading into the distance.

You find Markus sitting confidently on the edge of the crumbling building, with North beside him. They both stare out at the view of the ruined city, a place we are determined to be a part of—truly, as equals among its inhabitants. The scene before you is strikingly beautiful; it almost makes you forget the atrocities that have taken place across the city. It’s clear that people turn a blind eye to androids until we finally reach our breaking point—that’s when they start to pay attention. Why does it have to be this way? Why is violence the only answer? We shouldn’t ignore this pattern. History shows us that this is a relentless cycle, one that must be broken for us to truly move forward. Is it even possible?

[fakeuwus]

was listening to this banger and it got me thinking JAYKE dp'ing y/n while there's a mirror so she could watch what's going on with her down there from their cocks' abuse

or

JAYKE picked up a pretty girl from a club (consensually) and dp'ed her while making you (their friend they've been pining and doting over) watch so you could get a brief idea about being their girl

(it's your fault 😞🫵🏻)

‼️‼️‼️ MDNI ‼️‼️‼️

MAY I REMIND UUU that this jayke dp brainrot is even occuring rn bc of ur post so its not my fault 😣

but dp infront of a mirror is CRAZYYY ,,, like they're both standing and carrying yn between them, jay fucking her from the front and jake has the back and they're infront of the giant standing mirror in yn's living room ohmygod,, and i bet u it was jay's idea bc who knows when they'll get the chance to both fuck their pretty girl like this /: and jake just happily follows like the good boy he is, maybe video recording and polaroid cameras will get involved as the night goes on 🤭

the club one,, theyre so cruel for making yn watch it all go down 😭 they probs wanna punish her bc she isnt giving them the time of day, finally making her crack and it ending her fucking them out of pure jealousy, sucking and fucking the life out of them, bc she was always their girl and she'll be damned if someone else is in the mix!! (sorry random club gal im sure shes nice)

i feel so faint, time to go watch some jayke edits 😩

[lautski-week]

Lautski Nation, we are so back!

(Q&A + general info under cut!)

Welcome to the third semiannual Lautski week. This event occurs twice a year, once in the summer and once in the winter, to commemorate the shared love so many of us have for Hatchetfield High's most unlikely it couple! Mod is @peterstankoffski and uses they/them pronouns, and you've probably seen me lurking around the lautski tag since it was created. It's been a lovely little 2.5 years getting to enjoy this ship with everyone.

This year the summer event will be in July instead of May so everyone who is interested has plenty of time to prepare. I understand now through June is fairly bust for many people due to finals, so moving it later into the summer was definitely for the best (thank you to everyone who voted in the dates tiebreaker poll the other day!)

And with that, some FAQ!

Q: What are alternates?

A: Alternates are two extra prompts in case one of them leaves you stumped! They can be used any day, or they can not be used at all! It’s up to each individual participant!

Q: Do I have to do all seven days?

A: You’re free to do as many as you want! You can do all seven, you can do just a few, hell, you could do all nine in you wanted! This isn’t a challenge, it’s an event. The main goal is to make some posts about this ship we’re all brainrotting for and having fun.

Q: What can I make?

A: Anything you want! Art, fics, edits, memes, etc. Nothing’s off the table.

Q: How do I post?

A: I’ll reblog anything made for the event to this blog and my main. If you’d like to be featured, please @ THIS blog. Additionally, I’d recommend tagging works with #lautski week so everyone’s works can all be found in the same place.

Q: I was late! Can I still post?

A: Of course! I’ll keep reblogging new posts tagged #lautski week and/or mention this blog through July 17!

Q: Can I post to AO3, then link it back here?

A: Feel free! This year I will also be setting up a Lautski Week collection, which I will link on the blog closer to time. Feel free to use it!

Q: Can I post to (insert any other fanfic site here) then link it back here?

A: Same as AO3. Go ahead!

Q: One of my wips fits *insert prompt here!* Can I post it for that day?

A: You can, but please don’t post before the event begins!

Q: Am I allowed to write smut?

A: Yes, but please have it properly tagged on both tumblr and AO3. On this blog, I will use the additional tag "smut warning"

That's it for now! I'll reblog this occasionally between now and July, plus advertising and answering any additional questions, but other than that, enjoy the rest of your spring (if you're in the Northern Hemisphere anyway)! See you all again soon 💜

[cconfusedkat]

Woe. Mystic Seller be upon ye 🫴 a design ive been meaning to do since May but i was still rlly new to getting into cotl properly so i had no idea what i was brainrotting about

This devious bastard is the reason why mystic pursuit's a thing. A play on words with Mystic and Pursuit. They are pursuing complete tomfoolery for the reason of Being Bored one day in columbidae (old abandoned nation of Paloma/bishop oc) they know this dream of life is never ending!!

I mainly always draw the middle form cuz its easier and sorta portrays that Oh Fuck Dark Entity That Wants To Rendezvous With Rochambeau

Anyways,, joking aside its kinda partially true that they started revolting out of boredom,, mystic didnt like that their bishop they looked up to was getting closer with the god of retribution (archangelo) so they decided to pull a funny little murder. Or two. Or three. Or four. Or- yeah there were six archangelo lambs (different names & species) so they could get paloma all to themself ,, eventually resulting in paloma running away from columbidae to hide a secret society of lambs,, to THEN paloma getting murdered by shamura (since the betrayal had occurred the same time the murders of archangelo occured && shamura foresaw a lamb predecessing narinder)

With paloma dead, mystic had nothing else to look forward to now; their muse was apart of the burning pyre, and they didn't feel too comfortable worshipping the dead.

Which now lead them to negotiating with shamura. Mystic knew a lamb would come back to success Narinder... Shamura didn't! Mystic didn't tell that to Shamura, so they lied to the spider completely about the future! So fun

Allure, now alive and the bearer of the red crown, stumbles across mystic after they leave ratau's house one night,, mystic says they can bring back their mother (since Zainab/their mother was shot and executed in front of them) for a small price to pay- blah blah blah three requests , continue to bring fake god tears until Allure brings a real god tear , annnnnd thats the main gist of Mystic in this au :-P i think of them like a mix of bill cipher & mahito personality Lol so very different from canon! The fun part

Coming off as kind and all-knowing to Allure, they DEFINITELY can trust an unknown species that went extinct five years ago. Mhmmhm nothing wrong here

[shreddedhumanity]

── .✦  Rainy Evenings ♡

𖥻 Pairings ; V/GN Reader, V/You.

𖥻 Content Warnings ; Fluff, no gendered pronouns are used, somewhat angsty, no use of Y/N, spoilers for the fifth game (not in depth but it gives you a general idea).

𖥻 A/N ; Okay the V brainrot is real, I love this boy so much you have no clue. This particular oneshot gave me a bit of trouble, but I wanted to get it out because I’ve had the idea all week. I hope you all enjoy! It’s a bit short and rushed, but I think it holds up nicely regardless.

V found himself adrift in thought, the warm embrace enveloping his body unable to tug him from the labyrinth of his mind. The timer on his life had long surpassed its expiration mark — granting him a feeling of grief, agonizing the truth he was acutely aware of. A question he allows to circle within his thoughts, as it was only a mere question as to when he would revert to his former self, for he was only a trifling fragment within a scheme that was — oh so perfectly — crafted.

The mellow rain pitter-patters along the window, creating a faint background euphony that brought him consolation — yet couldn’t divert him from his impending calamity.

You worry for him, though remain reticent, relishing in the warmth of his arms encircling you. You lay nestled within his sprawled out figure — fanned out on the couch within the main lobby of the Devil May Cry office, observing the weather outside. While the moistened and frigid world outside mattered not, for his figure wraps securely around you, shielding you from the crisp outdoors.

The tranquility is a welcome relief, in contrast to the habitual near deafening noise it was filled with. In spite of his ceaseless uncertainty, V beams down at the figure in his grasp, your face veils within his vest as you rest atop him. To express that he loves you was unable to convey his fervent adoration for you. From the beginning, you occupied his side, confronting the maelstrom of issues that had been thrust upon you – you held steadfast, the proposal of fear ostensibly not an acquainted concept to you.

“My little wanderer, how I adore you so,” his voice interrupts the silence, hand escaping his side, and instead, caressing your hair in tender strokes, “my reverence for you has no limits.”

“I love you too, V.” Your response was brief, as there were not many words to offer him, your mind devoid of proper thought.

“What is on your mind, my sparrow?” The pet name left a soft crimson simmering along the skin of your cheeks, hands grasping along his ebony, leather coat.

“When you go,” you continue, absorbed in reflection — your words come out faint, your mind clasping against the words you spoke, “what’s going to happen?”

“Ah, questioning our relations, yes,” he ponders for a moment, contemplating his answer, “for that, I can grant no balanced answer, though rest assured, I will still yearn for you all the same, dear.” His attempts at comfort settle your nerves, “I will remember you, while not as precisely as before, nothing can change the love I have for you.”

You understood its truth, and awaited the inevitable outcome that would follow suit. Once it occurred, and all was said and done, you would continue your journey throughout life without his presence, instead in place of another.

“I’m going to miss you, V.” The rain would roar up, dark streaks gusting against the window with a harsh force, as if understanding the circumstances enclosing the building. “You mean everything to me.”

“I will miss you as well.” His gaze seems elsewhere now, instead seeking out the window, viewing the storm alight anew. “Please remember, regardless of what happens between us two, you will remember how dearly I care for you so.” His tone carried no torment, no dejection, as you had been informed of all this from the start, but as his time candidly neared, it felt as if you’d been jabbed with a brute force.

“I’ll remember.” Your voice is tender as before. “I’ll remember you, V. No matter what.”

The storm clamors outside, deafening out the remaining musings. He holds you close, a small peck meeting your temple, before resting his own against yours.

“I love you, my sweet wanderer.”

[casual-praxis]

Okay, so I know I said I wasn't going to do much with this AU since I was focused on a different one at the time (and I still am), but I've been thinking about the post-canon for this AU a bunch and I couldn't get it out of my head.

The designs are fairly simple (most changes occur post-canon), but there's still a few details in there that I'd like to talk about! Peep below the cut for more yappin' if you'd like.

(I just figured out how to add line breaks yeehaw)

I started with Green since I had the clearest picture of her in mind. I like to think they all got a mishmash of traits from the original Link here, so Green has the og Link's ponytail, but its length was divided between her and Red. All in all, she resembles Link the closest but isn't an exact match. I also made the executive decision that she simps for Zelda. She's just really worried about her future girlfriend, okay?

Blue didn't quite turn out how I'd hoped, but if I ever do something more with this stage of the AU, I can always make adjustments. Her hair is supposed to be the fluffiest, matching the og Link's texture. She's a little insecure about it making her look "too girly" or cute since that's not at all the image she wants to have, but she learns over time that being cute and badass can still go hand in hand.

Red is the one I was looking forward to drawing most, but she's still fairly simple as well. She wears her hair in a side ponytail to "not step on Green's toes", but also because she thinks it's cute (she and Blue don't see eye to eye on this early on, as you can imagine). She has a bomb-shaped hairbow that she made herself (tying into her post-canon shenanigans), but I haven't yet figured out when she acquires it.

Vio was supposed to be holding her bow here but I couldn't quite figure out how to draw it at that specific angle, so it's in hammerspace for now. Outside that, Vio's design has the most variety. She's meant to learn emotions over time within this au, and this progression is marked by the flowers in her hair. She starts out with none, but as they journey, Red starts to teach her the basics, and with it weaves Zelda's favorite flower into her braid. Once she joins up with Shadow, she's gifted a violet (because Shadow thinks it's punny, and for subtext reasons) that she starts using to pin her bangs out of her face. The flowers begin to wilt as time goes on, first the wildflowers, then the violet, until none remain and the final act is approaching. Shadow gives her one last violet before dying, though Vio doesn't actually start wearing it until the Four Sword is put back and they remain behind. Lots of lore for this one.

Finally is Shadow, who I'm actually surprised turned out so well. I went back and forth on whether I wanted her to wear the hat or not, but I ended up deciding against it since none of the others wear their hats either. Her hair pretty much acts like Shadow's hat in canon, it moves independently of her and the tips of it are smokey and wisp around. Along with Red, I have decided she is short. It just felt right. She does have claws and fangs, but she keeps them a little more on the down low until a suitably dramatic moment occurs to reveal them.

And that's all that comes to mind for now. I've had this idea floating around in my brain since I got back into the fandom, but never had the motivation to poke it too much and see what it do.

The post-canon is what I've mainly been focused on, so maybe I'll try and doodle a few things for it sometime. I took inspiration from one of the bonus comics in the manga where they all stay split after the sword goes back, so that's the canon ending for this au.

It goes fairly far into the future, with all of them settling into their own lives somewhat independent of each other (they all see each other multiple times a week with the exception of Vio, who travels a lot with Shadow ((who may or may not have been brought back through dubious dark magic rituals))).

The brainrot is real, but hopefully entertaining for anyone who made it this far.

[kidspawn]

Hello hi! Kinda love Daichi. He’s such a great character. Hinata is a cutie patootie. Sugawara :) :) he’s just a guy. 15 episodes in rivht now and honestly I forgot majority of what happens. The rivalries are great though especially with the mutual respect that’s happening with Nekomora.

I got nothing really more interesting to say, just that I forgot how good this anime is

SO OKAY. FUN FACT. (God the Haikyuu brainrot is setting in I can feel it.) Please stick with me this is so funny to me. My ex friend and I met through anime, Jujutsu Kaisen specifically, and then we both just stumbled upon watching Blue Lock at the same time and we kept texting. And I offhandedly mentioned, "Oh yeah Blue Lock is good but it's not Haikyuu." They insisted nothing would be as good as Blue Lock. I convinced them to watch the first few episodes, just to take a shot. I gave them my whole pitch, emphasized how it's such a feel good anime and prominent example of genuinely healthy boyhood and adolescence. How it's got shockingly nuanced and three dimensional characters (none of the "antagonists" are villains, as much as Oikawa wins the villain polls. they all have sympathetic qualities.) I went on. And on. And on. When I'm done, they say:

"Oh. I'll check it out. I heard people died in this show."

I'm confused. Baffled. Horrified. Who dies in Haikyuu!!??? What the fuck? I scrounge my mind, my soul. What does this mean.

Then it clicks.

Fucking Deadchi.

The Haikyuu meme of this fucking panel.

It broke containment.

How did my chronically offline new friend learn about Deadchi? This was a meme I heard about in middle school in the recesses of the Haikyuu tag. It's haunted me to this very day.

Anyway, the point I'm making is I think about Deadchi every fucking day. Don't worry, he isn't actually dead. I don't think this counts as a spoiler. The only death that occurs is the death of Daichi's will to live as he attempts to wrangle this herd of rabid hamsters with enough energy to power Microsoft headquarters. The point is, if Daichi did die at least he could fucking rest. I love him.

FURTHERMORE

I love Sugawara. My beloved. When you get far enough allow me to preach the way the Sugawara/Kageyama/Oikawa situation is handled. Suga is such a perfect blend of loving and chaotic, balances this emotional maturity and self awareness alongside a mischievous disposition. He's soooo trggtrh Suga's definitely a top five character for me. Behind the others only because he's objectively a side character, but once again the delight of Haikyuu is how well-rounded the side characters are.

(oooooo nekomanekomanekoma-)

Anyway, so as to avoid bogging you down with any further Haikyuu ramblings, please know I'm ecstatic you're revisiting the Haikyuu magic. These may be the most characters of all all time. I cannot think of a single character I don't adore here.